very nicely.'
I'm glad to hear it.'
Nimmo finished his coffee and, taking a deep, unhurried drag on his cigarette, watched the smoke curl away from his face. He was in no hurry now that he knew Goldman was after information about Rosselli's sex life.
Smiling wryly, he said, Matter of fact, I got laid last night. Which no doubt explains why I'm feeling so good about myself. Best-looking broad you ever saw. I mean, really beautiful. Her name was Summer. Sounds corny, I know. But all those gals give themselves crackerbarrel names. Her hair. Her hair was fantastic. The colour of that light over there.' He pointed over Goldman's shoulder to the light that was flooding the main station concourse. Good mood? Hell, I'm walking on air this morning.'
I hear that'll do it,' said Goldman, still grinning broadly at Nimmo. Getting laid.' But the FBI agent's intensely green eyes seemed to burn into Nimmo's face, as if he was still curious about something.
You still look like you have an important question to ask, my friend.'
Just one.'
Just the one? Jesus, what's the Bureau coming to? Just the one question. Ask away.'
It's about Tom Jefferson.'
Are you sure you mean him and not Franklin Pierce?' snorted Nimmo. Or Martin Van Buren? Or, Jesus I don't know.' Nimmo pulled a name down from the mote-filled air. He actually tried, physically, to reach for one. Millard Fillmore?' Laughing now, he added, Rutherford Hayes?'
Who else knows where he is living in New York?' Goldman asked levelly.
How do you mean?'
Does the mob know where he is yet?'
Very much to his own surprise, Nimmo found himself saying, No, just me.' And now that he considered the question in more detail, it really did not seem to matter all that much. I only found out myself this morning,' he sighed. He and I are going to celebrate New Year's Eve together.'
A party?'
Yes, you could call it that. Except that it'll be just him and me. No one else is invited. Not even you. Tom and I will see the new year in with a bang. Quite a loud one, I shouldn't wonder. Yes sir, we'll paint the whole room red.' Nimmo frowned. Talking of colours, that's quite a suit you're wearing there, fellow.'
You like it, huh?'
It looks great. What the hell kind of material is that?'
English plaid. Cost me eighty bucks.'
Hell, you could have got a new one for that,' chuckled Nimmo. But no, worth every penny of what you paid, I'd say. It really is incredible. I can see every living fibre.'
How about Harvard? Is that where he's going when he leaves New York?'
Harvard?'
The book you were reading in the library?'
Oh yes. Now I remember. He's on the Board of Overseers. I was in the bath when I suddenly thought, like Archimedes, Eureka! I've found it!'
Everyone in the coffee shop looked around to see who it was that had shouted so loudly.
And I dashed out of the hotel and into the library, and found the right book, and I just knew as sure as eggs is eggs that he was going to Harvard University.'
Must be a clever guy.'
Goldman was standing up now, and putting on the polar coat. He seemed taller than Nimmo remembered. And the polar coat was not tan-coloured but golden, so that it almost seemed as if, like Hercules, Goldman was putting on the skin of lion. Then he was helping Nimmo on to his feet.
Come on,' he said. It's time we were moving.'
Are we going somewhere?'
We're all going somewhere.' For the benefit of the rail passengers in the coffee shop, he looked around and said, Just a little early New Year's Eve celebration, folks. Nothing to worry about.'
Happy New Year,' shouted Nimmo.
Goldman ushered him out on to the station concourse. Are you okay? You seem a little hysterical.'
Hysterical?' Nimmo grinned. I never felt better in my whole life. My God. Will you just look at this place? I never really looked at this building before. It's fantastic.'
Grand Central? It sure is something, isn't it? They really knew how to build something back then.'
And this is the way it really is. This is the way you ought to see it, always. On a day like this. With the sun streaming through the tall windows on to the blonde marble floors.' Nimmo wrestled his arm away from Goldman's grasp. Look at that. It's a giant ladder up to the heavens, that's what it is. If Jacob, the son of Isaac, was here now, why he'd climb up that ladder and speak to the Lord himself. Of course. Look at that. Yes. That must be how it was. That must be how it happened. For Jacob, I mean. A ladder of fiery sunlight. I must have been in this station a thousand times, and I never really looked at it before. It's enough to make you believe.'
In what?'
In God, of course. In everything. Heavens above.'
Nimmo was staring up at the ceiling now, with its illuminated constellations of the zodiac. They looked quite different from when he had come into the station some thirty minutes earlier. If a station was what this place really was. Surely, he thought, a building such as this one, made of gold and filled with lights, must be some kind of secret temple wherein the elect were shown things that not everyone could see. Why else could he see, and not the others who were walking around with nothing more transcendent than a train on their minds? It was inspiring and it was humbling at the same time: that he, of all people, should have been given the privilege of seeing such a wonder.
Nimmo shook his head in awe and whispered, This place is one of the wonders of the world.'
Shucks, this isn't as wonderful as some of the things you can see in New York, my friend. You ain't seen nuthin' yet.
Goldman led Nimmo outside, on to 42nd Street, where immediately the sight of so many yellow cabs and so much human hustle and bustle struck Nimmo as inherently laughable. It all looked like something from a cartoon: exaggerated, overdrawn, polychromatic, ridiculous - ridiculous to the point of almost being terrifying. And for a brief second, Nimmo had an idea of what it would be like to be crazy - as Bugs as Bugs Bunny himself. Confronted with so much unremitting strangeness - so much intense meaning that, he thought, you would have to have been the prophet Elijah or Daniel to have dealt with it all - he found himself on the brink of panic. He could see that there was great beauty and burning significance to be seen almost everywhere he looked, but such was reality's imperative - at once spiritual and material - that he felt he might actually be overwhelmed.
Nimmo grabbed Goldman's arm and let himself be guided gently down 5th Avenue. Things had been looking good, but already it was abundantly clear to him that things could look too good, that there could be too much feeling, and that understanding could overwhelm the human mind as a tidal wave might swamp a tiny boat. Maybe a saint or some kind of Indian holy man might have put all this revelation to profitable use, but Nimmo felt dwarfed by it, as a mail box might feel small beside a skyscraper.
By now, Nimmo had sensed that things were not quite right with him, and he was afraid. What's happening to me?' he repeated. And then, I think I must be losing my mind.'
You look okay,' Goldman observed with cool detachment.
And you look just as you should be. Except that you're more than just yourself. It's like I can see inside you, to what makes you real. Who on earth do you think you are?'
You're right,' answered Goldman. I am different on the inside. Inside, I'm real. But I know who I am. Can you honestly say the same?'
I don't want to know who I am.' Nimmo was shaking his head. Where are we?'
Thirty-fourth Street on Fifth. That's the Empire State Building. At one hundred and two storeys high, it's the tallest building in the world. For my money you can keep the Great Pyramid of Cheops, or the Colossus at Rhodes. You can even keep Grand Central Station. This is it, Jimmy. This is where eternal life begins. Just look up there.'
Nimmo followed the line of Goldman's enormous arm, to the silver edge of his hand, and then the diamond point of his forefinger where it ascended into heaven.
