In Plain Sight

“There’s this place a few blocks from the park called The Lunch Box,” he said, tearing out the paper and handing it to her. “It’s a bit of a dog-wagon, but I know the owner. Ask for Max and tell him Alex Lockerby said you need to cook for him. He’ll give you a fair shot.”

“Hasn’t he got a cook?”

“Yeah,” he said. “But he stinks. The old cook retired and Max brought this new kid. He’s terrible. I hate to eat there anymore.”

“Why go?” Mary asked.

“It’s the only place near my apartment.”

“Thanks, Alex,” Mary said, tucking the paper into the pocket of her apron. “Will I see you again?”

“Sure,” Alex said. “I expect you to start cooking at my favorite place. You’ll see a lot of me then.”

“I think I’d like that,” Mary said with a very agreeable smile.

Alex doffed his hat, then took out one of Burt’s cigarettes and lit it. He tore a Minor Barrier Rune out of his book and cast it on himself.

“See you soon, Mary,” he said, then stepped out into the downpour.

* * *

The promise of paying work for the police let Alex justify the taxi ride over to Danny’s crime scene, but helping out Father Harry meant taking the crawler. Most big cities had a streetcar service, but New York’s was unlike anything in the world. The Crawler was one of J.D. Rockefeller’s inventions. Most sorcerers got rich marketing various enchanted materials, like Barton with his power capacitor in the Empire Tower, or Sorsha Kincaid, the Ice Queen who enchanted the metal disks used to keep iceboxes cold. Rockefeller was a whole different kind of sorcerer; when he put his power to work, he made tens of millions. When he first showed off the crawler, people said he’d finally gone insane.

Alex rounded the corner and made his way down the block to the crawler station. A half-dozen people were crowded under a metal awning that covered a single bench. As Alex approached, they all looked down the block expectantly, so he quickened his pace. The crawler swept into view, two blocks away, but it still made it to the station before Alex. It looked like a normal two-decker streetcar from the wheel carriages up, but it crawled along the ground on dozens of legs made of blue energy. It looked more like a giant, glowing centipede than a streetcar.

The crawler skittered to a stop and Alex jogged the last few feet to board. As he stepped up, he felt his weight cause the streetcar to shift a bit, then its legs adjusted and leveled it. The car was crammed with passengers, all huddling away from the doors to stay out of the wet and cold. Alex’s barrier would work for at least another half hour so he sat in one of the front stairwells and watched the city go by. The big advantage of crawlers was that they could go much faster than an electric or cable-driven streetcar, and they rode a lot smoother. They seemed to flow over even the roughest ground as if it were still water. For a dime, it was quite a ride.

* * *

Alex got off a few blocks from the Brotherhood of Hope Mission. Crawlers needed reliable power for their energy legs, so they never ventured too far into the outer ring. As he walked, Alex could feel his barrier rune beginning to fade and he quickened his pace. By the time he reached the mission, he was just beginning to get damp.

His knock at the door was answered by an old black nun who looked a hundred if she was a day. Despite her frail appearance, she let out a whoop of joy at the sight of Alex and hugged the stuffing out of him.

“How are you, boy?” she said when he’d finally disentangled himself from her. “Why haven’t you been around more lately?”

“I’m sorry, Sister Gwen,” he said. Alex blushed and didn’t hide it. “Things have been busy at work.”

Sister Gwen grunted, a sound that clearly indicated she thought this was a poor excuse.

“I hear the roof is leaking again,” he prompted, changing the subject. The old nun nodded and turned away, motioning for him to follow.

“Father Clementine’s been expecting you.”

She led him down familiar paths, past the dormitories and the kitchen and into the main hall. It was vast and open, like a warehouse, and Alex could see several unbroken streams of water falling down into strategically placed buckets. As he watched, two men in cassocks pulled a full bucket out from under one of the streams while an older man in a simple robe replaced it with an empty one.

“Be careful dumping that,” the man in the robe said. “I don’t want to have to mop the vestibule again.”

Alex gave Sister Gwen a parting hug and stepped up beside the older man. He was tall and worn with a craggy complexion and an enormous nose in the middle of his face. A thick crop of unkempt hair adorned his head, still jet black despite his being at least seventy. His hands were rough, calloused, and big, like boxers’ hands. As far as Alex knew, however, those hands had never been used in anger.

“I think two grown men can handle a bucket full of water,” Alex said.