would cut out shortly.
The train entered the tunnel and rumbled and rattled on through the darkness. Despite the crowd around him, the sudden change in light made him realise how clean the train was. Archer had seen photos from the 80’s and early 90’s of the NYC MTA subway system. Graffiti, dirt, scores of homeless people, murders, intimidating gangs waiting for prey and chances to mug passengers. This was a marked change. He’d read in the paper that Mayor Giuliani had cleaned up the streets and the city’s transport system during the last decade after 9/11 and he’d done a great job. Archer could think of only one better system that he had used in his lifetime, and that was the subway in Washington D.C. That was about as good as it got. Carpets, no music, no food, everyone sat pretty much in silence, everything clean, no trash. But then again, the New York MTA ran all night, which drew the two just about even.
After another minute or so, the train rolled into 59 Street and Lexington Avenue, the darkness of the tunnels suddenly illuminated by the lights of the station at they flashed past the windows. The train slowed as a female voice announced the station over the train’s intercom system, then eventually pulled to a halt, the brakes screeching and stopping the train with an operatic crescendo. The doors opened, and the carriage suddenly started to empty, pretty much everyone inside getting off. Archer saw the boy climb off the bench and grab his father’s hand and the two of them joined everyone else exiting the train. The sudden increase in room was pleasant, and Archer saw the few people left inside the carriage visibly relax like himself, enjoying getting their personal space back. After another moment, the doors shut, and the train moved on.
They stopped three more times, at 5 Avenue, 57 Street and 7, and 49Street before the train pulled into Times Square 42 Street. This station was the central transport hub in Midtown Manhattan, conjoining a series of various subway and transport lines from all sorts of different paths and routes through the city. After the train stopped and the doors opened, Archer stepped out and began walking briskly through the crowd down the platform, headed towards the stairs. He didn’t need to look behind him. He knew the guy would be following. He jogged up the steps, quick enough to move up them swiftly but not fast enough to alert the man following him that the game was up.
But the moment he reached the upper tier, he moved fast, gaining some distance. He rushed through a winding turnstile and walked swiftly towards the stairs, taking them two at a time and coming out on the corner of 42 Street and 7 Avenue.
Up on the busy street, he moved through the crowds of people, ducking into a store to the left of the stairs that led down to the subway. It was some kind of hat-store, all sorts of caps and beanies sitting on racks lining the shelves. He grabbed a navy blue baseball cap from a shelf and moved to the back, pulling it over his head. Taking cover behind a rack, he looked around it and waited.
The guy appeared, rushing up onto the street level from the stairs, looking side-to-side as he searched for any sign of Archer. It was no use. He’d lost him. After a few more moments, Archer watched the guy curse to himself then visibly give up, disappearing from view as he returned down into the subway, probably headed back to Queens. Taking no chances, Archer moved to the counter and bought the cap. Ripping off the tag, he pulled it back over his head, took off his flannel shirt and then ducked out of the left side of the store, moving fast down 42 towards 8 Avenue. As he passed two large cinemas, one either side of the street, he checked behind him to make sure the guy hadn’t picked him up again, the peak of the cap low, hiding his face, the sunglasses hiding his eyes. This detour would add to his journey, but he wanted to make sure he’d lost the guy for good.
Once he got to 8, he crossed the street and ducked into a pizza place on the corner opposite the Port Authority Bus Terminal. There were a few stools near the window, and he sat on one, checking the street, waiting for five