standing beside him as people walked past.
Archer nodded.
Farrell then reached into his pocket and pulled something out, passing it to Archer. He looked down and saw it was a piece of card. A ticket for the rock concert set to take place inside the stadium. Archer took it as Farrell pulled out another ticket and beckoned the other man to follow him. They walked to the right up some steps and moved towards the entrance to the stadium, Madison Square Garden printed in white letters above the wide doors to the mezzanine.
Inside, it was even busier than the street, people everywhere, buying t-shirts, mementos and snacks and beverages for the concert that was about to begin. There were all sorts of banners and notices announcing upcoming events, everything from concerts to basketball games to a political debate. Farrell led the way and walked on through the crowds of people, heading for some escalators thirty yards ahead. The two men stepped on and waited as they moved up a level. Upstairs, it was more of the same, lots of concession stands and fans buying concert programmes. On the walls were photos and black and white snapshots from the greatest events in the stadium’s history, and Archer glanced at them as he walked past. The first fight between Joe Frazier and Muhammad Ali, the Fight of the Century, where Frazier shocked the world and beat the future greatest of all time. The New York Rangers ice hockey team winning the Stanley Cup in 1994. John Lennon’s historic, and sell-out, concert here on August 30, 1972. Iconic moments and for some, unforgettable memories.
They walked forward and arrived at a set of turnstiles. An usher checked their tickets and they moved through into the heart of the stadium. With seating on four sides of the Garden, there was a long wide corridor that led all the way around the place in a big oval, providing access to each stand and seating area. Farrell turned and started walking left. From the way he was moving, Archer reckoned he could probably do this blindfolded, having studied the blueprints of this place to the point that they were imprinted in his mind, tattooed on his brain. They passed a number of security officials and stadium employees, none of whom gave them a second glance, and walked on down the white corridor, passing people headed into the seating area to take their spots before the concert began.
After a few moments, the two men walked past an entrance to the seating area near Tower D, just past all the press boxes. There was a blue security door there to the right by the stairs that led into the stadium, almost inconspicuous, a lone guard in front of it looking bored, a thick keypad lock on the front. He flicked his eyes over to Farrell and Archer, but they continued to walk past, neither man prolonging his gaze and attracting the man’s attention. They moved on for a further fifteen yards, people passing them from both sides, then Farrell turned to Archer, leaning close so he could hear.
‘That’s the door,’ Farrell said. ‘My guy is going to let us in there tomorrow. The asshole there right now won’t be on duty.’
Archer nodded.
‘What’s through the door?’ he asked.
‘Flight of stairs and another security door leading to the cash room on the first sub-level. I paid off another guy down there. He’ll let us in.’
They moved on through the crowd, but Farrell turned left, moving through one of the turnstiles the other way, Archer following close behind. They moved down the escalator and eventually came out of the East entrance by 7 Avenue, moving to avoid everyone making their way inside. Although they had only been inside for a few minutes, Archer was glad to get back out on the street and get some personal space back, taking a deep breath. It was seriously crowded and congested in there. He’d thought the city subway was bad, but this was on another level.
Back out on 33 Street, both men stood still for a moment. Then Farrell turned to Archer.
‘Happy?’
Archer nodded.
‘Let’s go grab a beer. I’m buying,’ Farrell said.
They moved on to a pub called Blaggard’s, an Irish joint two blocks away on 35Street. As they approached the place, Archer realised it was ironically pretty much across the street from the Starbucks which he and Gerrard had used as a meeting ground. It was moderately busy inside, the odd customer at the bar or