Skyline (20 page)

“Over
twenty different bakeries merged to create Nabisco,” Monroe explained as he
tugged Bill away, the historian in him bubbling out. Charlotte slowed, smiling
as a few tourists drifted alongside, listening as he told this building’s
history.

“Thank
you, Felix,” she said, still clutching his hand. “For coming. For
understanding.”

He
shook his head, a single arm flexing as he brought a hand up to scratch his
scalp. “I still don’t. I wish you’d told me so long ago. That Charlie could’ve
come, that …” He must’ve seen the worry in her eyes, because he corrected, “I
know you’ll save him. I have no doubt. I just wish this were easier for you.”

“Me
too,” Charlotte said. But of course it wouldn’t be. Relationships took
work
.
Why else had it been so easy to let all of hers fall to the wayside? She had
plenty to do without entertaining Monroe, without caring for Felix, without
taking Charlie out on mother-son dates.

They
closed the gap and listened as Monroe noted the surreal portraits from a
current art exhibition on the wall. He stopped for some ice cream and brought
back cones. From then, they didn’t enter any stores or buy anything. They
marveled at a building that they had snatched from Ana’s bombs.

When
the four of them reached the end of the winding hallway and stepped into the
fading sunlight outside, Charlotte said, “Tell us more, Monroe. Tell us about
all the buildings we’ve saved.”

She
didn’t ever want him to stop. She wanted to be the listener he needed, always.

Historical
facts spilled out as Monroe led them north and east to the edge of the reduced
Mid River. But he didn’t rush. There was plenty of time to soak in the regained
city.

Monroe
illuminated place after place, one building’s past leading to another. He
described the Hotel Pennsylvania, the Seagram Building, St. Peter’s Church,
places of New York’s ancient history. And then he brought them to the recent
past, pointing to the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater, where dozens of famous
comedians got their start.

He
was remembering everything he’d known before. The city may have changed—the
Blast’s impact had lessened—but everything that came before was fair game. Now
even more important because the rest of New York could never care as much as
someone who’d lost what they had.

Spotlights
illuminated the Plaza, pristine and white against the darkening Central Park
behind it. Eight wide steps led from the entrance down to the waters of the Mid
River. If she and Monroe hadn’t witnessed its rebuilding process, Charlotte
would wonder whether the building had actually been lost in the Blast. After
they defused this bomb—only two to go—it would never be lost at all.

“Now
where?” Monroe asked, then rolled his eyes. “
When
. See, Felix? I’m still
having a little trouble with it.”

Charlotte
spread her hands, palms up. “Paris didn’t say.” She tugged the crumpled scrap
of paper from her pocket. “All he said was that we should’ve been looking in
hidden places. And that Ana would arrive sometime crowded, so she’d blend in.”

“Which
could be anytime,” Monroe said. “But if she wanted to be hidden …” He tapped a
finger at his lips. “She wouldn’t go to prehistory; she’d stand out like a sore
thumb. And once this place is the Plaza, they’ll have security full-time. So,
maybe”—he scrunched up his nose—“early 1865?”

The
Plaza’s official, documented history began the moment it was built—1883—so
Charlotte wasn’t sure what was before that. But a smaller building likely
wouldn’t have had the Plaza’s money for security. It seemed sensible enough.

She
twisted the astrolabe to January 1865 and released. On Charlotte’s left side,
the Plaza deconstructed itself floor by floor, faster and faster, until its
replica appeared across the street, the Mid River gone in a flash. There the
Plaza stood, grand and white and tall, until it, too, deconstructed in a
heartbeat. Smoke billowed out for a millisecond, and a smaller hotel appeared
in its wake. Time restarted, and even that hotel wasn’t there. Instead, the
foundations were replaced by nothing more than a lake, iced over and enclosed
by a fence. The sun shone down from the east, no skyscrapers yet built to cast
shadows.

“Guh,”
Monroe said, wrapping his arms around himself.

Charlotte
did the same, rubbing her shoulders for warmth. “What’s here?” she asked. “You
think it’s in the lake?”

With
a frown, Monroe shook his head. “I thought maybe the rink, but—”

“It’s
too exposed,” Bill said. “Even in summertime. Trust me, I’ve been. Without
electricity? Any light of Ana’s would’ve been pretty obvious in the night. No
way she’d be here in the daytime.”

Bill
had
been thorough. Monroe had the knowledge, but Bill had been here.
He’d probably looked from several angles, spinning through a night at a time to
make sure.

“I
guess she could’ve sunk it during the summertime,” Bill said. Charlotte didn’t
really want to go for a swim anymore. They couldn’t get away with diving gear
in this time period; they’d have to visit the basement of the Plaza just to get
in.

“No,
no, you’re right.” Monroe tugged his ponytail, watching the frozen lake, the
chill forgotten for now.

“It’s
not in the Plaza either,” Bill said.

Where
else could it be? Not the Plaza, not what existed before the Plaza. “And you’re
sure not prehistory?”

“Shhh,”
Monroe said, closing his eyes. Behind his eyelids, his eyes flicked back and
forth, like they would when he was dreaming as a kid. But as his forehead wrinkled
down, furrowing deeper and deeper, it was obvious he wasn’t seeing anything
important.

“What
if we just go through each year?” Charlotte suggested. “Watch the Plaza age
until you get an idea?” Anything to find the bomb. And to get away from the
cold.

With
a sigh, Monroe opened his eyes. “Maybe.”

Month
by month, Charlotte sped them through the history of the Plaza. The lake melted
in summertime, froze back up, and was covered by dozens of skaters all in
black. Then walls went up, and the smaller hotel was erected before their eyes.
It finished building, a few years passed, and the small hotel disappeared in a
puff of smoke. A few months later, the first stories of the new luxurious Plaza
began to rise.

 Monroe
clutched Charlotte, eyes wide. “I know where she is!”

“Where?”
Charlotte asked. Bill’s eyes gleamed; he was as eager as her. Felix’s eyebrows
raised, hopeful.

“Thank
about it,” Monroe said, voice hushed on the early 1900s street. “A time when
things were hidden somewhat, without any guards.”

“Just
say
it,” Charlotte directed.

“Take
us back to, um, 1883. Early 1883.”

“Before
the Plaza was built?” Bill asked.

“We
saw that, ’Roe. It was just the skating rink.”

“Not
always. For a moment there wasn’t the lake; there wasn’t the early Plaza.” He
bounced on his tiptoes. “Don’t you get it?
While
it was being built!
It’ll be nothing more than a big pit for a foundation. With a fence around so
no passersby come in and get hurt. You saw it; the Plaza was built twice—in
1883 and 1907—but she has to be in one of those two times.”

“Okay,”
Charlotte said, beginning to nod. Butterflies flew inside her stomach. It felt
right, smarter than some lake. Smarter than a well-watched coatroom. “Early
1883.”

In
early 1883, Charlotte flashed them forward one night at a time. After the
construction workers went home and before they arrived, Ana would have the
place to herself. Through January, the lake was pumped dry. In February, the
lakebed was carved into a blocky pit. In early March, a foundation was poured.
But each night, there was no minor blip of light, as Charlotte had hoped.

They’d
have to try 1907. Her stomach butterflies had to be right.

But
before the first level was built, Felix squeezed her hand between jumps.
“There.”
He pointed to an opposite corner. “Only a few hours ago.”

At
the top of the ramp leading downward, Charlotte pressed back against the wall.
Felix had to be right; his eagle eyes saw more than just design. So they’d need
to stay out of sight. As before, they’d need Ana to finish with her bomb before
they started to defuse it.

Three
and a half hours prior, there Ana was.

Her
hair was a little longer than it had been at Pier Fifty-four, on its way to
matching Leanor’s later curls if she didn’t cut it soon. All in black, she
barely stood out among the darkened foundation. But she had a single light
illuminated to help her see. Below was the third bomb.

This
one wasn’t big like the first, or spherical like the last. It was barely bigger
than a double-decker peanut butter sandwich. Charlotte’s butterflies tugged
inside, trying to escape.

Ana
had changed the design.

•
• • • • • • • • • • •

All
around
Ana, the foundation wall was smooth, a matte gray. But with a red laser gun,
she sliced through, cutting out a solid block. She tugged out the cube of
concrete, sliced off the outer edge, and set it aside. With no hesitation this
time, Ana activated the bomb with her screwdriver. No red countdown
illuminated. She pushed the compact bomb into the matching hole, and added the
facade to it. From above the pit, Charlotte couldn’t see the thin lines that
Ana had cut; the wall looked whole.

Still
Charlotte waited, ready to jump the moment that Ana disappeared. Now that
they’d seen her again, Charlotte’s fury returned at once. The tea, the calm
she’d gained on their walk had worn off. Ana was the reason Charlie was
kidnapped. But Charlotte waited; this would be a hell of a lot easier to defuse
once Ana was gone.

The
anachronistic woman stepped away from her work, glanced around, and froze.
“Motherfuckers!” She knelt back down and scrabbled at the facade she’d placed.

No
need to wait now. Charlotte dropped her bag at Felix’s feet and leaped away
from the boarded-up wall. She ran, stumbling down the dirt ramp that led into
the foundation. She heard the scuffs of the others’ feet behind her, but didn’t
turn. Ana was hers.

“’Roe!”
Charlotte called without turning around. “Get her astrolabe!”

“I’ve
got the bomb,” Bill said, just as Charlotte anticipated. As in the subway, they
were moving in concert, working out a plan on the fly. Felix was scrambling
down the ramp, too, fists clenched. Ready to join Charlotte in the fray.

Shoulder
first, Charlotte crashed into Ana, sending her sprawling away from the bomb.
Beside her, Bill got to the wall and tugged at the facade. He had this; Monroe
would get the astrolabe.

“You’re
not setting another bomb,” Charlotte said, raising a fist. “I’ll make sure of
that.”

“He
took our fucking
son
!” Felix yelled when he reached them, a foot
connecting with Ana’s side.

She
slammed into the wall, but jumped to her feet. Stumbled away. “Get
back
,”
she said. But Charlotte grabbed an arm before Ana could get fully away. Threw
her back to the ground.

All
of Charlotte’s aggression toward Paris poured out. She dragged Ana toward her,
and slung a punch into her face. Felix went for another kick, but Ana spun
herself around against the foundation and slung a foot under Felix, sending him
down. She didn’t even look to see the damage; Ana raced away, even as Charlotte
leaped toward her.

“’Roe!”
Charlotte yelled as she fell to the ground. He stood there with Ana’s bag as
she came straight at him. He didn’t run. Didn’t brace himself for impact. He
cringed away. “Mon
roe
!”

Just
in time, he tugged the bag back as Ana passed, her hands empty. She spun, smoke
nearly coming out of her nose like a furious bull.

Felix
helped Charlotte up, and they raced over. Monroe shoved Ana’s bag into
Charlotte’s arm. “Take it.”

From
beside the bomb, Bill called, “Um! I could use some help!” He was undoing
screws as fast as he could, but at a glance Charlotte could see two dozen more
to go. Damn it, this was why Charlotte was supposed to be calm. So she wouldn’t
get caught in a fight.

Distracted
by the bomb, Charlotte felt Ana’s foot slam into her chest. She crumpled,
flinging the bag far behind her.

“Charlotte!”
Felix shouted, crouching at her side.

“The
bag, Felix!”

But
it was too late. Ana was halfway to the bag. And by the time Felix stood and
saw what was happening, the mesh orb was in Ana’s hands. Charlotte retched onto
the dusty foundation as Ana called out, “Good luck with this one! I left some
treats.” Lights illuminated their surroundings, and then it was black.

Clutching
her chest, Charlotte stood, coughing.

“Should
we go after her?” Monroe asked.

Charlotte
barely glanced his way. “No time.” She didn’t even have time to reprimand
Felix.
Ana
wasn’t what mattered right now. They had to stop New York
from being taken whenever Ana wanted to send the Council. Charlotte dived
beside Bill and pulled out a screwdriver of her own to help with the final few
screws.

“It’s
okay,” Bill said, prying up the top, “we just needed her to get away from this
one.” Thus far, Ana hadn’t set up any new bombs. Maybe it was lack of
resources, time, or simply confidence. Hopefully that wouldn’t change after they’d
defused this third bomb.

At
the sight of the bomb’s guts, Charlotte inhaled. “Shit.” If they could even
defuse
this
bomb. Underneath the lid, hundreds of wires and cables
twisted together, connected with the sides, with each other, with the computer
board below. A complete mess. Probably unnecessary wiring, filled with
failsafes, with false alarms. And no clock to show how much time they had. “How
do we defuse this?”

“We
work quickly,” Bill said. “Calmly.” He took a deep breath, muttered, “One, two,
three,” and then he began yanking out the wires, tossing them Charlotte’s way.

“Is
this—”

“Slash
and grab,” Bill said, but Charlotte wasn’t sure whether he was responding to
her or reminding himself. “Just like Joe taught.” Faster and faster, Bill
pulled wires from the box. He reached for a thick bundle of wires, and then the
entire box disappeared.

“Oh,
God.”

“What
happened?” Felix’s eyes bulged, terrified.

“It's
gone?” Monroe asked, shuffling forward.

“I'm
going to get it,” Bill said. He raced back to top of the hill and grabbed
Charlotte’s bag. He pulled the astrolabe out as he rushed back down and skidded
to a stop. “You coming, Charlotte?”

She
held out a hand, almost taking it. Almost grabbing him and leaping through
time. But then she took her hand back. “Wait, no.” She looked to Monroe. Nodded
at him. “We have to be smarter, right? Calmer?”

Charlotte
positioned herself against the foundation wall, on one side of where the bomb
had been. “’Roe, you go there,” she said, pointing to her side. “And Felix?”
She pointed to her opposite side. She didn’t even have to speak Bill’s name for
him to take the position opposite her.

Once
they went through time, the bomb would be exactly between the four of them.