Page 18 of Circle of Death
“A World’s Fair,” I tell him. “Like back in the old days. I think the city fathers are trying to pretend things are back to normal. Head east.”
“You got it, boss.”
As we ease out onto the street, I can see people staring at the limo, then turning away and ducking into doorways, terrified. Moe sees it, too. “Jesus. Is my driving that bad?”
Then it hits me. “It’s not you, Moe. People recognize the car.” To people who lived through the years when Khan ruled the world from New York, the vehicle we’re in represented danger, intimidation, and death—not two buddies out for a joy ride.
“Lower your window,” I tell Moe. I do the same. “Now wave. Nice and friendly.”
I watch the expressions on pedestrians change from fear to puzzlement. That’s okay. Better than scaring the hell out of them.
As we drive toward the river, we pass through a patchwork of Upper East Side neighborhoods. Some are recovering nicely; others are still run-down or burned out. For every shop and store that’s reopened, several are still boarded up. The city is moving in the right direction, but slowly.
It’s only a five-minute ride to the World’s Fair site—a ten-acre parcel extending out over the East River. The old FDR Drive runs like a six-lane ribbon underneath, but rising water levels have put it mostly underwater. Moe pulls up in front of a chain-link fence. The site is humming with last-minute construction. Several buildings and exhibits are still shrouded in scaffolding and canvas, but the main pavilion is unveiled and complete, looming like a giant spaceship near the front entrance. A huge lighted crawl runs around the peak.GRAND OPENING NEXT WEEK!it says. Ambitious, from the look of things.
With a patchy communication grid, the city has had to rely on posters, flyers, and word of mouth to circulate the news about the fair. And as everybody in the city has been hearing, the main pavilion is not the most impressive part of the site. Not by a long shot. The fair’s signature attraction sits on a huge platform overhanging the river. I guess you’d call it a Ferris wheel. Except there’s no wheel. The seats are floating in midair in a circle that rises about fifty stories high. Supported bynothing.
Moe leans over and squints through my side window. “How the hell…?”
“Neodymium magnets,” I tell him. “And a little luck.”
I can tell right away that Moe is in Jessica’s camp. “What a bunch of claptrap,” he says. “What do people need with a World’s Fair when the world is going to hell?”
Fair question. And here’s my answer:
“That’s when they need it most.”
CHAPTER 20
AS WE EXIT the fair site and drive north, we hit a string of really bad blocks. Abandoned buildings. Empty lots. Stray dogs. Sad and depressing. In this corner of town, it’s like the Khan years never ended.
Moe pulls to a stop at a red light. Suddenly, we’re surrounded by a gang of scrawny kids, about nine or ten years old. They cluster around the car, banging their palms on the hood. Fearless. Or maybe just desperate.
Moe blasts the horn and leans out the window. “Scram, you little pissants!”
I spot a row of run-down shops on my side of the street. I tap Moe on the arm.
“Pull over.”
Moe shakes his head. “If we stop, the little pricks will slash our tires!”
“I’m pretty sure these tires are slash-proof. Park right here.”
Moe rolls to a stop at the curb. As I open the door, I take a deep breath—and turn invisible. I can’t resist looking back to see Moe’s face. His jaw is hanging down.
He watched me disappear on that first day in the library, but I’m not sure he really believed it. He does now.
I walk across the sidewalk into a little bodega and head straight for the candy aisle. I pick up an empty cardboard box from the floor and start filling it with chocolate bars, lollipops, bubble gum, licorice sticks. Then I hit the snack aisle. I toss in mini bags of chips, pretzels, cookies, and any other treats I can lay my hands on, until the box is stuffed and overflowing.
The clerk at the front counter backs away when he sees the box floating toward him. I toss a bunch of bills on the counter. I’m probably overpaying by about fifty bucks, but who cares? This guy needs the cash a lot more than I do.
When I walk back outside, the kids are still clustered around the car. But the floating cardboard box gets their attention. Especially when candy starts flying out of it.
The kids run over, grinning and shouting like crazy. There’s a lot of bumping and grabbing over the treats, but it’s a friendly scramble, and there’s plenty for everybody. When the box is almost empty, I drop it on the ground. The kids dive in to grab the rest.
When I open the car door and slide back into the front seat, I decide to stay invisible, just to test my limits. Moe presses back against his window and stares in my direction. I can tell he’s still freaked out. When my voice comes out of nowhere, his head just about hits the roof of the car.
“What’s wrong, Moe? You act like you’ve never driven the Shadow before.”
