The Anomaly(4)

At that moment Molly returned and plonked herself down on the couch, looking satiated. Ken grinned at her. “So—do we have the boat we ordered?”

“No,” she said tersely. “We have a bigger and better boat. For the same price.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Different guide from the one I talked to before, but this guy’s more experienced, apparently. So that’s a win, too.”

“Nice. Though who needs a guide when we’ve got Nolan to lead the way?”

They winked at each other in a way that was doubtless intended to be amusing.

When Pierre arrived with the drinks, I was surprised—and annoyed—to see Laptop Lady from the bar behind him. I’d seen him work fast, but this had to be a record.

“Okay,” he said, however. “So, this is Gemma, who’s coming with us apparently?”

“Good,” Molly said. “But where’s my drink?”

Pierre rolled his eyes and headed back toward the bar. Laptop Lady held her ground and smiled down at us, apparently unfazed at being abandoned with strangers.

Then it dawned on me. “Gemma,” I said, standing and reaching out to shake her hand. “Great to meet you.”

“Likewise, Nolan,” she said. Her hand was cool.

She was offered a space on the couch between Ken and Molly, but took a nearby stool instead. “How come you didn’t say hi when I was at the bar?” I asked.

“Heisenberg.”

Ken frowned. “The bloke from Breaking Bad?”

Gemma laughed. “No. My being here can’t help but affect the dynamic of your little team. I wanted some time to watch you before joining the group. Get a sense of you all.”

Ken and I glanced at each other. His face remained expressionless, but his left eyebrow rose a millimeter: Ken-speak for Careful with this one.



There was chatting, more drinks, the eating of burgers and club sandwiches and fries.

“All right, you bastards,” Ken said when it got to ten o’clock. He stood decisively, a bucket of hard liquor having its customary lack of effect other than making his voice twenty percent louder and causing his body to appear, curiously, ten percent wider. “Tomorrow, the adventure begins. So fuck off to bed now, all of you. Wake-ups are booked for five a.m. Be standing by the car by six or you’ll be walking.”

Everybody started to leave. “If you’re available,” Gemma said to me, “it’d be great to start getting some—”

“Not tonight,” Ken told her firmly. “Nolan’s got more important things to do.”

“Plenty of time over the next two days,” I said, trying to be charming. She smiled in a way that made it impossible to tell whether I had succeeded, and walked away.

Ken sniggered—he loves playing bad cop—and we headed out for a cigarette. “Still think that’s a stupid idea,” he said as we emerged into the parking lot.

“And I still think you’re wrong. An article about the show, on a site with a bazillion readers—what’s the downside?”

“Not all publicity is good, Nolan.”

“I’ve got final approval.”

“Of course you haven’t. All Gemma has to do is press a key on her laptop and a hatchet job will be up on the site in two seconds. By the time we get her editor to pull it down it’s already been read and retweeted.”

“By the five people who give a shit.”

“It’s more like ten these days,” he said. “You’re moving up in the world, Nolan. And I couldn’t care less about the fans. For our loyal conspiracy nuts, The Anomaly Files being ridiculed by a proper news site is just further proof we’re onto something. It’s a no-lose. And hardly the first time. Remember that MediaBlitz piece on you last year?”

“Not after all the therapy I had afterward, no.”

“Exactly. And we survived. But what I do care about is not fucking up the deal with Palinhem.”

“It’ll be fine,” I said.

“It needs to be a lot better than fine, you muppet.” He was looking at me seriously now. “For reasons I don’t understand but am trying not to question, the universe has thrown us a major bone here. We’ve got this one shot at cable. Blowing it is not an option. I’ll be honest, Nolan. We get bounced back to webcasts, I’m done.”

I tried to shrug this off, but he saw the look on my face.

“Sorry, mate. It’s been fun, but it’s barely keeping me in vodka and porn. I’d insist on me or Molly riding shotgun whenever you talk to that Gemma woman, but you’d ignore it. So repeat after me: ‘I will not fuck everything up.’”

“Ken—”

“Repeat it, you tit.”

I mumbled. “Won’t fuck it up. Dad.”

He sighed. “Go do your thing—and make it good. Then get some sleep. Lots of on-camera time for you tomorrow on the hike down. It’d be good if you didn’t look deceased.”



As I headed for the stairs to go up to my room, I passed Gemma and Feather waiting at the elevator.

“For the record,” Feather was saying, “Heisenberg proposed the uncertainty principle. I think you meant the observer effect. Hope that helps.”