“Beats me. I remember my PR guide from the transit authority said when they dismantled the sidewalk entrance, they sealed off the stairs with concrete slabs. Guess they also put in these vents.”
Nikki got on one knee and tried to pull the grate open. “Won’t give.” Then she got up, looked around, and pointed to the center divider in the middle of Broadway. “There’s another grate out there behind that fence, see?” Heat took a step out into the street without checking traffic. A horn blasted. Rook grabbed her arm and jerked her back just in time; she had almost gotten clipped by a passing gypsy cab.
“You OK?” he asked.
“Fine. Close one, thanks.”
“No, I mean are you OK-OK?” He studied her and she knew what he meant. It wasn’t like her to be reckless. It wasn’t her nature to let impatience drive her.
Heat dismissed him. “All right, fine, we’ve got the walk now, let’s use it.” She didn’t wait for him but hurried to the median that divided the uptown and downtown flows on Broadway. When Rook caught up, she led him between the evergreen shrubs and tulips to the wrought iron fence surrounding the grate, which was much larger than the one on the sidewalk.
Rook reached both arms through the bars and tried to lift that grate. It wouldn’t budge, either. Another train passed underneath, even louder than the one before, and it blew more wind up at them. “This one must be right above active tracks.” He turned up to her and said, “The one back on the sidewalk would be over the station itself.” But Nikki was already on her way back to it, dodging traffic.
When Rook rejoined her, Heat had both knees on the sidewalk and had her head down, peering through a hole in the grate. “Come see. There’s just enough light from the street lamp to make out the stairs.” She rocked back to give him room.
He shut one eye to focus and spied the deteriorated concrete steps littered by cigarette butts, plastic straws, and all colors of gum that had fallen through the grate over the years. “That’s it, all right.” Then he scanned the grate. “It wouldn’t have these hinges if it wasn’t designed to open. Look. Here’s how it’s locked.” He pointed to a hole in the grid, about the size of a quarter, with a hex head bolt screwed into it.
“Got it.” She squeezed her fingers into the hole and tried to turn it. “That puppy’s on tight. If we could just unscrew that bolt, we could get in.”
“You’re kidding,” he said. “You’re seriously thinking of busting this thing open and climbing down there tonight?”
“Damn straight.”
“I like the way you think. But can’t we call the MTA or Parks and Rec and see if we can have them open it?”
“After office hours?” She shook her head. “Besides, by my estimation, after we got all the red tape cleared and signed all the insurance waivers, we’d be doing our climbing using walkers.” And then she added, “And since when did you become the cautious thinker?”
“Maybe because you’re scaring me. You look like you could use a choke chain tonight.”
“I’m tired of waiting. Ten years, Rook. And now I feel like I’m this close.” She tried the bolt head again with her bare fingertips, knowing it was useless. “I don’t want it to slip away.”
Rook felt the fire in her and said, “We’re going to need a tool to get that off.”
“That’s the Rook I know.”
He surveyed the area as if he’d miraculously find one to improvise, which would have been just that, miraculous. Nikki pointed across Broadway and said, “Oh, man, talk about a cruel irony.” Maybe a hundred feet away sat a locksmith shop with its lights off. “All locked up for the night.”
“We could call them.” When Rook read her impatience, he said, “No, we are not going to break in there. I may not always know where to draw the line, but burglary feels like a good place to start.”