Akropolis

by Catherine McCallum

  Store windows were decorated for the festive season and crowds of Christmas shoppers stood peering in at glittering displays of gifts from exotic places‌—‌crystal from Austria, Persian carpets, samovars from Russia. He couldn’t believe he was here, at this time, in the most exciting city in the world. He wished Norika were here to share it with him.

  Street stalls were selling food‌—‌sausage, pickles, bread, fruit. He was hungry and with the coins Zev had given him he bought enough food for a meal. He sat on a bench in a small park and planned what to do as he ate. Work. He needed work and a place to sleep. And warm clothes. He wondered if Levis had been invented yet.

  He was starting to think clearly about his situation. It was late afternoon. At worst, tonight he could sleep in a doorway out of the cold. Tomorrow he would find work. With money he could move around freely and figure out how to find Norika. He sat back on the bench, feeling more hopeful.

  He checked his pockets and pack. Everything was there‌—‌his phone, the rock, his notepad. In a secure inner pocket was the coin Leontios had given him.

  As he replaced the rock it started to hum and he watched the layers glow translucent. He looked around the park. Stay calm. People were moving briskly and no one appeared interested in him. A woman in a fur coat with the hood pulled forward over her face led a large dog on a lead. They slowed as they approached. Was she the one to watch?

  The dog pulled on the lead to sniff at Nat’s feet and wagged his tail in greeting. Nat bent down to pat it, his mind elsewhere. In an instant the dog changed and lunged at him, fangs bared. Snarling and snapping, it stretched on the end of its lead and just stopped short of sinking its jaws into Nat’s arm.

  Nat pulled back in alarm.

  “Come, Hades. Not now.” The woman spoke calmly, from within the hood. The dog immediately became docile and they continued on their way, merging with the crowd as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

  Nat was too shaken to move. He glanced around. Someone must have noticed. People passed, unaware. A man in a long coat was standing nearby, gazing in his direction. Nat stood, ready to run. The man turned away to greet a friend. No threat there. The rock was silent.

  Nat began to move slowly along the sidewalk, in no particular direction. He was certain the dog and the woman had known him, could have even tracked him here. Was it some sort of warning? Did they expect he would lead them to Seb?

  Rounding a corner he became aware of a plaintive tune, scratchy and uneven, from further down the street. As he approached he saw that the sound came from the organ grinder. The man was cranking a barrel organ supported by a wooden pole and a leather strap over his shoulder. A small brown monkey was tethered to him by a long lead and together they were entertaining a small group of excited children and passers-by.

  The monkey wore a red cap and embroidered jacket over a short pleated skirt. She darted among the audience, holding a tin cup up to collect coins. Each time she scored a coin she would run back to the organ grinder and deposit the takings in his pocket. Occasionally she stole a hair ribbon or clasp and the children squealed in delight as the organ grinder pretended to scold her.

  “Sabine! You must give it back!”

  When Sabine returned the trinket to its owner’s outstretched hand the children laughed and reached out to her, but the monkey skilfully avoided their grasp, scampering into position on her owner’s shoulder.

  Nat was watching, his mind distracted by the day’s events, when he realised the monkey was running across to him. She scrambled up his coat and started looking in the top pocket. He protested, laughing.

  She stopped and gave him a steady look. Leaning towards him she whispered, “Don’t leave. Remain here.” The words were in his head, unheard by others. Then she jumped to the ground and ran back to her owner. He was left standing there, not entirely sure she’d spoken to him, a monkey? He remembered the Network. Maybe she was there to help him.

  He sat on the steps of a nearby tenement and waited as the organ grinder packed up for the day. The children and onlookers had started to move on down the street. Shopkeepers were closing their doors and the streetlights were coming on.

  Nat was thinking about where he would sleep for the night when he felt a gentle tug on his coat. He lifted his head and saw the monkey looking at him. She was still tethered to her owner who laughed at her antics.

  “Sabine, come here! Leave the boy alone.”

  The organ grinder approached Nat and smiled in greeting. “My apologies. Never has she done this before‌—‌we have finished our work for the day.” He called Sabine again and she ran up onto his shoulder, where she sat regarding Nat calmly.

  “My name is Bruno,” the organ grinder said. “Her name is Sabine. She likes you!”

  Nat stood, extending his hand to Bruno and giving Sabine a brief nod. “My name is Nathaniel‌—‌Nat.”

  “Nathaniel,” Bruno said. “Where are you from, Nathaniel?”

  Nat said, “I arrived in New York only this afternoon. I’ve been walking for hours. Can you tell me what part of the city this is?”

  Bruno raised his eyebrows. “You don’t know where you are?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Bruno looked around as if expecting to see the boy’s family appear from the shadows. He turned and spoke to the monkey. “You hear that, Sabine? The boy is alone.” He frowned. “Is your family here?”

  “I arrived here alone,” Nat said. As an afterthought he added, “My family name is D’Angelo.”

  Bruno’s eyes widened. “D’Angelo!” he shouted. “You hear that, Sabine? D’Angelo! My wife’s cousin is D’Angelo. Could be related, eh?” He peered more closely at Nat. “You need somewhere to sleep. You can’t stay here, in the cold.” He took Nat firmly by the arm and gestured ahead of them. “Rosa would insist you eat with us. Sabine will lead the way. Walk with me.”

  Nat was too tired to resist Bruno’s invitation. He thought if he had somewhere to spend the night he could leave refreshed in the morning. And he hoped Sabine would communicate with him again.

  The flat was two floors up. Bruno removed Sabine’s lead at the bottom of the stairs and she scampered up ahead of them. Nat helped Bruno carry the organ up the narrow staircase.

  “Do you do this every night?” he asked, as they stood catching their breath outside the door of the flat.

  “I’m used to it,” Bruno said.

  A kind-looking woman opened the door and Bruno introduced Nat. “Rosa, this is Nathaniel D’Angelo. I met him on Delancey. Could be related to your cousin, eh?”

  “My cousin Antonio is short and eats too much pasta,” Rosa laughed. “Nathaniel is tall and thin. You look like you need a good meal, Nathaniel, and a good night’s sleep.”

  The flat was small and cosy, warmed by a coal burning stove in the kitchen and lit with gas lights. Rosa served pasta covered in meat sauce, and over the evening Nat relaxed more than he had since leaving St Annes. Sabine sat at the table with them and Bruno and Rosa responded fondly to her chatterings. They don’t know, Nat thought.

  Bruno and Rosa talked about their street, their neighbours, their work in New York. They clearly enjoyed Nat’s company and were interested in his life in Tasmania‌—‌the strange animals, the exotic birds.

  Bruno said, “Are there monkeys?”

  Nat laughed. “No monkeys. But you’d like our wombats.”

  It felt like home, as it used to be before everything changed. Nat found it hard to express in words his gratitude to Bruno and Rosa. He glanced often at Sabine for some sign, some indication that she would communicate with him during the evening. Eventually he gave up trying.

  That night he slept under a blanket on a mat in the far corner of the room, undisturbed by the noise of the street in the early morning. When he woke Rosa had left for her job in a clothing factory and Bruno and Sabine had gone to their day’s work on the streets. On the floor beside his mat were neatly folded warm clothes. Grateful for the kindness, he wore
them in layers against the cold. He wrote a note thanking Bruno and Rosa and promising to contact them again.

  When he was ready he left the flat and went downstairs to the street, thinking he must have imagined Sabine had spoken to him.

  21

  Walking around the city had made him aware of the construction taking place. Everywhere he looked he saw high-rise buildings going up, new railroad systems, roads. New York a hundred years before his time was growing and there was plenty of work. The energy and buzz of the city were beyond anything he’d experienced before. He wasn’t just an observer, he was a participant.

  He was certain the Statue of Liberty would lead to the map segment. When he’d disembarked at the ferry terminal he’d noticed that ferries departed regularly for Liberty Island, where the statue stood in isolation.

  His money had run out and he was hungry. He walked to the nearest corner and west down Grand before he found a construction site that looked promising. A foreman was yelling instructions to a group of men from a wooden platform above the ground, halfway up the unfinished structure. He waited until the men had dispersed and the foreman saw him. “I’m looking for a day’s work,” he shouted above the din of jackhammers. “Any work here?”

  The foreman observed the boy, thinking they were both lucky. He was two men short and the boy was tall and strong‌—‌skinny but with enough muscle to handle heavy lifting. “You can start now,” he called down to Nat. “Get yourself up here.”

  Nat walked onto the site and climbed the scaffolding.

  “Go see Joe over there,” said the foreman. “He’ll tell you what to do. If you’re no good you won’t get paid. Understood?”

  “Sure,” said Nat. “Fine by me.”

  By midday he had helped unload several cartloads of building materials on to the site. He found the rhythm of the work satisfying and he almost forgot for a time why he was here. More than fifty men worked alongside him, most of them immigrants, others from the south‌—‌freed slaves, itinerant workers.

  “Hey Nat! Where you from?” They’d taken a break for food. The man beside Nat offered him some dark bread with sliced sausage and Nat gratefully accepted.

  “Down south,” he replied.

  The man laughed. “You don’t look like you was from down south. And you sure as hell don’t sound like it.”

  More laughter. “Who cares?” someone said, “as long as he does the job.”

  He thought of his father. Nat had helped him build their hen shed and like many of his father’s projects it had turned into a major construction job. The hens had new roosts, new nesting boxes and shelter from the southerlies, but still they kept returning to their rickety windblasted old shed behind the woodpile.

  Nat smiled at the memory. What would his father think if he could see him working on a construction site in New York in the early twentieth century? Nat made a note of the street address to look up when he returned.

  By the end of the day he was surprised at how much he’d achieved.

  “Want more work?” the foreman said, as he paid him.

  “Maybe.”

  “Come back if you do.”

  It was getting dark as Nat left the site. He hadn’t walked far, about a block, when he remembered that he’d placed the rock in his pack while he worked nearby. He checked his pack and felt a jolt of fear. The rock had gone. His pack had been in sight, but there were a couple of times he’d been distracted.

  Someone was tracking him.

  He knew he had to return to the site. He turned back, broke into a run, controlled his panic. He was out of breath when he arrived.

  The foreman was locking up, the last one to leave.

  “I’ve lost something,” Nat said. “I think someone stole it from my pack. Can I get back in to look around?”

  “Sorry. Too late. I’ve locked the site.” The foreman turned to him. “Nobody here took it‌—‌I know the men.”

  “Was there anyone new on the site today, apart from me?” Nat asked.

  The foreman shrugged. “Could’ve been. The site’s not locked during the day.” He paused a moment. “Yeah. There was. I put on someone after you. Just showed up and asked for work. He took off after an hour or so. Work too hard for him, I guess.” He turned to go. “Might’ve been him.”

  Nat hesitated, reluctant to leave. The foreman looked at him closely. “Got a place to sleep tonight?”

  “I’m okay,” said Nat. “Thanks.”

  He waited nearby until the foreman had left, hoping to scale the high fence and look around. With luck the small torch he carried in his pack still worked.

  Night fell and the streetlights came on. The site was overlooked on three sides by the walls of adjoining buildings and he was dismayed at how dark it appeared. Despite a narrow laneway on one side, no light reached its depths. The piles of bricks, the stacks of heavy timber beams, the rubble and machinery‌—‌all were part of the impenetrable blackness. Even the beam of his torch failed to illuminate them.

  Too risky to break in now.

  He was thinking he’d leave it until the next day, when he caught a darting movement out of the corner of his eye, outside the site. There was someone further along the fenceline, in the laneway. Without the rock to warn him he was uncertain whether to run or stay. He moved a short way into the lane and waited. Something was on the wire moving quietly towards him. He shone his torch towards the sound and breathed free in relief. “Sabine!” he said, his voice an urgent whisper. “What are you doing here? Where’s Bruno?”

  The monkey swung down from the fence onto his shoulder and took hold of his coat collar for balance. She cuffed him lightly on the side of his head with her hand. “You’re lucky I’ve been watching you,” she said. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous walking the streets at night?”

  Sabine had been following him. Nat wished his experience with monkeys had not been limited to observing them behind bars in a zoo. “Are you part of the Network?” he said.

  Sabine snorted. “Me? Not any more, kiddo, I’ve moved on. All the politics, travelling between timespaces. Who wants it? I live with Bruno and Rosa. Why would I leave New York?”

  “You’re a Descendant then.”

  “I’ve been asked to look out for you, is all.”

  “Who asked you? Yoshiki?”

  Sabine glanced into the site. “This is some freaky place to be at night. Let’s do what we have to do and get out of here. So what are we looking for?”

  Nat started to explain about the rock. She cut him off. “Yeah, yeah. I told you, I’ve been watching you.”

  “Then you know what we’re looking for,” Nat said, annoyed.

  She gave him another light tap. He tried to avoid her but she was too fast.

  “Do you mind not doing that?” he said. The next time he was ready and moved his head before she could try. She gave a muffled snort.

  He could tell she was enjoying herself and relented with a sigh. “We’re looking for anything that can help us find the rock. I have an idea who’s taken it but I thought I might find evidence.”

  “Evidence? Who are you‌—‌Sherlock Holmes?”

  “How does a monkey know about Sherlock Holmes?”

  “I happen to know. And by the way, lose the smarts.” She tapped him again.

  Nat was changing his mind about wanting her help. He needed to get onto the site himself. “I’m going to climb the fence,” he said. “You stay here. Keep watch.”

  Sabine leaped on to the fence in front of him. “Are you crazy? I’ll go. I can see better than you at night, for a start. Not to mention my superior climbing skills.”

  Nat weighed it up. “Can you be quick?”

  “Watch me.” Sabine scaled the fence and was on the other side before he had time to locate her with his torch.

  “Over here!” she hissed. “Don’t use the torch. Tell me where to go.”

  Nat described exactly where he had left his pack. “Look for anything on the ground, anything at all, t
hat might have been left behind. Whoever took the rock would have been in a hurry‌—‌I had the pack in sight most of the time.”

  “Okay. Don’t go away.” She peered at him through the wire and dropped her voice to a low drawl. “I’ll be back!”

  Great. A monkey who does stand-up.

  He waited. After about five minutes she returned to the fence.

  “Got something!” she whispered. As she dropped onto his shoulder they heard voices approaching down the lane‌—‌a couple taking a short cut. She tapped his head. “Let’s go. This place gives me the creeps.”

  At the nearest corner they stopped under a streetlight. Sabine handed Nat a scrap of paper. “This is all I could find,” she said.

  It was part of a travel booking. Nat studied it more closely. “There’s a logo here. Looks familiar‌—‌a red V.” He suddenly realised what it was. “This is the Virgin logo! It’s an airline booking!”

  Sabine snorted. “An airline booking? That’s impossible.”

  Nat insisted. “It’s an airline booking. From last year.”

  “From 1910?”

  He gave her a look. “From my timespace, not yours.”

  “I told you. I don’t travel much between timespaces these days.” She added as an afterthought, “Know what I miss? Movies. The last movie I saw was King Kong. Ever see it?”

  “No.”

  “Too bad. Don’t get out much, huh?”

  Nat held the paper up to the light. “There’s a destination. T-O-K…‌Tokyo!”

  “Tokyo?” Sabine snorted again.

  Nat remembered what Norika had told him‌—‌that Rick had been to Japan the previous year. “I think I know who took the rock,” he said. He turned the paper over. “There’s an address written here.”