We catch a taxi back to Fourth Avenue, stopping once to buy some fruit, as my toilet habits require a certain amount of fibre to stay on schedule, especially with all the stress of the last few days.
‘This ship, Chase,’ I say. ‘How will we find one?’
The taxi driver, a small black-eyed man wearing a red bandana and gold earrings, coughs.
‘Er-hergm, dudes! You cats want to catch a ship? Where you cats want to go?’
If I say Australia,he might put two and two together and come up with a big fat reward.
‘Oh, France,’ I say, since Chase did mention it. ‘Paris is lovely. Not as lovely as New York, of course. But you know, nice. Ish.’
The driver nods. ‘I kin git you on a cruise ship leaving tomorrow night. Because my bro, Harley, knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a dude.’
‘Right on!’ Chase snaps his fingers. ‘You gotta number?’
‘If you got cash,’ the driver says. ‘I most certainly definitely positively have.’
So, it seems we’re part of the way out of the USA!