“Not Big,” Nish moaned. “No way it was him.”
“Get real,” Travis said. “You took him to Data’s room. He knew about the computer and the camera. Fahd’s room key is missing.”
“But nothing was taken!”
“Only because Muck came along and spoiled it.”
“He’s a good guy,” Nish protested.
“You don’t even know him,” Travis said, shaking his head.
“I’m a good judge of people,” Nish said. “Even if it was him, he didn’t take anything.”
“He hit Muck!” Travis almost shouted. He couldn’t believe Nish wouldn’t face facts. But, then again, Travis wasn’t at all certain exactly what the facts were in this case.
“Even if it was Big at the door,” Nish repeated helplessly, “it doesn’t mean he hit Muck.” He stood up, reaching for his jacket. “I’m going to find him.”
“Who?” Travis asked, not following.
“Big, of course. I’ll ask him right to his face.”
Travis opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He was stunned.
“What?” Nish challenged.
Travis tried again. This time, even though it seemed he had no breath, he was able to speak. “If he tried to kill Muck, who’s to say he won’t hurt you?”
Nish looked up, not believing Travis could be so foolish as to suggest such a thing. He put his pointer and middle fingers together.
“We’re like brothers,” Nish said. “Brothers.”
“You don’t even know his real name,” Travis pointed out.
“I trust him with my life,” Nish argued.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Travis said, shaking his head.
But Nish wasn’t listening. His boots tied and his Screech Owls tuque in hand, he was headed for the door.
“Wait!” Travis found himself calling.
Nish stopped at the door, turning expectantly.
“I better come with you,” Travis said.
Nish smiled. “I knew you would.”
It was growing dark along East 52nd and Lexington. The snow was still falling and, in a surprising way, New York City was gradually beginning to look more like Tamarack than the Big Apple. There was precious little traffic now – only a few yellow cabs and police cars, a front-end loader growling at the end of a street as it dug free an intersection – and the fresh-fallen snow was white and sparkling under the streetlights. For the first time since the Screech Owls had arrived, the city was quiet. Almost peaceful.
Nish was ploughing ahead, head down, into the lightly blowing snow. He walked with determination, each step leaving an ankle-deep hole in the snow.
Travis hurried to keep up. He was fascinated that Nish seemed to know where he was going – a twelve-year-old treating downtown New York City as if it were his own home town – but he had long ago accepted that there were some things in life that Nish understood and many things he did not. While Nish might be able to find his way around the streets of a strange city today, tomorrow he might not be able to find a clean pair of boxer shorts in the mess of clothes dumped at the foot of his bed.
They walked down Lexington and along 42nd past Grand Central Station, which was practically deserted, since no trains had been running for days.
Near Times Square Nish came to a parking lot – cars abandoned by their owners were piled so high with snow it was impossible to tell colour or make – and turned in at an alley leading off it, moving as surely as if he were in his own backyard.
“Where are we going?” Travis asked, trying, but failing, to keep the worry out of his voice.
“Big’s been working the streets between Times Square and Rockefeller Center – says it’s the only place there’s any customers any more. Him ’n’ his buds are having a rough go of it.”
Travis cringed. “A rough go of it”? How could you feel sorry for a bunch of street crooks selling illegal fake watches?
Travis pointed out the obvious: “This isn’t the street. This is an alley.”
Nish turned and looked at Travis with contempt. “This is where they operate out of – there’s cops all over the streets, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Nish headed deeper into the alley. It was like entering a room with the lights off. Gone were the streetlights and their warm glow off the snow. It was dark in here, and getting darker. There were footprints everywhere, dark shadows that suggested to Travis they were not alone.
He was losing sight of Nish. The alley twisted up ahead, and Travis hoped it would twist again and then come out on the next street over, but he didn’t know for sure. He knew only that he felt uneasy and wished he hadn’t come.
He wanted to go back. He opened his mouth to call to Nish, but no sound came out.
Travis couldn’t speak for a reason – there was a large glove clamped over his mouth!