“Do you have a form?”
Simone’s back was to deCostas, but she hoped he was taking her cue and dropping his marble while she shielded him from Sorenson’s view.
“No I don’t, as you didn’t fully apprise me of what he’d be doin’. I’ll have our lawyers draft one. It should be ready in a few days. Then I’ll be happy to let Mr. deCostas measure the depth.” Sorenson motioned with his arms again, pointing them back to the lobby. deCostas sighed, and Simone watched him tuck the marble back into his pocket. She glared, wondering why he hadn’t dropped it when she’d given him the chance. “I’ll send you the documents as soon as they’re ready,” Sorenson said in the lobby. “Thank you for your patience.”
“Of course,” deCostas said. Simone nodded. Sorenson turned and got back into the elevator. Simone left the building, deCostas following. Outside, she walked a few bridges away before speaking.
“You should have just dropped it,” Simone said.
“What?”
“Your depth measurer. You were right there. You could have dropped it. Said it was an accident.”
“He wouldn’t have liked that. You said to be polite.”
“Yeah, but you could have gotten away with it. He would have insisted you turn it off, or not check the status until you signed his forms, and you could have agreed and gone home and done whatever you wanted.”
“That wouldn’t have been polite. I think that what I did—which was dropping the marble when you distracted him—thank you for that—and then taking another out and making it look like I was putting it away—I thought that was the polite thing to do.”
Simone was silent for a moment. “Is that what you did?” she asked.
“It was.”
“Well,” Simone said, somewhat impressed. “Nicely done.”
“Thank you. Would you like to get something to eat?”
Simone looked him up and down. He grinned at her, one eyebrow cocked.
“Sure,” she said. There was a little café on the other side of the bridge next to one of the needle buildings where they ordered fish sandwiches and she had coffee and he had tea. They ate outside at a small table, the water a low rumble that stopped just short of making them both vibrate.
“You know this is pearl diving, right?” Simone asked. “I mean, I don’t want to discourage you from paying me, but we’re not going to find anything.”
deCostas was silent for a moment, as if considering what she said. He looked like he was holding his breath. Simone wondered if she’d gone too far and lost the client.
“I know most people think it is a useless quest,” he said finally, his voice even, “but I’ve done the research, and enough people agree with me to fund this expedition.” He gestured firmly, almost violently, slapping his palm down on the table. Simone’s hand involuntarily crept closer to her gun. “If I can find space below the water in New York, then others may ask me to find space below the other sunken cities. We could use what we find to build underwater and try to get life to like it was before the flood.”
“And make your career in the process?” Simone asked, staring at him as she sipped her coffee.
“Well, yes.” He pushed his hair out of his eyes. “It would make me famous. But I do really believe there must be somewhere the water stops.” He was speaking loudly and jabbed his finger, pointing at her, then realized what he was doing and dropped his hand, but Simone had seen how his eyes had gotten brighter without focusing on anything. She’d seen a touch of rage and maybe something darker.
“I think you’re crazy,” she said. He laughed, and he seemed to shake off whatever it was that had possessed him a moment before. He was charming again, the storm over, the waves calm. He smiled, and Simone relaxed a bit, moving her hand from her pistol, where it had been resting.
“Maybe,” he said. He sipped his tea. “So you have lived in the city your whole life?” Simone nodded. “Have you been to the EU?”
“No. Only left New York once, to visit the Appalachian Islands.”
“The mainland?”
“Yeah, kinda. Eastern islands, connected to the Chicago coast by a giant bridge with a maglev train. Still takes a long time to get there from the mainland, though. So only the really wealthy have homes there. It’s like a vacation spot that’s still part of the mainland. Beaches and mansions and little hotels, but still well policed by the mainland, still safe from ‘corrupt influences.’ My dad took me there when I was little. We stayed at a B&B for a weekend and played on the beach a little. Then we got ticketed for indecency because his bathing suit rode down a little in the back. He didn’t have one of those fancy no-slip kinds. Showed a little crack, and he got charged as much as the vacation cost altogether. That’s mainland life.”
“I’ve never been to the mainland. They say it’s… unwelcoming. Make one social mistake and you’re in prison.”
“That’s about right.”
“So why is it different here?”
“Well, we’re technically still the US, I guess, but everything is decentralized here. We have our own government, and while the mainland decency and morality laws apply to us, no one enforces them. Which makes it a great place for foreign businesses to set up shop. Still America, but with none of the pesky rules.”
“No rules?” One corner of his mouth rose up mischievously.
Simone cocked her head. “Our own rules. Truth is, we don’t get many people moving in or out of New York. You’re born a New Yorker, you stay one. Some people move in, but they tend to leave one way or another after they got what they came for or realize they never will.”
“One way or another?”
“Over the water or under it,” Simone said, using her coffee cup to hide her inadvertent frown.
“And what is it they come for?”
“Money,” Simone shrugged. “Power, fame.” She stared at deCostas over his coffee, and he took a long sip. “But New Yorkers don’t like leaving.”
“You say that with pride.”
“Yeah.” Simone drained her coffee and leaned back in her chair. “So what’s the EU like?”
“Nice. Liberal, obviously, by America’s standards.”
“What isn’t?”
“Not too different from here, socially, but we have more…”
“Buildings?”
He laughed. “Yes, and we have an older culture. A relaxed one. One that knows it is in its golden years and so tries to enjoy the time it has left, with music and art, sunsets and sex. In the north we have great dykes and walls, like the one you have on the Chicago coast, but they feel natural. And in the south we have pumps and canals—more like here, but different somehow. Like old photos of Venice from before it sank. America is still like the adult who just realized he will not live forever and so is trying to hide himself from danger. It has been this way since before the flood… but the flood lengthened it. A very long midlife crisis, decades past its prime, trying to recapture its elusive youth. Europe is past this. We enjoy ourselves and the beauty of the world, even as the waters threaten to cover us.”
“Sunsets and sex?”
“It’s a line from a movie,” deCostas said, pushing his hair back from his face, “but an accurate one. You should visit sometime and see.”
“We have sunsets and sex here.”
“Really? Perhaps I shall find out for myself,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“Do these lines work on European women?”
“Some.”
“Now I know you’re lying.” Simone stood, and deCostas squinted up at her. She was enjoying his company, but she wasn’t dumb enough to enjoy it for very long, and it was getting late. She thought about inviting him back with her. She was probably going to fuck him eventually, after all. He was hot and willing, and she didn’t turn down easy sex if she thought the guy wouldn’t try for anything more; and in this case she didn’t think it would interfere with the work she was doing for him. The sun was behind her, and it felt warm on her back. But something distracted her. She was facing the Mission, and the door was opening. Out stepped The Blonde. The legs in the waiting room—no wonder they’d seemed familiar. Simone had tailed them the other night. “I should go,” she said. “Send me some more buildings. I’ll set up some more viewings.”