Nightworld

Bill headed back to the apartment in mid-afternoon to grab a bite and make a pit stop before Nick started his descent.

He had to hand it to Nick—he was as inventive as he was stubborn. He wouldn't admit defeat. When Nick had heard there was a working diving bell on display down at South Street Seaport, he made a few calls and arranged to rent it. His plan was to get in that thing and ride it as far down into the hole as the cable would allow, then take another laser reading from down there. Bill wanted to be back in time to see him off.

He had to fight through the crowd on Central Park West. The area around the lower end of the park had become an impromptu street festival. Well, why not? The sun was out and the area was jammed with curious people. Anyone with anything to sell, from hot dogs to shishkebab, to balloons, to knock-off Rolexes was there. The air was redolent of a variety of ethnic foods wide enough to shame the U.N. cafeteria. He spotted someone hawking "I saw the Central Park Hole" tee-shirts, still wet from the silk screener.

In the apartment he found Glaeken, as expected, at the picture window.

"What have they decided down there?" the old man said without turning.

"They've decided that due to various technical glitches they can't figure out how deep it is at this time."

Even at noon, with the sun shining directly into the hole, they hadn't been able to see the bottom. The blackness had been driven further down, but it was still there, obscuring the bottom.

Now Glaeken turned. His smile was rueful.

"They've constructed these fabulous instruments for exact measurements, yet they refuse to believe the data they're receiving. Amazing how the mind resists the truth when the truth conflicts with preconceptions."

"I can't really blame them. It's not easy to accept the impossible."

"I suppose. But impossible is a useless word now." He turned back to the window. "What's that they're rigging up?"

"A derrick. Nick going down into the hole to—"

Glaeken spun and faced Bill. His eyes wide.

"You're talking about your young friend? He's going down into the hole?"

"Yes. As soon as the bell is set up."

Glaeken grabbed Bill's upper arms. His grip was like iron.

"Don't let him do it. You've got to stop him. Don't let him go into that hole!"

The look on his face made Bill afraid for Nick. Very afraid. He turned and ran for the door. Out in the hall, he pressed the elevator button. When the door didn't open immediately, he ran for the stairs. No time to wait for it. He made it down and out to the street in a few minutes, but there his progress came to a grinding halt. The crowd was even thicker. Pressing through them was like wading through taffy.

He fought a rising panic as he roughly pushed and shoved people aside, leaving an angry wake. He hadn't waited around to ask Glaeken what might happen to Nick down in that hole. The look on the old man's perpetually dead-pan face told him more than he wanted to know. He'd never seen Glaeken react that way.

As he inched his way toward the Sheep Meadow, he remembered Nick saying how lucky he felt to be here. But Bill couldn't help thinking what had happened to all those other people he cared about.

His gut writhed with the thought that perhaps luck had nothing to do with it.