Library of Babel: The Great Art Conspiracy 2


	I'd been sending him tapes of my private conversations with other operatives, conducted in the small niches of London that his eyes and ears couldn't reach. The procedure was that I'd place the tapes in a litter bin in Hyde Park. Once or twice I'd look back and see a rollerblader or homeless person retrieve the package before making a B-line for the nearest tube station. Maybe two days later I'd get a cheque. The amount always differed and always seemed to me to be arbitrary. So I became accustomed to regarding myself as a small planet circling the invisible mass of the Lynch Pin. Until, that is, yesterday, when I got the note. The instructions were clear. I went over to the Merryweather Arms lacing my way through the crowd of suits who staring blankly at the exotic dancer, through the vague smell of their Pre-Cum aftershave and up to the bar. I asked for Stick. Stick came in from out back and I asked him right out for a Cleaning Lady. His eyes turned to slits and he whispered "Why you want a Cleaning Lady ? - I always thought of you as a kind of sensitive and creative person. You know how to shoot?" "You just pull the trigger I guess" Stick lead me into the back room and opened up the cabinet. "I recommend the 44 Russian- with the adjustable hair trigger it'll almost shoot itself". I considered a P-38 Walther, it looked pretty good, but not as compact as the Smith and Wesson .38 Chiefs Special with a two inch barrel. I put the money down and Stick put a couple of boxes of cartridges on the table. I walked out and hailed a cab. I tracked the Mark down as he was leaving Matts
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