*
Carpets was leaning back against a railing upon the Chanin Building observatory, arms tightly folded, trying not to look like he was sweating that the roped off spectators were starting to get impatient in their wait for Hope. Some of them had been waiting for over an hour. Carpets had contemplated going up the temporary flagpole himself. But he was not the advertised great American hero. It wouldn’t be the same. He had set up slowly, at least giving them something to look at. Now there was nothing left to do and he was just trying to look like he was thinking about something important. He was next to the makeshift flagpole that stretched out high above the street. With the flag draped over his shoulders, Hope would climb out onto it and paint it. That was the show and the observation deck was the right place for it.
Hope appeared at last. He was wearing an auburn tweed jacket.
‘That looks familiar,’ said Carpets, both angry and amused at the same time.
Hope ran his fingers along the lapels. ‘It’s comfortable and warm too. Such a big benefactor of the work we do, I thought I would honour him by wearing it while we were up on his building.’
‘Very thoughtful of you. Can I ask how you got your hands on it? I don’t suppose it was by asking nicely.’
Hope grabbed the base of the flagpole, clearly pleased with himself. ‘As it turns out he’s got an office on the twenty eight floor and is universally disliked on every floor there under. Elevator jockeys included. Made it easy. As to his popularity on the floors above, I didn’t stop to ask.’
‘Well, stay still until I’ve got your harness on,’ replied Carpets, going to work on him. ‘If you slip over the edge, he won’t at all be happy with the state of the jacket as it is returned to him.’
‘Sure. You’ve still got that dinner courtesy of Flinger to enjoy. So, let’s not dawdle.’
Carpets applied the harness tightly around his waist and laughed at the sight of Hope set to paint in the absurd combination of tweed and denim.
‘I’ll take the wife and kids to a nice restaurant. We don’t eat out much at all. By all means come along and join us. We would be happy to have you.’
‘Thank you, but I have plans,’ said Hope.
Carpets was hurt despite himself. ‘I’m sure you’ve got something else to do, but should you really call them plans?’
Hope leapt up onto the railing of the observatory and straddled the flagpole. The crowd gasped and the flagpole started to bend and creak with his weight as he pushed upward and outward.
‘Did you say something?’ murmured Hope as he continued on for the top. ‘Lord knows I’ve only one colour of paint in my can but I’m in the mood for a masterpiece.’
Death of the Extremophile Page 7