'Yes.'
'Pretty soon you'll have that thing eating out of your hand.'
Sam decided to take this literally, as an inspiration and a challenge. The next morning she brought in a single apple, which she held out to the monster. The Minotaur sniffed suspiciously, reached for the apple, then withdrew its hand. Sam offered the fruit again, telling the Minotaur there was nothing wrong with it, it was delicious. The Minotaur still wouldn't take it. Finally Sam took a bite out of the apple herself to prove it was safe. The Minotaur, letting out short, stertorous breaths, watched her chew. Then, abruptly, it snatched the bitten apple off her and retreated with it to its favourite corner of the pen.
A day later, Sam dared to squat down next to the monster as it ate. This was a bad move. The Minotaur reacted intemperately, believing Sam wanted to share its food and not liking that idea. It batted her aside with one sweep of its arm, then slapped her a few times as she tried to get up. Sam staggered out of the pen feeling pummelled and dazed.
That night, Ramsay noted that she was moving stiffly and wincing as she undressed. When the fresh contusions on her body were laid bare, he scowled.
'El Toro not treating you right?' he said.
'My fault.'
'Spoken like a true battered housewife.'
'I took a step too far too soon.'
'Even so. The Minotaur keeps this up, I might have to go and have words with it.'
'I'll sort things out.'
'Playing Born Free with that monster is all very well, Sam, but one false move…'
'I'll sort things out,' Sam insisted. She climbed into bed beside him. 'God,' she groaned. 'I ache too much to be up for anything acrobatic tonight, Rick. Sorry.'
'Never mind. Least we get to spend the whole night together, now that Zaina's in the loop. You just lie here, get all snug and cosy.'
'I didn't say I wanted to just sleep. I said nothing acrobatic, that's all.'
'Ha! Well, I've no problem with non-acrobatic.'
'Really? Prove it.'
'You lie still and I will. Now, nice and gentle. No moving around while I do… this.'
'Ah.'
'And this.'
'Ohh.'
'Uh-uh. Still no moving around. Now, how about…?'
And then Ramsay was not in a position to talk any further, and his silence, for Sam, was blissfully golden.
40. RUMBLINGS OF BELLIGERENCE
I n the command centre, Landesman had an announcement to make.
'I am going to be Cronus,' he told the Titans. The techs and Lillicrap were in attendance as well. 'You know that already. Some of you may have suspected it for a while. I just want to say it's going to be a privilege working directly alongside you in the field. Over the past few weeks I've watched you cohere as a unit. I've watched you work wonders in all your various permutations. As a fighting force, you've impressed me no end. You've become better than I could ever have hoped. You've exceeded every aspiration I ever had for this project, and I intend to be every bit as good as you. I will not be the weak link in the chain. I will be an aid, an asset, an addition, an adornment, and doubtless lots of other words beginning with 'a.''
'Arsehole?' offered Barrington.
'Thank you, Dez. I gave you that one for free.'
'I know. My pleasure.'
'I must also tell you,' Landesman continued, 'that it would appear that your efforts so far, not to mention the sacrifices of Soleil and Nigel, have cumulatively yielded victory. According to news reports this morning, the Olympians have recalled their monsters. Yes! All the ones that were still out there in the world, still at large, have been brought back to Olympus. Summoned back to the fold. Not that there were many of them left, admittedly, but it isn't the numbers that matter so much as the significance of the decision. It tells us something very important.'
'Zeus has blinked,' said Tsang.
'Precisely, Fred. Zeus has blinked. Our adversaries have conceded the round to us. They're taking their pawns off the board because they realise we've got the better of them. They know that if they carry on, they're only going to lose those few remaining monsters. What's more, there haven't been any further reprisals. Obviously that tactic didn't work last time, so they're not repeating it. In other words, ladies and gentlemen, phase one of the campaign is over and the clear winner is us. You may, if you like, give yourselves a hand. In fact I think you should.'
They did, Titans and techs alike; Lillicrap too. The only exception was Sam, not fond of public displays of self-congratulation.
'Now,' Landesman said, as the applause died down, 'for my next point of order, you may be interested to learn that a spat has broken out between Prime Minister Bartlett and General Sir Neville Armstrong-Hall, who is, for those of you among us who don't know, the Chief of General Staff, i.e. Britain's highest-ranking military official. The argument is being conducted in the media — via TV interviews, newspaper columns and suchlike — and the wording is very coded and subtle. Neither man is saying exactly what he means but each knows the other will read him loud and clear.
'The ostensible bone of contention is Bartlett's newest round of defence budget cuts, with Armstrong-Hall complaining that these will expose his troops to unnecessary danger in case of conflict and Bartlett saying, basically, what conflict? Now, top military personnel don't, as a rule, speak out publicly and criticise the executive unless they have an ulterior motive, and in this instance, reading between the lines, it's not hard to infer what Armstrong-Hall's is. I've chatted to a few of my contacts within the MOD, reliable sources all, and they've confirmed it. Armstrong-Hall, it seems, is spoiling for a fight with the Pantheon. He thinks they're on the ropes right now, thanks to us. Hit 'em while they're reeling, is his view. Kick 'em while they're in disarray. The time is right.'
'Like Bartlett's going to go for that,' Mahmoud snorted.
'Of course he isn't. He'd rather circumcise himself with a pair of rusty nail scissors. But the fact that Armstrong-Hall is lobbying in this way, however covertly, is remarkable in and of itself. It speaks of a shift in mood among the military, a newfound eagerness for a scrap. Armstrong-Hall isn't alone, either. Generals in other countries are making similar noises, I'm told. I believe, if we continue as we have, we may find that these first rumblings of belligerence will grow into a groundswell.'
'You mean we could start getting military backup?' said Sondergaard.
'It's too early to say, Anders. But you never know. At least our example is firing up others, not just the general population but people in high places as well. I can't say I was counting on this happening, but I was rather hoping. And on the subject of continuing with our campaign…'
Landesman's geniality faded. His tone turned grave.
'From now on we will be going after bigger and more dangerous game — the Olympians themselves. Next to them, the monsters are going to seem like the proverbial cakewalk.'
'We know,' said Ramsay.
'It needs saying nonetheless. To utilise the parlance of your countrymen, Rick, we're in the big leagues now.'
'Just tell us,' said Hamel. 'Who's the first target? Which of the Pantheon do you have in your sights?'
'It has to be Hercules,' said Landesman.
Barrington snapped to attention. ' Now you're talking, Landy. That shit-stabbing drongo? Beauty!'
'Hercules is still in Manhattan, still partying and causing drunken havoc. So that's who's going to be our first proper Olympian takedown: Hercules in New York.'
