False Impression

“Down the escalator, through the mall, and then get as far away from the building as possible.”

Anna joined the horde of tired savages as they stepped onto an overcrowded escalator. She allowed it to carry her down to the concourse before taking another escalator up to the open promenade, where she often joined Tina and Rebecca for an al fresco lunch while they enjoyed an open-air concert. No open air now, and certainly no calming sound of a violin—just another voice bellowing, “Don’t look back, don’t look back.” An order Anna disobeyed, which not only slowed her down, but also caused her to fall on her knees retching. She watched in disbelief as first one person then another, who must have been trapped above the ninetieth floor, jumped out of their office windows to a certain death rather than face the slow agony of burning. “Get back on your feet, lady, and keep movin’.”

Anna picked herself up and stumbled forward, suddenly aware that none of the officers in charge of the evacuation were making eye contact with those fleeing from the building or even attempting to answer any of their individual questions. She assumed this must be because it would only slow things down and impede the progress of those still trying to get out of the building.

When Anna passed Borders bookshop, she glanced in the window displaying the number-one bestseller, Valhalla Rising.

“Keep movin’, lady,” a voice repeated, even louder.

“Where to?” she asked desperately.

“Anywhere, hut just keep goin’.”

“In which direction?”

“I don’t care, as long as it’s as far away from the tower as possible.”

Anna spat out the last bits of vomit as she continued to move away from the building.

When she reached the entrance to the plaza, she came across fire trucks and ambulances that were tending to the walking wounded and those who just simply couldn’t manage another step. Anna didn’t waste their time. When she finally reached the road, she looked up to see a sign with an arrow covered in black grime. She could just make out the words CITY HALL. Anna began jogging for the first time. Her jog turned into a run and she started to overtake some of those who had departed earlier from the lower floors. And then she heard another unfamiliar noise behind her. It sounded like a clap of thunder that seemed to grow louder and louder by the second. She didn’t want to look back, but she did.

Anna stood transfixed as she watched the South Tower collapse in front of her eyes, as if it had been constructed of bamboo. In a matter of seconds, the remnants of the building came crashing to the ground, throwing up dust and debris that mushroomed into the sky, causing a dense mountain of flames and fumes that hovered for a moment, then began to advance indiscriminately through the crowded streets, engulfing anyone and everyone who stood in its way

Anna ran as she had never run before, but she knew it was hopeless. It could only be a matter of seconds before the gray, ruthless snake was upon her, suffocating all in its progress. Anna wasn’t in any doubt that she was about to die. She only hoped it would be quick.

Fenston stared across at the World Trade Center from the safety of an office on Wall Street.

He watched in disbelief as a second plane flew directly into the South Tower.

While most New Yorkers worried about how they could assist their friends, relations, and colleagues at this tragic time, and others what it meant for America, Fenston had only one thought on his mind.

He and Leapman had arrived on Wall Street for their meeting with a prospective client only moments before the first plane crashed into the North Tower. Fenston abandoned his appointment and spent the next hour on a public telephone in the corridor trying to contact someone, anyone, in his office, but no one responded to his calls. Others would have liked to use the phone, but Fenston didn’t budge. Leapman was carrying out the same exercise on his cell phone.

When Fenston heard a second volcanic eruption, he left the phone dangling and rushed to the window. Leapman walked quickly across to join him. They both stood in silence as they watched the South Tower collapse.

“It can’t be long before the North Tower goes the same way,” said Fenston.

“Then I think we can assume that Petrescu will not survive,” said Leapman, matter-of-factly.

“I don’t give a damn about Petrescu,” said Fenston. “If the North Tower goes, then I’ve lost my Monet, and it isn’t insured.”

12

ANNA BEGAN RUNNING flat out, more and more aware with each step she took that everything around her was becoming quieter. One by one the screams were dying, and she knew she had to be next. There no longer seemed to be anyone behind her, and for the first time in her life Anna wanted someone to overtake her, anyone, just so she didn’t feel like the last person on earth. She now understood what it must be like to be pursued by an avalanche at a speed ten times faster than any human could achieve. This particular avalanche was black.

Anna took deep breaths as she forced her body to achieve speeds that she had never experienced before. She lifted her white silk blouse—now black, sodden, and crumpled—and placed it over her mouth, just moments before she was overtaken by the relentless, all-enveloping gray cloud.

A whoosh of uncontrolled air hurled her forward and threw her onto the ground, but she still tried desperately to keep moving. She hadn’t managed more than a few feet before she began choking uncontrollably. She pushed forward for another yard, and then another, until her head suddenly bumped into something solid. Anna placed a hand on the surface of a wall and tried to feel her way along. But was she walking away from, or back into, the gray cloud? Ash, dirt, dust were in her mouth, eyes, ears, nose, and hair, and clinging to her skin. It felt as if she was about to be burned alive. Anna thought about the people she had seen jumping because they felt that must be an easier way to die. She now understood their feelings, but she had no building to jump from and could only wonder how much longer it would be before she suffocated. She took her last step, knelt down on the ground, and began to pray.

Our Father . . . She felt peaceful, and was about to close her eyes and give way to deep sleep when out of nowhere she saw a flashing police light. Who art in Heaven . . . She made one last effort to get back on her feet and move toward the blue light. Hallowed be thy name . . . but the car drifted past, unaware of her plaintive cry for help. Thy Kingdom come . . . Anna fell once again and cut her knee on the edge of the sidewalk, Thy will be done . . ., but felt nothing. On earth, as it is in Heaven. She clung to the edge of the sidewalk with her right hand and somehow managed a few more inches. She was about to stop breathing when she thought she touched something warm. Was it alive? “Help,” she murmured feebly, expecting no response.

“Give me your hand,” came back the immediate reply. His grip was firm. “Try and stand.”

With his help, Anna somehow pushed herself up. “Can you see that triangle of light coming from over there?” the voice said, but she couldn’t even see where he was pointing. Anna turned a complete circle and stared into 360 degrees of black night. Suddenly she let out a muffled yelp of joy when she spotted a ray of sunlight trying to break through the heavy overcoat of gloom. She took the stranger’s hand and they began inching toward a ligh

t that grew brighter and brighter with every step, until she finally walked out of hell and back into New York.

Anna turned to the gray ash-coated figure who had saved her life. His uniform was so covered in dirt and dust that if he hadn’t been wearing the familiar peaked cap and badge she wouldn’t have known that he was a cop. He smiled and cracks appeared on his face as if he was daubed in heavy makeup. “Keep heading toward the light,” he said, and disappeared back into the murky cloud before she could thank him. Amen.