“Sure.” They were in the lower lobby.

“I’ll get back to you.”

The second plane had hit a moment later.

He’d been waiting quite a while now. Firemen came and went. They were brave fellows, but it looked as if this situation was presenting them with some huge problems. So far, he hadn’t seen that fire chief again.

It was 9:25 when his cellphone rang again. It was a number he didn’t know. He took the call impatiently, wanting to get rid of it as quickly as possible.

“Honey? Can you hear me?”

“Maggie! Where are you?”

“I’m at the World Trade Center.”

“I know. Which tower?”

“South. I’d have called you before but my damn cell cut out, and this nice guy let me use his. Where are you?”

“On Church Street, at Chambers. Maggie, I’m not going to Boston, okay? I was crazy. I love you.”

“Oh thank God, Gorham. I love you too. I’m coming down the stairs, but it’s kinda slow. Some of the building’s got twisted around a little.”

“I’m coming in to get you.”

“Don’t do that, honey. Please. I don’t even know where I am. You’ll never find me, and then we’ll miss, and then I won’t be able to find you. Just wait right there. I’m on my way. It’s not like the building’s going to fall down or anything.”

“Just keep talking to me then.”

“Honey, the guy needs his phone back. I’ll call. Just wait there and give me a big hug when I get out.”

“Okay. But Maggie—” The call had ended. “I love you,” he said to the cellphone.

By 9:40, Dr. Caruso reckoned that if he was going to be of any use to anybody, he’d better look around and make his own assessment. He was in the upper lobby when he heard the first thud. At first he didn’t realize what it was. A few moments later, there came two more.

Bodies. They were coming from the North Tower. He understood what that meant. People must be trapped up there in heat which was becoming unbearable. So you had the choice: burn alive or jump. He’d read accounts of people jumping from buildings, but this was different—these bodies were falling a thousand feet. The math wasn’t difficult. Accelerating at thirty-two feet per second, after falling a thousand feet, a body hits a hard surface very hard indeed. He wasn’t sure if you’d be conscious just before impact, but death would be completely instantaneous. If these were his only options, he reckoned, he’d choose to jump. But the sound it made … He tried not to hear the sound it made.

“There’s my doctor. You thought I’d forgotten you.” The Irish face of the fire chief, looking a little red from exertion. “Like to do me a favor?”

“Of course.”