"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."
41. PUBLIC WORKS
H ercules, as it turned out, was no longer partying, and was in fact intending to atone for the drunken havoc he had caused.
It was not in his nature to do something like this willingly, and he would still have been carrying on in the usual manner had Zeus not travelled to New York and taken the roistering demigod aside for a quiet word.
Quiet word? Actually it was more of a vicious row in the middle of Central Park, witnessed by countless Manhattanites and tourists, and it culminated in the senior Olympian calling down a thunderstorm on Hercules's head in the middle of Central Park, pelting him so hard with rain and hail that he could barely stand. Then he hauled the battered, bedraggled Hercules to his feet and urged him to do his bidding, on penalty of death. Hercules consented, not because he was scared by the threat, he said, but because he could now plainly see that what Zeus was suggesting was the right thing to do.
Zeus then, a day later, addressed a hastily arranged press conference in the shadow of the World Trade Center. Standing on the open-air plaza beside the large fountain with its granite base and bronze sphere sculpture, he informed the hacks of the world that Hercules would be performing a series of tasks in and around the city in order to make amends for his recent untoward behaviour. These would be practical, helpful, large-scale public works that would signally improve the lives of New Yorkers and their urban environment. The mayor had already given the scheme his blessing.
One bright young spark from Vanity Fair piped up: "Would I be right in thinking this is kind of a new Twelve Labours?"
Zeus nodded, smiling. It was often best not to spell things out for journalists. If a thing was obvious, let them spot it for themselves. That way they would feel clever.
"And Hercules," said the Olympian affairs correspondent for the Financial Times, "how do you feel about the idea? Looking forward to getting stuck in?"
"Delighted," said a grudging, truculent Hercules. "Couldn't be happier."
"Do you think this will help New York citizens forgive you for the damage you've done?" said a woman from the Herald Tribune. "And maybe the rest of America for your part in defacing Mount Rushmore?"
"Maybe."
"What about the two TV reporters you killed?" asked a stringer from the Corriere Della Sera, dressed with ostentatious nattiness as only an Italian could.
"What about them?"
"Is this how you are saying sorry to their families?"
Hercules grimaced. Zeus stepped in. "Hercules is not here to respond to questions about his past actions. He's interested only in discussing the near future and this generous gesture of reparation he's about to make. A dozen feats of prodigious strength will be accomplished during the next few days in this great city, and you, ladies and gentlemen of the Fourth Estate, not to mention the good folk of New York, will have a ringside seat."