Chapters (7)
In New York, the police told the CEO off the record that the device was so badly made that it wouldn’t have done more than scratch the paintwork. Even so he should remain vigilant. And so should his family. The CEO asked for round-the-clock protection but was refused. Not that politely, he thought.
821
The man responsible for making and planting the device was a fireman living in Brooklyn. He was at that point standing in the middle of Central Park, Manhattan, taking deep, deep breaths, getting the smell of car oil out of his nostrils and calming himself down. He waits for the boom. He thinks it is LOVE that is making him do these things but what does he know? I’ll tell you he knows crap.
This man is my younger brother. I wish I could say a few positive things about him. He calls himself “the fireman,” though he isn’t part of any official firefighting unit. Indeed, if he ever saw a fire he would just stare at it, hypnotized. Or throw wood on it. His name’s Edward but the name sticks in my throat.
820
The boom didn’t come. No bangs or screams or fire engines or helicopters. Edward the Fireman let his breath billow dragonlike in the cold air.
He must have gotten his wires crossed, he thought. Or had a loose connection. He’d need to get some technical training if his GREAT ACTS were ever going to impress anyone.
819
Unfunny John wished backstage was more roomy. It was cramped and no good for pacing. He had been edgy all evening. Nameless, elusive edginess.
It started as he ate his TV dinner. He thought it might be food poisoning.
It wasn’t though. He jittered. Coughing became gagging.
It stayed with him through his taxi journey to the Wellington Arms and through the small tour of the backstage area. It eased off during the introductions to the bar staff but intensified during his pint of lime and soda and peaked at the arrival of his fellow performers (all strangers). Up and down, up and down.
Whatever was going on, he knew it was auxiliary nerves and not stage nerves. He’d dealt with those a long time ago.