CHAPTER 49

2001, New York

‘Three minutes to go,’ said Sal.

‘Three minutes,’ Maddy echoed. They could both hear the machinery below the desk beginning to hum noisily as it sucked energy greedily from their mains feed. Not for the rst time, Maddy wondered who paid the electricity bil for their archway. It had to be astronomical, the amount they used.

She smiled at her dumbness. Yes, of course, no one paid any bil s. As far as the world outside was concerned, as far as their neighbour – the car mechanic in the archway near the top of their lit le backstreet – were concerned, this archway normal y sat vacant with a ripped and gra ticovered sign pasted on the rol er shut er outside o ering three thousand square feet of commercial oor space at a reasonable rate.

Except of course, for a Monday and Tuesday in September when, to anybody who bothered to notice, it would appear three young squat ers had decided to move in, only to vanish again on the Wednesday.

‘Oh,’ said Sal, ‘I forgot … I saw a funny thing the other day.’‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah, in a shop nearby. A junk shop. Wel , not funny real y. Just a coincidence.’

‘What?’

‘A uniform, a steward’s uniform … from the Titanic. Just exactly like Liam’s.’ Sal shook her head. ‘Isn’t that weird?’

‘Seriously?’

‘The lady in the shop said it wasn’t a real one, though. Just a costume from a play. But, stil , kind of funny. I suppose I could buy it for Liam as a spare.’

‘I’m sure he’s in no big hurry to go back to the Titanic, you know? Given what he’d have to face.’

Sal’s smile quickly faded. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I suppose he wouldn’t … none of us, real y.’

The numbers on the clock ickered and changed. Two minutes left.

Maddy real y could have done with Foster sit ing right here beside them. Calm, relaxed, with a reassuring halfcocked smile on his old wrinkly face. Skin that looked like weathered parchment, skin that looked like it had seen way too much sun –

… I wouldn’t mind feeling the sun on my face …

Foster’s last words. He’d said that the morning he’d taken her out for co ee to say goodbye.

‘Sun on my face,’ she ut ered under her breath. Sal cocked an eyebrow. ‘Uh?’

… I guess I wouldn’t mind feeling the sun on my face whilst I enjoy a decent hot dog …

whilst I enjoy a decent hot dog …

That’s exactly what he’d said, wasn’t it? One of the last things he’d said. That’s what he fancied doing with whatever time he had left to live. Sun and a decent hot dog. With al these skyscrapers, she knew there was only one place you could count on un-obscured sunlight in Manhat an, sun … and, yes, hot dog vendors a-plenty. One place and one place only.

‘I think I just gured out where Foster’s gone,’ she ut ered.

They watched the clock’s red LEDs icker to show them 11.59 p.m.

‘Where?’

Maddy stood up and pushed the chair back from the breakfast table with a scrape that echoed across the archway. ‘I’l uh … I’l explain another time. We’re about to have guests.’

Sal stood up and joined her in the middle of the oor, both facing the shut er door, and counting down the last sixty seconds as, behind them, the deep hum of machinery began to build to a nal zzing crescendo.

The strip light above them began to icker and dim.

‘Wel , here goes nothing,’ said Maddy, reaching out instinctively to hold Sal’s hand.