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Authors: Alex Scarrow
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we’re good to go. Time to go.
It was then that he saw them. Four of them emerging from one of the archways. He spotted the tall girl who’d twisted his finger nearly out of its socket. Looking no different. Wearing exactly the same clothes she’d been wearing that night – the very same clothes she’d been wearing seven years ago … and it looked like she’d not aged a day! With her was a small Asian girl, thirteen, maybe fourteen. A young man perhaps a couple of years older, and next to him a giant of a man. He had to be seven foot tall, at least a yard across the shoulders and over two hundred pounds of muscle.
That leaves the other girl. The one called Maddy. She’d been with this lot last night. He’d watched her bouncing around amid the sweaty mob like a loon. He’d liked that kind of thrash music when he was a student. Not now, though. It was music for kids. He preferred jazz, classical, rhythm and blues. It better suited the sophisticated professional executive he’d become. All part of the new image. New Adam.
Mission Control says go. Green light, mate. Time to knock. Or are you going to bottle out again?
‘Who dares wins,’ he whispered.
That’s the spirit.
He’d noted which archway they’d come out of. The fifth one along. He waited until the others had turned out of the backstreet and east to head into Brooklyn before he tossed the paper cup of bland coffee he’d been holding on to into a litter bin and took a first tentative step across the pedestrian walkway towards the dirty little backstreet.
‘Here we go,’ he whispered.
Maddy heard the shutter door rattle as someone lightly tapped on it from outside. One of them must have forgotten something. She got up from the office chair and crossed the floor. Rubbing her eyes tiredly, she punched the green button and let the shutter clatter up to knee height before ducking down.
‘What did you forg–?’
She looked up and saw a tall, tanned and well-groomed man in a very expensive-looking suit. He removed a pair of designer shades and smiled. ‘Uh … hi,’ he said with an English accent and a small self-conscious wave.
‘Excuse me?’ she said. ‘Can I help you?’
He smiled. ‘You and I, we, uh … met some years ago.’
Maddy frowned. Confused for a moment. ‘I don’t think so.’ Then she realized there was something about his face that looked vaguely familiar.
He shrugged. ‘I think I looked quite a bit different then. Long scruffy dreadlocks, pretty bad zits … and, if I recall correctly, I had a beard – if you can call it that. I don’t think you caught me at my best.’ He smiled, a handsome expression on his lean sculpted face. ‘But you,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘quite incredible! You don’t seem to have changed one bit.’
Her eyes widened with surprise. She suddenly recognized him. ‘Oh my God!’ she whispered. ‘You’re … you’re that young –’
‘Adam Lewis,’ he said, squatting down to face her on the level. He offered his hand.
‘How did you …’ Her jaw flapped uselessly.
‘How did I find you?’
She nodded.
He reached for the inside pocket of the well-tailored pinstriped jacket and pulled out a leather wallet. ‘I’ve kept this safe in here, you know, all these years. And every now and then, I pull it out and look at it, just to remind myself that I wasn’t going mad. That I didn’t imagine that night.’ He pulled out a frayed and faded corner of paper and held it in the palm of his hand. ‘It’s a little bit of litter you left by mistake in my room.’
She could just make out the name of the club they’d been to last night. ‘I dropped that?’
He nodded.
He looked up at the clear blue sky and sighed. ‘I do believe, back in 1994, you promised to come back and tell me what the message was all about. So … how did you get on with finding out the truth? Finding out what Pandora means?’
‘Oh boy.’ She looked up and down the street. ‘I suppose you’d
It was then that he saw them. Four of them emerging from one of the archways. He spotted the tall girl who’d twisted his finger nearly out of its socket. Looking no different. Wearing exactly the same clothes she’d been wearing that night – the very same clothes she’d been wearing seven years ago … and it looked like she’d not aged a day! With her was a small Asian girl, thirteen, maybe fourteen. A young man perhaps a couple of years older, and next to him a giant of a man. He had to be seven foot tall, at least a yard across the shoulders and over two hundred pounds of muscle.
That leaves the other girl. The one called Maddy. She’d been with this lot last night. He’d watched her bouncing around amid the sweaty mob like a loon. He’d liked that kind of thrash music when he was a student. Not now, though. It was music for kids. He preferred jazz, classical, rhythm and blues. It better suited the sophisticated professional executive he’d become. All part of the new image. New Adam.
Mission Control says go. Green light, mate. Time to knock. Or are you going to bottle out again?
‘Who dares wins,’ he whispered.
That’s the spirit.
He’d noted which archway they’d come out of. The fifth one along. He waited until the others had turned out of the backstreet and east to head into Brooklyn before he tossed the paper cup of bland coffee he’d been holding on to into a litter bin and took a first tentative step across the pedestrian walkway towards the dirty little backstreet.
‘Here we go,’ he whispered.
Maddy heard the shutter door rattle as someone lightly tapped on it from outside. One of them must have forgotten something. She got up from the office chair and crossed the floor. Rubbing her eyes tiredly, she punched the green button and let the shutter clatter up to knee height before ducking down.
‘What did you forg–?’
She looked up and saw a tall, tanned and well-groomed man in a very expensive-looking suit. He removed a pair of designer shades and smiled. ‘Uh … hi,’ he said with an English accent and a small self-conscious wave.
‘Excuse me?’ she said. ‘Can I help you?’
He smiled. ‘You and I, we, uh … met some years ago.’
Maddy frowned. Confused for a moment. ‘I don’t think so.’ Then she realized there was something about his face that looked vaguely familiar.
He shrugged. ‘I think I looked quite a bit different then. Long scruffy dreadlocks, pretty bad zits … and, if I recall correctly, I had a beard – if you can call it that. I don’t think you caught me at my best.’ He smiled, a handsome expression on his lean sculpted face. ‘But you,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘quite incredible! You don’t seem to have changed one bit.’
Her eyes widened with surprise. She suddenly recognized him. ‘Oh my God!’ she whispered. ‘You’re … you’re that young –’
‘Adam Lewis,’ he said, squatting down to face her on the level. He offered his hand.
‘How did you …’ Her jaw flapped uselessly.
‘How did I find you?’
She nodded.
He reached for the inside pocket of the well-tailored pinstriped jacket and pulled out a leather wallet. ‘I’ve kept this safe in here, you know, all these years. And every now and then, I pull it out and look at it, just to remind myself that I wasn’t going mad. That I didn’t imagine that night.’ He pulled out a frayed and faded corner of paper and held it in the palm of his hand. ‘It’s a little bit of litter you left by mistake in my room.’
She could just make out the name of the club they’d been to last night. ‘I dropped that?’
He nodded.
He looked up at the clear blue sky and sighed. ‘I do believe, back in 1994, you promised to come back and tell me what the message was all about. So … how did you get on with finding out the truth? Finding out what Pandora means?’
‘Oh boy.’ She looked up and down the street. ‘I suppose you’d
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