“Do I remind you of anyone?” he asked her.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Che Guevara?”

No.

“Lenin?”

“No.”

“Any revolutionary of any sort?”

“I don’t think so.”

“How about Frank Sinatra? Do I remind you of him?”

“Not really.”

“I don’t mean facially, I mean internally.”

“I couldn’t say.”

“Have you ever seen your own liver?”

The woman walked away.

“Take a look!” he shouted. “You could learn a lot!”

Edward sat up a bit. The news was trailing The Penny Lock Show and that seemed to give him some strength.

281

In a bar in Manhattan, the barman topped off Graham Johansson’s drink and turned up the radio. His customers always drank more when Penny Lock was on. The tall Dane was certainly doing his bit.

280

Ali Bronski asked Penny Lock if she’d ever talked a suicide down from a tall building on her show before. Penny said no. Ali said that mobile phones rather liberated the form as the caller no longer had to be confined to a stable location. It removed a level of domesticity. Ali offered to be that caller. She could do a good jumper. Empire State Building. She’d guarantee not to jump.

Penny said she would be happier if Ali just stuck to being the guest.

“How should I introduce you?”

“Could you call me Dr. Frankburg?” said Ali. She thought her own name would be mud if she gave a bad show. Frankburg was a pro. Frankburg gave her confidence.

Penny had a good radio voice. Singsongy. Ali wondered if she should have a radio voice too. Maybe she should try to imitate the real Dr. Frankburg. She remembered back to that day in Boston in the toilet cubicles. Birmingham, she thought. Very sympathetic.

279

The pharmaceutical CEO called up his messages. Boris Vlamenkov, Asif Khan, Mister fucking Kermit the Frog. The ex-government agent wanted a million to drive Ali Bronski around in a big car and look at her legs.

The CEO rang him back.

“You’re not getting a single cent.”

“Piec-”

Click.

278

Ali could hear news being read. Penny cleared her throat.

A jingle was played. Penny Lock’s name was transposed into an A minor seventh chord and she was in with her opening.

“It’s Wednesday, it’s two o’clock, it’s the afternoon show, I’m Penny, how are you doing? Today”—small pause—“ ‘Where Are You?’”

Jingle.

277

Clara Redlake drove fast and tuned in. She hummed along to the jingle. Catchy. The nearer she got to New York the stronger the signal became.

276

“Are you looking for someone? Someone you love? Have you been looking long? Why did they go? Have you recently reunited with someone you thought you’d lost? We need to hear your stories. With me in the studio is Dr. Frankburg . . .”

“Good afternoon,” said Ali, thick Birmingham accent.

No, that sounded awful. She would drop it. She couldn’t really pull it off. Penny shook her head at her; Ali’s microphone wasn’t live yet.