Nat was conscious that Patty was watching him. He tried to ignore her and could not.
“Darling, I asked a question.”
“I don’t know the answer.” Nat hung up.
Zib hung up slowly. It was then that the tears began.
The telephone on the desk made noises. Nat walked quickly to it, picked it up, spoke his name.
The governor’s voice said, “Only two more women to go. Then we start the men’s lottery sequence.” His voice said nothing in particular, but a faint warning was plain.
“Okay,” Nat said. “I’ve talked with the chief. He says in a command situation either it’s obey or mutiny, and if a mutiny begins—”
“The chief reaches for the nearest belaying pin and whacks the nearest head, is that it?” the governor said. There was patent approval in his tone.
“That’s it,” Nat said. “He knows his equipment and he’s been through this before, and he says if disorder is allowed—” He paused, realizing he was speaking to one of the potential victims. Then he went on because there was no way to conceal the thought. “If disorder is allowed,” he repeated, “the chief says nobody is going to get out alive. I’m sorry, Governor, but that’s his message, and I have to agree with it.”
“No apology necessary, young man. I agree with it too. Do you have any suggestions?”
“Yes, sir. A couple.” Nat paused to gather his thoughts. “You might pass the word right now that at the first sign of disorder I’ll tell the chief and he’ll hold the breeches buoy on the Trade Center roof until people line up again. If anybody doubts that, have him get on this phone and I’ll tell him.”
“As long,” the governor said, “as the telephone line* remains in service.”
“That’s the second thought, Governor,” Nat said. “We’ll get right through to the city radio station. They’ve got to have a mike and remote equipment here, (f the. phone goes out, we’ll go on radio. You’ve got a transistor radio up there?”
“Currently playing rock-and-roll,” the governor said. He paused. “Agreed.”
“If the phone is out,” Nat said, “you won’t be able to reach us. If there’s trouble, just flutter a handkerchief at the window and the chief will call down to me. Okay?” There was a short silence. “Okay,” the governor said. Another silence. Then, “You think well, young man. You have done a superlative job. You have the gratitude of all of us.” Pause. “That is just in case the opportunity to tell you in person doesn’t arise.”
“We’ll do the best we can to get you all out,” Nat said. “I know you will. And thanks.”
32
The lower forty floors of the building were now in shadow. Patrolman Shannon stared up at the smoking mass and shook his head in disbelief. “Do you see what I see, Frank? Up there the building is glowing!”
It was. Most of the windows had broken out because of the heat, and smoke poured through the empty frames. But through the smoke, in the darkened shadows plain to see, the building itself was faintly incandescent, and in the distorted air currents caused by its radiation the entire structure seemed to writhe.
“You’re a praying man, Mike,” Barnes said. “Better get to it.” He paused. “It was a grand sight, remember? And all of these grand people came to watch.”
High above them the breeches buoy swung out of the Tower Room again, by a trick of light glinting momentarily as it slid down the catenary curve toward the Trade Center roof. In the crowd all eyes watched. Shannon crossed himself.
“A cremation,” Barnes said. “I wonder how many are thinking of that.” He paused. “Or of Joan of Arc at the stake.” For the first time his tone was angry. “We let the maniac through, Mike, and I for one will not forget it even though the man, bless him, said we were only members of the lodge.”
“And,” Shannon said, “whatever did he mean by that?”
“That the blame is shared, even though I don’t know how or why. But I can guess. A—thing like this does not happen from one cause. Mrs. O’Leary’s cow may have kicked over the lantern, but a thousand other things had to go wrong before Chicago could burn to the ground. It has to be the same here, although that is damn small consolation.”
Shannon said nothing. He seemed unimpressed. “There are people up there, man,” Barnes said, “people like you and me, yes, I even saw a few black faces. And—”
“That what-you-may-call-it,” Shannon said. “They’re getting them out.”
“They won’t get them all out,” Barnes said. “Not with heat that already makes the building glow. And do you know the worst of it, Mike, the hell of it?” He paused. “The best ones will be the ones to stay behind.”
On the Trade Center roof Kronski said, “You’re expecting trouble over there, huh, Chief?”
“Maybe. I hope not.” The chief’s massive calm was unshaken. Together he and Kronski caught the swinging breeches buoy, and the chief lifted the woman out.
She was sobbing, from fright, from grief. “Mein husband—”
“We’d like your name, ma’am,” the chief said. “We’re keeping a list.”
“Bucholtz! But mein husband. You must bring him next! He is a very important man! He vill pay! He—”
“All right, lady,” the chief said. “These cops will take care of you. We’re trying to get everybody out.” He gestured to the policemen who took the woman by both arms.
“Mein husband! He knows many important people! He—”
“One question,” the chief said. “How many more women to come?”
Frau Bucholtz shook her head. “I do not know.”
“You were number forty-eight,” the chief said. “How many were there?”
“I think forty-nine. But I do not know. And I do not care. Mein husband—”
“Yeah,” the chief said. “Take her away.” He turned to watch the breeches buoy on its long climb back to the Tower Room.
Kronski said, “I seen a lifeboat once up in the Bering Sea.” He shook his head. “Cold up there, you know what I mean, Chief? You been there.”
“I’ve been there.” The chief was pretty sure he knew that what was coming was some grisly tale he did not particularly want to hear, but he said nothing more.
“One of them coastal freighters,” Kronski said. “Fire aboard. They’d lost their engines. Big seas, and the freighter began to break up. They took to die boats.” He paused. “We got it all from one guy, the first officer. He lasted a little while. He was the only one.
“The thing was,” Kronski said, “when they launched the boats, one of them capsized. Otherwise—” He shook his head and spread his hands. “You know what I mean, Chief?”
The chief said heavily, “I know what you mean.” He paused. “So everybody tried to get into the other boat, isn’t that how it was?”
Kronski nodded. “Right. They tried to beat them off with oars, the first officer said. No good. No fucking good. They kept coming.” He was silent.
The chiefs eyes were on the distant windows. He watched the breeches buoy swing through. In his mind was memory of the gigantic seas in those northern waters, the bellowing wind, and the cold—above all the bone-chilling cold. Men in open boats, he thought, or men trying to launch open boats, desperate freezing men. He kept his eyes on the windows, but he said. “And what happened was that they capsized the second boat too, isn’t that it?”
Kronski nodded again. “Right. We got there less than an hour later.” Pause. “Might as well have been a month. Only that first officer was still alive, and, like I said, he didn’t last long.” Another pause. “They might of saved maybe half—”