more about Weiss running with the police after him and with Baron after him. Baron could be the worse danger.
I was in the air and falling!
Out over the subway tracks, clawing air.
I braced to hit the tracks, and heard the train coming.
Then time seemed to stop, reverse, blend past and present and future all together in the same instant.
I heard the train and felt the push at the same time.
I saw, in a brief flash, a slender man in pale gray. A handsome face turned for one intent look at me. A trim gray back walking away. A gray Homburgâjaunty. I thought: Heâs killed me.
I fell, and saw the gray man, and heard the train, and knew I was dead, and saw a train roar past me all in the same moment.
I hit the tracks and knew with great clarity that I was not dead because Astor Place was a local station. You see, on the I.R.T. the local and express often come almost side by side. I had been pushed by the sound, not the sight, of the train. The express was some six cars ahead of the local. A mistake, you see? He had pushed me six cars too soon.
I lay in between the tracks, and the local came and stopped above me. I lay in an icy stream of water. Voices: Hey! Hey! You okay? Yes, yes! Iâm okay! In time they would move the train. I would get up, wipe myself, go on.
I rolled from under and walked across the express tracks to the downtown platform. I climbed up. They stared. Subway cops yelled. A train came and I got on. I rode down four stops. I thought. I got off and went up into the night. I found a taxi. I went to Pennsylvania Station. There was a train for Philadelphia. Marty, that was what I wanted.
I sat and watched the Jersey Flats, the factories, the towns, the pine woods around Princeton. I shook. I saw Martyâs face in the dark window. She would wipe off the dirt and kiss me. I rode all the way to Trenton before I remembered that Marty had her own needs. I got off and waited two hours for the train back.
When I got home I locked my door and sat at a window and drank Irish whisky. I watched the night sky. When I went to bed, I began to shake again. I shivered without control until I fell asleep.
6
L IFE BEGINS in darkness and ends in darkness and in between is a nightmare.
A man in a bar in Algiers told me that. It was in my mind when I woke up to the gray cold of another day.
All you can do, that man said, is stay out of it. He may be right, but life is short. If you stay out youâll never know if you could have done something to make it less a nightmare. Like doing something about men who push other men under trains.
I was angry, and lay in bed enjoying the anger that had replaced the shaking of last night. I also thought about our ability to forget once an immediate threat has passed. Itâs our strength, I suppose, but also our weakness, and in the safe light of day I was sure no one could kill me. Stupid, of course, but without that belief, who could go ahead being a detective or anything else?
After a big breakfast to prove how good my nerves were, I spent the morning looking for Weiss again. I walked with one eye looking behind. I was brave, but not crazy. I didnât find a smell of Weiss, but I found that Paul Baron was still looking.
In the afternoon I checked out Deirdre Fallon. She was a regular at the Charles XII, she was well known, and she had been there with Radford. Her hairdresser backed her up, too. George Ames also checked out, but not as definitely. He had arrived at his club around noon all right, and had left around 5:00 P.M., but it was a big club with many doors, and Ames had not been with someone all the time.
I took the late afternoon train for North Chester. When I got off, there was a clean tang to the cold air: country air. The suburban town had a rural feel, with tree-lined streets, and a single old black limousine at the taxi stand. When we were out of the town and in the country, I asked the driver if he had seen Walter Radford get off the train on
I was in the air and falling!
Out over the subway tracks, clawing air.
I braced to hit the tracks, and heard the train coming.
Then time seemed to stop, reverse, blend past and present and future all together in the same instant.
I heard the train and felt the push at the same time.
I saw, in a brief flash, a slender man in pale gray. A handsome face turned for one intent look at me. A trim gray back walking away. A gray Homburgâjaunty. I thought: Heâs killed me.
I fell, and saw the gray man, and heard the train, and knew I was dead, and saw a train roar past me all in the same moment.
I hit the tracks and knew with great clarity that I was not dead because Astor Place was a local station. You see, on the I.R.T. the local and express often come almost side by side. I had been pushed by the sound, not the sight, of the train. The express was some six cars ahead of the local. A mistake, you see? He had pushed me six cars too soon.
I lay in between the tracks, and the local came and stopped above me. I lay in an icy stream of water. Voices: Hey! Hey! You okay? Yes, yes! Iâm okay! In time they would move the train. I would get up, wipe myself, go on.
I rolled from under and walked across the express tracks to the downtown platform. I climbed up. They stared. Subway cops yelled. A train came and I got on. I rode down four stops. I thought. I got off and went up into the night. I found a taxi. I went to Pennsylvania Station. There was a train for Philadelphia. Marty, that was what I wanted.
I sat and watched the Jersey Flats, the factories, the towns, the pine woods around Princeton. I shook. I saw Martyâs face in the dark window. She would wipe off the dirt and kiss me. I rode all the way to Trenton before I remembered that Marty had her own needs. I got off and waited two hours for the train back.
When I got home I locked my door and sat at a window and drank Irish whisky. I watched the night sky. When I went to bed, I began to shake again. I shivered without control until I fell asleep.
6
L IFE BEGINS in darkness and ends in darkness and in between is a nightmare.
A man in a bar in Algiers told me that. It was in my mind when I woke up to the gray cold of another day.
All you can do, that man said, is stay out of it. He may be right, but life is short. If you stay out youâll never know if you could have done something to make it less a nightmare. Like doing something about men who push other men under trains.
I was angry, and lay in bed enjoying the anger that had replaced the shaking of last night. I also thought about our ability to forget once an immediate threat has passed. Itâs our strength, I suppose, but also our weakness, and in the safe light of day I was sure no one could kill me. Stupid, of course, but without that belief, who could go ahead being a detective or anything else?
After a big breakfast to prove how good my nerves were, I spent the morning looking for Weiss again. I walked with one eye looking behind. I was brave, but not crazy. I didnât find a smell of Weiss, but I found that Paul Baron was still looking.
In the afternoon I checked out Deirdre Fallon. She was a regular at the Charles XII, she was well known, and she had been there with Radford. Her hairdresser backed her up, too. George Ames also checked out, but not as definitely. He had arrived at his club around noon all right, and had left around 5:00 P.M., but it was a big club with many doors, and Ames had not been with someone all the time.
I took the late afternoon train for North Chester. When I got off, there was a clean tang to the cold air: country air. The suburban town had a rural feel, with tree-lined streets, and a single old black limousine at the taxi stand. When we were out of the town and in the country, I asked the driver if he had seen Walter Radford get off the train on
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