Free Clear by Nicola Barker

Unbelievable ,’ Aphra mutters.
    ‘Then I go into the bathroom,’ I continue, ‘to try and find you a flannel, but there isn’t one…’
    ‘Flannels,’ she harrumphs, ‘ disgust me.’
    ‘So I dampen some toilet roll, and then this strange woman comes in…’
    ‘Oh my God,’ Larry intones.
    ‘A woman ?’ Aphra looks stunned.
    ‘Yes,’ I nod. ‘I mean in retrospect, it was a little awkward…’
    Aphra stands up.
    ‘Gotta go,’ she mutters, and simply walks off.
    Bam .
    I gaze at Larry. Larry gazes back at me. He shrugs, bemusedly. I glance down. She’s left her bloody Tupperware.
    ‘She’s left her bag ,’ I tell him, and lean down to grab it.
    Larry darts out a restraining hand. ‘From the waist down?’ he asks (hungry for confirmation).
    ‘Yeah,’ I say.
    ‘ Hairy ?’ he whispers (still holding on, defiantly).
    ‘Let’s put it this way,’ I say. ‘The closest that girl’s ever got to a Brazilian is the time she did the tango with her salsa instructor.’
    Larry releases my arm. I grab the bag. We do a spontaneous high five ( Yup , that’s boys for ya ), then I dart off, into the crowds, and after her.
     
     
    Can’t find the girl. Not for love nor bloody money. Guess she must’ve turned a sharp left and headed up the stairs. The crowds are dense, and time is marching, so I head back to work, lugging the bag of Tupperware along with me.
    No sooner have I stepped foot back indoors than I’m caught up in the middle of an excited throng of staff in the foyer.
    ‘Were you outside ?’ someone asks. ‘Did you actually see ?’
     
    Uh ?
    Wha ?!
     
    I quickly make my way over to the window, as dumpy, ginger-haired Bly from Human Resources burns my ear.
    ‘I mean it was all getting a little frantic for a while,’ she says. ‘I don’t know if you noticed…’
    Frantic? What ? The Gypsies? The Lift Music?
    ‘There was a big crowd of them,’ she continues, ‘just making this huge racket…’
    There was?
    ‘Right inside the fences and everything. And then suddenly this man is climbing the thingummy…’
    She points.
    ‘ What ?’ my jaw slackens. ‘The Support Tower?’
    ‘Yup.’
    ‘You’re kidding me?’
    I glance out. I see two Z cars and a frantic cluster of security.
    How’d I miss this shit, man?
    (How? How? ! I’ll tell you how: fucking Aphra !)
    ‘Nope.’ Bly grimly shakes her head. ‘This guy climbs the tower–and nobody’s even really trying to stop him–and when he reaches the top, he’s just standing there, not entirely sure what he’s gonna do next. Pretty soon he starts screaming and shouting. Then he starts hurling all the bottles of water everywhere…’
    ‘I can’t believe I missed this…’ I wail.
    ‘Nor can I,’ she murmurs, wide-eyed. ‘It was pretty, bloody scary .’
    ‘Then what?’ I turn back to appraise her. ‘Did they get him?’
    ‘Eventually, but it seemed to take hours to sort everything out. It was a really serious breach. A totally calculated attack.’
    She shakes her head. ‘I mean having a bit of fun is one thing, but this was just…’
    She shrugs. ‘Humiliating. I mean for us .’
    Us ?
    ‘The British,’ she continues (obviously spurred on by my blank expression), ‘the host nation.’
    I turn and gaze out through the window again, but my view of the Illusionist is compromised by a tree.
    ‘And what was Blaine doing all the while?’ I ask (thinking it best not to embroil myself in a dialogue about National Responsibility, etc.) ‘Was he shitting himself or what?’
    Her eyes widen. ‘The guy started yanking on his tubes , you know? The ones for his urine and uh …’ (she pulls exactly the kind of face you’d expect from any well-bred girl under the circumstances).
    ‘Did they come loose?’
    ‘Couldn’t see. Maybe.’
    ‘And Blaine?’
    ‘He was standing up and kind of watching . But very calm. Unbelievably calm. Someone who was out there said he was just looking at the guy and smiling. The guy was going