Liffy?
For a moment the frantic burning eyes held Joe, then the claw slipped away and the mysterious gaze was broken.
Me, gasped Liffy. . an asthma attack. . in here.
He pulled Joe sideways into an alley and dragged him along.
Are you all right?
. . better now. . can't go back to the hotel. . Here.
He pulled Joe into a dark room off the alley, separated from the alley by a shabby curtain. There were small bare tables in the room and a counter with bottles in a row, stacked chairs, a mirror behind the counter. An Egyptian faced the mirror, his back turned. The floor glistened from water splashed around to lay the dust.
The Egyptian behind the counter glanced into the mirror to see them and went on wiping glasses. The mirror was old and cracked and deeply grained with time, its edges blackened in the gloom. Joe guessed the place was some kind of cheap bar used by laborers, probably mostly at night, empty now save for its owner. Liffy wheezed and sputtered and ordered coffee.
Joe found himself gazing into the mirror, fascinated by the odd distortions floating in its hazy interiors. A peculiar thought flashed through his mind. What if Stern were to sit with him looking into that mirror?. .
Liffy dragged him along to a table at the back, away from the shabby curtain separating the room from the alley. Liffy was still pale and gasping for breath. Joe held his arm.
Are you all right? Can I do anything?
Liffy closed his eyes, chewing at the air.
. . better now. . passing. . an attack.
Joe glanced over his shoulder at the counter, where the owner of the bar was putting a tiny metal pot to boil, removing it when the froth bubbled up and letting the froth subside before returning it to the flame, boiling the mixture of coffee and sugar three times in all. The color was coming back into Liffy's face.
Finally he opened his eyes and stared at Joe.
Better?
Yes, whispered Liffy. I was beginning to think you were never going to show up.
What's this costume you're wearing?
Nothing, just something left over from last night. I was doing a job for the Waterboys and didn't have time to change. Wait.
Joe heard the movement behind him. The owner brought over the two little cups of coffee and placed them on the table, a disheveled man with puffy eyes. As soon as he had left them, Liffy leaned forward.
I was afraid I'd missed you. Something's happened.
What?
Ahmad, whispered Liffy. I came to see you late last night when I finished work. I didn't think you'd be all night and I was going to wait in your room, but I never got there. Ahmad wasn't at his desk when I walked in and there was something wrong, I could feel it. There didn't seem to be anybody there.
Joe gripped his hands together under the table.
You looked around?
Not inside, I didn't like it. Then I thought he might be out back in the courtyard and I went around and climbed up to look in.
Liffy's hands were trembling. He lowered his eyes. Joe stared.
Ahmad, whispered Liffy. He was lying there all crumpled up. It looked as if he had fallen off the roof. His spyglass was still in his hand and his trombone was beside him.
A spasm jerked in Joe's stomach.
Dead?
He was lying the wrong way. His legs and his head were all twisted around but his straw hat wasn't there.
I didn't stay, I left and came to wait for you. I've been waiting for hours, I didn't go back. I have no idea what's going on there.
What was he wearing, Liffy?
His faded lavender nightshirt. That old thing he always wears when he's on duty.
Liffy hung his head. He pulled his hands off the table and hid them, his voice trembling.
I know what you're thinking. Ahmad never went up there without putting on his suit, it was his special place after all. And where was his hat, Joe? What happened to his old straw hat?
Liffy's voice cracked. He clutched Joe's arm, begging him, imploring him.
He went up there on a whim? Just decided to do it and leaned out too far. . lost his balance?
Joe closed his hand over Liffy's.
An accident? pleaded Liffy in desperation.
No, said Joe, squeezing Liffy's hand more tightly.
No? Liffy almost shrieked. Just this one time? No?
Joe gripped Liffy's shoulder. Tears were streaming down Liffy's face.
He was pushed? shrieked Liffy in a whisper. A harmless man like Ahmad? But what's the sense of that, Joe? What's the sense of it?
Joe was on his feet. He dropped some coins on the table.
There's no time, I have to leave.
Liffy's head jerked back.
Where are you going?
I have to see someone.
Who?
There was terror in Liffy's eyes.
Who? Say it. I know anyway.
David, whispered Joe.
Liffy leapt to his feet.
I'm going with you, then. I am.
You shouldn't, Liffy, not now. It would be better if you didn't.
Better? David?. . Better?
All right but we have to hurry, whispered Joe, and started down the room toward the shabby curtain separating them from the alley, a sudden image catching Joe's eye as they rushed past the mirror, the vision of a ghostlike figure drifting through the half-light behind him, wild hair streaming and a billowing cloak and a tormented face glowing in the dimness. . Liffy in flight through time. The unworldly figure of Liffy whirling through one of the last of his mysterious incarnations. .
***
The door to Cohen's Optiks was ajar. A bell tinkled when Joe pushed it open. There was no one in the shop.
Another door, half open, led to the workshop in the back where Joe had talked to Cohen. The workshop was also empty, the door at the rear of the workshop closed. Joe knocked, waited, turned the handle.
It was a storeroom, the place where Anna had listened to Joe's conversation with her brother. There were boxes and dusty trays, discarded grinding wheels, a clock on the wall which no longer worked.
Anna sat on a box, staring at the floor. She looked up, bewildered.
I only just heard. . Were you there?
She stared at Joe blankly and he shook his head. She stared at Liffy.
You weren't there?. . Wasn't anybody with him?
No, said Joe softly. What happened?
Oh. Oh a lorry struck him. The police just told me. He was crossing a street. They said it was nobody's fault.
Her face was empty. She stared at the floor. Joe heard a muffled cry beside him and all at once Liffy was on his knees beside Anna, gathering her up in his arms, the two of them rocking back and forth and wailing and crying out. . crying and crying.
Joe looked at the motionless clock on the wall and felt himself sinking. He pressed his eyes shut, too weak to stand, his heart crushed by the eternal sound of their weeping.
***
The tiny Greek church they had sought for refuge was deserted save for the two of them, the floor of the nave bare as was the custom, the few high-backed wooden chairs pushed back against the walls like thrones at a convocation of wary medieval kings. Shouts from playing children pierced the cool darkness.
Liffy sat on his throne with his hands in his lap, the life drained out of him since they had left Anna. Beside him Joe moved uneasily on his throne, thinking how stark the tiny church was without its priest and worshipers, its canticles and incense, with only vanished chants to fill the shadows. Liffy stirred, whispered.