Desperate Measures

4

Important people. During the Metro ride into the city, Pittman kept assessing what Burt had told him. The clack-clack-clack of the train on the rails became like a mantra and helped Pittman to focus his concentration. Important people.

Maybe Burt had been telling the truth. A week from today, the Chronicle would close its doors. There had to be all kinds of complicated arrangements to make. It was possible that the owner and the publisher and God knew who all were in Burt’s office discussing the direction the newspaper should take in its final days.

But wouldn’t people that important make Burt go to their office rather than want to meet in his?

Pittman reversed the direction of his thoughts and again suspected that Burt was angry at him.

In rush-hour traffic outside Grand Central Station, Pittman couldn’t find an empty cab, so he decided to use the subway. His intention had been to go to the Chronicle, but his watch now showed eight minutes after five. The sun was low behind skyscrapers. The air had turned cold, and Pittman’s damp clothes made him shiver again. Burt wouldn’t be at the office now anyway, he thought. He’d be on his way to the bar where he always went after work.

I’m not going to sit in that bar and have my teeth chatter all the time I’m trying to explain. What I need first are dry clothes.

Pittman got out of the subway at Union Square, still couldn’t find an empty cab, and walked all the way to his apartment on West Twelfth Street. The air was colder, the light paler as he hurried along. He unlocked the door to the vestibule of his building. Then he unlocked the farther door that allowed him past the mailboxes into the ground-floor corridor of the building itself.

As usual, the smell of cooking assailed him. Also as usual, the elevator wheezed and creaked, taking him to the third floor. As usual, too, the television was blaring in the apartment next to his. He shook his head in discouragement, unlocked the door, stepped in, shut and locked the door, and turned to discover a man sitting in his living room, reading a magazine.