you wanted to help," T.S. told the ladies when he and Herbert had finished explaining their plan. "Here's your chance. Can you handle it?"
"Of course! But we must disguise ourselves," Adelle declared.
"Oh, yes!" the other old ladies agreed and began to twitter among themselves. They were smelling the greasepaint and hearing the roar of the crowd once again.
"It's so no one will make us," Adelle insisted when she saw the look that crossed T.S.'s face. She turned to her group and explained, "That means no one will be able to recognize us if we're following them." Her superior air was met with an indignant murmur. Clearly the other actresses knew what "make" meant and who was she to lord it over them? Oh, dear, they had to have a clear leader to nip any mutiny in the bud, T.S. realized.
"Herbert will be the head of operations," T.S. emphasized. Another buzz ran through the crowd: how would Adelle deal with this usurping of her power?
She started with a ladylike cough. "I have a great deal of experience handling large group efforts," she began. "I've done some directing, you know."
Herbert watched her quietly. Only his eyes flickered lightly as he surveyed the faces of the assembled group. He was gauging their reactions and loyalty to Adelle. And he was probably doing a damn fine job of it. "I am sure you would make a fine leader," Herbert assured her in a courtly fashion, throwing in a short bow for effect. "And I am a great admirer of your work. But I find it hard to believe that a superior craftsman such as yourself should be asked to undertake the menial task of mere organization. No, you should be allowed to freely ply your craft, without any administrative cares."
"Franklin has offered to help us, as well," T.S. announced quickly, before Adelle could argue. "Herbert has assigned him to night surveillance. I cannot ask you ladies to roam these streets after midnight. It would put you in too much danger. So Franklin will detail the comings and goings between midnight and seven. He won't be able to follow anyone, but we'll still be able to keep an eye on the building's traffic pattern. Fair enough?"
They all agreed it was a workable plan and began to inch back toward their places in line. Sensing that hunger was taking priority over justice, Herbert and T.S. quickly emphasized the need for discretion, collected the assortment of pocketbooks from Franklin and beat a hasty retreat.
"You are in a hurry?" Herbert asked politely, scurrying to keep pace with T.S.
"What is it?" T.S. demanded, drawing to a stop at the street corner.
The retired messenger bowed deeply and reached for one of the pocketbooks slung over T.S.'s arm. "You must allow me to carry the brown one," he insisted, unsuccessfully hiding the twinkle in his eye. "It clashes with your shoes."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Homefront turned out to be a storefront on Tenth Avenue near the Port Authority bus terminal. Bob Fleming unlocked the door and led Auntie Lil inside. The place was deserted and just this side of clean. A circle of empty chairs stood in the front picture window, and there were neatly folded piles of clothing on a table that ran along one side wall. Donated sneakers and shoes of all styles and sizes were heaped beneath the same table. There was a counter running across the front third of the room. It was cluttered with a large coffee urn, soft drinks in a Styrofoam cooler, a plate of stale-looking doughnuts and stacks of brochures featuring cover photos of smiling youths. Beyond the counter, a battered wooden desk dominated one corner of the room. Three army cots were lined up neatly against the back wall, beside a stack of extra folding chairs. A number of telephones were mounted against the remaining side wall and penciled numbers were scrawled across the paint above each instrument.
"Home sweet home," Bob Fleming said as he guided Auntie Lil to the rear of the store. "Used to be a dry cleaner's. I kept the twenty-four-hour-service sign in the window. It seemed appropriate."
"You sleep here?" Auntie Lil asked. Army cots were narrow and uncomfortable.
"No. I have a small apartment over on Tenth. This is just for the kids who