Remo's returned "Thanks" was very small. Okay, he told himself, everybody's a joker tonight. Must be a new thing. Halloween Fools.
The seatbelt light came on and Remo buckled up, figuring he'd just keep his mouth shut and tough out the last few minutes until touchdown.
At La Guardia, Remo caught a cab.
"Rumpp Tower," he told the driver. "And step on it.
"Where you been? Nobody can go to the Rumpp Tower."
"Why not?"
"They got it cordoned off."
"I'll settle for the cordon."
The cabby shrugged. "It's your twenty, pal."
On the way into the city, Remo decided to take another stab at the riddle.
"So what happened to the Rumpp Tower? Exactly."
The cabby looked into his rearview mirror in surprise. "You don't know?"
"No."
"Then why're you so hot to check it out?" "Just answer the question."
"The tower ain't there anymore."
"Pull over," Remo said suddenly.
"Huh?"
"I said, 'Pull over.' "
"Suit yourself."
The cabby pulled over, and Remo reached forward for the safety shield that separated the driver's seat from the passenger. He grabbed it by the money slot.
The stuff was Plexiglas. Not brittle enough to shatter under an ordinary blow.
"If this is a heist, you're wasting your time," the cabby warned.
Remo used both hands to rub circles in the glass. His right hand rubbed clockwise, and the left counterclockwise.
The Plexiglas soon began to warp and actually run, like melting wax. It became very warm in the taxi.
The driver, seeing the impossible thing that was happening to his safety shield, tried to get out from behind the wheel.
He was too late. Remo put one hand through the widening hole and got him by the back of his neck. With the other hand, he swatted the Plexiglas away.
It fell into the front passenger seat like a tangle of lucite taffy.
"How'd you do that?" the cabby croaked.
"Tell me what really happened to the Rumpp Tower, and I'll be happy to oblige," Remo said in a reasonable tone.
"It's not there anymore," the cabby repeated.
Remo squeezed. The cab driver's red face turned purple.
"It's the truth!" the driver yelped. "You can see it, but you can't touch it. It's like-what do call it?'intangible.' "
"Intangible?"
"Yeah. It's there, but then again it's not. You can see it clear as day, but you can't touch it. People who go in, fall right smack through the floor. People coming out fall through the sidewalk. It's spooky."
"Anybody know what caused it?"
"If they do, they ain't sayin'. The betting is Randal Rumpp did it, on account the banks are about to foreclose."
"I don't think he's that smart."
"How 'bout lettin' go now?" the cabby suggested.
Reluctantly, Remo released him.
"Still want to go to the Tower?"
"Yeah."
The cab returned to traffic. After the cabby had the sputum cleared out of his throat, he resumed speaking in his normal Brooklyn growl.
"You were going to tell me how you did that trick with the Plexiglas."
"Sinanju," Remo said flatly.
"What kind of an answer is that?"
"A truthful one."
The cabby, mindful of the steel-like hand that had realigned his upper vertebrae in a way his chiropractor would have envied, decided to accept the answer as definitive. He drove north along Fifth Avenue.
He got only as far as Fiftieth Street and Saint Patrick's Cathedral. Traffic was backed up. The howl of sirens seemed to chase one another through the growing dusk. National Guard trucks were cutting back and forth along the cross streets, trying to find their way to the cordon.
Blocks ahead, the Rumpp Tower gleamed like a monument to the mirrored sunglass industry.