you are, then you already know everything I’m going to say anyway, so it probably doesn’t matter if I tell you or not. Get it?”
Dodger gave her a sour look. “I lost you after This is fine.’” “Good. Here’s the deal. I’m trying to find somebody. He’s a friend of mine. And Bobby’s and Gunny’s.” “Is he on the lam too?”
“No! None of us are on the lam!” Courtney snapped.
One of the dishwashers turned from his work to see what the shouting was about.
Dodger yelled to him, “Relax, Tony. Everything’s peachy.”
Tony the dishwasher shrugged and went back to work.
Courtney continued, “It’s critically important that we find him. I’m not even going to begin to tell you why, because it’s too long of a story and you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”
“And I wouldn’t understand if I am who I am, but if I’m not who I am, then I should already know, but I have no idea what you’re talking about so what the heck does that make me?”
“It’s starting to make you annoying. This is serious.”
“Sorry. Tell me about this pal you’re looking for.”
“His name is Mark Dimond. He’s seventeen with dark curly hair and glasses.”
“Oh,” Dodger said. “Easy-peasy. Only about a million guys fit that description in New York.”
“He stutters when he gets nervous,” Courtney added.
“That narrows it down to a half million guys. We’re getting there.”
“Stop making fun!” Courtney barked.
They both looked at Tony. The dishwasher didn’t turn around this time.
“Sorry,” Dodger said. “Ain’t you got something a little more specific to go on?”
“There’s one thing,” Courtney admitted. “If I was home, I think I could use it to try and track him down, but I’m not. I don’t know how things work around here, and that’s why I’m talking to you in the first place.”
Courtney was getting worked up. Tony looked around again. Courtney yelled, “Hey! Tony! Mind your own business!”
Dodger led Courtney away from the dishwashers into a storage area that was surrounded by shelves loaded with clean plates.
“It’s okay,” Dodger said reassuringly. ‘Tell me about the thing.”
Courtney took a breath to calm herself and said, “On October sixth, Mark filed a patent application at the US Patent Office. I have to believe that when you do that, they ask for an address or something, where you can be contacted. I was hoping that if we look up that information, it might give me a lead as to where to find him.”
Dodger waited for Courtney to say more. She didn’t.
“That’s it?” he asked.
“That’s it.”
“That’s all we got to go on?” “Afraid so.”
“You’re telling me this mystery guy is some kind of inventor?”
Courtney was about to say no, but that’s exactly what Mark was. “Yeah,” she said. “He’s an inventor. If Gunny were here he’d tell you how important it is that we find him. But he’s not. It’s just me. Can you help?”
Courtney watched as Dodger frowned, deep in thought. He paced. He scratched his head. He paced some more. None of this looked good to Courtney. Her spirits sagged.
“I know,” she admitted, defeated. “It’s hopeless. There’s no way we can find somebody that way.”
“No!” Dodger said. “Finding him is no problem. I got friends who work for the government.”
“Are you kidding?” Courtney shouted, her spirits suddenly back up. “Why are you looking all concerned?”
Dodger said, “I can’t figure out what’s so important about some kid inventor that Gunny would want me to find him so bad.”
Courtney grabbed Dodger by the lapels and shouted, “Ask him when you see him. Right now, let’s find Mark. Got that Tony?”
Tony the dishwasher shrugged and went back to work.
A few minutes later Courtney stood outside a telephone booth near the lobby while Dodger made a call. The door was closed, so she couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she could tell he was doing a lot of laughing and gesturing. Courtney noticed that Dodger did a lot of gesturing with his hands when he spoke, for emphasis. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, Dodger hung up and pulled open the glass door of the phone booth. He looked at Courtney without saying a word. He had no expression. There were no hand gestures.
“Well?” Courtney demanded impatiently.
“People think bellhops are just guys who carry around luggage and flag down cabs, you know? But we have power most people don’t see. For example, if somebody’s big-shot boss was coming to town and the hotel was booked solid, I could make that somebody look really good by getting his boss a room, because I know that some of the real special suites are saved for last-minute VIPs.”
Dodger smiled proudly at Courtney. Courtney stared blankly at Dodger.
“And you’re telling me this because…?”
“Because a friend of mine needs a favor, and I’m gonna fix his boss up with the best suite in this joint. Now that friend owes me a favor, get it?”
“Not really,” Courtney said.
Dodger stood up and combed his already perfectly combed hair. “This friend just so happens to work in Washington and has access to certain files that aren’t always open to the public, if you get my drift.”
“Just tell me!” Courtney shouted.
“Two forty Waverly Place.”
“And that is…?”
“It’s an apartment building in the village where your friend Mark Dimond lives,” Dodger announced proudly. “Now do you think I am who I am?”
Courtney threw her arms around Dodger and hugged him tight. “I don’t know who you are and right now I don’t care, because you might have just saved all humanity from total destruction!”
She let go of Dodger and ran for the exit. He stood there for a moment, basking in the glory. The smile dropped off his face. “I just did what?” he shouted as he ran after her.
(CONTINUED)
The cab ride from midtown Manhattan to Waverly Place was a short one. It seemed to Courtney that the deeper they got into the neighborhoods of Manhattan, the less it felt like she was in the past. The buildings didn’t look all that different from the buildings of Second Earth, especially as they drove through Greenwich Village. Most buildings were three- or four-story brick walk-ups. The ground floors had restaurants and cleaners and clothing shops. The upper stories looked like apartments. It was pretty much the same as on Second Earth. With no Starbucks. The only obvious, in-your-face sign that things weren’t like home was the cars. The streets were clogged with big, growling monsters with gleaming chrome grills. They had names like “Studebaker,” “Hudson,” and “Cord.” There wasn’t a single Honda, Volkswagen, or Volvo in sight.
The streets of Greenwich Village were narrower than the wide avenues of midtown. They crossed one another at odd angles and had weird names like “Bethune,” “Gansevoort,” and “Bleecker.” Courtney was happy to see that the cabbie knew exactly where he was going. In no time he made the turn from Bank Street onto Waverly Place and stopped In front of a quaint corner eatery called “Ye Waverly Inn.” Dodger wanted to pay the cab fare, but Courtney wouldn’t let him. This was her mission, after all. As they got out of the car, Dodger looked around at the narrow street and shook his head in wonder.
“Coming down here feels like taking a trip into the past,” he marveled.
“You have no idea,” Courtney said with a snicker.
Dodger put on a brown hat that made Courtney chuckle.
“What?” he asked innocently.
“You trying to be Indiana Jones or what?”
Dodger shook his head in frustration. “You know what I’d like? Just once I’d like it if you said something that made sense.”
“Don’t count on it,” Courtney replied.
Next to the restaurant was the entrance to a four-story brick building-#240.
