D. MacHale - The Pilgrims of Rayne

“I know,” she admitted, defeated. “It’s hopeless. There’s no way we can find somebody that way.”

“No!” Dodger said. “Finding him is no problem. I got friends who work for the government.”

“Are you kidding?” Courtney shouted, her spirits suddenly back up. “Why are you looking all concerned?”

Dodger said, “I can’t figure out what’s so important about some kid inventor that Gunny would want me to find him so bad.”

Courtney grabbed Dodger by the lapels and shouted, “Ask him when you see him. Right now, let’s find Mark. Got that Tony?”

Tony the dishwasher shrugged and went back to work.

A few minutes later Courtney stood outside a telephone booth near the lobby while Dodger made a call. The door was closed, so she couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she could tell he was doing a lot of laughing and gesturing. Courtney noticed that Dodger did a lot of gesturing with his hands when he spoke, for emphasis. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, Dodger hung up and pulled open the glass door of the phone booth. He looked at Courtney without saying a word. He had no expression. There were no hand gestures.

“Well?” Courtney demanded impatiently.

“People think bellhops are just guys who carry around luggage and flag down cabs, you know? But we have power most people don’t see. For example, if somebody’s big-shot boss was coming to town and the hotel was booked solid, I could make that somebody look really good by getting his boss a room, because I know that some of the real special suites are saved for last-minute VIPs.”

Dodger smiled proudly at Courtney. Courtney stared blankly at Dodger.

“And you’re telling me this because…?”

“Because a friend of mine needs a favor, and I’m gonna fix his boss up with the best suite in this joint. Now that friend owes me a favor, get it?”

“Not really,” Courtney said.

Dodger stood up and combed his already perfectly combed hair. “This friend just so happens to work in Washington and has access to certain files that aren’t always open to the public, if you get my drift.”

“Just tell me!” Courtney shouted.

“Two forty Waverly Place.”

“And that is…?”

“It’s an apartment building in the village where your friend Mark Dimond lives,” Dodger announced proudly. “Now do you think I am who I am?”

Courtney threw her arms around Dodger and hugged him tight. “I don’t know who you are and right now I don’t care, because you might have just saved all humanity from total destruction!”

She let go of Dodger and ran for the exit. He stood there for a moment, basking in the glory. The smile dropped off his face. “I just did what?” he shouted as he ran after her.

(CONTINUED)

The cab ride from midtown Manhattan to Waverly Place was a short one. It seemed to Courtney that the deeper they got into the neighborhoods of Manhattan, the less it felt like she was in the past. The buildings didn’t look all that different from the buildings of Second Earth, especially as they drove through Greenwich Village. Most buildings were three- or four-story brick walk-ups. The ground floors had restaurants and cleaners and clothing shops. The upper stories looked like apartments. It was pretty much the same as on Second Earth. With no Starbucks. The only obvious, in-your-face sign that things weren’t like home was the cars. The streets were clogged with big, growling monsters with gleaming chrome grills. They had names like “Studebaker,” “Hudson,” and “Cord.” There wasn’t a single Honda, Volkswagen, or Volvo in sight.

The streets of Greenwich Village were narrower than the wide avenues of midtown. They crossed one another at odd angles and had weird names like “Bethune,” “Gansevoort,” and “Bleecker.” Courtney was happy to see that the cabbie knew exactly where he was going. In no time he made the turn from Bank Street onto Waverly Place and stopped In front of a quaint corner eatery called “Ye Waverly Inn.” Dodger wanted to pay the cab fare, but Courtney wouldn’t let him. This was her mission, after all. As they got out of the car, Dodger looked around at the narrow street and shook his head in wonder.

“Coming down here feels like taking a trip into the past,” he marveled.

“You have no idea,” Courtney said with a snicker.

Dodger put on a brown hat that made Courtney chuckle.

“What?” he asked innocently.

“You trying to be Indiana Jones or what?”

Dodger shook his head in frustration. “You know what I’d like? Just once I’d like it if you said something that made sense.”

“Don’t count on it,” Courtney replied.

Next to the restaurant was the entrance to a four-story brick building-#240.

“This is it,” Courtney said nervously.

“Now do you trust me?”

“No.”

Dodger took a small piece of paper out of his pocket. “My friend said the patent was issued to Mark Dimond at this address. Apartment number four-A.” He put the paper back into his pocket and asked, “If you could get the patent number, how come you couldn’t get the address?”

“I don’t know,” Courtney answered as she started toward the door. “Computers aren’t infallible I guess.”

“There you go again not making sense,” Dodger said as he followed her toward the door.

“It’s only going to get worse,” Courtney said. She stopped at the bottom of the steps that led up to the black front door.

“Now what’s the problem?” Dodger asked.

“I’m debating about letting you come in with me.”

“Why?” he whined. “I got you this far, didn’t I?” Courtney nodded.

“So why don’t you trust me?” Dodger asked. Courtney looked him over, thinking, then said, “You can come. If you’re Saint Dane, I’d rather know where you are.” “Good. I think.”

Courtney walked up the stairs and scanned the door.

“What are you looking for?” Dodger asked.

“The panel with the security buttons so we can get buzzed in.”

Dodger gave her a strange look and opened the front door. It wasn’t locked.

“Oh,” Courtney said, and stepped inside. It was yet another subtle sign that she was in a different time.

The building was too small to have an elevator, so they climbed the marble staircase up to the fourth floor. It wasn’t a fancy building, but it was clean. The smells of cooking filled the stairwell. Good cooking. Courtney thought it was either spaghetti sauce or some yummy soup. It gave the building a warm, inviting feel. She was glad that Mark had landed in such a comfortable place.

Mark. With each step up, Courtney grew more tense. What would she say to him? More important, what would he say to her? Courtney couldn’t imagine any excuse for why he’d brought technology from home to a different territory. He knew how wrong that was. She couldn’t come up with a scenario that would explain it. As she grew closer to her reunion with Mark, Courtney wasn’t sure how she should feel. Angry? Hurt? Frightened? Sympathetic? All the above? The best thing she could do was take it one step at a time. First find Mark and make sure that he’s okay. After that, the way to go would be clear. Or so she hoped.

They arrived on the fourth floor, where they were faced with five doors leading to different apartments. Number 4A was to the far right of the landing.

“What do we do?” Dodger asked.

Courtney’s answer was to stride across the landing to Mark’s door. Before she could change her mind, she boldly knocked. No answer. She knocked again, louder. Still no answer. They waited a solid minute, knocking a few more times.

“Either nobody’s home or they don’t want company,” Dodger said.

“I’m not leaving until we find out who lives here,” Courtney said adamantly.