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Myka’s phone rang. She saw who was calling, and her heart leapt. She schooled her body and voice very carefully, then raised the phone to her ear. “Hello,” she said, with seriousness of purpose. She waved Pete off as he tried to ask who it was. She walked to the other room of their hotel suite (a surprisingly nice one, given how long this particular snag-and-bag operation had taken), keeping her voice as low as possible.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Pete pounced on his own phone and called Claudia. “Score, Claud! She said ‘I love you’ to somebody and I think we know who!”
In short order, Claudia recounted this part of the conversation to Steve—as it happened, over the telephone. “Pete was being weird. Or maybe it’s Myka who was being weird. He got all excited and said that she said ‘I’d love you to stun’—well, I don’t know who, I didn’t catch the name—‘and I think we’ll go too.’ What does that mean?”
“I can’t hear you very well, Claud, but I’ll see if I can find out.”
Steve proceeded to continue shelving artifacts.
When Mrs. Frederic appeared, he jumped. But he said, “A strange thing just happened. Claudia told me that Pete told her that Myka told him that a dove flew to somewhere, Claudia didn’t know where, and Myka thought she would go too. Do you know what that’s about?”
Mrs. Frederic frowned. She told Steve, “Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention.”
In a matter of minutes, she was asking Artie, “What is this code your agents are using now? Who or what is this dove? And why is Myka following him, her, or it?”
Artie called Myka immediately and said, “Mrs. Frederic wants to know why you’re following a bird somewhere.”
Myka said, “I am not following a bird anywhere. As far as I know.”
Artie, confused, said, “Then why did Mrs. Frederic say that Steve said that Claudia said that Pete said that you were?”
“Because every single one of the people you named is delusional on some level? Except maybe Mrs. Frederic.”
“Just figure out what the bird is, all right?” Artie told her. His voice was getting louder. “Mrs. Frederic wants to know what it is and why we need it!”
“There is no bird.”
“That is not the story I was told!” Artie yelled. He hung up.
Myka turned to Pete. “Okay. Why did you tell Claudia to tell Steve to tell Mrs. Frederic to tell Artie that I was following a bird?”
Pete’s mouth was full of hotel-buffet breakfast that he’d brought back to the room. He’d taken their ice bucket with him so he could collect as much as possible. “I didn’t tell Claudia to tell Mrs. Frederic to tell Artie to tell Steve that.”
“That was the wrong order,” Myka told him.
“I don’t think it matters, because I didn’t do it.”
“Then why does Artie think you did? Did you tell Claudia anything at all?”
Pete didn’t answer. He put an entire hard-boiled egg in his mouth.
“Okay,” Myka sighed, “what did you tell Claudia?”
Still no words from Pete.
“Look, I am not going to chase down a bird if I don’t know why I’m doing it!” Myka fumed.
At that, Pete stopped chewing and said, “I have no idea why you would be chasing down a bird! All I told Claudia was that you said ‘I love you’ to H.G.!”
It was Myka’s turn for no words.
“I heard you!” Pete accused. “You did!”
“Two things, Pete: first, when did you hear me say that? and second, why would you tell Claudia? I would also like you to note that I am remaining remarkably calm and have not hit you yet.”
“First, earlier this morning, when she called you.”
“How do you know she called me?”
Pete rolled his eyes. “Because every time she calls you, you see who’s calling, and you get excited for a second, and then you get really fake-serious when you answer, and then you get up and walk away from me with the frowny face, like ‘It’s the President calling so I have to take this.’”
“I don’t do that every time!”
“Enough of the times that even mathematicians would say ‘you’re right, Pete, it’s basically every time.’”
“And then you eavesdrop?”
“If you can’t keep your ‘I love you’ in your… verbal pants until you leave the room, am I supposed to just unhear it?”
“I’m ignoring ‘verbal pants.’”
“Thanks.”
“So you told Claudia because…”
“We have a bet!” Pete said. “On who’ll say it first!”
Myka was puzzled. “I don’t see how this helps you find out who won it. It doesn’t tell you anything about who said it first. All you know is that I said it this morning.”
Pete said, “Oh. Good point. So who did say it first?”
Myka sighed, a bit dreamily, and said, “It was Helena. She said— Wait, how did you trick me into that?”
Pete put his head down on the small table, next to the ice bucket. “I don’t know, but I wish I hadn’t, because it means Claud wins.”
“How much?”
“Just a video game. Of her choosing, and you know how choosy Queen Computer Genius is, so in positive news it might take a while for her to find one that pleases her majesty. If you’d just had the guts to say it first, I would’ve made her buy me the new Call of Duty. The Advanced Warfare one. It comes out in November.”
“Pete, you’ll just buy that anyway.”
Pete cracked his knuckles. “But it’s so much sweeter to win it.”
Myka just sat there.
“Off Claudia, particularly.”
Myka sighed again. “May I ask one question, please?”
Pete nodded.
“Why did you bet on this?”
“It wasn’t just this. We bet on tons of other things too.”
This time, Myka put her head down next to the ice bucket. She reflected that it had become more of a croissant bucket, really.
“I should keep my mouth shut,” Pete said.
“Well, apparently so should I.”
Pete patted her head. “We just think it’s cool, that’s all.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah. Don’t you think it’s cool?”
Myka thought of Helena. “Cool” was not exactly the first temperature reading that then leapt to mind. “I think it is a lot of things. None of which are your business.” She sat up. “Here is what we’re going to do. You’re going to call Artie, and you’re going to tell him that I told you to tell him to tell Mrs. Frederic to tell Steve to tell Claudia something. Okay?
“Okay. But can you write that down for me?”
“And here is the something: ‘You won the bet, Claudia.’ And let’s just see what happens.”
“Do I have to?”
Myka ignored that. “And we will count this as your good-faith attempt to convey that news.”
“Okay, but—”
“Just do it.”
So Pete called Artie. Artie asked about the bird, and Pete said they were working on it. “I want to talk about something else that starts with ‘B,’ though. Not ‘C,’ because C is for cookie. But ‘B,’ because ‘B’ is for bet.”
Artie said, “I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”
“Just tell Mrs. Frederic to tell Steve to tell Claudia that she won the bet. Okay?”
“Why don’t you tell Claudia yourself?”
“Because that is not the plan, boss man. That is not the plan.”
“There’s a plan? You can make a plan for how to tell Claudia something, but you can’t keep your hands in your pockets around artifacts?”
“I trip over them too, though.”
“That… is a surprisingly good point. All right. I’ll send your chain letter on, though why—”
“Thanks boss!” Pete yelled and hung up. “Now what happens?” he asked Myka.
“Now, we wait.”
It took an hour, and that, Myka was in turn willing to bet, was because Artie had a hard time finding Mrs. Frederic. Or summoning her. Or whatever it was that one technically did.
Myka’s phone rang. When she answered, Claudia said, “Okay. I give. Why did you tell Pete to tell Artie to tell Mrs. Frederic to tell Steve to tell me that I run the Met?”
“Because that’s basically what you do, Claud,” Myka said. “Think about it: the Warehouse is just one big opera company, with huge sets, and elaborate props, and think of all the heightened emotions. And you basically run it.”
“Nobody sings, Myka.”
“Well, the wonder’s supposed to be endless, right? So what would we do with a fat lady singing, anyway?”
“I’m hanging up on you now.”
“Okay, but I would like to say one other thing, just to cover everybody’s bases: good-faith effort.”
The line went dead, and Myka chuckled.
Pete said, “So I don’t lose, but I don’t win either?”
“That is pretty much how it is.” She sighed. “That is pretty much how everything is, these days.”
“Look, in-between all the ‘I love you’ mush, did you guys set up your next little meet-and-greet?”
“I don’t think that’s your business.”
“Mostly, no, except for the bet about when you guys first got it on. That part’s my business, because the buy-in on that one was crazy expensive. But what I was going to say was, you should go. See her. Like, now. Because we’ve got this thing basically locked down, and who thinks you’re busy chasing something else now? That’s right, Artie and Mrs. F. Follow that bird, Mykes.”
“That’s slightly tacky.”
“You totally know I meant Big Bird. Although height-wise, you’re more the Big Bird in the relationship.”
“What does that make Helena?”
“Your invisible friend Mr. Snuffleupagus.”
“Everybody can see him now. On Sesame Street.”
“Okay then,” Pete said. “I think you should shoot for that. As ultimate outcomes go.”
And that was how Myka ended up in a hotel room with Helena that very night, in a smallish city in a largish state, trying to explain about birds and Sesame Street and operas and bets and games of telephone…
“Myka,” Helena said.
“What?”
“I don’t care. About birds or operas or children’s programming of any sort. Not at this moment.”
They had barely put their suitcases down. Myka was gesturing wildly with her phone, which Helena now took from her hand. She examined it for a moment, then powered it down.
“Did you just cut off my phone?” Myka asked.
“Do you anticipate any misunderstandings? Or the need to report on them?”
“Well, no, but you never know when—”
“I do. I know exactly when, and I know exactly how, and I am going to show you exactly three ways in which—well, possibly more than three, depending on your endurance, so consider that ‘exactly’ qualifier removed. Do you understand me?” She very seriously began to unbutton Myka’s shirt.
“I’m pretty sure I understand you.”
Helena glanced up at Myka. “Excellent,” she said, then returned to her task. “And you will not be conveying any information about this to anyone, will you?”
“I think that depends on whether the walls here are as thin as they look,” Myka said. Honesty was, after all, the best policy.
“Is the game of telephone not generally whispered?” Helena asked. She finished with Myka’s shirt and pulled it off her shoulders, tossed it aside.
“Generally whispered,” Myka tried to answer, but it came out as a gasp as Helena moved surprisingly cold fingers across her torso.
“Then I believe we should play.”
END