chance to find out what he wants.’
Lar looked off at the park on the other side of the street. Flashlight beams danced in the darkness beneath the trees. ‘He wants to jerk our chains. To waste our time and resources by setting up a rendezvous he has no intention of keeping, because while we’re busy with his little diversion he’ll be attempting to slip past the security at Brookhaven.’
‘You could be right, but we can’t take the chance, can we?’ Stone said.
Lar pressed his eyes shut with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. After a few moments, he said, ‘I’ll talk to Welch, and then I’ll want to talk to you and Miss Waverly. I’ll get you a ride back to your hotel.’
‘Thanks for the offer, but I already have a ride.’
As they drove off, Stone asked Linda to call the local Company office and find the location of the phone whose number her father had written on the matchbook.
‘I thought you wanted to check it out in person?’
‘That was before Mr Lar muddied the water.’
Linda wedged her cell phone between her shoulder and ear as she drove, gave her name and the day code, then recited the telephone number. ‘I think you should pull up the phone company’s listings before you check the subscriber reverse directory.’
She listened for a few moments, then thanked the person at the other end of the line, switched off her phone, and told Stone, ‘It’s a pay phone, all right. One of six consecutive numbers in Duffy Square. Want to go check it out?’
‘Is Duffy Square north of Times Square here?’
Linda nodded. ‘Apart from the damage caused by the atomic bomb, everything’s more or less where it is in the Real. It’s good, isn’t it? That my father wants to talk, I mean.’
‘Of course it is.’ What else could he say? Besides, he wanted to believe it, too. He added, ‘I guess you’d better take me back to my hotel. I need to talk to Welch, get this thing with the locals straightened out.’
Linda said, ‘The bar where he got that matchbook—’
‘Your father is hardly likely to go back to it, Linda. Although I bet Mr Lar will put it under surveillance, just in case.’
‘It’s down in Alphabet City and features live music every night, the kind of old-time stuff my father likes. There are other places like it. I was thinking of checking them out.’
‘Are you asking my permission, or are you asking me to come along?’
‘You could help me canvass bar staff. Our friends in the white Dodge, by the way, they’re following us again. One lane over, three cars back.’
Stone thought for a moment. Now that the locals were all over him, it might not be a bad idea to have someone who could help him evade their attention. And while there was virtually no chance of picking up Tom’s trail, he would be able to see how Linda handled herself, and get an idea of how things worked in this sheaf . . .
He said, ‘If I go barhopping with you, I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder all the time.’
‘So you’ll come along?’
‘Isn’t that what I said? But only if you can lose our friends.’
‘Let’s wait until we get to Atom City,’ Linda said. ‘They’ll have a hard time blending in there. Actually, so will you, in that suit and tie. The first thing we have to do is find you some appropriate clothes.’
When the atomic bomb had exploded over the Hudson, two-hundred-and-fifty-mile-an-hour winds and firestorms had levelled every building on the west side of Manhattan below Houston Street. East of Broadway, the upper storeys of surviving buildings were still printed with black scorch marks, and many were derelict, standing stark and windowless in wastelands of rubble. Linda Waverly told Stone that the social geography of Manhattan was reversed here: survivors with money and influence had moved as far as they could from Ground Zero, displacing the poor from Harlem and the Bronx, who had been resettled in high-rise blocks of social housing built on
Lar looked off at the park on the other side of the street. Flashlight beams danced in the darkness beneath the trees. ‘He wants to jerk our chains. To waste our time and resources by setting up a rendezvous he has no intention of keeping, because while we’re busy with his little diversion he’ll be attempting to slip past the security at Brookhaven.’
‘You could be right, but we can’t take the chance, can we?’ Stone said.
Lar pressed his eyes shut with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. After a few moments, he said, ‘I’ll talk to Welch, and then I’ll want to talk to you and Miss Waverly. I’ll get you a ride back to your hotel.’
‘Thanks for the offer, but I already have a ride.’
As they drove off, Stone asked Linda to call the local Company office and find the location of the phone whose number her father had written on the matchbook.
‘I thought you wanted to check it out in person?’
‘That was before Mr Lar muddied the water.’
Linda wedged her cell phone between her shoulder and ear as she drove, gave her name and the day code, then recited the telephone number. ‘I think you should pull up the phone company’s listings before you check the subscriber reverse directory.’
She listened for a few moments, then thanked the person at the other end of the line, switched off her phone, and told Stone, ‘It’s a pay phone, all right. One of six consecutive numbers in Duffy Square. Want to go check it out?’
‘Is Duffy Square north of Times Square here?’
Linda nodded. ‘Apart from the damage caused by the atomic bomb, everything’s more or less where it is in the Real. It’s good, isn’t it? That my father wants to talk, I mean.’
‘Of course it is.’ What else could he say? Besides, he wanted to believe it, too. He added, ‘I guess you’d better take me back to my hotel. I need to talk to Welch, get this thing with the locals straightened out.’
Linda said, ‘The bar where he got that matchbook—’
‘Your father is hardly likely to go back to it, Linda. Although I bet Mr Lar will put it under surveillance, just in case.’
‘It’s down in Alphabet City and features live music every night, the kind of old-time stuff my father likes. There are other places like it. I was thinking of checking them out.’
‘Are you asking my permission, or are you asking me to come along?’
‘You could help me canvass bar staff. Our friends in the white Dodge, by the way, they’re following us again. One lane over, three cars back.’
Stone thought for a moment. Now that the locals were all over him, it might not be a bad idea to have someone who could help him evade their attention. And while there was virtually no chance of picking up Tom’s trail, he would be able to see how Linda handled herself, and get an idea of how things worked in this sheaf . . .
He said, ‘If I go barhopping with you, I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder all the time.’
‘So you’ll come along?’
‘Isn’t that what I said? But only if you can lose our friends.’
‘Let’s wait until we get to Atom City,’ Linda said. ‘They’ll have a hard time blending in there. Actually, so will you, in that suit and tie. The first thing we have to do is find you some appropriate clothes.’
When the atomic bomb had exploded over the Hudson, two-hundred-and-fifty-mile-an-hour winds and firestorms had levelled every building on the west side of Manhattan below Houston Street. East of Broadway, the upper storeys of surviving buildings were still printed with black scorch marks, and many were derelict, standing stark and windowless in wastelands of rubble. Linda Waverly told Stone that the social geography of Manhattan was reversed here: survivors with money and influence had moved as far as they could from Ground Zero, displacing the poor from Harlem and the Bronx, who had been resettled in high-rise blocks of social housing built on
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