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It's Andy who remembers the safe house in New York City, though to be perfectly honest, she should have known better than to expect it to still be there.
"Well, that's not a safe house," Nile says.
They're looking up at the massive stone steps that lead to the 42nd Street Library, the one with the two lions at the front and the low wall on all four sides. They're standing at the bottom of the stone steps, Andy with her head tilted to the side, Joe leaning against the low wall, Nicky keeping an eye out, and Nile. She's pressed as close as she can get to the steps, out of the way of the people rushing around them. Booker's by the corner of 5th Avenue, underneath the streetlight, his gaze on the large, white, concrete building. As they wait, a man walking by moves a little too close to Andy and three pairs of hands reach out to pull her away from the middle of the sidewalk.
"I think this is it," Booker says, ambling over to them.
He glances down at the piece of paper in his hand, back at the library, at Joe.
"Don't," Joe says. "It's just a sketch."
Booker does a good job biting back his smile as he hands Nile the sheet of paper. She stares at the fine lines, the careful shading, at Joe's obvious talent. It's a wooden, single-room cottage surrounded by trees and grass. On the far right, there's a large tree with a gnarled trunk, its roots twisting out of the ground.
"And you buried it there," Nile says. "You're sure?"
Andy shrugs. "It was different back then."
Nile looks back up at the library, at the hotdog cart along 42nd street, the rising skyscrapers, the glass storefronts along 5th Avenue. She tries to picture Manhattan as it must have been when Andy, Nicky, and Joe had been there the first time. She's having trouble imagining silence in place of the honking horns and the mad dash of yellow taxi cabs, the hundreds of people rushing by. It's fascinating watching the way everyone moves in what's obviously a well-practiced dance, how everyone naturally shifts to the right as they go, the way the crowd parts when someone steps out of line.
Chicago has the same sense of impossible magnitude and those similarities present in New York City catch Nile off guard. There's no room for the past there. Impossible that anything ever stood in the place of the large cement building, the massive lions, the great stone steps. But Joe drew it a different way, with trees and grass and life. She looks back down at the drawing and tries to imagine where the large tree stood.
"So," she says, glancing at Booker. "I'm not sure how to say this, but there's no way we're getting Andy's sword back."
-
"Are you sure it's here?" Booker asks for the third time that day.
The problem is Andy really likes that sword. Which normally wouldn't be a problem. From what Nile's gathered, everyone's lost something or another to a museum or a private collection in some country over the years. Booker's old pocket watch is in the Louvre, along with his musket and his favorite knife. But, as Booker had said, "it's just the Louvre. I could have everything back in a day if I really wanted them."
Joe has his artwork all over the world. "And one in the Met," he tells Nile as Andy and Booker pour over his drawing. "I think it was one of my fruit bowls, wasn't it Nicky?"
Nicky laughs. "Remember Rembrandt," he says.
"Selfish prick," Joe says, darkly.
Nile listens, fascinated. "Did you know Andy knew Rodin?"
Joe grins so wide, Nile knows there's something she's missing. "What?" she asks.
She hears Booker's quiet cough and turns to see Andy fighting back a smile.
"Not as well as Nicky and Joe knew Michaelangelo, though," Booker says.
"Oh," Nile says, softly.
She takes a few steps forward and sits down on the steps. She looks at Booker and Andy, turning Joe's drawing on its side as they look around them. She sees Nicky's small smile as he stares off into the distance, the way he catches Joe's eye and looks away. Nile leans back and thinks of one thousand years. She's almost afraid to ask.
"So," she says. "When you say Rembrandt was a selfish prick, you mean you know it from personal experience."
Joe shrugs. "Honestly, he probably thought the same thing about me."
Nile nods absently, her eyes on the building in front of her. She watches the people coming in and out of the Bank of America across the street. There's a woman trying to get her bank card into the card reader. She keeps sliding her card too slowly and tugging on the door too early. Nile thinks of the city, of the people who she'll outlive. She wonders if there will come a time when she'll surprise people the way Andy, Joe, Nicky, and Booker surprise her.
"It's all right," Nicky says, coming over to sit down next to her and patting her knee. "You'll get used to it."
Nile raises an eyebrow and Nicky smiles.
-
"I think we're getting too hung up on the tree," Andy says, finally.
The five of them are sitting on the stone steps now, the streetlights flickering to life as people continue to move around them. They've been hanging around the library for hours but no one pays them any attention. Nile likes that about New York City, how unimpressed everyone is, how easily overlooked they are. She feels safe in the multitude.
"I don't know that we can destroy an entire library, even for you, Boss," Nicky says.
"Think of the knowledge," Booker says, rolling his eyes.
Joe glances at him and looks away. At first, Nile thinks it's because Joe's still mad about everything that went down in London, but she sees the smile pulling at Joe's mouth and she grins.
"We could destroy it a little," Nile says.
"We could," Joe says, leaning back on his elbows.
He's watching them from half-lidded eyes, most of his body resting against Nicky's side. Nile watches him yawn and she thinks of their cool hotel rooms with their crisp sheets. She's been meaning to catch up on some sleep and she knows Andy still needs to rest.
"We should come back tomorrow," Nile says. "Doesn't make much sense to stick around if we can't figure out what we're looking at."
"I could have sworn the tree was right there," Andy says, standing up and looking at the building behind them.
She's pointing at a spot a little to the left of the library, where the ground evens out at the top of the steps. There are small metal chairs around metal tables for people to sit. They'd gone up a while ago and from up there, Nile had had a better view of the red tour buses and the people who'd waved at them from the open top. Being up there hadn't changed the fact that no one knew where the goddamn safe house had been in the first place. But at least it had been something for them to do.
"We should go," comes Nicky's quiet voice.
Nile looks down and sees that Joe's fallen asleep.
"Oh for fuck's sake," Andy says, finally shoving Joe's drawing at Booker and heading down 5th Avenue. "I give up."
Nile watches her go, the orange streetlights hitting her hair and setting it alight. She's moving better, though she still favors her left side. Nile sees her stop a few steps away and pull out the subway map they got from the hotel. She tries not to laugh as Andy tilts the thing on its side like she did with Joe's painting. She turns the map again and then glances back at them. Andy's not saying anything but Nile can read the exasperation on her face.
"All right," Nile says when no one makes a move to stand. "Don't anyone get up too quickly."
"We're old," Booker says. "Don't move as fast as we used to."
"Liar," Nile says, but she's still smiling when she catches up to Andy.
-
A week goes by before Joe sits up in bed one Monday afternoon and says, "We have to blow up the New York City Library."
Nile, who had been in the middle of a dream involving boats and the hot sun, rolls over from her spot on the pullout bed. "What?" she asks.
She can hear Booker murmuring something from her right. There's some shuffling, a soft curse, and then the lights come on. They're still in their suite in New York City, Joe and Nicky on one of the beds, Andy on the other. Booker had, apparently, fallen asleep on one of the armchairs, judging from the trail of newspaper sheets following him from the chair to the light switch.
"What is it, love?" Nicky asks, already sitting up in bed.
Joe winces. "You know how we talked about losing the first rings we got each other?" he asks.
"Ah," Nicky says.
"You left them in the safe house?" Andy asks, pushing back her bangs. "That safe house? The one in the middle of the forest?"
"You left your favorite sword there," Nile says.
Andy stops mid-retort and closes her mouth. "Second favorite," she says, pointing at Nile. "Let's go. You're coming with me."
Then, she stands, tosses on a shirt over her tank top, and heads out of the hotel room. Nile sighs but follows her all the way out to the New York City streets. They head down 40th Street, Andy walking as though she knows exactly where she's going. Nile follows her to Grand Central Station as they pass under the small concrete bridge along Park Avenue that stands over a small Italian restaurant.
They catch the uptown 4-train, the subway car jammed with people. Andy takes one look at it, makes a face, and pushes her way in. Nile follows, taking up the space Andy makes as she shoves people out of the way. They get to the middle of the car where there's more space to move. From there, it's only one stop and then they're pushing against the crowd of people trying to catch their train and the people blocking the door. Nile elbows two people by accident and Andy catches a backpack to the face, but they make it out alive.
"So," Nile says, when they come out into the afternoon sun at 59th Street. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see," Andy says, heading down 59th Street towards Lexington.
There are fewer people there than there were at the Library the week before. The streets look quiet as Andy and Nile turn onto Lexington, down to 58th Street. On their way, Nile catches sight of a storefront with tiles and small swaths of fabric but also marble countertops. She glances at the name, sees, DoorKnob, in golden looping letters with a small sign on the door that reads: For all your furniture needs.
She's still thinking about the store when Andy comes to a stop in front of a Home Depot.
"Oh," Nile says. "What are we getting?"
"A jackhammer," Andy says.
And just like that, they end up renting a jackhammer with the intention of digging a hole into the first floor of the 42nd Street New York City Public Library.
-
"And how sure are you that we're going to find a wooden cottage underneath this library?" Nile asks for what feels like the tenth time that night.
They're on the flat surface at the top of the steps on the right. The place with the metal tables and chairs, a few feet from the library building. Joe, Nicky, and Booker have already been digging for the better part of an hour. It's close to two in the morning and the number of people in the street is minimal. They've gotten a look or two but for the most part, everyone minds their own business and keeps walking.
"We could probably blow this entire building up and no one would notice," Andy says, waving at the lady that turns to them as Booker starts up the jackhammer.
Nile laughs. "You're probably right," she says.
The woman stares at them a moment, frowns, and keeps going.
"God, I love a good city," Andy says.
"So what exactly are we looking for here?" Nile asks.
Andy shrugs. "An iron box maybe. I forget what exactly I put the sword in, but it would have survived even if the cottage didn't."
"And what happens if we don't find anything?"
"We dig somewhere else," Andy says.
Nile nods, glancing at Booker who's trying to keep the jackhammer straight as he pushes it deeper into the ground. "You know," Nile says. "I guess it wouldn't hurt just to make sure."
She can hear Andy laughing as Nile goes over to Booker. She figures, might as well see what it feels like to mess up a whole library.
-
In the end, it's Nicky who remembers that their things aren't underneath the library at all.
"What do you mean the park?" Nile asks.
She's covered in concrete dust and sweat and though that's true for all of them, Booker's managed to keep it out of his hair.
"I distinctly remember us moving most of our things to the park in the late '80s," Nicky says.
"Oh," Booker says, his eyes widening in realization, "that sword."
"No," Joe says, frowning. "That wasn't the '80s. We were in France in the '80s."
"The '90s then?" Andy asks.
"No, we did that job in Vancouver in the '90s," Joe says.
"Must have been the '80s though," Nicky says. "They were just designing the park."
Nile watches as the four of them argue back and forth over years and where exactly they'd buried their things. She shakes her head at Booker when he finally catches her eye and nods at the abandoned jackhammer. He shrugs and pulls away from the group to stand by her side.
"How long are they going to be at it?" she asks, watching Joe and Andy, the fond look on Nicky's face as he watches them.
She feels a little left out all of a sudden but she turns to Booker and sees something like longing in his expression.
"They've known each other for a long time. But Andy doesn't play favorites," he says, and when he turns to her, his smile is a little mischievous. "Or she didn't until we found you."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Nile says, keeping her eyes on the streetlights at the corner.
"Sure you don't," Booker says.
It takes them another hour to pack everything up and head back to the hotel. But by that time, Nile's made Booker laugh at least three times and the night is just cool enough to excuse the way they all walk a little too close to Andy. If she notices, she doesn't say anything and when they get back to the hotel, they push the two beds together without a word. Andy climbs in first, Nile and Booker on either side of her. Joe doesn't even hesitate as he climbs in next to Booker, Nicky at the end, furthest from the window and closest to the door.
It's so easy to fall asleep that way, knowing everyone is safe and accounted for. Nile doesn't even have time to worry about how they're all still dirty and there's a whole jackhammer by the bathroom door. She yawns and curls closer to Andy, the air-conditioner blowing cold air at her back.
Her last thought before she falls asleep is that they'll need shovels to dig up Central Park in the morning.