Something was changing in the city, that was for sure, and perhaps these murders and the unions were just the barest hint of things to come. Hayes shook himself and tried to forget it.
Underneath his front door the man in the gray coat had wedged a small letter. Hayes pawed at it with useless, icy hands and forced the door open and stumbled in. He had no wood so he built a fire in the brazier of books, history and poetry and versions of the Bible. He knelt before the blackening pages and felt warmth return to his bones. Then he opened the letter. On it were a time and a place, no more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Samantha and Garvey continued their affair erratically, meeting at odd hours, often at her apartments but sometimes his or a hotel room, if it was cheap enough. It seemed time had stopped for both of them. Hayes had not returned, so Samantha’s current task was to produce enough information to make it appear as though he were still there, which was easy enough. And Garvey’s role in the Bridgedale investigation had all but vanished. He was just chaff, waiting to be thrown out, he said. He often felt perfectly willing to do the throwing himself.
One day he took her west to where the hills and the mountains began. There was a sanitarium there, with natural springs and boiling hot saunas. When they parked she walked to the edge of the lot and looked out over the valley to the city in the distance. From here it was no more than a haze of smoke and the hint of angles and forms resting somewhere at its base.
They spent the day in escape, forgetting about the countless machinations waiting for them at the city, and enjoying the peace and quiet. As evening fell they ate at a nearby diner and returned to their rooms, and after they made love their sweat softened the sheets and the moisture chilled in the evening air until everything was cool and clean.
As night deepened Garvey asked, “How long do you think this will last?”
“For as long as we need it to,” she said. “For as long as we want it to.”
“No. Not this. Not us.”
“Then what?”
“The investigation. The city. Everything.”
Samantha was quiet. She did not know what to say to that.
“How long do you think we can keep going at this rate?” he asked in the darkness. “How long do you think this place we’ve made can last?”
The minutes dragged on, and she asked him what Hayes believed. He told her not a damn lot. Then she asked him what he believed. “Whatever I can afford to,” he said. “Which is enough. Sometimes.”
“It’s killing him, isn’t it,” she said.
“Hayes?”
“Yes. His talent.”
“Maybe,” said Garvey. “Probably. I think he knows it, though.”
“And he doesn’t care?”
“What could he do?”
“Something. I don’t know.”
Garvey sat up. A bird’s cry sounded somewhere out in the night, then faded to a whimper. Samantha looked out the window and her eyes trailed up the gray-white trunks of the pines to the stars above. They seemed to have never been so bright before.
“Mr. Evans says one day we will reach the stars,” she said.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“He says McNaughton is making something that will leave this world and rise up and touch the next, up there,” she said, and pointed.
“How?”
“I don’t know. An airship of some kind, perhaps. Like the one they tried to launch last month.”
“That one didn’t go so well.”
“I believe they’re still working on it. Maybe once it works, we’ll have peace. Do you think that could be?”
He thought about it, then shook his head. “No,” he said.
“Why not? If people could leave and go where they want…”
“They said that when we all first started going West,” said Garvey. “They said if people were unhappy in the East then they could just go out West, and find what they wanted. Well, they went West, and they made this place, and others like it, but they never found what they wanted. People don’t leave their problems behind, they don’t stop being people just because they moved. They’ll do the same thing, every time.”
“But why?”
He was silent. Then he said, “Because the world is a tough place. Tough and empty. The ones who get by are the ones who are either mean or lucky. And they don’t much like other people like themselves hanging around. It’s the same way all over. I bet it’s the same even there,” he said, and waved his hands at the stars. “If there’s people out there like us, they’ve probably seen the same damn things that we have.”
She noticed an edge to his voice. “Donald,” she said. “Donald, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said. He looked away and then said, “Sometimes it seems like everything’s falling apart. Every single goddamn thing.”
“You can leave,” she told him. “We can leave. Just go away and leave this place. If we want.”
He looked at her and shook his head. “No,” he said. “We can’t. Don’t you see? We can’t just leave it to die.”
Samantha returned in the morning and went to work in the clothes she had worn the day before. After a few hours of doing almost nothing to no one’s notice, she returned to her apartment and lay down to rest.
She awoke to the sound of knocking. She sat up and looked out the window. It was dark. The pounding continued. She went to the door and opened it and found Hayes was standing there, soaking wet and smiling madly.
“You’re coming with me,” he said. “Put your coat on and let’s go.”
“What?” she said. “No, wait, where have you been? It’s been days, for Heaven’s sake! I’ve had to keep everything quiet so no one knows you’re gone!”
“Well, I knew you’d be able to cover for me. But it won’t have been for nothing. I’ve landed something, Sam. Something big.”
“What’s going on? What’s happening?”
“Oh, it’s business as usual,” he said. “We’re going to an interview, Sam. Tonight. Only this one is a little different.”
“What? Please, I’m in no mood for games.”
“I’ve arranged things,” he said, giddy. “Arranged a meeting. With Mickey Tazz.”
“You what?” she said. “You’ve got a meeting with Mickey Tazz?”
“No. We do. We both do. As esteemed representatives of McNaughton.”
She gaped at him, then said again, “You what?”
“I want you to come with me. To be my secretarial aid while I talk to this lowborn king of men.”
“No. No, I can’t.”
“Sure you can. You have to.”
“I can’t, I have… I have plans.”
“Plans?” he said, and scoffed. “What the hell kind of plans? Break your damn plans, we’re seeing the man no one else in the city can even find.”
“I really cannot…”
“Some gentleman caller?” asked Hayes. He picked up an umbrella and brandished it about like a sword. “Some gent from Legal who’s here to wine and dine you throughout Newton?”
“Oh, stop it,” she snapped.
Hayes lowered the umbrella and looked at her, deflated. Then he said, “You have to come.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to go alone.”
“Then find someone else.”
“I can’t.”
“Some thug or some knife for hire. Get them.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re the only person I trust,” he said.
Samantha stared at him. Hayes replaced the umbrella and stood looking down at it.
“Well, you and Garvey, but I have no clue where he is,” he said. “Besides, I don’t want to bring him into this. The last thing we need is to muddy the police any more.”
“Oh, God,” she said wearily.
“Come on, Sam,” he pleaded. “You’re my rock. Come on. Come with me and let’s break this thing in half.”
Samantha rubbed her forehead and leaned against the wall. “Fine,” she said. “Fine. Just let me leave a note.” She went to grab a slip of paper.