ESCAPE.
Grand Central Station is only a few blocks from the library. Kiyoko is tired and lonely, though she’s only been alone for a short time. She drops onto a wooden bench across from the ticket booths and scans the boards. Where should she hide for the next few months? Rochester? Dover? New Haven?
The back of her neck prickles. Even though she is clean of all makeup and blood, even though her clothes are bland and nondescript, she still LOOKS the way she LOOKS.
She feels certain, suddenly, that the police are looking for an Asian woman on the run. So any Asian woman at a train station, at a bus station, on a subway, on a trolley—all of them are now suspects. (She sends up a quick apology to any other Asian woman she might damn with this manhunt.)
Her instincts are correct. (Always.) A police officer meets her eye and without hesitation blows his whistle, alerting his partners to her presence. “There’s one!”
Oh, God. It’s awful, the way humans stereotype. That, I do not miss in the least. On This Side, all light is equally light.
Now note. At this same moment, the moment of that awful shrill whistle, Stella and her team were approaching GrandCentral from outside. That moment is when Stella froze.
Had they all been spotted together, they would’ve surely been caught. They would’ve tried to stick together. Together is noble but slow. This situation called for rapidity, not solidarity.
Kiyoko pushes her way through the morning crowd at Grand Central, dodging people and suitcases and jail time. She runs to the steamy train platforms. One is chugging slowly out of the station. She leaps on board, and the ticket taker scowls at her.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says, breathless. She falls into a bench.
The ticket taker holds out his hand. “Ticket please.”
Kiyoko looks out the window, sees the police officer she dodged standing on the platform, spinning, searching for her.
Kiyoko blinks, clearing her thoughts. She pulls out a roll of cash. (Those wallets they lifted had been positively stuffed with money. Who except a fugitive needs that much cash?)
“One ticket to—where are we going?”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Pax and William wait far up the street from the main post office, while Nirav and I approach. The post office looks a tad like a squat wedding cake, frilly and overwrought, and it sits in a wedge of land in the same park as city hall and the courthouse.
We decided it would be foolish for all four of us to stroll about this area together, exactly across from where we stole the world’s most infamous gem just hours ago. And indeed, the area is still crawling with curiosity and those seeking our arrest. Spirit shows me an image of an anthill, a mound of scurrying creatures.
Nirav’s gift is needed to find the correct post office box, and we discuss the fact that I, minus the ridiculous clairvoyant getup I wore to Blanck’s party, look the least like I did last evening.
Was that really only last evening?
And also, I take a bit of offense to that conversation. Pax told me I looked beautiful last night. Perfume and makeup and coiffed hair—indulgences I don’t enjoy often. Now Pax suggests I look the opposite?
He positively vexes me. I just want to find Kiyoko, find this stash, and get away from him. Being around him is too painful and confusing.
Nirav trails his fingers lightly along the rows of post office boxes, searching for the correct one. The boxes are ornate leadedglass, and each is marked with a gold-painted number. Because they are clear, I can see on the opposite side of these boxes that a postal employee is moving row by row, placing contents inside some, removing contents from others.
I realize with growing concern that if that postal employee finds the stash before we do, we lose everything.
Nirav moves to the next row.
The postmaster moves to the next row.
Nirav moves toward the center of a row.
The postmaster moves toward the center of the same row.
Closer, closer…
Nirav stops at last at post office box number 3264 and taps it lightly. I shuffle to gather the key. The postmaster reaches in—
I swing open the box and see the black satchel inside. It’s there! I lift up a quick thank-you and a deep admiration for Kiyoko. I grab the satchel. On the other side of these boxes, I feel the postmaster tug back.
