CHAPTER SEVEN

THE BLUE SKY BENDS OVER ALL

On my way to Layla's apartment I beat up three guys and met one ofthe world's richest men. In the early morning I stepped out intoCentral Park and the light sunshine. I hadn't gotten much sleep lastnight, but my senses were still sharp enough to notice the threecasually dressed guys following me.

I walked for a bit, letting them slowly gain on me. Then Isuddenly took a turn into one of the wooded areas. My followerschased after me. By the time they entered the woods I was ready forthem.

I was a quick fellow, and I had spent my youth exploring the park.That's why I was able to climb a tree like a squirrel. I watched mypursuers from above. I held a lengthy tree branch that I had scoopedfrom the ground before climbing. The three men were looking in alldirections, except up. Just as they passed my tree in a widely spreadtriangle, I attacked.

I hit the center man with the branch just as my feet met theground. Then I flung the branch at the right-hand man. It spunthrough the air like a baton and crashed into the man's face just ashe turned.

As he fell backwards, I turned left and dove forward to theground. I tucked in my arms, did a somersault across dirt and leaves,and rose to a kneeling position right in front of the third man. Hehad pulled out a gun, but it was pointing above my head.

I punched him in the groin with all of the forward momentum I hadgained. He dropped his gun, then fell to the grass. I picked up hisgun as he moaned. Then I passed the unconscious man in the middle andwalked up to the man who had taken the branch in the face. The dazecleared from his bruised face just when I pointed the gun at him.

"Tell Bradbury," I said, "to keep his people away from me."

The man with the bruised face quickly said, "We don't work forBradbury."

"Who, then? One of the Nobles?"

"Yes. And he wants to talk with you."

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My prisoner led me to the edge of the park. A limousine was parkednext to one of the surrounding sidewalks. The sidewalks were stillthinly populated in the early morning. Nobody noticed me pushing thebruised man against the limo, or the gun inside my jacket.

One of the dark-tinted windows rolled down. I saw a face I hadpreviously seen on magazine covers before seeing it at a meeting Iwasn't meant to attend.

The passenger looked at my prisoner and me. He sighed, then saidto the bruised man, "You can go."

The man left without even giving me a dirty look. That's some niceprofessionalism.

"Let's talk, Jacob," the limo passenger requested. I consideredmaking a more much obscene request in return, but decided that if hewent through this trouble just to talk...

I nodded, and the passenger moved to the other side of the car. Istepped into the limo, took out the gun, placed it on the floor andkicked it under the seat.

The passenger touched a button. It must have signaled the driver,because the limo moved away from the curb. I couldn't see the driverbehind a darkened glass partition.

"Was that necessary?" the passenger asked. "Did you have to beatup my men?"

"Nah, but it was good exercise."

One of the world's wealthiest men grimaced. This particularbillionaire had ridden the computer boom of the latetwentieth-century to his fortune -- and to a place among the Noblesof the High Tower.

"By the way," I said, "I would tell your boys to stay out of thepark. That's a little too close to the Tunnels."

"It was just this one time. I needed to see you."

"Then you should have sent a message along the pipes."

"Bradbury is using the pipes. I didn't want word of this meetingto go back to him."

I looked at the Billionaire's bespectacled, youthful face. "What'sgoing on?" I asked.

"The power struggle that you witnessed two months ago didn't goaway. Its nature has changed."

"How?"

"I'm not going to tell you everything, Jacob."

"Oh, of course not."

"I will tell you that the Tower is at a crossroads. Which way wego depends on Alexandra."

"Does this have something to do with Masilela?"

The Billionaire waved his hand in dismissal. "Masilela wasnothing. Her next move could be much bigger and important."

"And that move could be...?"

"That's one of the things I can't tell you."

"Ah."

"You should know this -- she wants to protect you and the Tunnels.She never stopped being on your side." He paused, then said, "I'm onyour side as well."

I laughed briefly.

"Well," the Billionaire said, "I'm not against you, at least."

"As I recall, you didn't do anything to protect me two monthsago."

"It wasn't in my interest back then. It is in my interest now totell you that Bradbury has a spy in the Tunnels."

I stared at the Billionaire, then blurted out, "Who?" Before hecould answer, I added sarcastically, "You can't tell me that,right?"

"I've already risked enough just telling you there is a spy.You'll have to figure out the identity on your own."

I closed my eyes and pressed my head against a window. "Why," Iasked, "do you people have to make the world so difficult?"

"We never made the world. We just respond to it."

I opened my eyes and turned to the Billionaire. "You don't playgames with the world," I said in a flat voice. "The world plays gameswith you."

"That's another way of putting it, but yes."

I shook my head. "Let me out of this car."

The Billionaire pressed the button again. The car found thenearest place to park. I stepped out of the car.

"I gave you some free advice," he said. "Appreciate it."

"Get bent," I replied and slammed the door. I joined thepedestrians on the sidewalk, not watching the limousine pullaway.

I quickly realized that the Billionaire had been telling the truth-- or part of it. The High Tower was headed for a big shake-up, andthe Tunnels had a spy.

A spy working for whom? Bradbury, it seems. So who was thespy?

Layla -- that was the first obvious candidate. But if she was aspy, she had chosen a rather risky way of getting my confidence.Besides, why would she work for the people who killed Joe?

What about Alexandra?

I was chilled by the thought. Then I realized that Bradburywouldn't need someone to gain information on the Tunnels -- he neededsomeone to watch me and Alexandra.

As I thought about it, I concluded that it could be any of theDwellers except for those in the top echelon like Father, Grandfatheror Jamie. How many of the Dwellers had made a visit to Above forbusiness or just some amusement? How many times did Bradbury's goonshave a chance to grab a Dweller and scare him or her into being afink?

Shit, I thought. Grandfather is going to love hearing this.

I also thought about the High Tower and its inner politics. Whatwas happening in there? And what did Alexandra have to do withit?

There was an obvious person to ask these questions. But would Iget an answer?

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As I raised my hand to knock on Layla's door, I heard the familiarsound of a bass playing an infectious melody. Voices chanted over thebass --

"I'll never go back to Georgia! I'll never go back toGeorgia!"

And then brass erupted with one of the funkiest, most joyfulmelodies ever written for a jazz band. I smiled, then knocked on thedoor.

The door opened a few moments later, but just a couple of inches.Layla looked at me through the small opening.

She said, "Hey."

"Hey. Alexandra still here?"

She paused, then said, "M-hm."

"Uh, can I come in?"

"Sure. Yeah."

She opened the door for me, just wide enough to allow me into herapartment. I stepped inside. She quickly closed the door behindme.

I suddenly found that I couldn't move. I could only stare at thesight before me.

Layla's stereo was providing the music. In front of the stereoAlexandra was dancing.

That's right. Alexandra was dancing to Dizzy Gillespie. And herscarves were off her face. Her cloak was lying on a sofa. Despite theconstraints of her blouse, her movements were graceful and exuberant.She kicked at the air and waved her arms like...

Well, like any teenage girl.

I remembered the last time I had seen her this way. It had beenthe only other time. She had been dancing on a stage with fifty otherwomen and a Boston punk band. I had coaxed her out of her gloomyshell and seen a young woman who could actually enjoy life.

Now I was seeing that young woman again, dancing to one of Layla'sCD's.

I wish I could say that I was glad. Instead, I was confused -- anda little frightened. How many Alexandras did I have to account for?Who else did I have to know besides the powerless girl, the daughterof privilege, the poet, the lover, the recluse, the victim, thekiller?

I became aware of Layla standing next to me. I turned to her, andwe looked at each other again. Here was a woman who expressed herselfboldly, but I wondered if I understood her any more thanAlexandra.

She pointed at the kitchen. I smelled bacon and eggs.

I followed her into the kitchen. She walked up to the oven andtended to the cooking breakfast. I stood on the same spot where wehad talked yesterday.

With her back turned to me, Layla said, "She is given tointeresting mood swings, isn't she?"

I made no reply. Layla glanced at me, then said, "She told me whyshe attacked me."

I still kept quiet. Layla turned completely toward me with aspatula in her hand. "Funny, you never really let on. You neverseemed scared of me."

"I don't have any reason to be scared of you. Do I?"

Layla rotated the spatula in her hand. "I'm not sure."

"Well...just so we both know why she did it."

Layla nodded, then turned back to the oven. I left thekitchen.

I walked up to the dancing Alexandra. "We need to talk," Isaid.

She kept on dancing. She didn't even look at me. I reached over tothe stereo and turned it off. Her scaled face showed surprise -- arare emotion for her. She looked at me as if she had just realizedthat I had been standing there.

Then that beautiful, hideous face adopted its usual expression ofsomberness. She reached into a pocket and pulled out her scarves."Yes, Jacob," she said, "what is..."

I grabbed her hands and kept them away from her face. I waspartially conscious that I was forcing her to do something; I hadnever done this before. I was also dimly aware of some anger insideme. I couldn't explain why I was angry. Or maybe I did know, and Ijust didn't want to admit it.

In any case, I was gripping her hands and forcing her face to benaked before me. She did not seem intimidated by me. I couldn't readany of her feelings in her eyes. How could I do that when I was sounsure of my own feelings?

"I just talked with someone," I said. "He told me that the HighTower is in the midst of a power struggle. He said that you were atthe center of it."

"This is true," she said calmly.

"He also told me that there was a spy in the Tunnels. Is thistrue?"

"I didn't know this, but I would not doubt this information. Whogave it to you?"

I told her. She nodded and said, "You wish to know what exactly ishappening in the Tower."

"Right."

"I can't tell you. And there's no point in telling you now."

"Why not?"

"Because you won't be able to stop what's happening. You only needto know that you and the Tunnels will be protected."

I squeezed her hands a little harder. "Don't presume anything,Alexandra," I said in a low voice. "I don't like secrets being keptfrom me."

"Just like you kept secrets from others?" a voice said.

I looked past my shoulder and saw Layla leaning in the kitchendoorway. I suddenly became conscious of the fact that I could drivethe bones of her nose into her brain with one punch. At the same timeI realized that this fact didn't matter.

"I made a lot of mistakes two months ago," I said. "Alexandrashouldn't repeat those mistakes."

"Why do you think she is making a mistake? In fact, why do youthink anybody is really hiding anything from you?"

"Look, this doesn't concern..." I stopped myself. As I looked intoLayla's hard eyes I realized that she was no longer a peripheralcharacter to me. She was right at the center of my life now. I hadinvited her there. I couldn't kick her out.

I turned and looked down at my hands. Alexandra showed no signthat I was hurting her, but I'm sure that I was. I quickly releasedher wrists, then shoved my hands into my pockets. Alexandra crossedher own hands together.

"You know," Layla said, "maybe we should go out."

"Out?" I mumbled.

"Yeah, you know, the opposite of in. It's a nice day. We shouldall get outside and enjoy it."

I stared at Layla. "All of us?"

"Sure."

"But..."

"Alexandra can hide her face. She's been outside before, hasn'tshe?"

"Well, usually at night and under protection."

"So?" Layla looked past me to Alexandra. "What do you say?"

I turned to Alexandra. She was motionless for a few seconds. Thenshe began to tie the scarves around her face. I wasn't sure, but Ithought that I saw a little smile on her lips before the scarvescovered them.

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I was a Dweller. Layla was a New Yorker. I had gone Above manytimes and learned the streets of the city. Layla's knowledge wasdeeper than that. New York City was her home. For me it had just beena place to visit.

She was the guide on the first day that Alexandra stepped into thelight. Alexandra had seen the sunlight before, but only through thewindows of apartments and limos. On this day the sun directly warmedthe scarves on her face.

And, yes, she did get stares. But this was New York City -- theland of dirty men conversing with invisible people, socialites withstretched faces, street corner preachers with homemade signs andDonald Trump's hair. The teenage girl in black was only one of manystrange sights.

Besides, if other people did stare too long, Layla stared back atthem. They would quickly look elsewhere.

Layla had been right. Alexandra could walk in the city during theday -- just as long as Layla was there with her.

On that day Layla gave Alexandra the meaning of New York City. Hermeaning, just as I gave Alexandra my own meaning of the Tunnels. Theypassed by the hospital where Layla had been born and her favoriteplayground. They saw the grade school, high school and universitywhere she had studied. Layla pointed out a building and explainedthat a different building had once stood on its spot. The old one hadburned down and provided the first case that Layla helped toprosecute at the DA office.

Layla also told Alexandra where to find the best hamburgers andpizza in town. She showed her the newsstand where she usually boughtmagazines and papers. She traced the route that she used to take fromher apartment to work.

Then, with a sly smile, she pointed out the place where she losther virginity. She had been sixteen and in the bedroom of a friend'sapartment. While a party continued noisily in the other rooms, sheand a boy of her age had used the bed. With another sly smile, shethen pointed out the locale of her first lesbian encounter -- aparking lot just two days before graduation.

"Which did you enjoy more?" Alexandra asked.

"Sorry?"

"Did you enjoy the sex with the male or the female more?"

"Uh...well...I guess I enjoyed them equally. At the time."

Alexandra nodded, then said, "Show me more."

She did. Layla told her about the clubs she had frequented and thetheater that had shown the only Broadway show she had seen (and whereshe had been bored silly). They passed through the courtrooms whereshe had helped to prosecute cases. Layla had a hundred stories totell about coffee-fueled lawyers, efficiency-obsessed judges andstony-faced defendants.

A man in a grey suit was sitting on a bench outside one of thecourtrooms. He had been reading a newspaper when he heard Layla'svoice. He looked up and called out her name.

Layla stopped in the hallway and said, "Oh, hey, George."

"Been a long time," the man said as he walked over to her andshook her hand. "Haven't seen you since you quit the..."

He stopped talking when he got a look at Alexandra. "This isAlexandra," Layla explained smoothly. "Layla, this is George Preston.He's a police detective."

"Uh, hi, Alexandra," George said and held out his hand for ashake.

Alexandra didn't shake the hand. Instead, she just stared atGeorge through her dark lenses for a moment and said, "Washingtondidn't do it."

George blinked. "Huh?"

"If you search the apartment of Dave Moore, you'll find the gunyou're looking for."

"How do you know..."

Layla interrupted. "Is she talking about a case you have?"

"Um...yeah, I'm just waiting to testify in it. Is shesaying..."

"Come over here for a second." Layla and the detective moved to aspot where the two could talk in private. George looked confused, buthe paid attention to Layla as she spoke.

When they were done talking Layla went back to Alexandra and said,"Come on." They went on their way through the government building. AsI followed them, I looked back at the detective. He looked pissedthat his case may have just turned upside-down, but he couldn'tignore what he had been told.

Yeah, I was there, but I might as well not have been. This wasLayla's guided tour. I was just along for the ride. As I taggedsilently behind the two women, I thought, 'I waited two months forthis? To have Alexandra shut me out? What is with her anyway?'

You, my very dear reader, have probably figured out half of italready. All I knew at the time was that I felt distant fromAlexandra and Layla even thought they were just a few steps ahead ofme.

I never felt more distant than when we stopped on one particularstreet. When we turned onto this street Layla started to walk slowly.Her pace became more and more sluggish until she stopped completely.Alexandra was at her side. She watched Layla as she stared at thepavement.

I looked around me. It was just another business street in NewYork City. I couldn't figure out why we stopped.

Then Alexandra placed a hand on Layla's shoulder. Layla raised herhead and sighed. She looked at Alexandra.

And, for the first time, Layla really smiled. She had smiledbefore, but in a way that was restrained or sarcastic or ironic. Itwas part of her guarded nature. This time, however, she just lookedgrateful that she had someone to share whatever the hell was goingon. This was decidedly a private moment between the two of them, andI might as well have been in Europe.

Then Alexandra pulled back her hand. The two of them started towalk again.

The sun had gotten close to the horizon when they stopped again.This time it was Alexandra who instigated the halt. A poster stuck toa telephone pole had gotten her attention.

Both Layla and I read it. A woman had been drawn onto the poster'scenter. She wore a white dress that was wide below the waist andtight above it. A white wig towered six inches on top of her head.She played a golden violin resting against her shoulder. Covering herface was a silver mask with a long jutting nose.

Beneath the woman were words written in ornate, curving letters.'Silver Moon Masquerade -- Share the Fantasy.' The poster named aplace and a time -- a hotel ballroom some blocks south of us,tonight.

"Do you know what this is?" Alexandra asked.

Layla shook her head. I took a few seconds to realize that Idid.

"It's a costume ball," I said. The women turned to me. They wereas surprised to hear me speak as I was.

I cleared my throat and added, "You know...it's...a costumeball."

"I see that," Layla responded. "But what kind?"

"It's basically for people with a fetish for both Tolkien andDavid Bowie. Kind of like The Lord of the Rings meets ZiggyStardust."

Layla snorted. "All right."

"I want to go there," Alexandra said.

Now Layla and I were looking at Alexandra. I could see myselfreflected in the right lens of her glasses. Layla was in the left.Both of us knew that we wouldn't be able to change Alexandra'smind.

"If that's what you want," Layla said. "But what if the ticketsare already sold out?"

"I can get us into there," I said.

Layla turned back to me. I shrugged and said, "I can get intothings like that."

She looked me over from my long blonde hair to my slim, fit bodyand said, "I bet you can."

"Let's go then," Alexandra said softly. So we did.

As we headed to the Masquerade, I became aware that we were beingfollowed. One man was behind us on the sidewalk. On the other side ofthe street a second walked alongside our path.

I felt very tempted to beat the shit out of both of them or, atleast, give them a finger. It wasn't just their presence that angeredme. I wanted to do something violent to break myself out of thisstrange passivity that weighed on me. I was surrounded by eventswhose nature was being hidden from me (or so I believed.) I needed todo something before the events completely escaped my control.

Then I had the same realization that I had in Layla's apartment --my strength and my speed counted for nothing here. I would laterrealize that I was lost in the labyrinth of the human heart, just asAlexandra was. Or as she had been.

The two men followed me. I followed Layla and Alexandra. The citygrew darker.