Chapter 4 – “If You Can Make It Here…”
“Exhaust fumes, smog, noise, crowds…” Mary shook her head. “And what is that smell?”
Eric replied through a mouthful of dirty-water hot dog. “Ain’t it great?”
“You would have had to grow up in this town to love it that much.”
“You’re not a fan of New York?”
Mary took a big bite of the massive pretzel she was holding and finished the chunk, considering her answer carefully. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great place to visit– the touristy places, at least. But– where are we again?”
“The Lower East Side, just a little uptown from the Village.”
“Uh-huh. This is just not the shiny, skyscraper, ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ New York we small-town folks from Ohio think of.”
Eric gave a derisive snort. “Oh, yeah, you’re a real country bumpkin.”
“Maybe I’m just getting…”
“Bored?”
“Well, yeah.” She shrugged. “I mean we’ve been here for a week days already– five past our head start, and there hasn’t been any action.”
“I thought nothing happening was the idea,” Eric said, smiling. “You know, if there’s no action, there’s nobody about to kill us.”
“I realize that.”
“It’s easy for you to complain. You’re not the one waking up with a back ache every morning.”
She laughed. “I offered you the bed on alternate nights.”
“Do you really think I’d do that?”
“I even offered to split the sheets. But no, you and your overdeveloped sense of chivalry are what’re giving you that back ache, not me.”
He nudged her in the ribs. “And here I thought you liked the fact that I’m all old fashioned.”
“Yeah, when it’s cute, or when I get a free dinner out of it.”
Eric finished his lunch. “Okay, then. Let’s go out tonight.”
“Out where?”
“First we take a walk.” He got up, brushed off his hands, and offered Mary his arm.
Sighing, she took the offered arm. “You hate telling me where you’re going, don’t you?”
A little while later, they found themselves at the epicenter of the city’s neon shine and sparkle, Times Square. There, sitting right in the cross of Fifth Avenue and Broadway, was one of the truest treasures of New York, the TKTS booth. Since it was a weekday, the line was still fairly short– only a few dozen people.
Mary raised her eyebrows. “A Broadway show, huh?”
“You like?”
“I like. And this place will get us half price tickets?”
“That’s right.”
“This evening on the town includes dinner, of course.”
“But of course.”
She smiled. “You see, this is when I like your old-fashioned side.”
Eric leaned against the music staff-shaped railing. “I thought so.”
**********
Later that night, an entire theater’s worth of people were amazed by the sight of a full-size helicopter, lifting up from the stage. Except, however for a single patron, whose tiny, expensive binoculars were trained instead on a pair of audience members in the front mezzanine.
Ilan Greenwald lowered the tiny binoculars and rubbed his eyes– the blasted light-amplifying gadgets always gave him a headache. He raised them again and studied his quarry.
The young man and woman sat in rapt attention of the spectacle on stage, unaware of being watched. They were typical of the students that Frost was fond of abducting from big college towns like Boston. Both seemed intelligent enough, and Greenwald hoped they’d give him a better chase than they had so far.
Starting from Boston, as he had several times before, the hunter knew the runners almost infallibly headed for the presumed security of the bustling, faceless crowds of Manhattan. It had been a fairly simple task of waiting around the typical city tourist traps until they turned up. Greenwald had been from Liberty Island to the World Trade Center, and had walked perhaps fifty miles or more wandering Central Park.
He had been strolling lazily around the Times Square area when they’d shown up on line for show tickets. A single hundred-dollar bill was sufficient to loosen the window teller’s tongue, and so Greenwald found himself in for a night at the theater.
As the lights came up for intermission, Greenwald cursed under his breath, his eyes blinded for a moment by the binoculars. Looking back down to the mezzanine, just the smallest sliver of panic intruded as he lost sight of his targets. A few seconds later, his face was stone again. The pair was headed up the stairs with the crowd.
He settled back, confident, and reached surreptitiously into his jacket for his silver flask.
**********
Eric and Mary found themselves in the most quiet corner stairwell they could find.
“Are you sure about this?” His voice was low, despite the fact that there was no one within several yards.
“Absolutely,” she replied. “I was stretching my neck, and I saw him. Specifically, I saw his binoculars– pointed straight at us.”
“Well, you’re the one who was looking for action.”
“I just wish I got a look at the guy himself.”
“Okay, I think I’ve got a plan.”
Mary nodded. “Tell me. Next time, it’s my turn.”
“Fine. Head to the ladies’ room line. I’ll check on this guy. If we wait about five minutes, it’ll put us right before the end of intermission. If he hasn’t moved, I’ll pick you up and we’ll get out of here. If I don’t show up, go back to our seats, and we’ll try to lose him in the crowd.”
“Sounds good. You sure you don’t mind missing the second act?”
“I’ll buy the CD,” he laughed. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
**********
When the house lights flashed, he checked, but didn’t think twice.
When the house lights came down, he checked again, but he’d been to enough theaters to know what the line for the ladies’ room was like.
He tapped his fingers on the armrest for the next five minutes, and when those five minutes were over, he cursed again. Bolting from his chair and pushing his way past the other people in his box, Greenwald headed out of the theater.
Greenwald emerged onto the street, and looked up and down the sidewalks in what he knew was a futile search. He gave one more curse, lit a cigarette, and raised his hand to hail a cab.
**********
The door shut with a solid slam as Eric and Mary returned to the third-class room they’d been staying in.
“We’d better pack,” said Mary.
“You think he knows where we are?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.” She threw some clothes into her pack. “Did you get a good look at the guy?”
Eric nodded. “It was a surprise, actually. I don’t think he’s any older than me.”
“Some bored, morally bankrupt, disgustingly wealthy kid is the one trying to kill us?”
“Looks that way. And here we thought we’d left them all behind at B.U.”
“You’re hilarious.”
They packed for another few minutes in silence. Finally, Eric spoke. “I was thinking about where we’re headed.”
“Uh-huh?”
“We need someplace to sleep tonight, then get an early start tomorrow morning.”
“Sounds good.”
“So what do you say we make it a four-star hotel? The kind with two beds?”
And so, an hour later, Mary opened the door to their suite at the Plaza.
“This has to be what Heaven looks like,” she said.
Eric dropped to the sofa with a sigh. “Pretty damned close, I’d say.”
She dropped down beside him. “You think there’s a bar?”
“Oh, forget the bar– are you hungry?”
“I’m starved, man, we missed dinner.”
He jumped up and headed for the table. "Then let's eat," he said, holding up the room service menu.
"Drinks, too?"
"A magnum of champagne, naturally."
"I like the way you think."
After a truly magnificent meal, they turned in. They woke late, and weren’t out of the hotel’s revolving doors until a quarter to nine, two hours later than planned. Eric and Mary hiked up their packs and headed uptown. They purposely picked Fifth Avenue for its crowds, and soon were lost in the crush of rush-hour pedestrians. Penn Station was less than twenty blocks away, but it would take them the better part of an hour.
Exactly twelve minutes after Eric and Mary emerged from the Plaza’s doors, Ilan Greenwald came out of the same exit. He stretched his neck, aching after a long night of searching downtown, and headed for the day’s first stakeout point, Penn Station.
To be continued…
