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barney ross
22 may 2007
I spent my childhood in Chicago just a generation after the heyday of the great prizefighter Barney Ross, but I never heard of him until I happened across Douglas Century's new biography in the Great Neck, Long Island public library, forty years after Ross's death. Partly that's just because my father and grandfather preferred baseball to boxing. But partly, as Century emphasizes, it's because the world that reared and acclaimed Barney Ross has vanished from sight. Ross was the greatest of all the fighters in the brief ascendancy of Jewish boxing stars early in the 20th century.
Ross's story reads like life's imitation of Hollywood. We begin with echoes of The Jazz Singer, as young Beryl Rasofsky, born in 1909, grows up tough and disreputable in Chicago's Maxwell Street ghetto, while his Hebrew-scholar father makes ends meet by keeping a shop. Then, the elder Rasofsky is murdered by holdup men, casting Beryl onto the streets for good. Will our hero descend into the mobland of 1920s Chicago, or will he enter a boxing gym and learn to use his muscle more productively? The latter, of course; and, anglicized to Barney Ross, he becomes a champion in the fledgling Golden Gloves competition and then a topnotch professional fighter, winning world titles in three different weight classes.
Ross's great rivals in the 1930s, like Ross himself, embodied hyphenated America: Italian-American Tony Canzoneri, from whom Ross won the lightweight and junior-welterweight titles; Irish-American Jimmy McLarnin, with whom he traded the welterweight title back and forth three times; and African-American Henry Armstrong, who defeated Ross in 1938 to claim that welterweight title for good. In all these fights, despite great respect and friendship among the boxers themselves, the competitors stood not just for themselves but as public representatives of their ethnicities. Armstrong beat Ross to a pulp, but did not beat him senseless; and Ross, after that definitive defeat, had the good sense to quit the ring with his wits intact. He never attempted a comeback.
But more Hollywood ensued. Down on his luck after years of throwing money through parimutuel windows (Ross had been introduced to the track by Al Jolson himself), the ex-champ enlisted as a Marine private and found himself in harrowing combat on Guadalcanal. Ross emerged from the jungle with a Silver Star – and a morphine addiction. He would kick the dope habit, but would never wean himself from a chronic need to pick up checks, tip heavily, plunge on no-hope nags, and touch a whole bygone world of ring fans for the wherewithal to sustain his genial profligacy.
Ross would enter the spotlight one more time, after old Chicago nightlife hand Jack Ruby murdered Lee Harvey Oswald, leading the Warren Commission to interview the fighter about possible links between Ruby and the mob world. A few years later, Ross would die of cancer, his last hospital bills paid by benefit checks from a who's who of boxing (Patterson, Braddock, Graziano, LaMotta) and high-rolling pals like Frank Sinatra and Jackie Gleason.
Never has a part of American popular culture so definitively disappeared. As Century points out, there is hardly a Jewish boxer in America any more. The Maxwell Street neighborhood is gone; the gyms and clubs and stadiums and nightspots that dominated the sport and entertainment scenes of the 1930s and 40s have evaporated from American cities. For American Jews, the fight game was a waystation on the path to something better, or at least something different: Jewish fighters, the sons of scholars, became the fathers of professionals, the grandparents of artists and writers (like Century himself).
And even Hollywood did not do its part in preserving Ross's memory. John Garfield took an option on Ross's life story after Guadalcanal, only to drop it when Ross's addiction became public. (Ross would sue Garfield for a piece of the boxing film Body and Soul, claiming that Garfield had ripped off elements of his life story.) Finally, Cameron Mitchell would star in the now-obscure Monkey on My Back, reducing Ross's life to the stereotype of the addict agonistes. When life imitates art too well, art can do little justice to life in return. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
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"@lisajewelluk has delivered a masterpiece of a mystery, and you’ll be unable to put it down until you get to the last, brilliant page. And that last page is indeed, spectacularly brilliant!"—Kym of @unlikely__story on THE FAMILY UPSTAIRS • coming 11/5! (📸 @vilmairisblog)
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The Texas heat is pretty much unbearable this time of year, so find me a cool coffee shop, a vanilla latte and a good book and I’m a happy girl! @GrandCentralPub sent me #Outfox𝗕𝗼𝗼𝗸 by @SandraBrown_NYT and it’s the… https://t.co/4f86sbIYM0 | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
Follow a stripper on Twitter, and you get noticed by more than a few people. Follow a few strippers, and you get yourself called into the general manager's office.
Larry Brown Sports managed to spot a peculiar story from the initial throes of what looks to be a promising career for Rams rookie Tavon Austin.
Austin—taken No. 8 overall by the Rams in the 2013 NFL draft—was at Nike’s "The Opening," a football camp for high school stars.
At some point, Austin spoke to some of the young men in the crowd, imparting newly formed wisdom he received all because of some rather tenuous Twitter decisions.
Here is what he had to say, via a tweet from Taylor Holiday:
Larry Brown Sports had a report dated back in April wherein they chronicled some dubious follows by the 22-year-old. Peppered among various sports personalities were the likes of ThickRedBone and Ms. Jazii XXX.
The website took notice and offered a lighthearted warning, but the new followers also caught the eye and ire of general manager Les Snead. At least, that's how the story goes from Austin.
Just as LBS points out, Austin is still very much active on Twitter, posting items nearly everyday in the past week or so.
Austin hasn't completely cleaned up his account, because one of the 402 people he is currently following includes a user by the name of Michelle whose description simply states, "stripper."
So there's that.
When the rookie offers that he is "off Twitter," maybe he means he is done accepting sexy followers into his Twittersphere.
Or perhaps he just means he is far more mindful about whom he accepts and what he tweets, which is just solid advice for anyone with an account.
There is really just one thing a budding star athlete needs to ask himself: Will this get me in trouble? If the answer is yes, the best idea is to refrain from doing whatever that might be.
As we have seen so often, many athletes have trouble doing this one simple task. With that, we remind everyone to practice safe tweeting.
Hit me up on Twitter: Follow @gabezal | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
. ..A
powerful voice in the pro-Israel lobby is
calling for a “witch-hunt” to root out individuals in the U.S. government who
are suspected of being hostile to Israel.
The call for a witch-hunt is based on the crazy
notion that “Islamo-fascists” and Muslim “jihadists”
have infested America’s defense, national
security and federal law Enforcement community.
Could this be a sign that the U.S. government is
coming to its senses?
. . .A leading voice of the pro-Israel lobby
is pushing for an old-style “witch-hunt”—
under the guise of ."homeland
security” —to identify (and
expel) individuals in the U.S. government
and our military who are suspected of being hostile
to Israel.. . .The call for a witch-hunt is based on the outlandish thesis
that “Islamo-fascists” and Muslim “jihadist” operatives
and, perhaps more particularly, their “sympathizers”—
however loosely defined — have infested America’s defense,
national security and federal law enforcement community.. . .The witch-hunt was proposed in the fall 2006 issue of
the small-circulation — but highly influential — Journal of
International Security Affairs published by the Jewish
Institute for National Security Affairs (JINSA). JINSA has
been one of the frontline forces in the fanatically pro-Israel “neo-conservative” circles directing foreign policy under
George W. Bush.. . .Not only Vice President Dick Cheney, but also UN
Ambassador John Bolton, former Deputy Under Secretary
of Defense Douglas Feith and Richard Perle, former chairman
of the Defense Policy Board — to name just a few big
Bush administration names — have all been associates of
JINSA. University of Pennsylvania Prof. Edward Herman
has described JINSA as “organized and [run] by individuals
closely tied to the Israeli lobby and can be regarded as a virtual
agency of the Israeli government.”. . .What first appears as commentary in JINSA’s Journal
often leads to very real policies carried out by the Bush
administration alone and sometimes in concert with
Capitol Hill which some critics have been known to cynically
call “Israeli occupied territory.”. . .The JINSA call for a witch-hunt came in the context of a
series of commentaries on “21st Century Allies . . . and
Adversaries” for the United States and Israel, which two
nations, of course, are seen in the JINSA world view as virtual
extensions of one another.. . .Zionist publications regularly assert that “anti-Israel”
sentiments must automatically be seen as “anti-American”
and even as “anti-Christian” in nature, a theme first loudly
propagated by the American Jewish Committee’s
Commentary magazine.. . .The commentaries, not surprisingly, named such countries
as Iran, Syria, Russia and Venezuela, as possible“adversaries” for the U.S.-Israel Axis. However, it was an
article by Walid Phares — who is associated with a Zionist
lobby front known as the Foundation for the Defense of
the Democracies — which made the suggestion that there
are very real “adversaries” on American soil, at high levels
in the American military and intelligence establishment. In
his article “Future Terrorism — Mutant Jihads,” Phares
asked:. . . “How deeply have jihadist elements infiltrated the U.S.
government and federal agencies, including the Federal
Bureau of Investigation, the Department of Homeland
Security, the Department of Defense, and various military
commands, either through sympathizers or via actual operatives?”. . .Although posed as a loaded question, Phares’s implication
was clear: he believes such a “threat” exists. The JINSA
writer then proclaimed the need for a “national consensus”
that requires “confronting these forces” based on “knowledge
of their ideologies, objectives and determination.”. . .Since there are few Muslim Americans or even Arab
Americans in any substantial numbers in the FBI, Homeland
Security, the Department of Defense, etc, the suggestion
that “jihadist” elements have “infiltrated” our government
might seem silly to the average American.. . .But in the fevered minds of JINSA and hard-line Zionist
elements, the real concern is that there are growing numbers
of people high up in the FBI and the CIA and in the
military who are getting “fed up” with Zionist power in
America. Top military leaders openly dismissed the need
for war against Iraq and Iran, both wars of which have been
long-time policy plans of the Zionist lobby. And all of this,
in the view of the JINSA sphere, constitutes effective collaboration
with and sympathy for the dreaded “jihadists.”. . .For example, on May 11, 2005, the New York-based Forward, a leading Jewish community newspaper, reported
that Barry Jacobs of the Washington office of the American
Jewish Committee said he believed there are high-ranking
officials inside the U.S. intelligence community who are
hostile to Israel and are waging war against pro-Israel lobbyists and their neo-conservative allies in the inner circles
of the Bush administration. . . .Citing the ongoing FBI investigation of espionage by
officials of the American Israel Public Affairs Committee
(AIPAC), the leading pro-Israel lobby group, Forward
reported that Jacobs believes, in Forward’s summary, that “the notion that American Jews and Pentagon neo-conservatives
conspired to push the United States into war against
Iraq, and possibly also against Iran, is pervasive in
Washington’s intelligence community.”. . .Obviously, with such thoughts running rampant in pro-
Israel circles, it is inevitable a leading pro-Israel policy
group such as JINSA would raise the specter of “infiltration”
by those who are seen as “sympathizers” and suggest
that they be purged from their positions in government
agencies.. . .So the threat of a witch-hunt happening is real. Despite
differences between the Bush administration and its
Democratic foes, both come together in one realm: satisfying
the Israeli lobby which funds both Democrats and
Republicans alike through a network of political action
committees and exercising its clout on Capitol Hill
through pressure groups such as the APIAC, the American
Jewish Committee, the American Jewish Congress and the
Anti-Defamation League.. . .It is ironic that JINSA should be the source of a demand
for an investigation of foreign agents and sympathizers
inside the American government. The founder of JINSA,
Stephen Bryen, a former Senate aide on Capitol Hill, faced
certain indictment on charges of espionage for Israel until
pressure on the Justice Department forced Justice to back
off.. . .Not only Bryen, but several others in the JINSA sphere
were under FBI investigation on similar charges relating to
their possible misuse of American defense and intelligence
information on Israel’s behalf. They include:. . . • Richard Perle, investigated in the 1970s when he was a top aide to then-Sen. Henry Jackson;. . . • Douglas Feith, who — although later promoted to a
high post in the Bush administration in 2001 — was fired from the National Security Council of President Ronald Reagan; and. . . • Paul Wolfowitz, now head of the World Bank and former
deputy secretary of defense in the Bush administration,
investigated in the 1970s by the FBI on suspicion of passing classified information to Israel. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
Rultor is a coding team assistant. Travis is a hosted continuous integration system. In this article I’ll show how our open source projects are using them in tandem to achieve seamless continuous delivery.
I’ll show a few practical scenarios.
Scenario #1: Merge Pull Request
jcabi-mysql-maven-plugin is a Maven plugin for MySQL integration testing. @ChristianRedl submitted pull request #35 with a new feature. I reviewed the request and asked Rultor to merge it into master :
As you can see, an actual merge operation was made by Rultor. I gave him access to the project by adding his GitHub account to the list of project collaborators.
Before giving a “go ahead” to Rultor I checked the status of the pre-build reported by Travis:
Travis found a new commit in the pull request and immediately (without any interaction from my side) triggered a build in that branch. The build didn’t fail, that’s why Travis gave me a green sign. I looked at that sign and at the code. Since all problems in the code were corrected by the pull request author and Travis didn’t complain—I gave a “go” to Rultor.
Scenario #2: Continuous Integration
Even though the previous step guarantees that master branch is always clean and stable, we’re using Travis to continuously integrate it. Every commit made to master triggers a new build in Travis. The result of the build changes the status of the project in Travis: either “failing” or “passing.”
jcabi-aspects is a collection of AOP AspectJ aspects. We configured Travis to build it continuously. This is the badge it produces (the left one):
Again, let me stress that even through read-only master is a strong protection against broken builds, it doesn’t guarantee that at any moment master is stable. For example, sometimes unit tests fail sporadically due to changes in calendar, in environment, in dependencies, in network connection qualities, etc.
Well, ideally, unit tests should either fail or pass because they are environment independent. However, in reality, unit tests are far from being ideal.
That’s why a combination of read-only master with Rultor and continuous integration with Travis gives us higher stability.
Scenario #3: Release to RubyGems
jekyll-github-deploy is a Ruby gem that automates deployment of Jekyll sites to GitHub Pages. @leucos submitted a pull request #4 with a new feature. The request was merged successfully into master branch.
Then, Rultor was instructed by myself that master branch should be released to RubyGems and a new version to set is 1.5:
Rultor executed a simple script, pre-configured in its .rultor.yml :
release: script: | ./test.sh rm -rf *.gem sed -i "s/2.0-SNAPSHOT/${tag}/g" jgd.gemspec gem build jgd.gemspec chmod 0600 ../rubygems.yml gem push *.gem --config-file ../rubygems.yml
The script is parameterized, as you see. There is one parameter that is passed by Rultor into the script: ${tag} . This parameter was provided by myself in the GitHub issue, when I submitted a command to Rultor.
The script tests that the gem works (integration testing) and clean up afterwords:
$ ./test.sh $ rm -rf *.gem
Then, it changes the version of itself in jgd.gemspec to the one provided in the ${tag} (it is an environment variable), and builds a new .gem :
$ sed -i "s/2.0-SNAPSHOT/ ${ tag } /g" jgd.gemspec $ gem build jgd.gemspec
Finally, it pushes a newly built .gem to RubyGems, using login credentials from ../rubygems.yml . This file is created by Rultor right before starting the script (this mechanism is discussed below):
$ chmod 0600 ../rubygems.yml $ gem push *.gem --config-file ../rubygems.yml
If everything works fine and RubyGems confirms successful deployment, Rultor reports to GitHub. This is exactly what happened in pull request #4.
Scenario #4: Deploy to CloudBees
s3auth.com is a Basic HTTP authentication gateway for Amazon S3 Buckets. It is a Java web app. In its pull request #195, a resource leakage problem was fixed by @carlosmiranda and the pull request was merged by Rultor.
Then, @davvd instructed Rultor to deploy master branch to production environment. Rultor created a new Docker container and ran mvn clean deploy in it.
Maven deployed the application to CloudBees:
The overall procedure took 21 minutes, as you see the in the report generated by Rultor.
There is one important trick worth mentioning. Deployment to production always means using secure credentials, like login, password, SSH keys, etc.
In this particular example, Maven CloudBees Plugin needed API key, secret and web application name. These three parameters are kept secure and can’t be revealed in an “open source” way.
So, there is a mechanism that configures Rultor accordingly through its .rultor.yml file (pay attention to the first few lines):
assets: settings.xml: "yegor256/home#assets/s3auth/settings.xml" pubring.gpg: "yegor256/home#assets/pubring.gpg" secring.gpg: "yegor256/home#assets/secring.gpg"
These YAML entries inform Rultor that it has to get assets/s3auth/settings.xml file from yegor256/home private (!) GitHub repository and put it into the working directory of Docker container, right before starting the Maven build.
This settings.xml file contains that secret data CloudBees plugin needs in order to deploy the application.
How to Deploy to CloudBees, in One Click explains this process even better.
You Can Do The Same
Both Rultor and Travis are free hosted products, provided your projects are open source and hosted at GitHub.
Other good examples of Rultor+Travis usage can be seen in these GitHub issues: jcabi/jcabi-http#47 , jcabi/jcabi-http#48
PS. You can do something similar with AppVeyor, for Windows platform: How AppVeyor Helps Me to Validate Pull Requests Before Rultor Merges Them | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
Impairment of fetal endothelium-dependent relaxation in a rat model of preeclampsia by chronic nitric oxide synthase inhibition.
We studied fetal endothelial function in a model of preeclampsia induced by Nomega-nitro-l-arginine methylester (L-NAME) administration in pregnant rats. Aortic segments from term fetuses and 2-day-old Wistar rats treated with L-NAME (0.5 mg/mL in drinking water) (fetuses from hypertensive rats, FH, and newborns from hypertensive rats, NH) and from untreated rats (fetuses from normotensive rats, FN, and newborns from normotensive rats, NN) were obtained. Endothelium-dependent and -independent relaxations were determined by the response to 1 microM acetylcholine (ACh) and 1 microM sodium nitroprusside (SNP), respectively, after precontraction with 3 microM prostaglandin F2alpha. The role of nitric oxide in ACh relaxation was assessed by incubation with 0.1 mM N(G)-monomethyl-l-arginine (L-NMMA) or 0.1 mM l-arginine (l-Arg). Precontraction with 50 mM potassium chloride assessed the role of hyperpolarizing mechanisms. In FH, ACh-induced relaxation was reduced (FH 34.2 +/- 4%, FN 45.8 +/- 2%, P < .05), whereas that of SNP was enhanced (FH 68.4 +/- 5%, FN 50.4 +/- 4%, P < .05). l-Arg did not reverse the impairment of ACh relaxation. L-NMMA reduced ACh relaxation in FN but increased it in FH; this increase was abolished by potassium chloride precontraction and by 1 microM capsaicine, a calcitonin-gene related peptide inhibitor. The hyperpolarizing component of ACh relaxation was reduced in FH as compared with FN. By contrast, ACh relaxation was greater in NH than in NN, with the relative participation of nitric oxide and hyperpolarizing-related components being similar in both groups. Fetal ACh relaxation was impaired in this preeclampsia-like model. This impairment is probably not exclusively an effect of L-NAME but could reflect endothelial dysfunction that disappears after birth. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | PubMed Abstracts |
Jar Khoshk-e Olya
Jar Khoshk-e Olya (, also Romanized as Jar Khoshk-e ‘Olyā; also known as Jar Khoshk-e Bālā and Moḩsenābād) is a village in Pain Velayat Rural District, Razaviyeh District, Mashhad County, Razavi Khorasan Province, Iran. At the 2006 census, its population was 58, in 15 families.
References
Category:Populated places in Mashhad County | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Wikipedia (en) |
Streat
Streat is a village in the Lewes district of East Sussex, England, south-east of Burgess Hill and west of Lewes, within the South Downs National Park.
The 11th-century parish church has no dedication; the ecclesiastical parish is joined with Westmeston.
Etymology
Anglo-Saxon place names containing "Street", "Streat" or "Stret" usually indicate a Roman road, and this is the case here, as Streat is built on the Sussex Greensand Way, and there is a north-south Roman or Romanised Celtic road known as the Middleton Track just over the west parish boundary border at Hayleigh Farm sweeping past Grade II listed Middleton Manor which ascends the South Downs escarpment passing above the Victoria Jubilee Middleton Plantation.
Landmarks
Clayton to Offham Escarpment is a Site of Special Scientific Interest, which stretches from Hassocks in the west and passes through many parishes including Streat, to Lewes in the east. The site is of biological importance due to its rare chalk grassland habitat along with its woodland and scrub.
Old Rectory
There is an Old Rectory, a listed building, which may indicate the existence of chancel repair liability to any lay improprietors of land which was once belonged to the church.
Streat Place
Streat Place is a manor house built in the early 17th century by Walter Dobell who died in 1624. The building has an E shaped plan with central porch and projecting wings. Its national listing gives it as Grade II* and reveals its architectural merit as including its entire facing of knapped flints with long and short ashlar quoins to each window bay.
Streat Hill
The long north-south parish reaches its highest point in its southern quarter, here Streat Hill rises to 224m above sea level; here there are two earthworks or tumuli. These are two bowl barrows which are termed by archaeologists the Western Brow round barrow cemetery.
References
External links
Category:Civil parishes in East Sussex
Category:Villages in East Sussex | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Wikipedia (en) |
For more than two months, he has been hidden away in an embassy building in west London, shielded from public view and – more pertinently – the hands of the police. Today though, Wikileaks founder Julian Assange emerged into the London sunshine to address his supporters for the first time since his asylum claim.
In a carefully orchestrated appearance from a balcony on the first floor of the embassy building, he demanded that the USA promise not to prosecute Wikileaks staff and to free the alleged source of many of the organisation's leaks. But, in a ten-minute speech, he chose not to address the allegations at the very heart of the whole saga.
“I am here today because I cannot be there with you today,” he told the hundreds of supporters and journalists watching across the street on a sweltering day in west London.
Some thought his first public appearance since fleeing as his impending extradition loomed would present an opportunity to set the record straight or find a resolution to the situation Mr Assange finds himself in. But it was an opportunity Mr Assange chose not to take, instead using it to galvanise support and cast himself as a guardian of free speech, rather than a suspect in an investigation into alleged sexual assault.
He also seized the opportunity make a political point, as he appealed directly to US President Barack Obama to end what he called the “war on whistleblowers”.
Mr Assange said: “as Wikileaks stands under threat, so does the freedom of expression and the health of all our societies. We must use this moment to articulate the choice that is before the government of the United States of America.
“Will it return to and reaffirm the values, the revolutionary values it was founded on, or will it lurch off the precipice dragging us all into a dangerous and oppressive world, in which journalists fall silent under the fear of prosecution and citizens must whisper in the dark?
“I say it must turn back. I ask President Obama to do the right thing. The United States must renounce its witch-hunts against Wikileaks. The United States must dissolve its FBI investigation.”
He told the crowd, which numbered more than 300: “The United States must vow that it will not seek to prosecute our staff or our supporters. The United States must pledge before the world that it will not pursue journalists for shining a light on the secret crimes of the powerful.
“There must be no more foolish talk about prosecuting any media organisation; be it Wikileaks or be it the New York Times.”
And Mr Assange added: “The US administration’s war on whistleblowers must end.” He later demanded that those who have been prosecuted after exposing malpractice be pardoned and that Bradley Manning, allegedly a Wikileaks source who has been locked up without trial in America for nearly three years, be released.
Mr Assange talked at length about his work with Wikileaks. In shorter supply, however, were mentions of the sexual assault allegations Swedish authorities want to question him over.
Some supporters said afterwards that the speech was unlikely to materially affect the outcome of the long-running battle between Mr Assange and the authorities in Britain, Sweden and – many believe – America. Mr Assange himself made no announcements on his intentions or movements in the future.
“This speech is not going to change the situation too much, it is more or less to galvanise the supporters and to show support in turn for everyone out here,” said one 15-year-old Londoner who came to hear Mr Assange speak.
Another, who gave only the name Martin, said: “The fact that he appeared at all was more important than the content of his speech; that is my impression. It was more for the supporters than anything else.”
Naomi Colvin, a supporter of Mr Assange and founder of the Friends of Bradley Manning campaign said she believed Mr Assange should face the allegations which have been made in Sweden but should be able to do so without fear of being extradited to America because of his work with Wikileaks, a move which would require the British government’s explicit consent.
Mr Assange’s lawyer Baltasar Garzon confirmed that his client was seeking a way to guarantee safe passage out of Britain after Ecuador's decision to grant him asylum.
Mr Garzon said: “I have spoken to Julian Assange and I can tell you he is in fighting spirits and he is thankful to the people of Ecuador and especially to the president for granting asylum.
“Julian Assange has always fought for truth and justice and has defended human rights and continues to do so.
"He demands that Wikileaks’ and his own rights be respected. Julian Assange has instructed his lawyers to carry out a legal action in order to protect the rights of Wikileaks, Julian himself and all those currently being investigated."
As Mr Assange gave his speech today from within the boundaries of the embassy – therefore, within the protection afforded by international law - officers from the Metropolitan Police looked on, unable to make the arrest which has been promised. Instead, they tried to hold back supporters and journalists in pens to keep the road open.
Before Mr Assange appeared, some of his supporters gave speeches and members of the crowd used a loudhailer to shout slogans. The historian and writer Tariq Ali addressed them, claiming that Ecuador was backed by the "huge majority" of South Americans in granting Mr Assange asylum.
Mr Ali said: "There is a confrontation which is not of our choosing because the right to claim asylum is the right of any citizen anywhere”. In a statement read out on her behalf, designer Vivienne Westwood said that, through his work, Mr Assange has exposed the “lies” of the authorities. “His fight is our fight,” she added in her letter.
In his statement, film maker Ken Loach wrote: “Julian needs protection from all who care about freedom of information and real journalism.” | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
1. Introduction {#sec1}
===============
Tumor markers are widely used in screening, diagnosis, monitoring, and prognosis of various cancers. Currently, carcinoembryonic antigen (CEA) and carbohydrate antigen 19-9 (CA19-9) are used as markers for monitoring colorectal cancer. While conventional tumor markers are produced by cancer cells, anti-p53 antibodies are autoantibodies against proteins originating from cancer cells and have recently garnered attention \[[@B1], [@B2]\].
The study on dysfunction of the oncogene in digestive organ cancer is conducted widely, and the thing that the mutation of p53 variation is common is reported. In addition, the mutation of p53 and perturbation of its function are common in human malignancies \[[@B3], [@B4]\]. The half-life of the mutant p53 protein in clinical samples has been reported to be several hours, whereas that of the wild-type p53 protein is only 20 min. The accumulation of p53 gene proteins in the nuclei of malignant cells induces the production of serum anti-p53 antibodies (S-p53Ab) \[[@B3], [@B4]\]. Previous studies reported that S-p53Ab is a useful diagnostic marker for early cancer because microvolumes of mutant p53 protein are detectable \[[@B1]--[@B4]\], but there are only a few reports on S-p53Ab as a predictor of long-term outcomes after surgery \[[@B5]\]. Indeed, some patients remain positive for S-p53Ab after surgical resection without recurrence for several years. However, the meaning of the postoperative change in the S-p53Ab titer is unknown.
Therefore, in this study, we examined S-p53Ab as a prognostic marker to predict the long-term outcome after surgery.
2. Materials and Methods {#sec2}
========================
2.1. Patients {#sec2.1}
-------------
A total of 160 patients with primary colorectal adenocarcinoma who underwent surgical treatment at our hospital between September 2008 and September 2011 were enrolled in this study. Patients with multiple primary colorectal cancers and double cancers were excluded. All clinical data relevant to the patients were obtained from medical records. Staging was performed using the TNM classification (8^th^ ed. \[[@B6]\]). Although patients with stage I-III cancer underwent curative resection, those with stage IV cancer did not.
2.2. Methods {#sec2.2}
------------
The tumor markers were measured preoperatively and every 3 months postoperatively. Metastasis and recurrence were assessed via CT scan every 6 months in accordance with the guidelines of the Japanese Society for Cancer of the Colon and Rectum \[[@B7]\].
2.3. Measurement of S-p53Ab Levels and Assays for CEA, CA19-9 {#sec2.3}
-------------------------------------------------------------
We followed the methods of Ochiai et al. \[[@B8]\]. The levels of S-p53Ab were assessed using an ELISA Kit MESACUP anti-p53 Test (MEDICAL & BIOLOGICAL LABORATORIES, Nagoya, Japan). Briefly, samples were added to the wells of a microtiter plate coated with either wild-type human p53 or control protein and incubated for 1 h. Peroxidase-conjugated goat anti-human immunoglobulin G-binding S-p53Ab was then added and incubated for another 1 h followed by the addition of substrate solution and incubation for 30 min. A calibration curve was constructed from the specific signals of standards and from the levels of antibodies indicated on the vials containing the standards. The cutoff value was 1.3 U/ml.
CEA concentrations were measured using a CEA-II EIA kit (Roche Diagnostics, Tokyo, Japan). The cutoff value for serum CEA was 5.0 ng/ml. CA19-9 concentrations were measured using a Roche Diagnostics kit (Tokyo, Japan). The cutoff value for serum CA19-9 was 37 U/ml.
2.4. Immunohistochemical Expression of p53 {#sec2.4}
------------------------------------------
The expression of p53 was immunohistochemically examined in all patients who were positive for S-p53Ab preoperatively and in representative patients (20 patients) who were negative for S-p53Ab preoperatively. This test was performed as described previously \[[@B8], [@B9]\]. Briefly, immunohistochemical staining was performed using mouse anti-human p53 monoclonal antibody (DO-7 M7001, Dako, Glostrup, Denmark) on 4 *μ*m thick serial sections of formalin-fixed, paraffin-embedded colorectal cancer. A tumor in which more than 10% of the 1200\~1800 counted cell nuclei were stained was considered to be positive (at ×400). The results were evaluated by two independent researchers ([Figure 1](#fig1){ref-type="fig"}).
2.5. Statistical Analysis {#sec2.5}
-------------------------
Statistical analysis was performed using JMP (Ver. 12). Fisher\'s exact test and Student\'s *t*-test were used to evaluate differences between the variables, and *p* values \< 0.05 were considered significant.
The obtained data were used to calculate Kaplan-Meier estimates with metastasis or recurrence as an event, and the proportional hazards assumption was verified. Positivity for S-p53Ab served as a time-dependent covariate in a Cox model, and a final model was determined using variable selection.
We evaluated the rate of postoperative change (RPC) in the S-p53Ab titer as follows. First, the lowest antibody titer was designated as "lowest titer," and the antibody titer after the lowest titer was designated as "subsequent antibody titer." The RPC in the S-p53Ab titer was calculated as \[subsequent antibody titer-lowest titer\]/lowest titer.
3. Results {#sec3}
==========
3.1. Patient Characteristics {#sec3.1}
----------------------------
There were 45 patients with stage I disease, 48 with stage II disease, 59 with stage III disease, and 8 with stage IV disease. The subjects included 93 men and 67 women with a median age of 65 years (range, 35-90 years). The postoperative follow-up was 4 years and 7 months (range, 10 months-6 years).
3.2. Preoperative S-p53Ab Titers and Clinicopathologic Factors {#sec3.2}
--------------------------------------------------------------
The relationship between S-p53Ab titers and clinicopathologic factors was examined in 160 patients who underwent surgical resection. Patients who tested positive for S-p53Ab were more likely to have cancer in the rectum rather than the colon. The S-p53Ab titer was not related to age, gender, depth of tumor, status of lymph node, status of lymphatic invasion, status of vessel invasion, stage, increases in CEA and CA19-9 levels, or recurrence. In 152 patients (excluding those with stage IV cancer), a relationship between preoperative S-p53Ab levels and recurrence was not observed ([Table 1](#tab1){ref-type="table"}).
3.3. Immunohistochemical Expression of p53 {#sec3.3}
------------------------------------------
The expression of p53 was immunohistochemically examined in all of the patients (37 patients) who were positive for S-p53Ab preoperatively and in representative patients (20 patients) who were negative for S-p53Ab preoperatively. The relationship between S-p53Ab and p53 expression in the nucleus of cancer cells is shown in [Table 2](#tab2){ref-type="table"}. S-p53Ab preoperatively was positive in 32 patients (84.2%) of immunostaining-positive cases and negative in 14 patients (73.7%) of immunostaining-negative cases (*p* \< 0.001).
3.4. Related Factors for Recurrence by a Cox Model {#sec3.4}
--------------------------------------------------
When analyzing factors that are related to recurrence, positivity for S-p53Ab served as a time-dependent covariate in a Cox model. This yielded a model with age, gender, location of tumor, depth of tumor, status of lymph node, status of lymphatic invasion, status of vessel invasion, stage, and increases in CEA and CA19-9 levels as explanatory variables ([Table 3](#tab3){ref-type="table"}).
3.5. Changes in S-p53Ab Levels Based on Preoperative Values {#sec3.5}
-----------------------------------------------------------
Of the 152 patients who were assessed (excluding those with stage IV cancer), 21 (13.8%) had recurrence. The postoperative values based on preoperative values from the S-p53Ab titer were examined. In most patients who tested positive for S-p53Ab preoperatively and did not experience recurrence, the levels of S-p53Ab decreased ([Figure 2(a)](#fig2){ref-type="fig"}). In most patients who tested positive for S-p53Ab preoperatively and had recurrence, there was a temporary increase in the S-p53Ab levels ([Figure 2(b)](#fig2){ref-type="fig"}). Furthermore, none of the patients who were negative for S-p53Ab preoperatively became positive postoperatively.
3.6. Postoperative Changes over Time and Recurrence {#sec3.6}
---------------------------------------------------
Of the 116 patients who tested negative for S-p53Ab preoperatively, 15 (12.9%) had recurrence. In patients who tested negative for S-p53Ab preoperatively and had recurrence, the RPC in the S-p53Ab titer was 0.00 (IQR: 0.00-0.00) ([Figure 3(a)](#fig3){ref-type="fig"}). In patients who tested negative for S-p53Ab preoperatively and did not experience recurrence, the RPC in the S-p53Ab titer was 0.00 (IQR: 0.00-0.00) ([Figure 3(a)](#fig3){ref-type="fig"}). Therefore, a relationship between recurrence and RPC in the S-p53Ab titer was not observed (*p* = 0.949) ([Figure 3(a)](#fig3){ref-type="fig"}).
Of the 36 patients who tested positive for S-p53Ab preoperatively, 6 (16.7%) had recurrence. In patients who tested positive for S-p53Ab preoperatively and had recurrence, the RPC in the S-p53Ab titer was 2.45 (IQR: 1.08-4.40) ([Figure 3(b)](#fig3){ref-type="fig"}). In patients who tested positive for S-p53Ab preoperatively and did not experience recurrence, the RPC in the S-p53Ab titer was 0.00 (IQR: 0.00-0.00) ([Figure 3(b)](#fig3){ref-type="fig"}). Of the patients who tested positive for S-p53Ab preoperatively, those with recurrence had significantly higher S-p53Ab titers compared with those who did not (*p* \< 0.001) ([Figure 3(b)](#fig3){ref-type="fig"}).
3.7. Marker for Recurrence {#sec3.7}
--------------------------
In 21 patients with recurrence, the levels of some markers were elevated. The S-p53Ab level was elevated in only 5 patients, the CEA level was elevated in 18, and the CA19-9 level was elevated in 5. In the 3 patients with recurrence, both S-p53Ab and CEA levels were elevated. And all three levels were elevated in only 1 patient ([Figure 4](#fig4){ref-type="fig"}).
4. Discussion {#sec4}
=============
We observed a higher frequency of S-p53Ab positivity in rectal cancer than in colon cancer. However, we found that there was no correlation between the positivity of S-p53Ab and clinicopathological factors, which is similar to other reports \[[@B5], [@B10]\].
And we examined the immunohistochemical expression of p53 to assess the detectability of S-p53Ab. Preoperatively, S-p53Ab was positive in 84.2% of immunostaining-positive patients. S-p53Ab may indicate the presence of p53 gene mutation. On the other hand, 15.8% of immunostaining-positive patients were negative for S-p53Ab preoperatively. The sensitivity and specificity differed in previous reports, and the false-negative rate widely differs among studies \[[@B8], [@B9], [@B11]\]. As there are many mutations of the p53 gene, the immunoresponse varies according to the difference in subtype and different mutated p53 proteins may not appear in the serum \[[@B12], [@B13]\]. As another cause, the cutoff value of S-p53Ab may be related.
Some studies have suggested that S-p53Ab positivity is associated with poor prognosis \[[@B11], [@B14], [@B15]\]; however, others have indicated that S-p53Ab is not a good prognostic marker \[[@B16]\]. In patients with colorectal cancer, a correlation between S-p53Ab and clinicopathological features or colorectal cancer prognosis has yet to be clarified. In this study, factors for colorectal cancer metastasis and recurrence were not associated with the preoperative values of S-p53Ab but with time-dependent changes in S-p53Ab level.
This study examined RPC in the S-p53Ab titer, regardless of whether the patients later tested negative for this antibody. The lowest titer at follow-up was used to calculate the RPC in the S-p53Ab titer, and the relationship between this RPC in the S-p53Ab titer and recurrence was examined. Importantly, we found that none of the patients who were negative for S-p53Ab preoperatively became positive postoperatively.
This study focused on RPC in the S-p53Ab titer in patients who tested positive for this antibody preoperatively and showed that S-p53Ab can be used as a prognostic marker of poor outcome in these patients. RPC in the S-p53Ab titer should be closely monitored in patients who test positive for this antibody preoperatively. If patients that are positive for S-p53Ab preoperatively show an increase in S-p53Ab levels, they should be examined for recurrence.
There are some limitations to this study. First, the sample size is small since this study examined patients from only a single facility. Second, there was no validation study.
Based on the findings of this study, RPC in the S-p53Ab titer is a valuable marker for recurrence in patients who test positive for S-p53Ab preoperatively in colorectal cancer. In future studies, it is necessary to examine a larger number of patients who test positive for S-p53Ab preoperatively.
5. Conclusion {#sec5}
=============
Although S-p53Ab is not a significant tumor marker in patients who test negative preoperatively, increases in the S-p53Ab titer should be continuously monitored and measured in patients who are positive for this antibody preoperatively, regardless of whether they later test negative.
We sincerely thank all of the participating patients, collaborating physicians, and other medical staffs in our department for their contributions. A part of this work was supported by the Innovative Medical Technology Research & Development Center, Juntendo University.
Data Availability
=================
The data used to support the findings of this study are available from the corresponding author upon request.
Conflicts of Interest
=====================
The authors declare that there is no conflict of interests regarding the publication of this paper.
{#fig1}
{#fig2}
{#fig3}
{#fig4}
######
Patient characteristics.
Preoperative S-p53Ab *p* value
-------------------------------- ---------------------- ------------- ------- ------ -------
Age (years) 64 ± 10.8 62.8 ± 10.5 0.592
Gender 0.349
Male 74 60.2 19 51.4
Female 49 39.8 18 48.6
Location of tumor 0.022
Colon 80 65.0 16 43.2
Rectum 43 35.0 21 56.8
Depth of tumor 0.185
T1/T2 52 42.3 11 29.7
T3/T4 71 57.7 26 70.3
Status of lymph node 0.184
Positive 76 61.8 18 48.6
Negative 47 38.2 19 51.4
Status of lymphatic invasion 0.839
Positive 87 70.7 27 73.0
Negative 36 29.3 10 27.0
Status of vessel invasion 0.443
Positive 77 62.6 20 54.1
Negative 46 37.4 17 45.9
Stage 0.324
1 35 28.5 10 27.0
2 41 33.3 7 18.9
3 40 32.5 19 51.4
4 7 5.7 1 2.7
CEA 0.176
Positive 43 35.0 18 48.6
Negative 80 65.0 19 51.4
CA19-9 1.000
Positive 9 7.3 2 5.4
Negative 114 92.7 35 94.6
Recurrence (excluding stage 4) 0.275
Positive 15 12.9 6 16.7
Negative 101 87.1 30 83.3
######
Immunohistochemical expression of p53.
S-p53Ab *p* value
----------------------- ------------ ------------ ---------
Immunostaining of p53
Positive (*n* = 38) 32 (84.2%) 6 (15.8%)
Negative (*n* = 19) 5 (26.3%) 14 (73.7%) \<0.001
######
Factors for metastasis or recurrence by a Cox model.
Clinicopathological factor Degrees of freedom Wald *χ*^2^ test *p* value
-------------------------------------- -------------------- ------------------ -----------
S-p53Ab (time-dependent covariation) 1 6.9362 0.001
Age 1 0.1605 0.39
Gender 1 0.2787 0.598
Location of tumor 1 0.9884 0.561
Depth of tumor 1 5.6219 0.018
Status of lymph node 1 36.925 \<0.001
Status of lymphatic invasion 1 1.5071 0.6806
Status of vessel invasion 1 16.8252 \<0.001
Stage 1 15.3669 0.002
Increases in CEA levels 1 5.0372 0.024
Increases in CA19-9 levels 1 0.2405 0.064
[^1]: Academic Editor: Robert Pichler
| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | PubMed Central |
**THE
COMPLETE
WORST-CASE SCENARIO
Survival Handbook**
# **The
COMPLETE
WORST-CASE SCENARIO
Survival Handbook**
**By Joshua Piven and David Borgenicht
With contributions by Jim Grace, Sarah Jordan,
Piers Marchant, and Jennifer Worick
Illustrations by Brenda Brown**
Copyright © 1999–2007 by Quirk Productions, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.
Worst-Case Scenario® and The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook™ are trademarks of Quirk Productions, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available.
eISBN: 978-0-8118-7367-3
Illustrations by Brenda Brown
Visit www.worstcasescenarios.com
Chronicle Books LLC
680 Second Street
San Francisco, California 94107
www.chroniclebooks.com
## **WARNING**
When a life is imperiled or a dire situation is at hand, safe alternatives may not exist. To deal with the worst-case scenarios presented in this book, we highly recommend— insist, actually—that the best course of action is to consult a professionally trained expert. But because highly trained professionals may not always be available when the safety or sanity of individuals is at risk, we have asked experts on various subjects to describe the techniques they might employ in these emergency situations. THE PUBLISHER, AUTHORS, AND EXPERTS DISCLAIM ANY LIABILITY from any injury that may result from the use, proper or improper, of the information contained in this book. All the answers in this book come from experts in the situation at hand, but we do not guarantee that the information contained herein is complete, safe, or accurate, nor should it be considered a substitute for your good judgment or common sense. And finally, nothing in this book should be construed or interpreted to infringe on the rights of other persons or to violate criminal statutes; we urge you to obey all laws and respect all rights, including property rights, of others.
—The Authors
## **CONTENTS**
**Introduction**
**1 Animal Encounters**
How to Fend Off a Shark
_How to Avoid an Attack_
_Three Kinds of Shark Attacks_
HOW TO DEAL WITH ESCAPED LOBSTERS
How to Escape from a Giant Octopus
HOW TO FREE YOUR FISH IF STUCK IN TANK DECORATIONS
How to Survive a Poisonous Snake Attack
_How to Treat a Bite_
_What Not to Do_
_How to Escape from a Python_
_How to Avoid an Attack_
HOW TO DEAL WITH A BIRD TRAPPED IN YOUR HOUSE
HOW TO DETANGLE A BIRD CAUGHT IN YOUR HAIR
How to Escape from a Mountain Lion
_How to Avoid an Attack_
How to Wrestle Free from an Alligator
_How to Avoid an Attack_
How to Deal with an Alligator Near Your Golf Ball
How to Survive an Elephant Stampede
HOW TO ESCAPE FROM A STAMPEDE OF GIRAFFES
How to Escape from a Charging Rhino
How to Control a Runaway Camel
HOW TO DEAL WITH A DEER IN YOUR HEADLIGHTS
How to Fend Off a Charging Reindeer
HOW TO PROTECT YOUR DOG IN A SUDDEN RAINSTORM
How to Remove a Tick
_How to Recognize Lyme Disease_
HOW TO SAVE YOUR CAT FROM CHOKING
How to Escape from an Angry Gorilla
How to Escape from a Bear
_What to Do If You See a Bear_
_How to Avoid an Attack_
How to Escape from Killer Bees
_Risk of Attack_
_To Minimize Risk_
How to Catch Fish Without a Rod
HOW TO REMOVE A FISHHOOK FROM FLESH
How to Remove a Leech
_If a Leech Invades an Air Passage_
How to Treat a Scorpion Sting
How to Cross a Piranha-Infested River
How to Spot a Rabid Animal
**2 Great Escapes**
How to Jump from Rooftop to Rooftop
How to Jump from a Building into a Dumpster
How to Jump from a Moving Train
How to Jump from a Bridge or Cliff into a River
_How to Jump_
How to Survive If Your Parachute Fails to Open
_How to Prepare_
How to Get to the Surface If Your Scuba Tank Runs Out of Air
How to Retrieve a Candy Bar Stuck in the Lunchroom Vending Machine
HOW TO FREE YOURSELF FROM A COAT HOOK
How to Survive a Boring Class
_How to Sleep in Class_
HOW TO SURVIVE IF CAUGHT PASSING A NOTE IN CLASS
How to Hide Things in Your Dorm Room
_Small Item_
_Large Item_
HOW TO SURVIVE A SHATTERED/COLLAPSING BASKETBALL BACKBOARD
How to Survive a Fall onto Subway Tracks
HOW TO SURVIVE BEING CAR-DOORED ON A BICYCLE
How to Survive a High-Rise Hotel Fire
How to Break Down a Door
_Interior Doors_
_Exterior Doors_
_Assessing Amount of Force Required_
How to Evade a Stampede of Shoppers
_How to Penetrate a Crowd to Get the Last Item on the Shelf_
HOW TO ESCAPE FROM A COLLAPSED SOFA BED
How to Free Your Leg from a Bear Trap
How to Escape from a Car Hanging Over the Edge of a Cliff
How to Stop a Car with No Brakes
How to Stop a Runaway Golf Cart
_If You Are in the Cart_
_If You Are Not in the Cart_
How to Escape from a Sinking Car
_How to Avoid Breaking Through the Ice_
How to Escape from the Trunk of a Car
How to Escape When Tied Up
_Upper Torso Bonds_
_Hand and Wrist Bonds_
_Leg and Ankle Bonds_
_Removing Gags_
How to Escape from a Bad Date
_Fake an Emergency_
_Slip Away Unnoticed_
_Slip Out the Window_
_Get Your Date to Leave_
HOW TO THWART AN AFFECTIONATE COSTUMED MASCOT
How to Foil a UFO Abduction
_How to Report a UFO Sighting_
How to Survive in a Plummeting Elevator
How to Sneak Out of a Meeting
_Sneak Out in Plain Sight_
_Sneak Out Using a Distraction_
_Crawl Under the Table_
_How to Stay Awake During a Meeting_
How to Survive if Trapped in the Workplace
_In a Bathroom_
_In a Supply Closet_
_In a Walk-in Freezer_
_In a Lion Cage_
How to Survive If You Are Buried Alive
How to Escape from Quicksand
_How to Avoid Sinking_
How to Survive a Riot
**3 Illness and Injury**
How to Fall Down a Flight of Stairs
HOW TO SURVIVE FALLING THROUGH A FLOOR
How to Take a Punch
_A Blow to the Body_
_A Blow to the Head_
_A Straight Punch_
_A Roundhouse Punch_
_An Uppercut_
How to Take a Bullet
How to Survive a Rollover in a Car
How to Survive an Airplane Crash
_To Decrease the Odds of a Crash_
_To Prepare for a Crash_
How to Perform a Tracheotomy
_What You Will Need_
_How to Proceed_
How to Survive a Flu Pandemic
How to Treat Food Poisoning
_Holiday Food Alert_
How to Identify Unsafe Cafeteria Food
_Meat and Poultry_
_Salad Bar_
_Packaged Foods_
HOW TO CURE INSOMNIA
How to Deal with "The Spins"
_How to Vomit Correctly_
HOW TO TREAT THE HICCUPS
How to Treat Frostbite
_How to Treat Frostnip_
_How to Avoid Frostbite and Frostnip_
How to Treat a Tongue Stuck to a Pole
How to Deal with Wedding-Related Injuries
_Can't Fit Ring on Finger_
_Foot Cut on Glass_
_Fall from Chair During Chair Dance_
_Chapped Lips from Kissing_
_Hit in the Eye with Bouquet_
_Sprained Ankle_
HOW TO SEE IF YOU HAVE LOST YOUR GLASSES
**4 Social Disasters**
How to Avoid Going to the Wrong College
_How to Identify a Party School_
How to Open a Bottle Without an Opener
_Another Bottle_
_Lighter_
_Table Edge_
_Screwdriver, Spoon, Fork, or Knife_
_Belt Buckle_
_Deadbolt Lock_
_Fire Hydrant_
_In-Line Skate_
_Metal Pool Bridge_
_Vending Machine_
How to Carry a Date Who Is Passed Out
How to Survive If You Wake Up Next to Someone Whose Name You Don't Remember
_At Their Place_
_At Your Place_
How to Determine if Your Date is an Axe Murderer
How to Determine the Gender of Your Date
How to Fend Off a Pickup Artist
How to Save Your Date from Choking
How to Survive If You Have Excessive Gas
_Gassy Foods to Avoid_
How to Survive a Workplace Romance
_The Break-Up_
How to Survive Meeting the Parents
How to Raise Money for Your Wedding
How to Maintain Composure During a Wedding Ceremony
_Crying Jag_
_Laughing Fit_
_Hiccups_
_Flatulence_
How to Repair a Dropped Wedding Cake
_Minor Shifting or Smashed Frosting_
_Major Damage_
How to Deal with a Screaming Baby on an Airplane
_If You Are Out of Diapers_
How to Survive a Family Car Trip
_How to Pee at the Side of the Road_
How to Identify a Nightmare Workplace
How to Get a Job You're Not Qualified For
_Fancy Restaurant_
_CEO_
_Forklift Operator_
_Brain Surgeon_
_Shoe Salesperson_
HOW TO SURVIVE AWKWARD ELEVATOR SILENCE
How to Deal with a Nightmare Boss
_The Control Freak_
_The Buddy_
_The Workaholic_
_The Teller of Bad Jokes_
How to Deal with a Nightmare Co-Worker
_The Talker_
_The Kiss-Up_
_The TMI (Too Much Information)_
_The Gossip_
How to Tee Off in Front of a Crowd
How to Thwart a Golf Cheat
_The Lost Ball Routine_
_Improving a Lie_
_Reporting Fewer Strokes_
_Playing Dumb_
_Fake Handicap_
How to Disarm an Irate Golfer
How to Cure a Golf Addiction
HOW TO DISGUISE A BEER BELLY
How to Put Out a Grease Fire
_How to Treat a Grease Burn_
How to Extinguish a Christmas Tree Fire
_How to Prevent a Christmas Tree Fire_
How to Make an Emergency Menorah
_Baked Menorah_
_Bowl and Dirt Menorah_
How to Deal with a Bad Gift
How to Repurpose a Fruitcake
_How to Safely Eat a Fruitcake_
How to Fit Into Clothing That Is Too Tight
_For Men_
_For Women_
How to Silence Christmas Carolers
_How to Sing Along When You Don't Know the Words_
How to Survive If You Have No One to Kiss on New Year's Eve
_If You Are with Others_
_If You Are Alone_
**5 Domestic Dangers**
How to Deal with Wedding-Night Jitters
_How to Revive Your New Spouse_
How to Survive a Honeymoon Disaster
_Extreme Sunburn_
_Migraine Headache_
_Acute Tongue Injury_
_Food Poisoning_
How to Survive If You Forget Your Anniversary
_How to Sleep on the Couch_
How to Get Your Baby to Sleep
How to Babyproof the House
How to Survive Baby-Gear Overload
How to Break into Your Car If Your Baby is Locked Inside
_How to Keep Your Baby Calm_
How to Make Your Child Eat Vegetables
How to Track Your Teenager's Movements
_How to Determine Is Your Child Is Driving Your Car_
_How to Determine If Your Child Is Sneaking Out at Night_
How to Survive Empty-Nest Syndrome
How to Survive If Your Child Moves Back In
_How to Prevent Reentry_
**6 Out and About**
How to Steer Your Bike Down a Rock Face
How to Land a Hang Glider in a Wind Shear
How to Land a Plane
How to Find Water on a Deserted Island
HOW TO OPEN A COCONUT ON A DESERT ISLAND
How to Make Fire Without Matches
_How to Start the Fire_
How to Survive When Lost in the Jungle
_How to Find Civilization_
_How to Find Food and Water_
_How to Travel over Land_
HOW TO DRINK WATER FROM A VINE
How to Leave a Trail for Rescuers If You Are Lost in the Wilderness
Last-Ditch Liquids You Can Drink
Last-Ditch Foods You Can Eat
How to Survive If You Are Stranded on an Iceberg
How to Drive in a Blizzard
_If You Skid_
_If You Get Stuck in the Snow_
_If You Become Stranded_
How to Survive When Stuck on an Opening Drawbridge
How to Deliver a Baby in a Taxicab
_If the Feet Come First_
How to Deal with a Canceled Flight
HOW TO SURVIVE A FILTHY HOTEL ROOM
How to Survive a Two-Wave Hold-Down
HOW TO SURVIVE SAND IN YOUR SWIMSUIT
How to Survive a Riptide
How to Survive a Tsunami
**Appendix**
The "It's Not You, It's Me" Letter
How to Tell Your Parents You've Been Expelled
How to Pad a Résumé
Jargon Bingo
The "There Is No Santa Claus" Speech
The "Birds-and-Bees" Speech
**About the Authors**
**Hope for the best. Expect the worst.
—Mel Brooks**
## **INTRODUCTION**
It's impossible to know exactly how many disasters we have helped people survive since we first published the original _Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook_ back in 1999. But eleven handbooks later, we're confident that we've made people a little more prepared, and we know we've made the world at least a little safer.
The principle behind _The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbooks_ remains a simple one: You just never know. You don't know what curves life will throw at you, what is lurking around the corner, what is hovering above, or what is swimming beneath the surface. You never know when you will be thrust into a dangerous situation and need to act fast, either to save yourself or save someone you're with.
When the time comes, we want you to know what to do, and that's why we've written these books. We want you to know what to do when the pilot passes out and you have to land the plane, when a stampede of elephants is bearing down on you, when the piranhas are restless, and when the shark fin starts heading your way. We want you to know how to deliver a baby in a taxi, how to dislodge a tongue that's been frozen to a lamppost, and how to extract your necktie from the document feeder. We want you to know how to get out of the blazing high-rise hotel and how to respond when you've woken up next to someone whose name you can't remember. We want you to know what to do in these and hundreds of other threatening situations.
And so, after years of research and writing, after consulting with experts in scores of disciplines, we've compiled all our scenarios into this fat volume and accompanying CD. It's more instructive than a first-aid handbook, more comprehensive than a military field manual, and more practical than a self-help book. _The Complete Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook_ is the ultimate survival tool. So even though you still "just never know" what's coming around the bend, with this handy resource, at least you'll be prepared.
This printed volume includes selected scenarios from all eleven of _The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbooks_ , and the CD-ROM (that's both Mac and PC compatible) includes all the scenarios from all the books. You'll be prepared for things you never knew you had to worry about.
Because you just never know . . .
—The Authors
## **C HAPTER 1**
## **ANIMAL ENCOUNTERS**
### **HOW TO FEND OFF A SHARK**
**1 Hit back.**
If a shark is coming toward you or attacks you, use anything you have in your possession—a camera, probe, harpoon gun, your fist—to hit the shark's eyes or gills, which are the areas most sensitive to pain.
**2 Make quick, sharp, repeated jabs in these areas.**
Sharks are predators and will usually only follow through on an attack if they have the advantage, so making the shark unsure of its advantage in any way possible will increase your chances of survival. Contrary to popular opinion, the shark's nose is not the area to attack, unless you cannot reach the eyes or gills. Hitting the shark simply tells it that you are not defenseless.
#### **H OW TO AVOID AN ATTACK**
• Always stay in groups—sharks are more likely to attack an individual.
• Do not wander too far from shore. This isolates you and creates the additional danger of being too far from assistance.
• Avoid being in the water during darkness or twilight hours, when sharks are most active and have a competitive sensory advantage.
• Do not enter the water if you are bleeding from an open wound or if you are menstruating—a shark is drawn to blood and its olfactory ability is acute.
• Try not to wear shiny jewelry, because the reflected light resembles the sheen of fish scales.
• Avoid waters with known effluents or sewage and those being used by sport or commercial fishermen, especially if there are signs of bait fish or feeding activity. Diving seabirds are good indicators of such activity.
• Use extra caution when waters are murky and avoid showing any uneven tan lines or wearing brightly colored clothing—sharks see contrast particularly well.
• If a shark shows itself to you, it may be curious rather than predatory and will probably swim on and leave you alone. If you are under the surface and lucky enough to see an attacking shark, then you do have a good chance of defending yourself if the shark is not too large.
• Scuba divers should avoid lying on the surface, where they may look like a piece of prey to a shark, and from where they cannot see a shark approaching.
• A shark attack is a potential danger for anyone who frequents marine waters, but it should be kept in perspective. Bees, wasps, and snakes are responsible for far more fatalities each year, and in the United States the annual risk of death from lightning is thirty times greater than from a shark attack.
#### **T HREE KINDS OF SHARK ATTACKS**
**"H IT AND RUN" ATTACKS** are by far the most common. These typically occur in the surf zone, where swimmers and surfers are the targets. The victim seldom sees its attacker, and the shark does not return after inflicting a single bite or slash wound.
**"B UMP AND BITE" ATTACKS** are characterized by the shark initially circling and often bumping the victim prior to the actual attack. These types of attacks usually involve divers or swimmers in deeper waters, but also occur in nearshore shallows in some areas of the world.
**"S NEAK" ATTACKS** differ: the strike can occur without warning. With both "bump and bite" and "sneak" attacks, repeat attacks are common and multiple and sustained bites are the norm. Injuries incurred during this type of attack are usually quite severe, frequently resulting in death.
**_Be Aware_**
Most shark attacks occur in nearshore waters, typically inshore of a sandbar or between sandbars where sharks feed and can become trapped at low tide. Areas with steep drop-offs are also likely attack sites. Sharks congregate in these areas, because their natural prey congregates there. Almost any large shark, roughly six feet or longer in total length, is a potential threat to humans. But three species in particular have repeatedly attacked man: the white shark _(Carcharodon carcharias),_ the tiger shark _(Galeocerdo cuvieri),_ and the bull shark _(Carcharhinus leucas)._ All are cosmopolitan in distribution, reach large sizes, and consume large prey such as marine mammals, sea turtles, and fish as normal elements of their diets.
### **H OW TO DEAL WITH ESCAPED LOBSTERS**
**Close kitchen doors and cabinets** to cut off escape routes. Wear oven mitts to protect you from the lobsters' pincers. Use a pot lid to herd the lobsters. Grasp each by the body from behind and place in a large, lidded pot of water, claws first.
### **HOW TO ESCAPE FROM A GIANT OCTOPUS**
**1 Pull away quickly.**
In many cases, a human can escape from the grasp of a small- to medium-sized octopus by just swimming away. Propel yourself forward to create a pulling pressure on the octopus's arms. If you cannot get away, or if you feel yourself being pulled back, continue to the next step.
**2 Do not go limp.**
Octopi are naturally curious and, if strong enough, will check to see if you are a food item before letting you go. Do not act passively, or you may be bitten or quickly enveloped by the octopus's web, a flexible sheath used to trap prey. Once you are caught in a "web-over," escape will be extremely difficult. However, octopi tire easily, so continue to put pressure on the arms by attempting to swim away. The octopus may decide to let you go rather than bring you in for a closer look.
**3 Prevent the octopus's arms from wrapping around your arms.**
Initially, the octopus will secure itself to a rock or coral formation and reach out to grab you with just one or two arms. Once it has a firm grip on you, it will move you toward its mouth (called a "beak") by transferring you to the next sucker up the arm. Do not allow the first two octopus arms to pin your own arms to your sides, or you will have little chance of fighting it off.
**4 Peel the suckers from your body.**
Using your hands, start at the tip of each octopus arm and remove each successive sucker from your body, like peeling up a bath mat. Once you have loosened one of the octopus's arms, give it a spear, raft, surf-board, or other object to latch on to. Work quickly, before the suckers reattach to your body or the octopus's other arms have a chance to grab you.
**5 Detach the octopus from its anchor.**
Using the sucker removal method described in step 4, separate the octopus from its anchor. Octopi prefer to be anchored to a fixed object, and may swim away once dislodged.
**6 Turn somersaults in the water.**
If you have detached the octopus from its mooring but are still being held, turn your body in circles in the water to irritate it into releasing you.
**7 Swim toward the surface.**
Octopi dislike air intensely and will release you once they break the surface. Continue to peel the octopus's suckers from your body as you swim.
**_Be Aware_**
• A giant Pacific octopus may be well over 100 pounds, with an arm span of 23 feet.
• Giant octopi are extremely strong, but do not constrict prey to kill: They tear victims with their sharp beaks.
• Giant Pacific octopi are not poisonous, though bites may become infected.
• Octopi typically eat crabs and clams, though they may eat fish and birds, and may bite at anything.
• Without training or free-diving experience, a swimmer will typically be able to hold his or her breath for only about a minute before losing consciousness.
### **H OW TO FREE YOUR FISH IF STUCK IN TANK DECORATIONS**
**Gently push the fish from the rear** using a fish net until it is able to swim free of the obstruction. If fish is still stuck, hold the decoration just above the tank and push the fish gently out and back into the water using a wet net.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE A POISONOUS SNAKE ATTACK**
Because poisonous snakes can be difficult to identify— and because some nonpoisonous snakes have markings very similar to venomous ones—the best way to avoid getting bitten is to leave all snakes alone. Assume that a snake is venomous unless you know for certain that it is not.
#### **H OW TO TREAT A BITE**
**1 Wash the bite with soap and water as soon as you can.**
**2 Immobilize the bitten area and keep it lower than the heart.**
This will slow the flow of the venom.
**3 Get medical help as soon as possible.**
A doctor should treat all snakebites unless you are willing to bet your life that the offending snake is non-poisonous. Of about eight thousand venomous bites a year in the U.S., nine to fifteen victims are killed. A bite from any type of poisonous snake should always be considered a medical emergency. Even bites from nonpoisonous snakes should be treated professionally, as severe allergic reactions can occur. Some Mojave rattlesnakes carry a neurotoxic venom that can affect the brain or spinal cord, causing paralysis.
**4 Immediately wrap a bandage tightly two to four inches above the bite to help slow the venom if you are unable to reach medical care within thirty minutes.**
The bandage should not cut off blood flow from a vein or artery. Make the bandage loose enough for a finger to slip underneath.
**5 If you have a first aid kit equipped with a suction device, follow the instructions for helping to draw venom out of the wound without making an incision.**
Generally, you will need to place the rubber suction cup over the wound and attempt to draw the venom out from the bite marks.
#### **W HAT NOT TO DO**
• Do not place any ice or cooling element on the bite; this will make removing the venom with suction more difficult.
• Do not tie a bandage or a tourniquet too tightly. If used incorrectly, a tourniquet can cut blood flow completely and damage the limb.
• Do not make any incision on or around the wound in an attempt to remove the venom—there is danger of infection.
• Do not attempt to suck out the venom. You do not want it in your mouth, where it might enter your bloodstream.
#### **H OW TO ESCAPE FROM A PYTHON**
Unlike poisonous snakes, pythons and boas kill their prey not through the injection of venom but by constriction; hence these snakes are known as constrictors. A constrictor coils its body around its prey, squeezing it until the pressure is great enough to kill.
Since pythons and boas can grow to be nearly twenty feet long, they are fully capable of killing a grown person, and small children are even more vulnerable. The good news is that most pythons will strike and then try to get away, rather than consume a full-grown human.
**1 Remain still.**
This will minimize constriction strength, but a python usually continues constricting well after the prey is dead and not moving.
**2 Try to control the python's head and try to unwrap the coils, starting from whichever end is available.**
#### **H OW TO AVOID AN ATTACK**
• Do not try to get a closer look, prod the snake to make it move, or try to kill it.
• If you come across a snake, back away slowly and give it a wide berth: snakes can easily strike half their body length in an instant, and some species are six feet or longer.
• When hiking in an area with poisonous snakes, always wear thick leather boots and long pants.
• Keep to marked trails.
• Snakes are cold-blooded and need the sun to help regulate their body temperature. They are often found lying on warm rocks or in other sunny places.
### **H OW TO DEAL WITH A BIRD TRAPPED IN YOUR HOUSE**
**Use a broom to gently maneuver the bird into a room with a window and a door.** Open the window, leave the room, and close the door. Wait for the bird to fly out. This method also works for stray squirrels.
### **H OW TO DETANGLE A BIRD CAUGHT IN YOUR HAIR**
**Shield your eyes and face with your arm.** With your other hand, grab the bird's feet and legs from behind, pull it from your hair, and toss the bird lightly away from you. Do not attempt to grab the head or beak.
### **HOW TO ESCAPE FROM A MOUNTAIN LION**
**1 Do not run.**
The animal most likely will have seen and smelled you already, and running will simply cause it to pay more attention.
**2 Try to make yourself appear bigger by opening your coat wide.**
The mountain lion is less likely to attack a larger animal.
**3 Do not crouch down.**
Hold your ground, wave your hands, and shout. Show it that you are not defenseless.
**4 If you have small children with you, pick them up— do all you can to appear larger.**
Children, who move quickly and have high-pitched voices, are at higher risk than adults.
**5 Back away slowly or wait until the animal moves away.**
Report any lion sightings to authorities as soon as possible.
**6 If the lion still behaves aggressively, throw stones.**
Convince the lion that you are not prey and that you may be dangerous yourself.
**7 Fight back if you are attacked.**
Most mountain lions are small enough that an average-size human will be able to ward off an attack by fighting back aggressively. Hit the mountain lion in the head, especially around the eyes and mouth. Use sticks, fists, or whatever is at hand. Do not curl up and play dead. Mountain lions generally leap down upon prey from above and deliver a "killing bite" to the back of the neck. Their technique is to break the neck and knock down the prey, and they also will rush and lunge up at the neck of prey, dragging the victim down while holding the neck in a crushing grip. Protect your neck and throat at all costs.
#### **H OW TO AVOID AN ATTACK**
Mountain lions, also called cougars, have been known to attack people without provocation; aggressive ones have attacked hikers and especially small children, resulting in serious injury. Still, most mountain lions will avoid people. To minimize your contact with cougars in an area inhabited by them, avoid hiking alone and at dusk and dawn, when mountain lions are more active.
### **HOW TO WRESTLE FREE FROM AN ALLIGATOR**
**1 If you are on land, try to get on the alligator's back and put downward pressure on its neck.**
This will force its head and jaws down.
**2 Cover the alligator's eyes.**
This will usually make it more sedate.
**3 If you are attacked, go for the eyes and nose.**
Use any weapon you have, or your fist.
**4 If its jaws are closed on something you want to remove (for example, a limb), tap or punch it on the snout.**
Alligators often open their mouths when tapped lightly. They may drop whatever it is they have taken hold of, and back off.
**5 If the alligator gets you in its jaws, you must prevent it from shaking you or from rolling over—these instinctual actions cause severe tissue damage.**
Try to keep the mouth clamped shut so the alligator does not begin shaking.
**6 Seek medical attention immediately, even for a small cut or bruise, to treat infection.**
Alligators have a huge number of pathogens in their mouths.
#### **H OW TO AVOID AN ATTACK**
While deaths in the United States from alligator attacks are rare, there are thousands of attacks and hundreds of fatalities from Nile crocodiles in Africa and Indopacific crocodiles in Asia and Australia. A few tips to keep in mind:
• Do not swim or wade in areas alligators are known to inhabit (in Florida, this can be anywhere).
• Do not swim or wade alone, and always check out the area before venturing in.
• Never feed alligators.
• Do not dangle arms and legs from boats, and avoid throwing unused bait or fish from a boat or dock.
• Do not harass, try to touch, or capture any alligator.
• Leave babies and eggs alone. Any adult alligator will respond to a distress call from any youngster. Mother alligators guarding nests and babies will defend them.
• In most cases the attacking alligators had been fed by humans prior to the attack. This is an important link—feeding alligators seems to cause them to lose their fear of humans and become more aggressive.
### **HOW TO DEAL WITH AN ALLIGATOR NEAR YOUR GOLF BALL**
**1 Determine the size of the alligator.**
Although even small alligators can cause injury, those less than four feet long are not as dangerous to humans. If the alligator is larger than six feet, be especially wary, as a bite can inflict major damage. Alligators larger than nine feet should be considered deadly.
**2 Calculate the distance from the alligator to your ball.**
The immediate danger zone is within 15 feet of an alligator.
**3 Try to determine if the alligator sees your ball.**
Alligators are attracted to objects that appear to be food. Golf balls look like alligator eggs, which alligators eat.
**4 Do not stand between the alligator and water.**
If disturbed, an alligator on land will seek refuge in water. Make sure the alligator is between you and any nearby water hazard.
**5 Make a loud noise.**
Alligators are sensitive to loud noises. Yelling or screaming may cause the animal to leave. If the alligator does not move, however, you will have gained its attention.
**6 Use a ball retriever to recover the ball.**
The alligator may lunge and bite at objects that invade its space. A telescoping ball retriever, best used when the alligator is not facing you or the ball, can quietly scoop up the ball. You can also use a flagstick, though you will have to use it to roll the ball out of the way.
**7 Quickly move away from the alligator's territory.**
After retrieving the ball, or if you encounter difficulties, run. While alligators can move fast, they generally will travel only short distances and probably cannot outrun an adult golfer.
**_Be Aware_**
• Alligators are common on golf courses throughout the Gulf Coast states in the United States, and can be found as far north as North Carolina. To be safe, assume that any body of water on a course in these states is home to an alligator.
• Never wade into a water hazard on a golf course known to be home to alligators. You are most likely to be attacked in or at the edge of water.
• Be especially wary during spring months, when alligators wander in search of mates, and during late summer, when eggs hatch. Mother alligators will respond aggressively to threats to their young, and any adult alligator may come to the aid of any youngster.
• An alligator more than nine feet long is likely to be male, and males tend to move around more and be more aggressive.
• Do not assume any alligator is safe to approach. While some animals may be habituated to the presence of humans, alligators are wild animals, and therefore unpredictable: they may attack without provocation.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE AN ELEPHANT STAMPEDE**
**Take available cover.**
Elephants stampede when they are startled by a loud noise or to escape a perceived threat. If the elephants are running away from a threat but toward you, do not try to outrun them. Elephants can run at a speed in excess of 25 mph. Even while charging, they can make sharp turns and are able to climb steep slopes. Seek a sturdy structure close by and take cover.
**Climb a tree.**
The elephants are likely to avoid trees when running. Grab a branch at its base and use your legs to power yourself up the tree, keeping three of your limbs in contact with the tree at all times as you climb. If you cannot climb the tree, stand behind it. Elephants will avoid large obstacles when running.
**Lie down.**
Unless the elephant is intent on trampling you, because you are hunting or the elephant thinks you are hunting, elephants typically avoid stepping on a prone human being, even while charging.
**Protect your face.**
Do not get up immediately. After the threat has passed, an elephant may show great interest in the apparently dead bodies of humans and may attempt to "bury" you under tree branches, leaves, and dirt. If you sense an elephant moving above you, lie still and cover your face with your hands. The rough skin on the elephant's trunk may cause severe abrasions if it rubs against you.
**_Be Aware_**
• An angry elephant will tuck its ears back and curl its trunk up, away from danger.
• If the elephants are angry at you, they may attempt to spear you with their tusks and then fling your body.
• If the last human the elephant met was a hunter/poacher, it will be more likely to treat you as a threat and attempt an attack.
### **H OW TO ESCAPE FROM A STAMPEDE OF GIRAFFES**
**Wade into the nearest body of water.** Giraffes typically avoid water except for drinking. If you cannot reach water, climb a tree or seek available shelter. The giraffes' large hooves pose your most immediate danger.
### **HOW TO ESCAPE FROM A CHARGING RHINO**
**Climb a tree.**
See "How to Survive an Elephant Stampede," on page 48.
**Run for scrub.**
A rhino probably will not follow you into thick scrub brush. Get as far in as possible. Adrenaline will prevent you from noticing the painful thorns until you try to get out.
**Stand your ground and shout.**
If no tree or scrub is available to allow your escape, stand and face the animal (rhinos have poor eye-sight but are attracted to movement). As the rhino approaches, scream and shout as loud as you can. A charging rhino may veer away from a noisy target.
**Run in the opposite direction.**
A rhino will continue running in the same direction when it is charging and is not likely to turn around and come back for another attack. Once you have evaded the charge and the rhino has veered off, run in the opposite direction.
**_Be Aware_**
• A surprised or startled rhino's first instinct is to charge a threat, whether real or imagined.
• A mother rhino will aggressively defend a calf by charging any and all threats.
• Rhinos can climb steep slopes and will also charge into water or mud.
• A rhino will charge and attack a vehicle and may chase one for more than a mile. A large male (5,000 pounds or more) can easily knock over a car.
• African black rhinos are generally considered the most dangerous and likely to charge, though white and Indian rhinos will also charge. Javan and Sumatran rhinos are smaller, shier, forest-dwelling, and considered less dangerous to humans.
• A white rhino's anterior (front) horn can be as long as 62 inches.
### **HOW TO CONTROL A RUNAWAY CAMEL**
**1 Hang on to the reins—but do not pull them back hard in an attempt to stop the camel.**
A camel's head, unlike that of a wayward horse, cannot always be pulled to the side to slow it down. Camels are usually harnessed with a head halter or nose reins, and pulling on the nose reins can tear the camel's nose—or break the reins.
**2 If the camel has sturdy reins and a head halter, pull the reins to one side to make the camel run in a circle.**
Do not fight the camel; pull the reins in the direction the camel attempts to turn its head. The camel may change direction several times during the incident— let it do so.
**3 If the camel has nose reins, just hang on tight.**
Use the reins for balance, and grip with your legs. If there is a saddle, hold on to the horn.
**4 Hold on until the camel stops.**
Whether the camel is running in circles or in a straight path, it will not run very far. The camel will sit down when it grows tired.
**5 When the camel sits, jump off.**
Hold on to the reins to keep it from running off.
### **H OW TO DEAL WITH A DEER IN YOUR HEADLIGHTS**
**Brake firmly and blow your horn** with one long blast to frighten the deer into action. Do not swerve or you will confuse the deer about which way to run. If you hit the deer, do not touch the animal; move the car off the road, set the hazard lights, and call the police. Drive using high beams whenever possible on dark wooded roads.
### **HOW TO FEND OFF A CHARGING REINDEER**
**1 Stand your ground.**
Most reindeer have been bred to be docile livestock; they are sometimes referred to as "tundra cows." They will run around, rather than over, a standing person, even when charging in a herd.
**2 Watch for reindeer in rut.**
Reindeer mate from late August to October, when they will be in rut, or heat, and much more dangerous. Each male, or bull, will keep a harem of females and will become unpredictable and aggressive with any person who approaches. While both male and female reindeer have antlers, male reindeer are noticeably larger, weighing 400 pounds or more. During rut, necks on males will be large and swollen.
**3 Watch for front-leg kicking.**
When disturbed, reindeer will rear up on the hind legs and kick out with the front hooves. Females are generally not dangerous except when defending calves. Stay well back and to the side to avoid being kicked. During rut, reindeer bulls will try to gore rather than kick, if antagonized.
**4 Watch for antler display.**
Before goring, a male will often attempt to intimidate by showing, or "presenting," its antlers, turning his head to the side. Be wary in approaching or cornering a bull reindeer during this display.
**5 Back up slowly.**
Speak to the reindeer in a soft voice. Do not make any sudden movements.
**6 Do not raise your arms over your head.**
The bull may take this as a challenge sign that you are also displaying antlers.
**7 If the reindeer attempts to gore you, grab the antlers.**
Grasp one branch with each hand and attempt to steer the head away from you. If the reindeer tries to lunge forward, you may not be able to stop it, but guiding the antlers may allow you to redirect its charge.
**8 Move to the side quickly as you release the antlers.**
The reindeer will now be beside you and may just move away. Do not run, or you will call attention to yourself. Carefully put distance between yourself and the reindeer.
**9 Call for help.**
Using a voice and tone that does not further antagonize the reindeer, advise others in the area of your situation. They may be able to distract the reindeer, if it is still in pursuit.
**_Be Aware_**
• Caribou, which are much more aggressive and dangerous, are often mistaken for reindeer. Reindeer have shorter legs and are rounder.
• Male reindeer have huge antlers, with as many as 14 to 18 points per side.
### **H OW TO PROTECT YOUR DOG IN A SUDDEN RAINSTORM**
**Cut or tear holes in a plastic shopping bag** for the dog's paws, head, and tail. Use a kitchen- or yard-sized bag for larger breeds. Carefully slip the bag over the dog's head and ease the front paws, back paws, and tail through the holes.
Tie the bag handles behind the tail hole for added security.
### **HOW TO REMOVE A TICK**
Because you will probably not feel a tick biting you, it's a good practice to check yourself for ticks thoroughly after spending time outdoors.
**1 Locate the tick.**
Look for a small bump on the skin, similar to the last remnants of a scab before it heals. Ticks vary in size from the head of a pin to a fingernail (when they are engorged) depending on the type and the stage of maturity. Ticks are usually brown or reddish. Check behind the knee, between fingers and toes, in the underarms, in the belly button, in and behind the ear, on the neck, in the hairline, and on the top of the head.
**2 Act quickly to remove the tick.**
Use a commercially available tick removal tool if one is available. Follow the instructions that come with the device. If no tick removal device is available, locate a pair of medium- or fine-tipped tweezers.
**3 Place the tip of the tweezers around the area where the jaws of the tick enter the skin.**
Using a slow, steady motion, pull the tick away from the skin. Do not jerk, crush, squeeze, or puncture the tick, because more pathogens from the tick may get into the wound. If part of the tick breaks off, try to remove it as you would a splinter. Your body will naturally eject the foreign material over time, so leave it alone if you cannot remove it easily.
**4 If no tweezers are available, use the nails of your index finger and thumb.**
Avoid touching the tick with your skin; use latex gloves, plastic baggies, or even paper towels to cover the skin of your fingers. If nothing to protect your skin is available, try using two credit cards as tweezers: squeeze the edges together to grab the tick and then pull firmly away from the skin. Failing this, it is better to remove the tick with bare forefinger and thumb than to leave it attached.
**5 Immediately disinfect the area around the bite with soap and water, alcohol, or antibacterial ointment.**
**6 Place the tick, dead or alive, in a sealable container.**
Include a lightly moistened paper towel. Take the tick to a local health department to be analyzed, to determine if it is carrying disease.
#### **H OW TO RECOGNIZE LYME DISEASE**
Watch for these symptoms:
• A round, "bull's-eye" rash on the skin, which may be very small or up to twelve inches across.
• Other rashes or skin bruising that can mimic common skin problems, including hives, eczema, sunburn, poison ivy, and flea bites. The rash may itch or feel hot, and it may disappear and return several weeks later. The rash will look like a bruise on people with dark skin color.
• Flu-like symptoms several days or weeks after a bite from an infected tick: aches and pains in the muscles and joints, low-grade fever, and fatigue.
• Other systemic symptoms, which can affect virtually any organ in the body, including jaw pain and difficulty chewing; frequent or painful urination and/or repeated urinary tract infections; respiratory infection, cough, asthma, and pneumonia; ear pain, hearing loss, ringing, sensitivity to noise; sore throat, swollen glands, cough, hoarseness, difficulty swallowing; headaches, facial paralysis, seizures, meningitis, stiff neck; burning, tingling, or prickling sensations; loss of reflexes, loss of coordination; stomach pain, diarrhea, nausea, vomiting, abdominal cramps, loss of appetite; and irregular heartbeat, palpitations, fainting, shortness of breath, and chest pain.
**_Be Aware_**
• Tucking your pants into your socks is a good preventive measure against ticks.
• Ticks do not drop from high vegetation or trees; they climb up your body, generally seeking the highest point on the body. However, if the tick meets resistance, it will stop and feed at that point.
• Ticks are most active in the spring and early summer, though they may be present at other times of the year.
• Ticks are found in virtually all climates and geographic regions, from the Antarctic to the Sahara. They will often be most abundant in areas with wildlife, whose blood provides their food supply.
• On the golf course, stay on the fairway and out of the rough to avoid ticks.
• Ticks can be difficult to remove, and improper removal can cause tick mouthparts to remain in the skin and/or pathogens from the tick's body to enter the bloodstream. In particular, small, immature ticks (called larvae or nymphs) can be very hard to remove in one piece.
• Lyme disease is treatable with antibiotics—and the sooner treatment begins, the better.
### **H OW TO SAVE YOUR CAT FROM CHOKING**
**Kneel and hold the cat in front of you, close to your chest.** Place one forearm under the cat's front legs and hold him up and out-stretched, facing away from you. Place the fist of your other hand just below the bottom rib. Give 2 or 3 quick, firm pushes inward to force the air out of the diaphragm and dislodge the object.
### **HOW TO ESCAPE FROM AN ANGRY GORILLA**
**1 Evaluate the gorilla's behavior.**
A stressed or angry gorilla is likely to vocalize loudly and pound, jump, or slap the ground before attacking. A gorilla that is just tugging at clothes or grabbing at you may simply be curious.
**2 Do not react.**
Do not scream, hit, or otherwise antagonize the gorilla. Even if the gorilla grabs you, it may be playful behavior. Scaring or aggravating the gorilla may provoke an angry response.
**3 Be submissive.**
Do not look directly at the gorilla. Remain quiet. Do not shout or open arms wide to try to appear larger. The gorilla may interpret these acts as hostile.
**4 Watch for a bluff charge.**
A gorilla may make a "bluff charge" before an attack to scare potential threats. It may scream or "bark," stomp its hands on the ground, and tear at vegetation as it advances toward you. A bluff charge is fast and intimidating and resembles an actual attack.
**5 Crouch down and make yourself as small a target as possible.**
If the gorilla feels threatened during a bluffing display, it may decide to follow through with an attack.
**6 Stay quiet and submissive.**
An attack may include severe biting and pounding or tearing with the gorilla's hands. Even if it appears that the gorilla means to harm you, do not actively resist or fight back: It will interpret this behavior as threatening and may attack more severely.
**7 Groom.**
If the gorilla has gotten hold of you, begin to "groom" its arm while loudly smacking your lips. Primates are fastidious groomers, and grooming the gorilla in this fashion may distract the gorilla in a nonthreatening way. As the gorilla's grip relaxes, slowly move your grooming hand to the gorilla's hand, showing keen interest in any bits of leaf or dirt on the gorilla.
**8 Remain quiet and passive until the gorilla loses interest or until help arrives.**
**_Be Aware_**
If the gorilla has you in its grip, do not attempt to pry the gorilla's fingers apart to remove his hand. A full-grown silverback gorilla is much stronger than any adult human. The gorilla's grip will be like a vise that is impossible to open.
### **HOW TO ESCAPE FROM A BEAR**
**1 Lie still and quiet.**
Documented attacks show that an attack by a mother black bear often ends when the person stops fighting.
**2 Stay where you are and do not climb a tree to escape a bear.**
Black bears can climb trees quickly and easily and will come after you. The odds are that the bear will leave you alone if you stay put.
**3 If you are lying still and the bear attacks, strike back with anything you can.**
Go for the bear's eyes or its snout.
#### **W HAT TO DO IF YOU SEE A BEAR**
• Make your presence known by talking loudly, clapping, singing, or occasionally calling out. (Some people prefer to wear bells.) Whatever you do, be heard—it does not pay to surprise a bear.
• Keep children close at hand and within sight.
• There is no guaranteed minimum safe distance from a bear: the farther, the better. Remember, bears can run much faster than humans.
• If you are in a car, remain in your vehicle. Do not get out, even for a quick photo. Keep your windows up. Do not impede the bear from crossing the road.
#### **H OW TO AVOID AN ATTACK**
• Reduce or eliminate food odors from yourself, your camp, your clothes, and your vehicle.
• Do not sleep in the same clothes you cook in.
• Store food so that bears cannot smell or reach it.
• Do not keep food in your tent—not even a chocolate bar.
• Properly store and bring out all garbage.
• Handle and store pet food with as much care as your own.
• While all bears should be considered dangerous and should be avoided, three types should be regarded as more dangerous than the average bear. These are:
Females defending cubs.
Bears habituated to human food.
Bears defending a fresh kill.
**_Be Aware_**
• There are about 650,000 black bears in North America, and only one person every three years is killed by a bear—although there are hundreds of thousands of encounters. Most bears in the continental U.S. are black bears, but black bears are not always black in color: sometimes their fur is brown or blond. Males are generally bigger than females (125 to 500 pounds for males, 90 to 300 pounds for females).
• Bears can run as fast as horses, uphill or downhill.
• Bears can climb trees, although black bears are better tree-climbers than grizzly bears.
• Bears have excellent senses of smell and hearing.
• Bears are extremely strong. They can tear cars apart looking for food.
• Every bear defends a "personal space." The extent of this space will vary with each bear and each situation; it may be a few meters or a few hundred meters. Intrusion into this space is considered a threat and may provoke an attack.
• Bears aggressively defend their food.
• All female bears defend their cubs. If a female with cubs is surprised at close range or is separated from her cubs, she may attack.
• An aggressive reaction to any danger to her cubs is the mother grizzly's natural defense.
• A female black bear's natural defense is to chase her cubs up a tree and defend them from the base.
• Stay away from dead animals. Bears may attack to defend such food.
• It is best not to hike with dogs, as dogs can antagonize bears and cause an attack. An unleashed dog may even bring a bear back to you.
### **HOW TO ESCAPE FROM KILLER BEES**
**1 If bees begin flying around and/or stinging you, do not freeze.**
Run away; swatting at the bees only makes them angrier.
**2 Get indoors as fast as you can.**
**3 If no shelter is available, run through bushes or high weeds.**
This will help give you cover.
**4 If a bee stings you, it will leave its stinger in your skin.**
Remove the stinger by raking your fingernail across it in a sideways motion. Do not pinch or pull the stinger out—this may squeeze more venom from the stinger into your body. Do not let stingers remain in the skin, because venom can continue to pump into the body for up to ten minutes.
**5 Do not jump into a swimming pool or other body of water—the bees are likely to be waiting for you when you surface.**
#### **R ISK OF ATTACK**
The Africanized honeybee is a cousin of the run-of-the-mill domesticated honeybee that has lived in the United States for centuries. The "killer bee" moniker was created after some magazine reports about several deaths that resulted from Africanized bee stings some years back. Africanized honeybees are considered "wild"; they are easily angered by animals and people, and likely to become aggressive.
Bees "swarm" most often in the spring and fall. This is when the entire colony moves to establish a new hive. They may move in large masses—called swarms—until they find a suitable spot. Once the colony is built and the bees begin raising their young, they will protect their hive by stinging.
While any colony of bees will defend its hive, Africanized bees do so with gusto. These bees can kill, and they present a danger even to those who are not allergic to bee stings. In several isolated instances, people and animals have been stung to death. Regular honeybees will chase you about fifty yards. Africanized honeybees may pursue you three times that distance.
Most often, death from stings occurs when people are not able to get away from the bees quickly. Animal losses have occurred for the same reasons— pets and livestock were tied up or penned when they encountered the bees and could not escape.
#### **T O MINIMIZE RISK**
• Avoid colonies by filling in holes or cracks in exterior walls, filling in tree cavities, and putting screens on the tops of rainspouts and over water meter boxes in the ground.
• Do not bother bee colonies: if you see that bees are building—or have already built—a colony around your home, do not disturb them. Call a pest control center to find out who removes bees.
### **HOW TO CATCH FISH WITHOUT A ROD**
**1 Determine the best location for your fishing.**
Fish usually congregate in shadow, near the edges of lakes, rivers, and streams.
**2 Find a forked sapling approximately two feet long. (The forked ends should be approximately one foot long.)**
Cut it down or break it off.
**3 Bend the two ends toward each other and tie them together.**
The tied ends will form the circular frame of a net.
**4 Remove your shirt or T-shirt.**
**5 Tie a knot in the shirt just below the arm and neck holes.**
**6 Slip the sapling into the shirt, and pin or tie the shirt securely to all sides of the frame.**
**7 Scoop up the fish.**
**Alternative**
Large fish can also be speared with a pole sharpened to a point at one end. This method works best at night, when fish come to the surface.
### **H OW TO REMOVE A FISHHOOK FROM FLESH**
**Clip off the end of the hook** with a pair of needle-nose pliers. Pull the unbarbed end of the hook through the wound to remove. Apply antiseptic and dress the injury site.
### **HOW TO REMOVE A LEECH**
**1 Do not attempt to remove a leech by pulling up on its middle section or by using salt, heat, or insect repellent.**
Dislodging by squeezing, salting, burning, or otherwise annoying the leech while it is feeding will cause it to regurgitate, most likely spreading the bacteria from its digestive system into your open wound, causing infection.
**2 Identify the anterior (oral) sucker.**
Look for the small end of the leech. A common mistake is to go immediately to the large sucker.
**3 Place a fingernail on your skin (not on the leech itself), directly adjacent to the oral sucker.**
**4 Gently but firmly slide your finger toward where the leech is feeding and push the sucker away sideways.**
When the seal made by the oral sucker is broken, the leech will stop feeding. After the oral sucker has been dislodged, the leech's head will seek to reattach, and it may quickly attach to the finger that displaced the head. Even if the oral sucker attaches again, the leech does not begin to feed immediately.
**5 Displace the posterior (hind) sucker.**
While continuing to flick occasionally at the small end, push at or pick under the large end (hind sucker) with a fingernail to cause it to lose its suction.
**6 Dispose of the leech.**
At this point, the leech may have securely attached itself to the finger you used to remove it. Flick it off— it should detach easily. Once the leech is detached, you can put salt or insect repellent directly on it to keep it from attaching to anything else.
**7 Treat the wound.**
After the leech's anticoagulants lose their effect, the wound should heal quickly. Keep the area clean, and cover it with a small bandage if necessary. Avoid scratching the wound. If itching becomes severe, take an antihistamine.
#### **I F A LEECH INVADES AN AIR PASSAGE**
Hirudiniasis is a potentially serious condition in which one or more leeches invade a body orifice. In particular, _Dinobdella ferox_ (literally, "the terrifying ferocious leech" or "nasal leech") has a predilection for airways, where it may cause a blockage or asphyxiation, especially if leeches invade the passage in large numbers. If there is a leech invading your airway and you can breathe, do not attempt to remove it—seek medical attention immediately. If you cannot breathe, take the following steps:
**1 Gargle with diluted 80-proof alcohol.**
Most distilled liquors—vodka, gin, bourbon, scotch— have the requisite alcohol content. Use a mixture of 50 percent alcohol, 50 percent water. Be careful not to aspirate (inhaling the leech and the alcohol).
**2 Spit out the leech.**
**Alternative**
If gargling does not work and the leech is visible, remove it by grasping firmly at the hind sucker and yanking.
**_Be Aware_**
• There is virtually no risk of substantial blood loss from leech bites. The wound will continue to bleed for some time after a leech has finished feeding, but this level of blood loss is not dangerous.
• Leeches are generally not known to transmit blood parasites to humans.
• Leeches are more likely to be encountered in still water than in rivers or streams. They are more often found near the edges of clean, clear water than in or near swamps.
• Leeches need a solid surface to hold on to even when they are not feeding. Avoid leeches by staying in the open: Swim in deep, open water, avoid boat docks, and do not wade through areas with submerged branches or rocks. In jungles, remain on trails and be aware of leeches on overhanging branches and vines.
• Both aquatic and terrestrial leeches have incredible senses of perception. They are attracted by vibrations and by body heat, and they have 10 pairs of eyes to detect movement. Keep moving, and check yourself and your traveling companions regularly.
### **HOW TO TREAT A SCORPION STING**
**1 Remain calm.**
Scorpion venom induces anxiety in victims, so try especially hard to avoid panic. Most species of scorpion have venom of low to moderate toxicity and do not pose a serious health threat to adult humans, other than severe pain.
**2 Apply heat or cold packs to the sting site for pain relief.**
The most severe pain usually occurs at the site of the sting. Also use an analgesic (painkiller) if available.
**3 If an allergic reaction occurs, take an antihistamine.**
Scorpion venom contains histamines, which may cause allergic reactions (asthma, rashes) in sensitive persons.
**4 Watch for an irregular heartbeat, tingling in extremities, an inability to move limbs or fingers, or trouble breathing.**
Most scorpion stings cause only instantaneous pain at the site of the sting; stings feel similar to those of a wasp. The pain of a scorpion sting may radiate over the body several minutes after the initial sting. Pain tends to be felt in joints, especially in the armpits and groin. Systemic symptoms may also occur—possibly numbness in the face, mouth, or throat; muscle twitches; sweating; nausea; vomiting; fever; and restlessness. These symptoms are normal and not life-threatening, and usually subside in one to three hours. The site of the sting may remain sore and/or sensitive to touch, heat, or cold for one to three days.
**5 Seek emergency medical care if you exhibit the above symptoms.**
Small children who are stung should seek emergency medical care immediately. Adults, however, have much more time—the odds of dying or even becoming seriously ill as a result of a scorpion sting are extremely slim. You will have at least 12 hours to get to a hospital—probably more.
**6 Do not apply tourniquets, as the toxins are small and move extremely rapidly away from the site of the sting.**
A tourniquet will not help the wound, and could cause more harm if applied incorrectly.
**7 Do not attempt to cut the wound and suck out the poison.**
This can cause infection or transfer the venom into the bloodstream of the person attempting to remove the poison.
**_Be Aware_**
• Scorpions are active at night, when they hunt and search for mates. During the day, scorpions hide in burrows or in any available crack or crevice, depending upon the species. Scorpions are notorious for seeking shelter in objects such as shoes, clothing, bedding, and bath towels. Your presence may surprise the scorpion and it could sting if disturbed. If you are in an area that has scorpions, shake out these items before using them, and check bedding before sleeping.
• Many species of scorpions will readily enter homes and other buildings, which increases the likelihood of an encounter. Scorpions will sting if surprised or threatened, but generally will not sting if unprovoked.
• Scorpions cannot usually deliver enough venom to kill a healthy adult. While venom toxicity varies among species, some scorpions contain very powerful neurotoxins, which, ounce for ounce, are more toxic to humans than the venom of cobras. However, scorpions inject relatively small amounts of venom (compared to snakes), so the overall dose of toxins per sting is survivable.
### **HOW TO CROSS A PIRANHA-INFESTED RIVER**
**1 Do not cross if you have an open wound.**
Piranhas are attracted to blood.
**2 Avoid areas with netted fish, docks where fish are cleaned, and areas around bird rookeries.**
Piranhas may become habituated to feeding in these areas and may be more aggressive there.
**3 Stay out of the water when piranhas are feeding.**
When large numbers of piranhas are attacking prey— a true feeding frenzy—they may snap and bite at anything around them. If you see them feeding, stay away, or well upriver.
**4 Cross the river at night.**
Virtually every species of piranha rests at night, and when awakened, will swim away rather than attack. Piranhas are most active at dawn, though some large adults may hunt in the evening.
**5 Swim or walk across quickly and quietly.**
Try not to create a large disturbance in the water that might awaken piranhas.
**_Be Aware_**
• Piranhas are freshwater, tropical fish. In the wild, they exist only in South America, in slow-moving rivers, backwaters, or floodplain lakes. Piranhas generally do not live in either mountain lakes or streams; the water is too cold and flows too fast.
• Piranhas generally do not attack humans or large animals—unless they are already dead or injured. During the dry season, however, when their food supply is scarce, piranhas can be more aggressive. When driving cattle across a river suspected of containing piranhas, farmers will sometimes sacrifice a sick or injured animal downstream before letting the herd enter the water.
### **HOW TO SPOT A RABID ANIMAL**
**1 Watch out for raccoons, skunks, and bats.**
All warm-blooded animals can carry rabies, but the disease is most common among these animals. Coyotes, foxes, and larger rodents, such as ground-hogs, can also carry rabies. It is rare among mice, squirrels, chipmunks, guinea pigs, hamsters, rabbits, rats, and other small rodents.
**2 If the animal is foaming or appears to have a locked jaw, stay away.**
There are two type of rabies: "furious" rabies and "dumb" rabies. Animals with the former are hostile, may snap and bite, and have an increase in saliva, which makes their mouths appear to be foaming. Animals with the latter (also called paralytic rabies) are timid and shy, and may have paralysis of the lower jaw and muscles.
**3 If you are bitten by any animal, immediately wash the bite out with soap and running warm water.**
The wound can also be treated with an antiseptic such as hydrogen peroxide or an antibiotic ointment. Dress the wound with a sterile cloth or bandage, and put pressure on the wound to stop bleeding. Get professional medical attention as soon as possible.
**4 Call animal control authorities to report the incident.**
Describe the animal and where you were when you received the bite so that they can try to catch the animal. Tests will determine if the animal has rabies. Without the animal to test, the medical treatment may mean painful injections, since health providers will have to assume the animal had rabies. Do not try to catch the animal yourself.
**5 Monitor your health.**
Early symptoms of rabies include mental depression, restlessness, and abnormal sensations such as itching around the site of the bite, headache, fever, tiredness, nausea, sore throat, or loss of appetite. Other early symptoms include muscle stiffness, dilation of pupils, increased production of saliva, and unusual sensitivity to sound, light, and changes of temperature. Symptoms usually develop within two to eight weeks after infection. The more severe the bite, the sooner the onset of symptoms.
**_Be Aware_**
Generally, you will know if a wild animal has bitten you. However, bat bites can be small and may not be felt. A bat that is active by day, that is found in a place where bats are not usually seen, or that is unable to fly is far more likely to be rabid.
## **C HAPTER 2**
## **GREAT ESCAPES**
### **HOW TO JUMP FROM ROOFTOP TO ROOFTOP**
**1 Look for any obstructions if you have time.**
You may have to clear short walls, gutters, or other obstacles as well as the space between buildings.
**2 Check your target building.**
Make certain that you have enough space to land and roll. If the target building is lower than your building, assess how much lower it is. You risk broken ankles or legs if there is more than a one-story differential in the buildings. If there are two stories or more, you risk a broken back.
**3 Check the distance between the buildings.**
Most people cannot jump farther than 10 feet, even at a full run. If the buildings are farther apart than this distance, you risk catastrophic injury or death. You must clear the distance and land on the other roof, or be able to grab on to a ledge on the other side. If the target building is lower, your forward momentum will continue to carry you even as you fall, so you may be able to leap a greater distance—though probably not more than about 12 feet. You could successfully leap a span across an alley, but not a two-lane road.
**4 Pick a spot for take off and a spot for landing.**
**5 Run at full speed toward the edge.**
You must be running as fast as possible to attempt a leap of a distance of more than a few feet. You will need 40 to 60 feet of running room to develop enough speed to clear about 10 feet.
**6 Leap.**
Make sure your center of gravity is over the edge of your target building in case your whole body doesn't clear the span and you have to grab hold. Jump with your arms and hands extended and ready to grab the ledge.
**7 Try to land on your feet, then immediately tuck your head and tumble sideways onto your shoulders, not forward onto your head.**
Because you will not be moving fast, it is safe to roll head over heels, unlike jumping from a moving vehicle.
### **HOW TO JUMP FROM A BUILDING INTO A DUMPSTER**
**1 Jump straight down.**
If you leap off and away from the building at an angle, your trajectory will make you miss the Dumpster. Resist your natural tendency to push off.
**2 Tuck your head and bring your legs around.**
To do this during the fall, execute a three-quarter revolution—basically, a not-quite-full somersault. This is the only method that will allow a proper landing, with your back facing down.
**3 Aim for the center of the Dumpster or large box of debris.**
**4 Land flat on your back so that when your body folds, your feet and hands meet.**
When your body hits any surface from a significant height, the body folds into a V. This means landing on your stomach can result in a broken back.
**_Be Aware_**
• If the building has fire escapes or other protrusions, your leap will have to be far enough out so you miss them on your way down. The landing target needs to be far enough from the building for you to hit it.
• The Dumpster may be filled with bricks or other unfriendly materials. It is entirely possible to survive a high fall (five stories or more) into a Dumpster, provided it is filled with the right type of trash (cardboard boxes are best) and you land correctly.
### **HOW TO JUMP FROM A MOVING TRAIN**
**1 Move to the end of the last car.**
If this is not an option, you can jump from the space between cars, or from the door if you can get it open.
**2 If you have time, wait for the train to slow as it rounds a bend in the tracks.**
If you jump and land correctly, you will probably survive even at high speeds (70 mph or more), but you increase your chances of survival if the train is moving slowly.
**3 Stuff blankets, clothing, or seat cushions underneath your clothes.**
Wear a thick or rugged jacket if possible. Use a belt to secure some padding around your head, but make certain you can see clearly. Pad your knees, elbows, and hips.
**4 Pick your landing spot before you jump.**
The ideal spot will be relatively soft and free of obstructions. Avoid trees, bushes, and, of course, rocks.
**5 Get as low to the floor as possible, bending your knees so you can leap away from the train car.**
**6 Jump perpendicular to the train, leaping as far away from the train as you can.**
Even if you jump from the last car, leap at right angles to the direction of the train. This way, your momentum will not carry you toward the wheels and tracks.
**7 Cover and protect your head with your hands and arms, and roll like a log when you land.**
Do not try to land on your feet. Keep your body straight and try to land so that all parts of your body hit the ground at the same time—you will absorb the impact over a wider area. If you land on your feet, you will most likely break your ankles or legs. Do NOT roll head over heels as if doing a forward somersault.
### **HOW TO JUMP FROM A BRIDGE OR CLIFF INTO A RIVER**
When attempting a high fall (over twenty feet) into water in an emergency situation, you will not know much about your surroundings, specifically the depth of the water. This makes jumping particularly dangerous.
If jumping from a bridge into a river or other body of water with boat traffic, try to land in the channel—the deepwater area where boats go under the bridge. This area is generally in the center, away from the shoreline.
Stay away from any area with pylons that are supporting the bridge. Debris can collect in these areas and you can hit it when you enter the water.
Swim to shore immediately after surfacing.
#### **H OW TO JUMP**
**1 Jump feet first.**
**2 Keep your body completely vertical.**
**3 Squeeze your feet together.**
**4 Enter the water feet first, and clench your buttocks together.**
If you do not, water may rush in and cause severe internal damage.
**5 Protect your crotch area by covering it with your hands.**
**6 Immediately after you hit the water, spread your arms and legs wide and move them back and forth to generate resistance, which will slow your plunge to the bottom.**
Always assume the water is not deep enough to keep you from hitting bottom.
**_Be Aware_**
• Hitting the water as described above could save your life, although it may break your legs.
• If your body is not straight, you can break your back upon entry. Keep yourself vertical until you hit the water.
• Do not even think about going in headfirst unless you are absolutely sure that the water is at least twenty feet deep. If your legs hit the bottom, they will break. If your head hits, your skull will break.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE IF YOUR PARACHUTE FAILS TO OPEN**
**1 As soon as you realize that your chute is bad, signal to a jumping companion whose chute has not yet opened that you are having a malfunction.**
Wave your arms and point to your chute.
**2 When your companion (and new best friend) gets to you, hook arms.**
**3 Once you are hooked together, the two of you will still be falling at terminal velocity, or about 130 miles per hour.**
When your friend opens his chute, there will be no way either of you will be able hold on to one another normally, because the G-forces will triple or quadruple your body weight. To prepare for this problem, hook your arms into his chest strap, or through the two sides of the front of his harness, all the way up to your elbows, and grab hold of your own strap.
**4 Open the chute.**
The chute opening shock will be severe, probably enough to dislocate or break your arms.
**5 Steer the canopy.**
Your friend must now hold on to you with one arm while steering his canopy (the part of the chute that controls direction and speed).
If your friend's canopy is slow and big, you may hit the grass or dirt slowly enough to break only a leg, and your chances of survival are high.
If his canopy is a fast one, however, your friend will have to steer to avoid hitting the ground too fast. You must also avoid power lines and other obstructions at all costs.
**6 If there is a body of water nearby, head for that.**
Of course, once you hit the water, you will have to tread with just your legs and hope that your partner is able to pull you out before your chute takes in water.
#### **H OW TO PREPARE**
Check your chute before you jump. The good news is that today's parachutes are built to open, so even if you make big mistakes packing them, they tend to sort themselves out. The reserve chute, however, must be packed by a certified rigger and must be perfect as it is your last resort. Make sure that:
• The parachute is folded in straight lines—that there are no twists.
• The slider is positioned correctly to keep the parachute from opening too fast.
### **HOW TO GET TO THE SURFACE IF YOUR SCUBA TANK RUNS OUT OF AIR**
**1 Do not panic.**
**2 Signal to your fellow divers that you are having a problem—point to your tank or regulator.**
**3 If someone comes to your aid, share their regulator, passing it back and forth while swimming slowly to the surface.**
Take two breaths, then pass it back to the other diver. Ascend together, exhaling as you go. Then take another two breaths, alternating, until you reach the surface. Nearly all divers carry an extra regulator connected to their tank.
**4 If no one can help you, keep your regulator in your mouth; air may expand in the tank as you ascend, giving you additional breaths.**
**5 Look straight up so that your airway is as straight as possible.**
**6 Swim to the surface at a slow to moderate rate.**
Exhale continuously as you swim up. It is very important that you exhale the entire way up, but the rate at which you exhale is also important. Exhale slowly— do not exhaust all your air in the first few seconds of your ascent. As long as you are even slightly exhaling, your passageway will be open and air can vent from your lungs.
WARNING: If you do not exhale continuously, you risk an embolism.
**_Be Aware_**
• Never dive alone.
• Watch your pressure and depth gauges closely.
• Make sure your fellow divers are within easy signaling/swimming distance.
• Share a regulator in an emergency. It is much safer to use your partner's regulator than to try to make a quick swim to the surface. This is especially true the deeper you are, where you need to surface gradually.
• Always use an alternate air source instead of swimming up unless you are fewer than thirty feet below the surface.
### **HOW TO RETRIEVE A CANDY BAR STUCK IN THE LUNCHROOM VENDING MACHINE**
**1 Wait several seconds.**
Newer vending machines may be equipped with special technology that senses when an item has not dropped; the machine may return your money or give you another selection.
**2 Purchase the item again.**
Depending on how severely the snack is stuck and how much money you have, you may be able to jar it loose and get a second one by selecting the same item again.
**3 Choose an item from the row above.**
If your snack is stuck at an angle toward the glass at the end of the row, an item dropping from above may knock it free.
**4 Jostle the machine.**
Vending machines are extremely heavy and can cause major injury if they tip over. Carefully bang on the side of the machine. Do not hit glass areas.
**5 Rock the machine.**
Tip the machine backward very slightly (not side-to-side) and let it drop back in place to jar the item loose. Do not press on the glass.
**6 Push in the vending door and remove the candy.**
Once the item—or items—have dropped, reach in and slowly extricate it.
**_Be Aware_**
Anti-theft devices make it virtually impossible to reach in and up past the vending door. Do not risk getting your arm stuck in the machine.
### **H OW TO FREE YOURSELF FROM A COAT HOOK**
**Unbutton your shirt or coat,** starting with the top button, just enough to slip out of your garment and slide to the ground. Then unhook your clothes and put them back on. If you were hung by your coat, you just leave it there on the hook.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE A BORING CLASS**
**Pull your hair or pinch yourself.**
Making yourself physically uncomfortable will make you less likely to fall asleep.
**Wear as few items of clothing as possible.**
The cold will keep you awake.
**Hide more interesting reading material.**
Prop open your textbook and conceal a novel or magazine inside it. Hold a highlighter in your hand and pretend to be taking notes as you read.
**Suggest holding class outside.**
If the weather is nice, ask the professor to teach out on the college green. This strategy rarely works for large survey classes or the sciences.
**Send text messages on your cell phone.**
Engage in a running text message exchange with other students in the class about how bad the professor is. Make sure that your keypad is set to mute so that you do not distract other students around you or draw your professor's attention to yourself.
**Make paper airplanes.**
Make as many models as you can. Pretend they are having fierce battles.
**Keep a list of words with dirty meanings.**
Write down words with alternate sexual meanings _(melons, stock, position, score)_ as they are spoken by your professor. In the right frame of mind, almost any word will work.
**Take notes with your nondominant hand.**
Concentrate on staying in the lines.
**Take notes in a foreign language.**
Practice your language skills by translating your professor's lecture. Bring along your translation dictionary to increase your vocabulary.
**Keep a superlative log.**
Identify the most interesting people in the class on a daily basis. Observe how people change over time. Categories could include:
• Most attractive
• Tallest
• Blondest
• Ugliest
• Dirtiest
• Dumbest
**Pretend you are a secret agent.**
You are on a dangerous mission and must make it through the class alive. Spy on people to see what they are writing. Use a small hand mirror and a penlight to send Morse code to a confederate across the room.
#### **H OW TO SLEEP IN CLASS**
**1 Wear a hat.**
Sharply bend the brim of a baseball cap and pull the visor low over your face to hide your eyes in the shadow. Do not wear a wool ski hat, beanie, or yarmulke, as none of these casts a shadow.
**2 Sit in the rear of the class.**
Choose a seat in the back of the classroom or at least far enough from your professor that he will not notice your heavy breathing.
**3 Sit behind a tall person.**
Position yourself behind a member of the basketball or volleyball team to interrupt your professor's line of vision. Sitting behind an obese person can also block your professor's sight line.
**4 Sit on the opposite side of the class from known class participants.**
**5 Pad the desktop in front of you.**
Fold a scarf, sweater, or sweatshirt on your desk. Bend one arm and place your elbow on the folded item.
**6 Assume the napping position.**
• Place your thumb under your chin, supporting your jaw.
• Rest your four fingers on the side of your face.
• Balance your head on your hand, keeping it upright.
• Place your notebook open and in front of you; hold a pen in your other hand, to look as if you are ready to take notes.
**_Be Aware_**
• Avoid wearing dark sunglasses in class. While they may serve to shade your eyes, they also attract attention.
• Do not let your head slump down to your chest.
• Do not rest your head on your desk.
• Do not lie down.
### **H OW TO SURVIVE IF CAUGHT PASSING A NOTE IN CLASS**
**Swallow the note immediately.** Do not give the teacher a chance to grab it and read it out loud. You are already in trouble for passing a note—there is no point in adding the humiliation of having it read to the class.
### **HOW TO HIDE THINGS IN YOUR DORM ROOM**
#### **S MALL ITEM**
**Use an old textbook.**
Stash cash between pages. For other items, make a secret compartment.
• Open the book to page 50 or beyond.
• Use a razor blade or a sharp knife to cut a square hole in the center of the book. Use a metal ruler to guide you, and keep repeating your cut lines to go deeper and deeper.
• Remove the square cut-out pages.
• Put the item in the compartment.
• Reshelve the book.
**Use a potted plant.**
• Seal the item in a plastic bag.
• Dig a hole several inches deep in the soil.
• Bury the bag.
**Construct a beer can safe.**
• Using a nail or pen, poke a small hole in one side of a beer can, near the bottom. Drink or discard the contents.
• Use scissors or tin snips to cut away the side of the can with the hole, leaving the top and bottom intact.
• Stash valuables in the can and place it on a wall covered with other, similar cans. Make sure the hole in the can faces the wall.
**Use electrical outlets.**
This location is suitable for very small and dry items only.
• Use a screwdriver to unscrew the switch plate that surrounds a light switch or electrical outlet.
• Insert the item in the wall cavity.
• Replace the plate.
**Use shampoo bottles.**
• Seal the item in a waterproof bag.
• Hide the bag in a bottle of shampoo.
• Keep your bathroom items separate from your roommate's to avoid detection.
**Use baseboards.**
• Pry a small section of baseboard away from the wall, using a hammer and chisel or flat screwdriver.
• Use the hammer to pound a hole in the drywall just above the floor, in an area that will be concealed by the baseboard.
• Stash the item in the hole.
• Replace the baseboard by wedging it in place.
#### **L ARGE ITEM**
**Camouflage.**
Pile dirty or damp clothing on the item to be hidden. Make sure the pile looks and smells sufficiently unappealing to prevent scrutiny.
**Use a feather pillow.**
Depending on the size and weight of the item, you may be able to stash it in a feather pillow. Unzip the pillow and bury the item in the middle. Make sure all hard edges are well covered with several inches of feathers. Re-zip and cover with a dirty pillowcase to deter inspection.
**Use your roommate.**
If you suspect you will be the subject of a search (particularly a search by a thieving roommate), hide valuables among your roommate's possessions. Make sure the hidden item is well concealed in the back of a closet, under her bed, or in another location she is unlikely to visit regularly. Check periodically to be certain the hidden item has not been detected.
### **H OW TO SURVIVE A SHATTERED/COLLAPSING BASKETBALL BACKBOARD**
**Step past the end line behind the backboard** —the structure will come forward if torn off its moorings. Bend toward the floor and cover the back of your head with your hands.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE A FALL ONTO SUBWAY TRACKS**
**1 Do not attempt to climb back onto the platform unless you are certain that you have enough time to do so.**
If a train is approaching, you will need to act quickly.
**2 Avoid areas of the ground near the track and the wall that are marked with a strip of tape or with red and white painted stripes.**
Such markings indicate that the train passes extremely close to these areas, and you will not have enough clearance. In areas with these markings, there should be alcoves every several yards. These alcoves are safe to stand in if you can fit within them.
**3 If the tracks are near a wall, check to see if there is enough space to stand between the train and the wall.**
Clearance of 1½ to 2 feet should be enough. Remove any articles of clothing or bags that could catch on the train. Stand straight, still, and tall facing the train, which will pass just inches in front of you.
**4 If the tracks are located between the platform and another set of tracks, you may be able to move to the other track instead.**
Be mindful of trains approaching on the other side. Cross the third rail (which carries the electric current) by stepping completely over it—do not step on the wooden guard, since it may not hold you.
**5 If a line of columns separates the tracks from other tracks, stand between the columns.**
Remove any articles of clothing or bags that could catch on the train, and stand straight, still, and tall.
**6 Check to see if there is enough space for you to crawl under the lip of the concrete platform and avoid the train.**
Use this only as a last resort—this strategy is not recommended since all platforms are different.
**Alternatives**
If none of these options is feasible, you have two other choices.
• Run past the leading end of the platform, beyond where the front car will stop. Since trains running on the track closest to the platform are likely to stop at a station (as opposed to express trains, which usually run on center tracks), you can clear the train by running well past the leading end of the platform and thus the front car. (Note: This method will not work for express trains that only stop at some stations, so you are taking your chances.)
• If there is a depression in the concrete between the rails, lie down into it—there will be enough room for a train to pass over you. (Use this method only in desperation—the train may be dragging something, or there may not be enough clearance.)
### **H OW TO SURVIVE BEING CAR-DOORED ON A BICYCLE**
**Throw your weight backward.** Stand on the pedals and above the seat. Apply only the rear brakes. Turn slightly to the side to disperse the impact as you hit the door. If you land in the street, move immediately toward the curb to get out of the way of traffic.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE A HIGH-RISE HOTEL FIRE**
Always treat a hotel fire alarm seriously, and exit following hotel procedure. If the fire is nearby, use the following procedure.
**1 Feel your hotel room doorknob with the back of your hand.**
If the doorknob is hot to the touch, go to step 2 and then skip to step 5. If it is not hot, follow the steps in order.
**2 Partially fill the bathtub with cold water.**
Soak towels, washcloths, bedsheets, and blankets in the water. If the water is off, use water from the toilet tank. Put a wet washcloth over your mouth and nose and a wet sheet or towel over your head.
**3 Open the door.**
**4 If the hallway is smoke-filled, get as low as possible—one to two feet above the floor.**
Make your way to an emergency exit. Never use the elevator.
**5 If the door or doorknob is hot, do not open the door.**
Wedge wet towels in the crack under the door to keep smoke out.
**6 Try calling the front desk or rooms on other floors to check on conditions in other areas.**
**7 Turn off fans and air conditioners that could draw smoke into the room, and open the window slightly.**
If the fire is on a floor below you, smoke may enter the room through the window, so keep the opening narrow. If the fire is not below you, open the window a third or halfway.
**8 Make a tent of wet towels and sheets at the window.**
Do not build the tent if smoke is billowing into the room. Hold or attach one side of the towel or sheet to the window and allow the other side to fall behind you, so you are protected from smoke and are breathing outside air. The towels should help to cool the air and make it easier to breathe.
**9 Signal rescue personnel with a white towel or a flashlight.**
Wait for rescue.
**10 If the air in the room is getting worse, breathing becomes difficult, and no rescue is forthcoming, try to kick through the wall into the adjacent room.**
Closets are the best locations to try to break through. Sit on the floor of the closet, and knock on the wall until you hear a hollow sound. (Wall studs are normally spaced 16 inches apart.) Use both feet to kick through both surfaces of drywall. You may survive by using this as a breathing hole, or you may need to continue breaching the wall until you can escape into the next room.
**11 If you cannot breach the wall, go to a window and look at the outside of the building.**
If the rooms have balconies that are close together, consider climbing to another balcony on the same floor. If there are no neighboring balconies, you can tie bedsheets together and climb to a balcony directly beneath yours. Use square knots (the first step in tying your shoes, done twice) and lower yourself one floor only. Consider this option only as a last resort, and only do it if you are attempting to escape an immediate danger or to reach rescue personnel.
**_Be Aware_**
• Ladders on fire trucks usually reach only to the seventh floor of a high-rise building. Consider booking a room below this level.
• Poolside or courtyard rooms are likely to be inaccessible to ladder trucks, even if they are below the seventh floor. Consider staying in a streetside room.
• Upon check-in, make sure the hotel has smoke detectors and fire sprinklers.
• Count the doors between your room and the nearest fire exit. This will help you get out safely if smoke reduces visibility.
• Keep your room key where it can be found in the dark.
• Never jump from a height of more than two floors or you risk death.
### **HOW TO BREAK DOWN A DOOR**
#### **I NTERIOR DOORS**
**1 Give the door a well-placed kick or two to the lock area to break it down.**
Running at the door and slamming against it with your shoulder or body is not usually as effective as kicking with your foot. Your foot exerts more force than your shoulder, and you will be able to direct this force toward the area of the locking mechanism more succinctly with your foot.
**Alternate Method
(if you have a screwdriver)**
**Look on the front of the doorknob for a small hole or keyhole.**
Most interior doors have what are called privacy sets. These locks are usually installed on bedrooms and bathrooms and can be locked from the inside when the door is shut, but have an emergency access hole in the center of the door handle which allows entry to the locking mechanism inside. Insert the screwdriver or probe into the handle and push the locking mechanism, or turn the mechanism to open the lock.
#### **E XTERIOR DOORS**
If you are trying to break down an exterior door, you will need more force. Exterior doors are of sturdier construction and are designed with security in mind, for obvious reasons. In general, you can expect to see two kinds of latches on outside doors: a passage- or entry-lock set for latching and a dead-bolt lock for security. The passage set is used for keeping the door from swinging open and does not lock. The entry-lock set utilizes a dead latch and can be locked before closing the door.
**1 Give the door several well-placed kicks at the point where the lock is mounted.**
An exterior door usually takes several tries to break down this way, so keep at it.
**Alternate Method
(if you have a sturdy piece of steel)**
**Wrench or pry the lock off the door by inserting the tool between the lock and the door and prying back and forth.**
**Alternate Method
(if you have a screwdriver, hammer, and awl)**
**Remove the pins from the hinges (if the door opens toward you) and then force the door open from the hinge side.**
Get a screwdriver or an awl and a hammer. Place the awl or screwdriver underneath the hinge, with the pointy end touching the end of the bolt or screw. Using the hammer, strike the other end of the awl or screwdriver until the hinge comes out.
#### **A SSESSING AMOUNT OF FORCE REQUIRED**
Interior doors in general are of a lighter construction than exterior doors and usually are thinner—1⅜″ thick to 1⅝″ thick—than exterior doors, which generally are 1¾″ thick. In general, older homes will be more likely to have solid wood doors, while newer ones will have the cheaper, hollow core models. Knowing what type of door you are dealing with will help you determine how to break it down. You can usually determine the construction and solidity of a door by tapping on it.
**H OLLOW CORE.** This type is generally used for interior doors, since it provides no insulation or security, and requires minimal force. These doors can often be opened with a screwdriver.
**S OLID WOOD.** These are usually oak or some other hardwood, and require an average amount of force and a crowbar or other similar tool.
**S OLID CORE.** These have a softwood inner frame with a laminate on each side and a chipped or shaved wood core, and require an average amount of force and a screwdriver.
**M ETAL CLAD.** These are usually softwood with a thin metal covering, and require average or above-average force and a crowbar.
**H OLLOW METAL.** These doors are of a heavier-gauge metal that usually has a reinforcing channel around the edges and the lock mounting area, and are sometimes filled with some type of insulating material. These require maximum force and a crowbar.
### **HOW TO EVADE A STAMPEDE OF SHOPPERS**
**Stay focused and visualize your goal.**
Do not freeze in front of the pack; do not wait for the crowd of shoppers to get close before you make your move. Reacting early and decisively in crowds offers your best shot at survival.
**Avoid herd mentality.**
Animals travel in herds because there is safety in numbers, and the safest place is at the center of the pack, insulated from predators. Avoid the temptation to join the herd—you cannot shop if you cannot see the merchandise.
**Do not move toward the oncoming herd.**
You risk being trampled if you try to thread your way through a stampede. If you are unable to get out of the way of a fast-moving crowd, bring your arms in tightly around any packages you are carrying, turn your body in the direction of the crowd, and let yourself be carried along as you work your way to the outside of the herd.
**Maximize your movement options.**
If you need to negotiate a crowd, stay on the edge. Use the space near the walls to gain a few extra yards of room. Most shoppers will leave at least several feet between themselves and surrounding walls. This will give you room to maneuver.
**_Be Aware_**
When heading into a shopping situation where crowds may be present, wear proper shoes. Open-toed shoes offer minimal protection for your feet, and high heels will restrict your mobility. Select shoes with flat heels. Rubber soles provide better traction.
#### **H OW TO PENETRATE A CROWD TO GET THE LAST ITEM ON THE SHELF**
**1 Move slowly and decisively toward the front without appearing too aggressive.**
Shoving or cutting people off will provoke flying elbows and closed ranks.
**2 Keep your eyes on the other shoppers, so you can anticipate their movements.**
**3 Maintain a calm demeanor as you close in on the target item.**
Breathe evenly and slowly. Avoid signaling your urgency, which might alert the crowd to the desirability of the toy or other target. Avoid stepping on toes or panicking other shoppers, which may cause a stampede.
**4 Smile.**
**5 Grab the item.**
Tuck it under your arm as you would a football to prevent it from being knocked or torn loose.
**6 Proceed to the nearest cash register.**
Continue to move with the crowd until you are able to slip down an aisle unnoticed.
### **H OW TO ESCAPE FROM A COLLAPSED SOFA BED**
**Grasp the top edge of the bed** if your arms are free and pull your lower body away from the folding section. If your arms are pinned, dig your heels into the mattress and push to lift the folding section enough to shift position. Wriggle to the edge of the bed, grasp a sofa arm, and pull yourself free.
### **HOW TO FREE YOUR LEG FROM A BEAR TRAP**
**1 Move your foot and wiggle your toes.**
Bear traps are designed to catch and hold the leg of a bear, not cut it off. Your leg may be badly bruised, but it should not be severely injured or amputated. Attempt to move your foot and toes to determine if you still have circulation and to check for tendon and muscle damage. In general, the steel "jaws" of the trap are not sharp. Each side of the jaw should have "teeth" that are designed to allow circulation. If you cannot feel your foot or do not have range of movement, you will have to work quickly.
**2 Sit with the trap in front of you.**
Sit on the ground and move the trapped leg so it is in front of you, bent slightly. The trap may be anchored to the ground with a short chain, or the chain may be attached to a loose hook. (When the caught animal runs away, the hook leaves a trail that is easy to track.)
**3 Familiarize yourself with the trap.**
The trap will have one piece of bent steel (a "spring") to the left and another piece to the right of the jaws. The center of the trap will have a flat steel plate called a "pan." Your leg will be between the jaws, your foot on the pan.
**4 Place one hand on the top of each spring.**
**5 Close the springs.**
With as much force as possible, press down hard on the springs to compress them. As the springs compress, they will lower and relieve pressure on the jaws.
**6 Once the jaws are loose, slip your foot out of the trap.**
**7 Release the springs.**
Take pressure off the springs slowly to avoid snapping the jaws closed suddenly.
**8 Check your leg for damage.**
Look for broken skin and tissue damage. Seek medical attention if you are injured. Be sure to request a tetanus booster if metal has pierced the skin.
### **HOW TO ESCAPE FROM A CAR HANGING OVER THE EDGE OF A CLIFF**
**1 Do not shift your weight or make any sudden movements.**
**2 Determine how much time you have.**
If the car is like the majority of cars, it is front-wheel drive with the engine in front. This means the bulk of its weight is over the front axle. If the rear, rather than the front, is hanging over the edge of the cliff, you probably have more time to climb out. If the front of the car is over the edge, assess your situation. What is the angle of the car? Is it teetering? Does it sway when you shift your weight? If the car is shifting, you must act quickly.
**3 If the front doors are still over land, use these doors to make your escape, regardless of which way your car is facing.**
Open the door gradually, move slowly, and get out.
**4 If the front doors are over the edge, move to the rear of the car.**
Proceed slowly and deliberately; do not jump or lurch. If you have a steering wheel lock or a screwdriver, take it with you—you may need it to get out.
**5 Reassess your situation.**
Will opening the rear doors cause the car to slide? If not, open them slowly and get out quickly.
**6 If you think that opening the rear doors will cause the car to slide over the edge, you must break the window.**
Without shifting your weight or rocking the car, use the steering wheel lock or screwdriver to shatter the rear door window (this is safer than breaking the back window because it will require less movement as you climb out). Punch it in the center—the window is made of safety glass and will not injure you.
**7 Get out as quickly as possible.**
**_Be Aware_**
• In situations involving several people, everyone in the front (or everyone in the back) should execute each step simultaneously.
• If driver and passengers are in both front and rear seats, the people who are closest to the edge of the cliff should attempt to get out of the car first.
### **HOW TO STOP A CAR WITH NO BRAKES**
**1 Begin pumping the brake pedal and keep pumping it.**
You may be able to build up enough pressure in the braking system to slow down a bit, or even stop completely. If you have anti-lock brakes, you do not normally pump them—but if your brakes have failed, this may work.
**2 Do not panic—relax and steer the car smoothly.**
Cars will often safely corner at speeds much higher than you realize or are used to driving. The rear of the car may slip; steer evenly, being careful not to over-correct.
**3 Shift the car into the lowest gear possible and let the engine and transmission slow you down.**
**4 Pull the emergency brake—but not too hard.**
Pulling too hard on the emergency brake will cause the rear wheels to lock, and the car to spin around. Use even, constant pressure. In most cars, the emergency brake (also known as the hand brake or parking brake) is cable operated and serves as a fail-safe brake that should still work even when the rest of the braking system has failed. The car should slow down and, in combination with the lower gear, will eventually stop.
**5 If you are running out of room, try a "bootlegger's turn."**
Yank the emergency brake hard while turning the wheel a quarter turn in either direction—whichever is safer. This will make the car spin 180 degrees. If you were heading downhill, this spin will head you back uphill, allowing you to slow down.
**6 If you have room, swerve the car back and forth across the road.**
Making hard turns at each side of the road will decrease your speed even more.
**7 If you come up behind another car, use it to help you stop.**
Blow your horn, flash your lights, and try to get the driver's attention. If you hit the car, be sure to hit it square, bumper to bumper, so you do not knock the other car off the road. This is an extremely dangerous maneuver: It works best if the vehicle in front of you is larger than yours—a bus or truck is ideal—and if both vehicles are traveling at similar speeds. You do not want to crash into a much slower-moving or stopped vehicle, however.
**8 Look for something to help stop you.**
A flat or uphill road that intersects with the road you are on, a field, or a fence will slow you further but not stop you suddenly. Scraping the side of your car against a guardrail is another option. Avoid trees and wooden telephone poles: They do not yield as readily.
**9 Do not attempt to sideswipe oncoming cars.**
**10 If none of the above steps has enabled you to stop and you are about to go over a cliff, try to hit something that will slow you down before you go over.**
This strategy will also leave a clue to others that someone has gone over the edge. But since very few cliffs are sheer drops, you may fall just several feet and then stop.
### **HOW TO STOP A RUNAWAY GOLF CART**
#### **I F YOU ARE IN THE CART**
**1 Attempt to shut off the cart.**
If the cart is electric, turn the ignition key to the "off" position. If the cart is gas-powered, do not turn the key to the "off" position—leave it in gear.
**2 Try to engage the service brake.**
The service, or hill, brake is located on the top half of the brake pedal. Push it forward until it sticks. If it engages, the cart should stop quickly.
**3 If the service brake fails, wait for the automatic emergency system to stop the cart.**
If you are still moving, there has been a brake failure. Most late-model electric carts also have "downhill braking," an automatic emergency system that is designed to stop the cart in the event of downhill acceleration. This emergency brake should now engage. Gas carts do not use downhill braking: They have compression braking, which uses the engine to stop the cart experiencing uncontrolled acceleration. This emergency system should also activate automatically.
**4 If the cart does not stop, attempt to ride it out.**
You should be able to steer a golf cart even with the key turned off. Stay in the cart and steer onto a gentle incline, which will slow or stop it. Do not jerk the wheel or make any sharp turns. If the car is accelerating downhill or into unsafe terrain and you cannot slow it down, prepare to exit.
**5 Jump out of the cart.**
Do not try to land on your feet. Leap out and away from the path of the cart, rolling on your side to lessen the impact until you are at a safe distance. Protect your head with your arms and aim for grass or other forgiving terrain.
#### **I F YOU ARE NOT IN THE CART**
**1 Evaluate the situation.**
If an empty cart is accelerating downhill and you are far behind, you may not be able to reach it. If the cart is headed uphill or into scrub brush rather than a water hazard, and there are no people in front of the cart, it may slow down on its own. If the cart is headed toward people, a green, or another area where it may cause damage, you may be able to intercept it.
**2 Chase the cart and match its speed.**
Unless the cart is traveling in a straight line downhill from your position, run at an angle that will allow you to catch up with it.
**3 Grab the roof or a roof support.**
If the cart is a model without a roof, grab the back of the seat. Do not reach for the wheel before you are in the cart, or you risk turning the cart into your path and running yourself over.
**4 Swing your body into the cart.**
Do not dive into the cart head first. Pull yourself aboard using your arms. Swing your legs in.
**5 Turn the steering wheel gently to obtain control.**
Do not jerk it.
**6 Steer the cart up a rise or into a sand trap.**
The sand should slow it down and eventually stop it.
**_Be Aware_**
• The industry maximum speed for both electric and gas golf carts is about 14 miles per hour. (Special vehicles can reach speeds of 18 mph.) A runaway golf cart is usually traveling only with momentum, not with electric or gas power, and should not be traveling at more than a few miles per hour, unless it is going down a hill.
• Always set the hill brake when leaving the cart, whether or not you have stopped on a hill.
### **HOW TO ESCAPE FROM A SINKING CAR**
**1 As soon as you hit the water, open your window.**
This is your best chance of escape, because opening the door will be very difficult given the outside water pressure. (To be safe, you should drive with the windows and doors slightly open whenever you are near water or are driving on ice.) Opening the windows allows water to come in and equalize the pressure. Once the water pressure inside and outside the car is equal, you'll be able to open the door.
**2 If your power windows won't work or you cannot roll your windows down all the way, attempt to break the glass with your foot or shoulder or a heavy object such as an antitheft steering wheel lock.**
**3 Get out.**
Do not worry about leaving anything behind unless it is another person. Vehicles with engines in front will sink at a steep angle. If the water is fifteen feet or deeper, the vehicle may end up on its roof, upside down. For this reason, you must get out as soon as possible, while the car is still afloat. Depending on the vehicle, floating time will range from a few seconds to a few minutes. The more airtight the car, the longer it floats. Air in the car will quickly be forced through the trunk and cab, and an air bubble is unlikely to remain once the car hits bottom. Get out as early as possible.
**4 If you are unable to open the window or break it, you have one final option.**
Remain calm and do not panic. Wait until the car begins filling with water. When the water reaches your head, take a deep breath and hold it. Now the pressure should be equalized inside and outside, and you should be able to open the door and swim to the surface.
#### **H OW TO AVOID BREAKING THROUGH THE ICE**
• Cars and light trucks need at least eight inches of clear, solid ice on which to drive safely.
• Driving early or late in the season is not advisable.
• Leaving your car in one place for a long period of time can weaken the ice beneath it, and cars should not be parked—or driven—close together.
• Cross any cracks at right angles, and drive slowly.
• New ice is generally thicker than old ice.
• Direct freezing of lake or stream water is stronger than refreezing, freezing of melting snow, or freezing of water bubbling up through cracks.
• If there is a layer of snow on the ice, beware: a layer of snow insulates the ice, slowing the freezing process, and the snow's weight can decrease the bearing capacity of the ice.
• Ice near the shore is weaker.
• River ice is generally weaker than lake ice.
• River mouths are dangerous, because the ice near them is weaker.
• Carry several large nails in your pocket, and a length of rope. The nails will help you pull yourself out of the ice, and the rope can be thrown to someone on more solid ice, or can be used to help someone else.
### **HOW TO ESCAPE FROM THE TRUNK OF A CAR**
**1 If you are in a trunk that has no wall separating the backseats and the trunk, try to get the seats down.**
Although the release for most seats is inside the passenger compartment, you may be able to fold or force them down from the trunk side. (If not, continue to step 2.)
**2 Check for a trunk cable underneath the carpet or upholstery.**
Many new cars have a trunk release lever on the floor below the driver's seat. These cars should have a cable that runs from the release lever to the trunk. Look for the cable beneath carpeting or upholstery, or behind a panel of sheet metal. If you locate the cable, pull on it to release the trunk latch. (If not, continue to step 3.)
**3 Look for a tool in the trunk.**
Many cars have emergency kits inside the trunk, underneath or with the spare tire. These kits may contain a screwdriver, flashlight, or pry bar. Use a screwdriver or pry bar to pry the latch open. You can also pry the corner of the trunk lid up and wave and yell to signal passersby. (If there is no tool, continue to step 4.)
**4 Dismantle the car's brake lights by yanking wires and pushing or kicking the lights out.**
Then wave and yell to signal passersby or other cars. This method is also recommended if the car is moving and you need to signal cars behind you.
**_Be Aware_**
No car trunk is airtight, so the danger of suffocation in a car trunk is low. Breathe regularly and do not panic—panic increases the danger of your hyperventilating and passing out. Keep in mind, however, that on a hot day the interior temperature of a car trunk can reach 140 degrees. Work quickly but calmly.
### **HOW TO ESCAPE WHEN TIED UP**
#### **U PPER TORSO BONDS**
**1 When your captors start binding you, expand your body as much as possible.**
• Take a deep breath, puff out your chest, and pull your shoulders back.
• Flex your arms against the bonds.
• Push against the bonds as much as possible.
**2 When your captors are away, suck in your chest and stomach.**
**3 Wiggle free with the extra room you have given yourself.**
#### **H AND AND WRIST BONDS**
**1 Push or flex against the bonds as your captors are tying you.**
**2 Keep your wrists apart, if possible.**
**3 Use a pointed object that protrudes (a spike or hook) to work the bonds loose.**
You may also be able to work the knots free with your teeth by biting and pulling on the knots.
**4 Free yourself by relaxing your hands and wrists and working until the slack can ride over your palms and fingertips.**
#### **L EG AND ANKLE BONDS**
**1 While being bound, flex your thighs, knees, calves, and ankles against the bonds.**
• If being bound at the ankles, force them apart by bracing the toes of your shoes and knees together.
• If being bound at the thighs or calves, force them apart by keeping the toes of your feet together and your legs turned slightly outward.
**2 Relax your legs and work the bonds down.**
Use your hands to pull the bonds off your legs and ankles, even if your hands are bound.
#### **R EMOVING GAGS**
**Rub your face or head against a wall, a piece of furniture, or anything projecting to slip the gag down over your chin.**
### **HOW TO ESCAPE FROM A BAD DATE**
#### **F AKE AN EMERGENCY**
**1 Excuse yourself from the table.**
Tell your date that you are going to the restroom to "wash up." Take your cell phone with you. If you do not have one, locate a restaurant phone that's out of your date's line of vision. Bring a restaurant match-book or a business card that includes the restaurant's phone number.
**2 Call a friend or relative for help.**
Tell them to call you (either on your cell phone or on the restaurant's phone) and pretend there has been an emergency. Believable emergencies are:
• Personal Crisis: "My friend just broke up with her husband—she's having a breakdown. I have to go."
• Business Crisis: "My boss just called—she's in Seattle for a major presentation, and has lost all her files. I have to e-mail them to her immediately."
• Health Crisis: "My sister just called—our grandmother is alone and ill."
**3 Leave quickly before your date can protest.**
Apologize, but refuse any attempt your date makes to accompany you. If you leave swiftly and without hesitation, your date won't have time to understand what's happening or to object.
#### **S LIP AWAY UNNOTICED**
**1 Identify your escape route.**
Observe your surroundings. Take note of the exits, especially the back doors. Look for the best way out and an alternative.
**2 Plan to alter your appearance.**
Think about your most distinctive features and figure out how to hide or disguise them. The person you are trying to leave is going to see a figure moving past and away at a distance and will be focusing on the first impression. If you are not familiar to him and are uninteresting, you will not get a second look.
**3 Excuse yourself from the table.**
Move to the restroom or any private area with a mirror to begin your transformation. Your date will probably wait only two or three minutes before expecting you to return, so act quickly, before he begins looking for you.
**4 Add or remove clothing.**
Layering garments will change your body shape and even suggest a different gender. A long coat will obscure your body type. Hats are especially useful because they conceal your hair and facial features. Eyeglasses, whether added or removed, work wonders. A shopping bag is a handy prop and can be used to hold your belongings.
**5 Change your walk and posture.**
If you usually walk quickly, move slowly. If you stand up straight, hunch over. To alter your gait, slip a pebble in one shoe or bind one of your knees with a piece of string or cloth.
**6 Use or remove cosmetics.**
Lipstick can change the shape of your mouth, heighten the color in your cheeks and nose, and even give you tired eyes if dabbed and blended on your eyelids. An eyebrow pencil can be used to add age lines, change the shape of your eyes and brows, or create facial hair.
**7 Change your hairstyle or color.**
A rubberband, hairspray, water, or any gooey substance can be useful for changing a hairstyle, darkening your hair, or altering a hairline. Borrow flour from the kitchen to lighten or gray your hair color.
**8 Adopt a cover role.**
A waiter in the restaurant may have an apron and be carrying a tray. If you can manage to procure these items, add or subtract a pair of eyeglasses and alter your hairline or hairstyle, you can become invisible as you are moving out of the restaurant, into the kitchen, and out the rear door. Or you can take on the role of a maintenance worker; carry a convenient potted plant out the front door and no one will think twice.
**9 Make your move.**
Do not look at your date.
#### **S LIP OUT THE WINDOW**
If you do not think you will be able to change your appearance enough to slip past your date, you may have to find another way to depart. Back doors are the simplest; they are often located near the restrooms or are marked as fire exits. Do not open an emergency exit door if it is alarmed unless absolutely necessary; an alarm will only draw attention. If there are no accessible alternate doors, you will need to find a window.
**1 Locate a usable window.**
Avoid windows with chicken wire or large plate glass. Bathroom windows often work best. If you are not on the ground floor, be sure there is a fire escape.
**2 Attempt to open the window.**
Do not immediately break the window, no matter how dire your need to get out.
**3 Prepare to break the window if you cannot open it.**
Make sure no one is around. If you can, lock the bathroom door.
**4 Find an implement to break the window.**
Try to avoid using your elbow, fist, or foot. Suitable implements are:
• Wastebasket
• Toilet plunger
• Handbag or briefcase
• Paper towel dispenser
**5 Strike the center of the glass with the implement.**
If the hand holding the implement will come within a foot of the window as you break it, wrap it with a jacket or sweater before attempting to break the glass. If no implement is available, use your heavily wrapped hand; be sure you wrap your arm as well, beyond the elbow.
**6 Punch out any remaining shards of glass.**
Cover your fist with a jacket or sweater before removing the glass.
**7 Make your escape.**
Do not worry about any minor nicks and cuts. Run.
#### **G ET YOUR DATE TO LEAVE**
**1 Say something offensive.**
If you know your date is of a particular religion or ethnicity, make inappropriate comments.
**2 Behave inappropriately.**
Do things that you think he will find unattractive or distasteful: chew with your mouth open, eat with your fingers, argue with the waiter, close your eyes and pretend to sleep, light matches and drop them on your plate, ignore everything he says, and/or call someone else on your cell phone.
**3 Send your date on a "fool's errand."**
• Tell him you want to go to a specific nightclub, but explain that it gets very crowded and that if you are not in line by a certain time (say, fifteen minutes from then), you won't get in. Tell your date that you have arranged to have your friend stop by the restaurant with guest passes, but that if your date does not go ahead to the nightclub to get in line, you'll never make it inside. If your date wants your cell phone number, give the number willingly but make sure you change one digit. Promise you will see your date within half an hour. Never show.
• Fake an allergy attack, and insist that he leave in search of the appropriate over-the-counter allergy medicine. Explain that you must have been allergic to something in the drink/appetizer/food/ taxicab, and that if you do not obtain your medicine you will break out in hives. When your date dutifully leaves, slip away.
**_Be Aware_**
Blind dates are the riskiest form of dating—it is best to check out a potential suitor extensively before the date.
• Have a friend agree to check out your potential suitor and call you before you enter the bar/restaurant. Send your friend in with a cell phone. Situate yourself at a bar nearby, and await her call. Have her contact you when she has identified the mark.
• If you discover unsavory facts about someone you're supposed to meet, call immediately to cancel the date. Blame work and say that you have to stay late at the office, or say that you're experiencing car trouble. A more permanent solution is to say that an old flame has reentered your life; this will prevent your blind date from calling you again and asking for a rain check.
### **H OW TO THWART AN AFFECTIONATE COSTUMED MASCOT**
**Keep a bench or child between yourself and the mascot.** Shout "No!" and the mascot's name, if known. If unable to escape, crouch low to the ground, as the heavy plush fur of the mascot's suit may prevent him from bending down.
### **HOW TO FOIL A UFO ABDUCTION**
**1 Do not panic.**
The extraterrestrial biological entity (EBE) may sense your fear and act rashly.
**2 Control your thoughts.**
Do not think of anything violent or upsetting—the EBE may have the ability to read your mind. Try to avoid mental images of abduction (boarding the UFO, anal probes); such images may encourage them to take you.
**3 Resist verbally.**
Firmly tell the EBE to leave you alone.
**4 Resist mentally.**
Picture yourself enveloped in a protective shield of white light, or in a safe place. Telepathic EBEs may get the message.
**5 Resist physically.**
Physical resistance should be used only as a last resort. Go for the EBE's eyes (if they have any)—you will not know what its other, more sensitive areas are.
#### **H OW TO REPORT A UFO SIGHTING**
**1 Stay calm.**
If you become upset or excited, you are likely to forget important details.
**2 Accurately record the time at the start of the sighting, the time of any change of direction in the UFO's flight pattern, and the time at the end of the sighting.**
If possible, use a mechanical stopwatch, since close proximity to a UFO may prevent electronic instruments from functioning correctly.
**3 Sketch a schematic of the UFO's path in the ground.**
Mark your position in the ground at the start of the sighting, and draw a line in the direction of the object when first seen, for each direction change, and when last seen.
**4 Try to identify any horizon landmarks with regard to the UFO's position.**
**5 If you have a video or still camera, record the sighting.**
Neither video nor still images carry much weight on their own, so it is essential that the images include reference information such as a tree, a mountain, or a skyline.
**6 Report the sighting as soon as possible.**
Contact the UFO Reporting and Information Service, the Mutual UFO Network, or the National UFO Reporting Center.
**_Be Aware_**
Most sightings are in rural areas, away from bright lights, and near military installations. They occur most frequently during the summer months, around 9:00 P.M., with a secondary peak at around 3:00 A.M.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE IN A PLUMMETING ELEVATOR**
**1 Flatten your body against the car floor.**
While there is disagreement among the experts, most recommend this method. This should distribute the force of impact, rather than concentrate it on one area of your body. (Standing may be difficult anyway.) Lie in the center of the car.
**2 Cover your face and head to protect them from ceiling parts that may break loose.**
**_Be Aware_**
• Hydraulic elevators are more likely than cable elevators to fall. These elevators are pushed from the bottom by a giant piston, similar to car jacks at service stations. Because the jack is subject to ground corrosion, it can rot, which could eventually cause the car to fall. The height of hydraulic elevators is limited to about 70 feet, so a free fall would probably result in injury—but not death.
• Elevators have numerous safety features. There have been very few recorded incidents involving death from plummeting elevators. In general, it is highly unlikely for a cable (also called traction) elevator to fall all the way to the bottom of the shaft. Moreover, the compressed air column in the elevator hoistway and the car buffers at the bottom of the hoistway may keep the forces of the impact survivable.
• Jumping just before the elevator hits the bottom is not a viable alternative. The chances that you will time your jump exactly right are infinitesimally small. Besides, the elevator will not remain completely intact when it hits—it will likely collapse around you and crush you if you are in the middle of your jump, or even if you are still standing.
### **HOW TO SNEAK OUT OF A MEETING**
#### **S NEAK OUT IN PLAIN SIGHT**
**1 Establish your presence.**
Lay the groundwork for your departure by first making a brief speech, giving a short presentation, or otherwise making your presence known. In this way people will remember that you were there.
**2 Call attention to yourself.**
Make a show of going out and then coming back into the meeting several times. Say, "Boy, this coffee really goes right through me!" and then go to the restroom twice. Make sure people notice when you return.
**3 Make your escape.**
The third time you leave, don't return.
#### **S NEAK OUT USING A DISTRACTION**
**1 Express interest in attending the meeting.**
Before the meeting, say to your boss or a colleague, "I can't wait to see what Phil has to say" or, "Which conference room is the meeting in?" Make it clear that you really want this meeting and, thus, would be the last one to miss it.
**2 Sit away from the focus of attention.**
Sit on the opposite end of the room from the person running the meeting or from the screen where the presentation will be displayed.
**3 Sneak out.**
When the lights dim and the presentation begins, quietly get up from your seat. If there are empty chairs around the table, just walk away from your chair. If all the seats are taken, move your chair away from the table against a wall so the vacant chair will not be noticed. Leave the room and don't come back. Have a plausible cover story ready, such as an unexpected visit from a client/customer or a personal emergency regarding your spouse/child/pet.
#### **C RAWL UNDER THE TABLE**
**1 Assess the size and shape of the table.**
The ideal conference table to escape is rectangular and seats at least 12 people, preferably more, with some of the seats left empty. People cluster at the center or at one end of the table if it is not full, usually leaving one or both ends available for an exit route. Do not attempt to sneak away under a round table since you may be surrounded by legs.
**2 Slide under the table.**
When no one is looking, slide quietly down your chair to the floor. Push your chair against the wall or leave it in its place, depending on how full the table is (see step 3 above). Do not call attention to yourself.
**3 Crawl.**
Proceed on your hands and knees under the center of the table. Avoid bumping shins, feet, or loose shoes. If you are discovered, say you are looking for your pen.
**4 Monitor conversation.**
The end of the table will probably be closest to the door. Wait until someone at a long side of the table is speaking: People will look in that direction.
**5 Continue on all fours.**
Crawl out from under the table and to the door. Reach up and open the door quietly. Check for people outside.
**6 Exit the room.**
When the coast is clear, crawl into the hallway.
**7 Stand up and walk away.**
**_Be Aware_**
• If you plan to escape by crawling, wear loose-fitting clothes.
• Most people have limited peripheral vision; when looking straight ahead, they cannot see an object at an angle of more than 45 degrees behind and to the side. Use this as a guide when determining if your escape will be noticed.
• If other escape plans will not work, spill a cup of lukewarm coffee on your pants. This strategy wins sympathy and also offers a perfect excuse for leaving the meeting. If someone later asks why you never returned, say you got a slight burn. They probably will not seek to verify.
#### **H OW TO STAY AWAKE DURING A MEETING**
**Use correct meeting posture.**
Keep your head up, shoulders back, and spine straight. Keep your legs bent at a 90-degree angle, not fully extended. Feet should be flat on the floor.
**Be on guard for mind-numbing repetition.**
Repetitive noise patterns and repetitive images can cause a trance-like state that deadens the senses. If phrases like "need better communication" and "building a team" are repeated, or if tables, graphs, and pie charts are projected endlessly, exit the room for a few minutes.
**Wear sunglasses.**
The harsh glare of fluorescent lights can cause eye strain and lead to fatigue. Wear dark glasses.
**Exercise.**
Exercise combats fatigue and keeps the mind alert. Take frequent walks around the room or do calisthenics. If possible, jog in place.
**Stay hydrated.**
Drink water or sports drinks that provide energy and contain potassium, salt, and carbohydrates. Coffee contains caffeine, a stimulant that also acts as a diuretic, which will cause dehydration, so drink at least one glass of water for every cup of coffee you consume. This will also promote trips to the bathroom and, consequently, movement and stimulation. Do not drink alcohol: It depresses the nervous system and leads to fatigue.
**Use interrogation techniques.**
Pinch yourself, sit in an uncomfortable position, poke your leg with a pen or paper clip, or stare wide-eyed at a bright light—the pain will heighten your awareness.
**_Be Aware_**
Warning signs of meeting fatigue include inattentiveness, back tension, shallow breathing, frequent blinking, heavy eyelids, and snoring.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE IF TRAPPED IN THE WORKPLACE**
If kicking or banging on the door to the **bathroom, supply closet, walk-in-freezer,** or **lion cage** does not summon help immediately, save your energy for other means of egress.
#### **I N A BATHROOM**
##### **B REAK THROUGH THE WALL**
**1 Tap on the wall until you hear a hollow sound.**
**2 Bang a hole in the wall.**
Use a wooden plunger handle or other strong bathroom implement to poke at the wall. Avoid tiled areas. Continue jabbing and breaking the wall until you have opened a wide hole.
**3 Crawl through.**
Squeeze your body between the studs.
##### **C LIMB OUT THROUGH THE CEILING**
**1 Push out the ceiling tiles.**
Stand on the sink or other sturdy fixture. Push several drop-tile squares up and over to the side.
**2 Look for pipes or other handholds.**
**3 Select a horizontal pipe that leads out of the bathroom.**
**4 Pull yourself up and onto the pipe.**
Grab a pipe at least 6 inches in diameter. Pull up as you would for a chin-up, then swing your legs onto the pipe. Do not put your weight on the ceiling tiles or you risk falling through.
**5 Crawl.**
Shimmy along the pipe until you are no longer above the bathroom.
**6 Kick out a ceiling tile and drop down into the hallway.**
**_Be Aware_**
With ready access to water from the sink, you should be able to survive for days, if not weeks, in the bathroom, even without food.
#### **I N A SUPPLY CLOSET**
**1 Find a screwdriver.**
If no screwdriver is available, look for a letter opener, bottle opener, tape dispenser, cocktail shaker, three-hole punch, or other metal implement with a flat end. A metal pen or strong plastic pen can also work.
**2 Examine the door hinges.**
Most doors open in and have the hinges on the inside. Locate the lower hinge.
**3 Place the tip of the screwdriver under the top edge of the hinge pin.**
**4 Push or bang on the top of the handle of the screwdriver.**
Pound with a hammer, shoe heel, table or chair leg, or other hard, unbreakable object.
**5 Remove the pin from the hinge.**
**6 Remove the upper hinge.**
Repeat steps 3 through 5.
**7 Lift the door away from the door frame.**
Pull on the hinge side first. You may be able to pull the door completely away from the frame.
**8 Exit.**
#### **I N A WALK-IN FREEZER**
**1 Stay calm.**
Panic wastes energy, which is warmth. The room's insulation and motor noise will likely prevent anyone from hearing your cries for help. Find a metal implement (keys or coins will work) and tap several times on the door to get someone's attention.
**2 Check the door and lock area.**
By law, all walk-in freezers and refrigerators must have an emergency release switch on the interior. Look on the door for a fluorescent knob that turns, or a lever that moves up and down.
**3 Locate a power switch.**
Most units have a temperature control module on the inside, but it is likely to be well protected and may require tools to access. Some models may have an accessible on/off switch. If you can access the switch, turn off the cooling element.
**4 Locate boxes.**
Tear cardboard boxes apart and spread the cardboard on the floor. The freezer's floor will be concrete or metal, and coming in contact with it will reduce your body temperature quickly.
**5 Look for insulating materials.**
Many food items are packed in paper, plastic, foam peanuts, or straw. Lie down on the cardboard and cover yourself with insulating items to preserve body heat. Take care to cover your head completely: In cold conditions, an enormous amount of heat is lost through the head.
**6 Breathe slowly and stay put.**
Take slow breaths and do not move around in the freezer or overexert yourself.
**7 Stay hydrated.**
Suck on ice cubes or on frost from food parcels. Do not use body heat to melt frozen items or you risk hypothermia.
**8 Eat only if ice is available.**
Digestion requires water, so do not eat unless there is a sufficient supply of ice for you to melt. Eat ice cream or other foods intended to be eaten frozen. Avoid meats; these are likely to be frozen solid anyway.
**9 Tap on the door every 15 minutes until help arrives.**
**_Be Aware_**
• Do not attempt to disable the refrigeration mechanism. This may cause the unit to malfunction and leak noxious chemicals.
• Remain close to the ground. Although in most environments heat rises, the freezer will have a uniform temperature throughout, and the refrigeration mechanism is likely to be closer to the ceiling than at floor level.
• It is often customary to don a fur or other warm coat before entering a commercial freezer for any length of time. If you are wearing a coat, use it, but avoid over-exertion as you move around: Sweating causes the body to cool rapidly. If you feel yourself begin to sweat, open the coat slightly.
• Do not build a fire in an enclosed space.
#### **I N A LION CAGE**
##### **I F THE LION IS NOT IMMEDIATELY VISIBLE**
**1 Quickly survey the cage.**
Check to see if the lion is present. Most zoos have a large outdoor area for the lions to roam, and the lion may have wandered outside. The cage will be connected to this area through a small passage with a door that allows the cage to be sealed and cleaned while the lion is outside.
**2 Shut the door.**
If a door is present and the lion is not, shut the door. If the lion is present, do not shut the door.
**3 Yell for help.**
##### **I F THE LION IS VISIBLE**
**1 Do not run.**
Even if the cage is large, or you feel you can safely make it to the passageway and through the door to the outdoor area, do not turn and run. This will only get the lion's attention, and there may be more lions outside.
**2 Stay still and calm.**
Do not provoke the lion by moving around, running, or charging.
**3 Check for cubs.**
A lioness guarding cubs will defend them fiercely, and may be more inclined to attack. If you see cubs, freeze.
**4 Check for food.**
Lions are extremely protective of food, and even a lion with a full belly will protect his "kill." If the lion appears to be feeding or you notice fresh meat, do not approach the lion or its food.
**5 Observe the lion's eyes and tail.**
A lion in a zoo will be desensitized to the presence of humans and may not attack immediately. Lions have different temperaments, however, and can range from passive to highly aggressive. Even a passive lion is likely to eventually attack a stranger in its cage. If the lion meets your gaze and its tail begins to twitch, the lion is getting ready to attack.
**6 Listen for a growl.**
A low staccato growl, combined with eye contact and a lashing tail, usually indicates that an attack is likely.
**7 Find a defensive tool.**
Moving very slowly, pick up anything within reach: a water bowl, bench, or anything else that may be used to fend off a charge.
**8 Back away slowly.**
Moving carefully, back toward the door of the cage. Using a quiet but firm voice, tell someone to open the cage or, if impossible, to get the lion keeper immediately.
**9 Watch for mock charges.**
A lion may make several "mock" charges before actually attacking. It will run forward suddenly, then stop. It may back away before charging again. Mock-charging is an indication that a real attack is imminent. Stand your ground and be ready.
**10 Yell.**
Yell as loud as you can. Lions are sensitive to loud noises and yelling may discourage one from further charges.
**11 Fend off attack.**
If the lion attacks, use a bench, bowl, or any other object to push its paws and head away from you.
**12 Yell for help.**
Keep screaming as loudly as possible.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE IF YOU ARE BURIED ALIVE**
**1 Conserve your air supply.**
If you are buried in a typical coffin, you will have enough air to survive for an hour or two at most. Take deep breaths, then hold for as long as possible before exhaling. Do not breathe and then swallow, which will lead to hyperventilation. Do not light a match or lighter. Combustion will quickly use your available oxygen. It is safe to use a flashlight if you have one. Do not yell. Yelling will lead to panic, which will increase your heart rate and lead to fast breathing that will rapidly consume your air supply.
**2 Press up on the coffin lid with your hands.**
An inexpensive "pine box" (chipboard coffin) or a recycled paperboard coffin will have some give to it, so it will be relatively easy to break through. If you feel flex in the coffin lid, continue to step 3. A metal-clad or hardwood coffin will be impossible to pierce. In this case, your only hope is to signal for rescue. Use a metal object (ring, belt buckle, coin, flask, pen) to signal that you are alive. Tap SOS, the international distress signal, on the coffin lid: three quick taps, followed by three slower taps, followed by three quick taps. Continue to repeat the distress call until someone hears you.
**3 Remove your shirt.**
Cross your arms over your chest, then uncross your arms so that your elbows are bent and your hands are at your shoulders. Pull your shirt up and off your head from the shoulders, do a partial sit-up (as much as you can in the space available), then pull your shirt over your head and off.
**4 Tie the bottom of the shirt in a knot.**
The shirt should have only one large opening, at the neck, as does a bag.
**5 Place your head through the neck hole.**
The knot should be on the top of your head. The shirt will prevent you from suffocating on loose earth.
**6 Break through the coffin.**
Using your feet, begin kicking the coffin lid. A cheap coffin may have already split from the weight of the earth above, making your job easier. Break apart the lid with your hands and feet and let the loose dirt rush in.
**7 Use your hands to push the dirt toward your feet.**
There should be some space at the bottom end of the coffin, below your feet. As the dirt rushes in, work quickly but calmly to fill the space at your feet. When this space fills up, push dirt to your sides. Breathe slowly and regularly.
**8 Sit up.**
As you move to a seated position, the loose earth above will move to fill the space you just occupied. As the dirt falls, continue to push it into the coffin until you can stand up.
**9 Stand.**
Once you are standing, you should be able to push the dirt above you up and out of the grave. When you have cleared all the dirt above you, climb out.
**_Be Aware_**
• A recently interred coffin will be covered with loose earth that is relatively easy to dig through.
• Escaping from a coffin interred during a rain storm will be difficult. The compacted weight of the wet earth will make digging almost impossible.
• The higher the clay content of the soil, the more difficult your escape will be.
### **HOW TO ESCAPE FROM QUICKSAND**
**1 When walking in quicksand country, carry a stout pole—it will help you get out should you need to.**
**2 As soon as you start to sink, lay the pole on the surface of the quicksand.**
**3 Flop onto your back on top of the pole.**
After a minute or two, equilibrium in the quicksand will be achieved, and you will no longer sink.
**4 Work the pole to a new position: under your hips and at right angles to your spine.**
The pole will keep your hips from sinking, as you (slowly) pull out first one leg and then the other.
**5 Take the shortest route to firmer ground, moving slowly.**
#### **H OW TO AVOID SINKING**
Quicksand is just ordinary sand mixed with upwelling water, which makes it behave like a liquid. However, quicksand—unlike water—does not easily let go. If you try to pull a limb out of quicksand, you have to work against the vacuum left behind. Following are a few tips:
• The viscosity of quicksand increases with shearing—move slowly so the viscosity is as low as possible.
• Floating on quicksand is relatively easy and is the best way to avoid its clutches. You are more buoyant in quicksand than you are in water. Humans are less dense than freshwater, and saltwater is slightly more dense. Floating is easier in saltwater than freshwater and much easier in quicksand. Spread your arms and legs far apart and try to float on your back.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE A RIOT**
**1 Remain indoors if you learn about any nearby rioting or civil unrest.**
Avoid the windows. Listen for reports on radio or television. If you hear gunfire, try to find out where the shooting is located. Use the telephone if it is still functioning, or ask an official or your hotel manager for information.
**2 If you believe the crisis is unresolvable or seriously threatens your life, plan to leave the country quickly.**
**3 Determine the best route to the airport or embassy, and leave the building through any safe exit.**
Make sure that the airport is operating before you travel there. If you cannot make it to your own country's embassy, plan to head for the embassy of an allied nation.
**4 Wear clothing in muted tones.**
Put on a long-sleeve shirt, jacket, jeans, a hat, socks, and lightweight boots. (Although you may be in a tropical or warm part of the world, it gets quite cold on planes, and you may have to sleep in an airport or connect to a flight landing in a colder region.)
**5 Exit away from gunfire or mobs.**
Select a way out that is not easily observed. Exits include windows, vents, or even the roof.
**6 Leave as a group.**
Especially if you have to dash across an open area, such as the front of a building, a wide street, or a plaza, you are safer with company. Snipers or enemies will have multiple objects to focus on, not just one, and will not be as likely to make a move.
**7 Do not run.**
Unless your life is in imminent danger, walk. Walking is harder for the eye to detect: The human eye can quickly sight someone running. Running can also generate excitement—people may chase you.
**8 If you must travel by car, be prepared for evasive maneuvers.**
Drive on back streets, not main roads, and be prepared to abandon the car if the situation becomes critical. Watch out for checkpoints, roundabouts, major intersections, and military/police barracks. Do not stop for anything—remember the car can be a useful 2,000-pound weapon that even a mob cannot stop. If you cannot drive forward, drive in reverse.
A reliable driver who knows the area will be able to navigate much better than you. If no driver or taxi is available, hire a local to drive your car for you. (You may need to promise to give your car in exchange.) Abandon the car outside the embassy or airport.
If a Molotov cocktail (flammable liquid in a glass container with a lighted wick) hits your car, speed up—it may burn out as you gain speed.
**9 If you encounter unavoidable roadblocks, be prepared to bargain your way to safety.**
You might need to give up everything you are carrying in order to get away. Offer cash first, equipment (watches, cameras, jewelry) second.
**10 Get to an embassy or to the airport as soon as possible.**
**_Be Aware_**
• If you are in a volatile region where there is a likelihood of civil disorder, be prepared for a rapid evacuation. Each person and family member should have an escape pack set aside near the front door. A good, small backpack is preferable to any type of luggage. It should contain the following:
**F LASHLIGHT.** Pack a mini-flashlight with extra batteries. Affix a red or blue lens if you have one; red or blue light is difficult for observers (snipers, mobs) to see at night.
**S MALL COMPASS AND A DETAILED MAP OF THE CITY.** Be sure to mark the embassy and helicopter landing zones on the map.
**KNIFE.** Include a small pocketknife for cutting.
**F IRE-STARTING TOOL.** Carry storm-safe matches or a lighter in a waterproof bag. Pack small baggies of dryer lint, which is light and highly flammable.
**B LACK GARBAGE BAGS.** Use these for emergency shelter and camouflage.
**W ATER AND FOOD.** Carry at least two quarts of water per person. Bring only high-energy or instant foods. Do not eat unless you have water.
• Conceal on your person, in a multi-pocket neck pouch, the following items:
**M ONEY.** Take $25 in single U.S. dollars and all of your local currency and divide it among your pouch and pockets. This will serve as bribe money for checkpoints. Dole it out in heaps until it appears you have no more. Do not offer your papers. Carry more money in your neck pouch, but keep the bulk of your cash in your socks, crotch, or ankle pouch.
**P ASSPORT.** Place a full photocopy of your passport in the main section of the pouch for easy access. Keep your original passport in a separate section. Show the copy to locals who demand it. Never give up the original.
**O FFICIAL DOCUMENTS.** Visas, phone numbers, proof of citizenship, birth certificates, and so on should be kept with your original passport.
**S OFT EARPLUGS.** Helicopters are very noisy, and earplugs are useful when you want to sleep in a battle zone.
## **C HAPTER 3**
## **ILLNESS AND INJURY**
### **HOW TO FALL DOWN A FLIGHT OF STAIRS**
**1 Lower your center of gravity.**
When you sense yourself falling, crouch low to the floor.
**2 Do not attempt to break your fall.**
Avoid using your hands to try to break your initial fall. The weight of your body, in conjunction with the gravitational forces of the fall, may break your wrists.
**3 Move to the inside wall.**
As you fall, keep your body close to the wall of the stairway, if there is one. You are more likely to catch an arm or a leg in the banister (or fall through or over it) than to injure yourself on the wall.
**4 Tuck.**
Move your arms, legs, hands, and knees in close to your body. Tuck your chin to your chest. With your elbows tucked in, place your hands on the sides of your head.
**5 Roll in a zigzag pattern.**
Concentrate on rolling on your major muscle groups: lats (back), deltoids (shoulders), quads (thighs), and gluteus maximus (rear end). Avoid rolling head over heels, straight down: Your increasing momentum may cause injury, even with your body positioned correctly. Instead, roll in toward the wall on one shoulder, then out toward the banister on the other. Repeat the pattern until you reach the bottom. A zigzag roll will help you reduce speed and maintain control. Do not attempt the zigzag roll on a stairway with an old, rickety banister, an open railing, or no banister at all.
**6 Check for injury.**
Do not get up immediately. Slowly move each limb in turn to make sure nothing is broken. If you are in extreme pain, yell for help.
### **H OW TO SURVIVE FALLING THROUGH A FLOOR**
**Spread your arms wide** to distribute your weight across unbroken flooring. Place your palms down and push your body up and back, away from the hole. If you are in the hole up to your waist or farther, lean forward onto your forearms and push to raise as much of your body mass as possible above the hole. Repeat until free. Do not grasp at furniture legs above the hole or kick with your legs below.
### **HOW TO TAKE A PUNCH**
#### **A B LOW TO THE BODY**
**1 Tighten your stomach muscles.**
A body blow to the gut (solar plexus) can damage organs and kill. This sort of punch is one of the best and easiest ways to knock someone out. (Harry Houdini died from an unexpected blow to the abdomen.)
**2 Do not suck in your stomach if you expect that a punch is imminent.**
**3 If possible, shift slightly so that the blow hits your side, but do not flinch or move away from the punch.**
Try to absorb the blow with your obliques: this is the set of muscles on your side that wraps around your ribs. While a blow to this area may crack a rib, it is less likely to do damage to internal organs.
#### **A B LOW TO THE HEAD**
**1 Move toward the blow, not away from it.**
Getting punched while moving backward will result in the head taking the punch at full force. A punch to the face can cause head whipping, where the brain moves suddenly inside the skull, and may result in severe injury or death.
**2 Tighten your neck muscles and clench your jaw to avoid scraping of the upper and lower palates.**
#### **A S TRAIGHT PUNCH**
**1 The straight punch—one that comes straight at your face—should be countered by moving toward the blow.**
This will take force from the blow.
**2 A punch can be absorbed most effectively and with the least injury by the forehead.**
Avoid taking the punch in the nose, which is extremely painful.
**3 Attempt to deflect the blow with an arm.**
Moving into the punch may result in your attacker missing the mark wide to either side.
**4 (optional) Hit back with an uppercut or roundhouse.**
#### **A R OUNDHOUSE PUNCH**
**1 Clench your jaw.**
A punch to the ear causes great pain and can break your jaw.
**2 Move in close to your attacker.**
Try to make the punch land harmlessly behind your head.
**3 (optional) Hit back with an uppercut.**
#### **A N UPPERCUT**
**1 Clench your neck and jaw.**
An uppercut can cause much damage, whipping your head back, easily breaking your jaw or your nose.
**2 Use your arm to absorb some of the impact or deflect the blow to the side—anything to minimize the impact of a straight punch to the jaw.**
**3 Do not step into this punch.**
If possible, move your head to the side.
**4 (optional) Hit back with a straight punch to the face or with an uppercut of your own.**
### **HOW TO TAKE A BULLET**
**1 Face the shooter.**
You do not want to take the bullet in your back or the base of your skull.
**2 Get low.**
In addition to making yourself a smaller target, by keeping a low profile you will be better able to protect your head, neck, and midline—all areas where a bullet wound is most likely to cause fatal injury or permanent disability.
**3 Sit.**
Sit with your rear end on the ground. Bend your knees and keep your legs in front of you, protecting your midline with your shins and thighs.
**4 Move your elbows into the center of your body.**
Place both forearms in front of you, covering your face.
**5 Place your hands over your head.**
Hold your fingers together, with your palms toward you. Keep your hands an inch or two in front of you to absorb the impact of the bullet.
**6 Wait for the impact.**
You may notice little more than a "punch" sensation, or you may feel nothing at all.
**7 Determine the site of the injury.**
Bullet wounds in the hands and feet, lower legs, and forearms are rarely fatal, provided blood loss is controlled.
**8 Control the bleeding.**
Place firm, direct pressure on the wound to slow blood loss. If the bullet entered an appendage and pressure does not stop the bleeding, use a belt or narrow strip of cloth as a tourniquet. Place the tourniquet on the affected limb, several inches above the injury site. It should be tight enough to stop heavy blood flow. A tourniquet may cause permanent damage to the affected limb, and should be used only as a last resort. Never leave a tourniquet in place for more than a few minutes.
**9 Get help.**
Seek medical attention as soon as possible.
**_Be Aware_**
• If you are crouching next to a wall, stay a foot or more away from the surface. Bullets will skid along the wall after impact.
• Gunshot wounds to the neck are almost always fatal.
• Most interior walls and doors (including car doors) will not stop a bullet larger than .22 or .25 caliber.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE A ROLLOVER IN A CAR**
**1 Use your legs to brace your lower body.**
You will have just fractions of a second to prepare for impact. Remove your feet from the pedals, placing the soles of your feet flat against the sheet metal behind the pedals. Using your leg muscles, press hard against the metal surface, as if you are on a leg press. Extend your legs as far as possible, pressing your body back into the seat.
**2 Push your upper body against the seat.**
Using both hands, grab the wheel at the three and nine o'clock positions and grip tightly. Push out with your arms, pressing your torso as far into the seat back as possible. Keep your elbows tucked in to your body.
**3 Secure your head and neck.**
Press the back of your head and neck into the head-rest as far as they will go.
**4 Tense all of your muscles.**
Exert as much force as possible to move your entire body back into the seat, which is your best protection during the rollover.
**5 If the car lands upright and the engine is still running, steer the car away from obstructions or oncoming traffic.**
Because they have a lower center of gravity than trucks and SUVs, cars tend to roll over completely and land on their wheels.
**6 If the car lands on its roof, turn off the ignition.**
Most modern cars (those manufactured after 1985) have a cutoff switch that kicks in automatically to stop fuel flow to the engine when the vehicle senses a rollover. If the engine is still running, turn it off.
**7 Carefully remove your seat belt.**
You will be hanging upside down, with your safety belt holding you in your seat. Brace your hands and feet against the roof before unlatching the belt. In a single-vehicle rollover with no collision, your primary (steering wheel) air bag may not have deployed. Any side curtain air bags and head protection systems will have deployed, however, so watch for hot gas escaping from these devices.
**8 Escape from the car.**
The vehicle's steel safety cage and roll bars may have preserved the integrity of the car, keeping the doors in working condition. If you cannot open the door, crawl through the window. If the window has not been broken during the rollover and is intact, try to roll it down. If you are unable to do so, use a metal object such as a steering wheel lock to break the glass.
**9 Run.**
Move away from the car as quickly as possible in case there is a fuel leak, which could cause an explosion.
**_Be Aware_**
• SUVs and trucks have less-stringent safety standards than cars and tend to have a higher center of gravity, making them more prone to a rollover.
• The roofs of early-model SUVs and trucks may be deformed in a rollover.
• When occupants are wearing seat belts during a rollover, most injuries are to the head (from hitting the roof supports) and arms (from being flung out the windows by rollover forces). When occupants are not wearing seat belts, they will most likely be thrown from the vehicle.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE AN AIRPLANE CRASH**
#### **T O DECREASE THE ODDS OF A CRASH**
**1 Take a nonstop flight, if possible.**
Most accidents happen in the takeoff and landing phases of flight; the fewer stops you make, the less chance of an accident.
**2 Watch the skies.**
Many accidents involve severe weather. As takeoff time approaches, check the weather along the route, particularly in places where you will land. Consider delaying your flight if the weather could be severe.
**3 Wear long-sleeved shirts and long pants made of natural fibers.**
Radiant heat and flash burns can be avoided if you put a barrier between you and the heat. Avoid easy-care polyester or nylon: most synthetic materials that aren't specifically treated to be fire resistant will melt at relatively low temperatures (300 to 400 degrees Fahrenheit). Synthetic fabrics will usually shrink before they melt, and if they are in contact with skin when this happens, they will make the burn—and its treat-ment—much more serious. Wear closed-toe, hard-soled shoes; you might have to walk through twisted, torn metal or flames. In many cases, people survive the crash, but are killed or injured by post-impact fire and its by-products, like smoke and toxic gases.
**4 Select a seat on the aisle, somewhere in the rear half of the cabin.**
The odds of surviving a crash are higher in the middle-to-rear section compared to the middle-to-front section of the cabin. An aisle seat offers the easiest escape route access, unless you are sitting right next to an emergency exit: If you can get a window seat right next to the emergency exit, this is a better choice.
**5 Listen to the safety briefing and locate your nearest exits.**
Most airplane accident survivors had listened to the briefing and knew how to get out of the plane. Pick an exit to use in an emergency, and an alternate in case the first one is not available.
**6 Count the seats between you and the exits in case smoke fills the plane and you cannot see them.**
Make sure you understand how the exit doors work and how to operate them.
**7 Practice opening your seat belt a few times.**
Many people mistakenly try to push the center of the buckle rather than pull up on it.
#### **T O PREPARE FOR A CRASH**
**1 Make sure that your seat belt is tightly fastened and that your chair back is fully upright.**
**2 Bend forward with one arm across your knees.**
**3 Place your pillow in your lap and hold your head against the pillow with your free arm.**
**4 Push your legs forward and brace for impact by placing your feet or knees against the chair in front of you.**
If you are over water, loosen your shirt (and tie) so that your movement is not restricted when you attempt to swim. Be ready for two jolts: when the plane first hits water and when the nose hits water again.
**5 Stay calm and be ready to help yourself.**
The vast majority of crash survivors were able to get out either under their own power or with the help of someone already on the plane. Fire and rescue personnel are unlikely to enter the airplane to pull you out.
**6 Do not take anything with you.**
If you have something you absolutely cannot part with, you should keep it in your pocket and not in your carry-on baggage.
**7 Stay low if the plane is on fire.**
Follow the exit procedures described in the safety briefing. Illuminated floor lights should indicate the exits: the lights are red where exit rows exist.
### **HOW TO PERFORM A TRACHEOTOMY**
This procedure, technically called a cricothyroidotomy, should be undertaken only when a person with a throat obstruction is not able to breathe at all—no gasping sounds, no coughing—and only after you have attempted to perform the Heimlich maneuver three times without dislodging the obstruction. If possible, someone should call for paramedics while you proceed.
#### **W HAT YOU WILL NEED**
• A first aid kit, if available
• A razor blade or very sharp knife
• A straw (two would be better) or a ballpoint pen with the inside (ink-filled tube) removed. If neither a straw nor a pen is available, use stiff paper or cardboard rolled into a tube. Good first aid kits may contain "trache" tubes.
There will not be time for sterilization of your tools, so do not bother; infection is the least of your worries at this point.
#### **H OW TO PROCEED**
**1 Find the person's Adam's apple (thyroid cartilage).**
**2 Move your finger about one inch down the neck until you feel another bulge.**
This is the cricoid cartilage. The indentation between the two is the cricothyroid membrane, where the incision will be made.
**3 Take the razor blade or knife and make a half-inch horizontal incision.**
The cut should be about half an inch deep. There should not be too much blood.
**4 Pinch the incision open or place your finger inside the slit to open it.**
**5 Insert your tube in the incision, roughly one-half to one inch deep.**
**6 Breathe into the tube with two quick breaths.**
Pause five seconds, then give one breath every five seconds.
**7 You will see the chest rise and the person should regain consciousness if you have performed the procedure correctly.**
The person should be able to breathe on their own, albeit with some difficulty, until help arrives.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE A FLU PANDEMIC**
**Wear a surgical mask in public.**
Influenza is a virus that enters the body through contact with mucous membranes, so you must protect your nose and mouth. If you cannot get a mask, keep a bandanna tied securely over your nose and mouth. Do not touch or rub your eyes, nose, or mouth.
**Restrict and ration towel usage.**
Each member of the household should have an assigned towel, washcloth, dishcloth, and pillow. (All household members should sleep in separate bedrooms, if possible.) Label towels with masking tape to avoid mix-ups. Wash all towels with bleach.
**Sneeze and cough into your elbow.**
Sneezing and coughing into your elbow will prevent germs from reaching your hands and being spread through contact. Recommend that others follow suit.
**Keep your hands clean.**
When washing hands in a public restroom, first pull the lever on the towel dispenser to lower a towel, then wash your hands. Rip off the dispensed towel, then use it to pull the dispenser lever again and to turn off the water faucet. Discard the first towel. Tear off the second towel and use it to dry your hands and open the bathroom door, then discard.
**Sanitize before touching areas with high germ potential.**
Disinfect light switches, doorknobs, keyboards and mice, telephone receivers, refrigerator door handles, sink faucets, and the flush handle on the toilet. Do not use public telephones.
**Empty the trash often.**
Do not let used tissues pile up in wastebaskets; they may carry the flu. Wear rubber gloves when emptying trash. Wash the gloves frequently, or throw them out after each use and get a new pair.
**Avoid areas with recirculated air systems.**
Do not get on an airplane. Avoid entering buildings that use recirculation systems designed to reduce fuel consumption. (In the United States, many such structures were erected during the 1970s energy crisis.)
**Do not enter areas where people congregate.**
Hospitals, prisons, day-care centers, college dorms, movie theaters, checkout lines, and other places where large numbers of people cohabitate or group closely together should be avoided during the pandemic.
**_Be Aware_**
• Get a flu shot as soon as they become available.
• Wash hands frequently and immediately upon returning home from being outdoors.
• Not all masks are equally effective. For best protection, use an N95 "respirator" mask that completely covers the nose, mouth, and chin.
### **HOW TO TREAT FOOD POISONING**
**1 Stay hydrated.**
The symptoms of food poisoning vary depending on the type of microorganism or toxin ingested, but can generally cause severe stomach cramping, fever, vomiting, and diarrhea, leading to dehydration. Drink several gallons of water per day.
**2 Replenish mineral salts.**
Eat bland foods, in moderation, as soon as you are able. Diarrhea depletes the body of salts, and drinking water alone will not replace them; sports rehydration drinks are effective. Nibble on dry salted crackers or plain rice to replenish salts, too.
**3 Do not induce vomiting.**
Depending on the microorganism or toxin involved, food poisoning may cause vomiting, which does not clear the bacteria from the body, but will cause further dehydration.
**4 Do not take anti-peristaltic medication.**
Some anti-diarrhea medications work by slowing the movement of waste in the gut, causing the toxins to remain in the body for a longer period of time.
**5 Avoid alcohol, spicy foods, and milk products.**
These drinks and foods may aggravate the gut and cause additional gas and cramping. Never follow a suspect meal with a drink of alcohol to "kill" the germs; this is not effective.
**6 Be prepared for several days of discomfort.**
Food poisoning may induce a severe headache and sweating. Keep the body cool: Never try to sweat out the germs. The symptoms of food poisoning are usually short-lived. If the symptoms persist for more than a week, or if you detect bleeding, consult a health care professional.
#### **H OLIDAY FOOD ALERT**
**Oysters should be fully cooked.**
Raw oysters are particularly susceptible to invasions by microorganisms that can cause food poisoning: If the raw oyster tastes "off" in any way, do not swallow it.
**Fully cook all meat.**
Poultry should be fully cooked, with no traces of pink or red, to an internal temperature of 165°F. Beef and game should be cooked to at least 140°F.
**Serve cooked foods immediately.**
Cooked foods that are not served immediately must be kept at a holding temperature between 140° and 165°F. Do not leave food unrefrigerated longer than two hours or the chances of bacterial growth increase.
**Egg yolks should not be eaten raw or runny.**
This will reduce the risk of salmonella poisoning. Eggnog usually contains raw egg yolks, so make sure the eggnog you drink has been pasteurized. Homemade mayonnaise is made with raw eggs, so avoid it.
**Cooked shellfish should be kept on ice.**
Fish and seafood, especially shellfish, are often harbor to many different kinds of microorganisms.
**Avoid any dented cans.**
If the seal on the can has been affected, the contents may be contaminated and you risk getting botulism.
**_Be Aware_**
• Food poisoning is caused by a range of micro-organisms or their byproducts. Each bug has its own properties and set of symptoms: Some must be alive and present in large quantities to cause harm, while others, such as _E. coli_ 0157, can inflict a lethal dose from just a few bacteria.
• Separate raw and cooked foods. Even foods that have been properly cooked can be contaminated if they come in contact with raw foods or implements (knives and cutting boards, for example) that have touched them.
• Drink bottled water when traveling to visit relatives if you are unsure of the safety of the tap water. Avoid ice cubes, as these are usually made with tap water. Check seals on bottles to make sure they are intact: If they are broken, the bottles may have been refilled with tap water.
### **HOW TO IDENTIFY UNSAFE CAFETERIA FOOD**
#### **M EAT AND POULTRY**
**Check the color.**
When fully cooked, beef turns brown or gray; chicken is white or brown without a trace of pink or red (depending on whether it is light or dark meat); and pork is also white, with no tinge of pink or red. If you cannot identify what kind of meat you are being served, do not eat it. No meat or poultry should ever be yellow, blue, or green.
**Check the temperature.**
Hot foods should be piping hot; cold foods should be chilled. If the temperature is in doubt, ask a food service operator for a cooking thermometer and stick it into the center of the item. Hot meats should be at least 145°F, cold foods no warmer than 40°F.
**Poke with a fork.**
If the juices run red, the meat is undercooked.
**Look at the gravy.**
Sauces and gravies may have a thick "skin" or float in a puddle of congealed oil. These items are a breeding ground for bacteria.
#### **S ALAD BAR**
**Look for a sneeze guard.**
Salad bars and other self-serve areas should have plastic guards to protect food from germs. Avoid foods in areas without these protective devices.
**Watch for slow food turnover.**
Food left out too long will have a dry, waxy, or withered appearance. Food should not be left out from breakfast to lunch and lunch to dinner. If you suspect slow turnover, mark a piece of food with a carefully placed garnish; parsley works well. Return to the dining hall later in the day to see if your marked item is still present. If it is, complain to management or the chef.
**Avoid foods that need to be eaten soon after being cooked.**
Scrambled eggs should not sit in a steam tray for more than two hours; hardboiled eggs keep at room temperature for two hours or for up to one week if refrigerated.
#### **P ACKAGED FOODS**
**Check the expiration date.**
If it is past the date shown on the package, do not eat it. This applies to yogurt, milk, sushi, and any prepared or packaged foods.
**Check the package for damage.**
If the seal is broken or the package looks damaged, do not eat the contents. Gently squeeze the bag of chips or pretzels to see if the bag holds air and remains firm. For vacuum-sealed jars, make sure the top has not popped up, which would indicate that the jar has been opened and the contents may be unsafe to eat. Do not eat food from dented cans—the sharp point of the dent may allow air and germs into the can.
**_Be Aware_**
• Watch for overripe fruits and vegetables. Extensive brown or black spots are not good.
• Check bread and pies for mold. Green means STOP.
### **H OW TO CURE INSOMNIA**
**Take a warm bath;** eat a bedtime snack; drink warm milk or herbal tea; cover illuminated clocks; lie on your back; rub your stomach; flex your toes. To prevent insomnia, avoid caffeine, nicotine, and alcohol. Light exercise or stretching an hour before bed can help relax muscle tension. Count sheep.
### **HOW TO DEAL WITH "THE SPINS"**
**1 Focus your gaze on a stationary object in the room.**
Keep your eyes open. Avoid looking at ceiling fans. Stare at the object for one minute.
**2 Close your eyes.**
**3 Picture the object you were looking at.**
Imagine that the object is imprinted on the inside of your eyelids.
**4 Open your eyes.**
If the spinning returns, stare at your object for one minute.
**5 Close your eyes.**
Repeat steps 3 and 4.
**6 Repeat steps 3, 4, and 5 until the spinning stops or you pass out.**
**_Be Aware_**
• The spins usually occur when your eyes are closed. Watch television, go out for some air, or eat a meal—anything to stay awake and keep your eyes open until you sober up.
• Eating reduces drinking-related sickness by reducing the speed at which alcohol in the stomach is absorbed into the bloodstream. Eat before drinking: Once you have the spins, it is too late.
• Alcohol is a diuretic and dehydrates. After drinking, replace lost fluid, vitamins, and electrolytes by consuming sports drinks. Avoid drinking excessive amounts of plain water, which will dilute the sodium concentration in the body.
#### **H OW TO VOMIT CORRECTLY**
**1 Be prepared.**
Vomiting may be preceded by sweating, nausea, gagging, increased saliva, or the sensation of swelling under the tongue.
**2 Move quickly.**
Get to a quiet bathroom or a private area with an appropriate receptacle, such as a toilet, trash can, or metal bowl. If outdoors, look for an area secluded by trees or bushes. Avoid public spaces.
**3 Remove necktie or necklace.**
**4 Open collar.**
Unbutton your shirt at least two buttons and pull the sides apart. If you are wearing a pullover, remove it completely, if time permits. Tie back long hair.
**5 Relax.**
Do not resist.
**6 Target a destination.**
Vomit into the receptacle. If vomiting into a toilet, grip the sides for support.
**7 Wait.**
The first bout of vomiting may not be the last. Wait several minutes to make sure you remain in control.
**8 Clean up.**
Wash your hands and face, rinse out your mouth, and brush your teeth.
**9 Return to the party.**
### **H OW TO TREAT THE HICCUPS**
**Fill a tall glass with water.** Holding the glass in front of you, lean forward over the glass so that your mouth is on the rim farthest away from you. Tilt the glass so that the bottom moves toward you and the top away from you; drink the water as it moves toward the front of the glass.
### **HOW TO TREAT FROSTBITE**
Frostbite is a condition caused by the freezing of water molecules in skin cells and occurs in very cold temperatures. It is characterized by white, waxy skin that feels numb and hard. More severe cases result in a bluish black skin color, and the most severe cases result in gangrene, which may lead to amputation. Affected areas are generally fingertips and toes, and the nose, ears, and cheeks. Frostbite should be treated by a doctor. However, in an emergency, take the following steps.
**1 Remove wet clothing and dress the area with warm, dry clothing.**
**2 Immerse frozen areas in warm water (100–105°F) or apply warm compresses for ten to thirty minutes.**
**3 If warm water is not available, wrap gently in warm blankets.**
**4 Avoid direct heat, including electric or gas fires, heating pads, and hot water bottles.**
**5 Never thaw the area if it is at risk of refreezing; this can cause severe tissue damage.**
**6 Do not rub frostbitten skin or rub snow on it.**
**7 Take a pain reliever such as aspirin or ibuprofen during rewarming to lessen the pain.**
Rewarming will be accompanied by a severe burning sensation. There may be skin blistering and soft tissue swelling and the skin may turn red, blue, or purple in color. When skin is pink and no longer numb, the area is thawed.
**8 Apply sterile dressings to the affected areas.**
Place the dressing between fingers or toes if they have been affected. Try not to disturb any blisters, wrap rewarmed areas to prevent refreezing, and have the patient keep thawed areas as still as possible.
**9 Get medical treatment as soon as possible.**
#### **H OW TO TREAT FROSTNIP**
Frostnip is the early warning sign of frostbite. Frost-nip is characterized by numbness and a pale coloring of the affected areas. It can be safely treated at home.
**1 Remove wet clothing.**
**2 Immerse or soak affected areas in warm water (100–105° F).**
**3 Do not allow patient to control water temperature—numb areas cannot feel heat and can be burned.**
**4 Continue treatment until skin is pink and sensation returns.**
#### **H OW TO AVOID FROSTBITE AND FROSTNIP**
• Keep extremities warm and covered in cold weather.
• Use layered clothing and a face mask.
• Wear mittens instead of gloves, and keep the ears covered.
• Take regular breaks from the cold whenever possible to warm extremities.
### **HOW TO TREAT A TONGUE STUCK TO A POLE**
**1 Do not panic.**
**2 Do not pull the tongue from the pole.**
Pulling sharply will be very painful.
**3 Move closer to the pole.**
Get as close as possible without letting more of the tongue's surface area touch the pole.
**4 Warm the pole with your hands.**
A tongue will stick when the surface of the pole is very cold. The top few layers of the tongue will freeze when the tongue touches the pole, causing bonding. Place your gloved hands on the area of the pole closest to the tongue. Hold them there for several minutes.
**5 Take a test pull.**
As the pole warms, the frozen area around the tongue should begin to thaw. Gently pull the tongue away from the pole. You may leave a layer or two of skin on the pole, which will be painful, but the tongue will quickly heal.
**Alternative Method**
**Use warm water.**
Pour water from a water bottle over the tongue and the pole. Do not use water that is cold, or it may freeze and exacerbate the problem.
**_Be Aware_**
• Do not try to loosen your tongue with your own saliva: Although saliva is relatively warm, the small amount you will be able to generate is likely to freeze on your tongue.
• If another person is present, have him or her pour warm (not hot) water over your tongue. This may be difficult to articulate while your tongue is stuck—pantomiming a glass of water poured over your tongue should do the trick.
### **HOW TO DEAL WITH WEDDING-RELATED INJURIES**
#### **C AN'T FIT RING ON FINGER**
**Try the other hand.**
The ring finger on the opposite hand may naturally be slightly smaller in diameter.
**Try a different finger.**
No one will notice if, for a little while, the ring is on the pinky.
**Elevate hand.**
Hands and feet swell in warm, humid weather. Hold your arm above your head for several minutes. Blood will flow from the hand and reduce the swelling so the ring will fit.
**Grease finger.**
Coat the ring finger with lip gloss, petroleum jelly, butter, margarine, or water.
**Cool finger.**
Submerge your ring finger in a glass of ice water for 15 minutes. The cold will constrict blood vessels and shrink the diameter of the finger slightly.
#### **F OOT CUT ON GLASS**
**1 Remove the shoe.**
Unlace or unbuckle the shoe completely and remove it gently. If the victim is in severe pain, use scissors or a very sharp knife to cut the laces and save time.
**2 Remove large shards of glass.**
Wrap a napkin around the protruding piece. Using a single swift motion, pull the shard directly out of the foot.
**3 Determine the source of bleeding.**
Check for any remaining shards and remove them.
**4 Stop the bleeding.**
Using towels, napkins, or tablecloths, apply direct pressure to the wound for 5 minutes. If the wound is spurting, sustain pressure for 15 minutes.
**5 Clean the foot.**
Soak the foot in a bowl filled with warm water, then use a damp napkin or clean sponge to gently rub off any remaining blood.
**6 Inspect the wound.**
Using your fingers, gently spread the sides of the wound apart. Look closely for any remaining glass shards. Remove with sterile tweezers (hold the tweezers under hot running water for 30 seconds, then in a candle flame for 30 seconds). The wound should stop bleeding profusely when all the glass has been removed.
**7 Treat and bandage.**
Apply a thin layer of antibiotic ointment to the wound. Cover with a sterile adhesive bandage or gauze and medical tape.
**_Be Aware_**
• Wounds through the sole of the shoe may become infected by the microbe _Pseudomonas_.
• Wounds ½ inch in length or longer should be sutured at a hospital.
• If the victim has not had a tetanus booster in the last five years, one should be given at a hospital within 48 hours of the injury.
• Seeping from the injury site may indicate that glass remains in the wound.
• When wrapping a glass in a napkin for the Jewish wedding ritual, be sure to lay the glass on its side before stomping on it.
#### **F ALL FROM CHAIR DURING CHAIR DANCE**
**1 Seat the victim.**
If the victim is conscious, move her to a chair and have her sit down. If she is unconscious on the floor, leave her in place. Most people who are knocked out after a fall regain consciousness within a few minutes.
**2 Test cognition.**
Ask the victim her name. Have her point to a few family members or friends in attendance and state their names. Ask her what type of event she is attending and the city in which it is being held. Ask her to state the date, including the day of the week and year. Correct answers indicate that she has not suffered a concussion. If she answers incorrectly, check again in 10 minutes.
**3 Check responsiveness.**
Ask the victim to follow your finger with her eyes as you move it from side to side and up and down. Ask her to move her arms and legs in coordinated motions. Help the victim stand, then ask her to walk forward, then backward, then forward again. Accomplishing these tasks indicates there is no neurological damage.
**4 Watch for vomiting or loss of consciousness.**
Pay particular attention to the victim for the next hour.
**5 Prevent alcohol consumption.**
Ask the victim if she has had anything alcoholic to drink or has taken tranquilizers or other medication, all of which may mimic the symptoms of injury. Do not let the victim drink.
#### **C HAPPED LIPS FROM KISSING**
**Apply lip balm.**
Spread a thin layer of petroleum jelly, vitamin E, or skin cream (used sparingly) to lips. Wait several minutes for the treatment to be absorbed.
**Apply olive oil.**
Using your fingers, work a small amount of olive oil into your lips. Wait several minutes for the lips to become less slippery.
**Apply butter.**
Work butter into your lips using your fingers. To prevent infection, avoid using butter if your lips are cracked and bleeding.
#### **H IT IN THE EYE WITH BOUQUET**
**1 Check the eye for swelling.**
If the eyelid is swollen shut and covering the eyeball, reduce the swelling before continuing with treatment. Place a handful of ice in a cloth napkin and twist it closed. Wrap it in a second napkin and place it on the injured eye for 15 minutes, removing it occasionally to check swelling.
**2 Examine the cornea.**
Under a bright overhead light or pointing a flashlight at the injured eye, instruct the victim to look in all directions and blink repeatedly. Carefully examine the sclera (the white of the eye) and the cornea (the layer covering the pupil and iris) for any foreign material: petal shards, pieces of stem, or leaves.
**3 Assemble irrigation equipment.**
Obtain a clean, unused liquor spout from the bartender. Place the pourer on a bottle of flat spring water or a bottle filled with cool tap water.
**4 Irrigate the cornea.**
With the victim seated and her head tilted so she is looking up at the ceiling, gently push her eyelids back and away from the cornea using your thumb and forefinger. From a low height, delicately pour a steady stream of cool water on the eyeball. Occasionally wipe the area around the eye socket with a clean napkin.
**5 Check the eye.**
After a full bottle has been poured, dry the area and check the eyeball for remaining foreign material. If any material is still present, repeat irrigation with a second bottle of water.
**6 Check for corneal abrasion.**
Instruct the victim to look in all directions and blink repeatedly for several seconds. If she reports blurred vision, discomfort, or notes a sensation of something in her eye, a corneal abrasion may be present. Seek medical attention immediately.
#### **S PRAINED ANKLE**
**1 Prepare a cold compress.**
Place ice in a plastic bag. Wrap the bag in a piece of clothing, or place it in a second plastic bag.
**2 Elevate the ankle.**
Seat the victim and raise the injured ankle at least 18 inches from the ground; a chair works well. Keep the ankle in this position.
**3 Hold the compress on the ankle.**
The cold will constrict blood vessels and reduce swelling.
**4 Leave the compress in place for 30 minutes.**
If the sprain is particularly bad and swelling is rapid and severe, leave the compress on for 15 additional minutes.
**5 Test the ankle.**
Have the victim put weight on the injured ankle. If standing or walking is still too painful, continue to step 6.
**6 Construct a pressure bandage.**
Cut or tear a tablecloth, shirt, or another piece of material into two 3-foot-long, 4-inch-wide strips.
**7 Wrap the ankle.**
Place one end of the bandage in the middle of the foot. Using a figure-8 pattern, bring the cloth up and over the ankle and back around the foot. The bandage should be snug and the ankle immobile. Use rubber bands, a garter, or two bow ties to secure the bandage to the leg.
**8 Administer pain medication.**
Ibuprofen will reduce swelling and relieve pain. If ibuprofen is not available, offer acetaminophen or aspirin.
**9 Limit dancing.**
### **H OW TO SEE IF YOU HAVE LOST YOUR GLASSES**
**Draw 2 circles about the size of a pair of lenses on a piece of paper or cardboard.** Use a pin or the tip of a sharp knife to poke at least a dozen small holes inside the circles. Hold the paper to your face and look through the holes.
## **C HAPTER 4**
## **SOCIAL DISASTERS**
### **HOW TO AVOID GOING TO THE WRONG COLLEGE**
**1 Visit the college during the school year on a day with a regular class schedule.**
Visiting during holidays, homecoming, or other times when students are away or not in their normal routine will not give you an accurate picture of everyday life at the school.
**2 Observe the students.**
• Are the students walking energetically to class while talking animatedly, or are the few students in sight wandering aimlessly?
• Are the students bright-eyed, with glowing complexions, or are they red-eyed, with a pasty pallor?
• Are the students carrying armfuls of books and notebooks, or are they carrying surfboards and coolers?
• Are the students eagerly seeking out professors after class and in the cafeteria, or are the students ducking into doorways and under tables to avoid professors?
• Are students in class paying attention and taking notes, or are they wearing headphones, reading the newspaper, or dozing?
**3 Evaluate the facilities and surroundings.**
• Compare the number of books in the library to the number of seats in the stadium.
• Compare the number of flyers promoting free lectures to the number of flyers promoting spring break getaways.
• Compare the number of nearby art galleries to the number of nearby hair salons.
• Compare the number of nearby bookstores to the number of nearby bars.
• Compare the number of students wearing T-shirts with the school logo to the number of students not wearing any shirt.
• Compare the number of ads in the school newspaper offering "Students Available to Tutor" to the number of ads offering "Research Papers Written—Any Topic."
• Compare the number of times you hear chamber music to the number of times you hear sirens from emergency vehicles.
**4 Select your school accordingly.**
#### **H OW TO IDENTIFY A PARTY SCHOOL**
**Assess the school's location.**
Party schools are often those farthest from urban centers: Such a location necessitates that all social activities occur on campus or in campus-adjacent locations, and therefore there are parties daily due to the lack of other entertainment opportunities. Cities with a warm climate and good beaches are also home to party schools, as many students opt for surfing, sun-bathing, and pitchers of margaritas over class.
**Count the number of bars, liquor stores, fraternities, and sororities on or near campus.**
The more plentiful the watering holes and Greek organizations, the more likely the students are to party.
**Look for schools with successful sports teams.**
Schools with particularly winning sports programs are likely to offer many months of pre- and post-game victory parties. Avoid schools with losing records or sparsely attended games, and those with teams that usually lose the homecoming alumni game.
**Interview the school's administrators and alumni.**
Talk to the school's local boosters (ask the admissions office for names) about their memories of social activities at the school. If more than three of them recount stories of drinking at 6 A.M. or have no memory of college at all, the school is most likely a party school.
**Visit the school on a Thursday.**
A good party school will have multiple parties raging on this night. Walk the campus and listen carefully for whoops, yells, and loud music. Look for students staggering, talking loudly, or vomiting in the bushes, all of which are signs of raucous social activity. Enter a fraternity or sorority party. Gatherings without alcohol and centered around a knitting circle or a discussion of nineteenth-century English poetry indicate a college that does not measure up.
### **HOW TO OPEN A BOTTLE WITHOUT AN OPENER**
#### **A NOTHER BOTTLE**
**1 Hold the bottle you wish to open upright in your nondominant hand.**
Grip the neck of the target bottle, placing your index finger over the back edge of the cap.
**2 Hold the second bottle horizontally around the label.**
Grip this bottle, the opener, as though shaking hands with the bottle.
**3 Fit the shallow ridge found at midcap of the opener bottle under the bottom edge of the cap of the bottle you wish to open.**
By using this ridge, and not the bottom of the cap, you will not risk opening the second bottle in step 4.
**4 Using the opener bottle as a lever, press down and pry the cap off the target beer bottle.**
**5 Enjoy.**
##### **A LTERNATE METHOD:**
Hold both bottles end to end perpendicular to the ground, with the crimped edges of the caps together, locking them in place. Pull. Be careful, however, as either or both bottle caps could come off.
#### **L IGHTER**
**1 Grip the bottle in your nondominant hand.**
Make a fist around the top of the bottle so that your thumb overlaps your index finger and the web between your thumb and index finger sits in the groove under the cap.
**2 Fit the bottom of the lighter under the teeth of the cap.**
Position the lighter so that it rests on the middle knuckle of your index finger.
**3 Press the top of the lighter down and toward the bottle.**
Use the index finger on your dominant hand to provide resistance.
**4 Pry off the cap.**
If necessary, turn the bottle and repeat.
#### **T ABLE EDGE**
**1 Put the teeth of the bottle cap against the edge of a table.**
The cap should be on top of the table edge; the bottle should be below the table. Do not attempt on a soft wood or antique table.
**2 Use your fist to hit the bottle.**
The bottle will take a downward trajectory, and the cap will pop off.
#### **S CREWDRIVER, SPOON, FORK, OR KNIFE**
**1 Place the implement under the bottle cap, as high as it will go.**
**2 Pry off the cap.**
Slowly go around the cap and lift up each crimped area with the tool, similar to opening a can of paint.
**3 When the cap starts to move, fit the tool higher up under the cap and remove it.**
#### **B ELT BUCKLE**
**1 Unfasten your belt buckle.**
If your pants are in danger of falling down, sit.
**2 Pull the "tooth" of the buckle to one side.**
**3 Fit the cap into the buckle so that one edge is wedged against the buckle.**
**4 Pry off.**
Pull the bottle slowly. A quick tug may result in a spill.
**5 Refasten your belt.**
#### **D EADBOLT LOCK**
**1 Fit your bottle into the lock.**
Place the head of the bottle into the recession in a doorframe into which a deadbolt slips, so that the cap fits against the notch in the lock's frame.
**2 Pull up slowly.**
The bottle cap should pop right off.
#### **F IRE HYDRANT**
**1 Look for an arrow on top of the hydrant labeled "open."**
**2 At the end of the arrow, locate the recess between the screw and the nut.**
**3 Insert the cap into the recess.**
**4 Press down slowly on the bottle until the cap comes off.**
#### **I N-LINE SKATE**
**1 Place the cap between the shoe and the blade.**
Hold onto the bottle with your dominant hand. If you are wearing the skate, use the hand opposite the skate to open the bottle.
**2 Pull up slowly on the bottle and pry off.**
Quickly right the bottle to avoid spilling.
#### **M ETAL POOL BRIDGE**
**1 Hold the stick of the bridge in one hand and a beer bottle in the other.**
Do not attempt to open over the pool table.
**2 Position the cap inside the opening of the bridge.**
Fit the cap snugly against the edge.
**3 Press down on the bottle.**
Slowly increase the pressure until the cap loosens. Right the bottle immediately to prevent spillage.
#### **V ENDING MACHINE**
**1 Locate a newspaper, snack, or soda vending machine.**
An older soda machine might actually have a bottle opener.
**2 Place the cap in the coin return.**
Wedge the cap against the top of the opening.
**3 Press down slowly until the cap is removed.**
**_Be Aware_**
Never drink from a bottle with broken or chipped glass.
### **HOW TO CARRY A DATE WHO IS PASSED OUT**
**1 Plan to carry your date only for a short distance.**
Your destination should be a nearby couch, taxi, or bed. Do not attempt to carry him a long way.
**2 Prepare to lift.**
Bend your knees and place your stronger arm under your date's back and the other under his knees. Your arms should go all the way under and across his body.
**3 Begin to lift your date.**
Use the strength of your legs and knees, holding them close to your body and keeping your back straight. Do not lift with your back.
**4 Stand up quickly.**
In one continuous motion, rotate your date's body so that your stronger arm guides him over your opposite shoulder. The motion should be like tossing a sack of potatoes. His upper body should be hanging over your back, his lower body hanging over your front. Steady him with your other hand.
**5 Walk to your destination.**
**6 Lower your date.**
Bending your knees and keeping your back straight, guide your date off your shoulder and onto a bed or couch or into a chair.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE IF YOU WAKE UP NEXT TO SOMEONE WHOSE NAME YOU DON'T REMEMBER**
#### **A T THEIR PLACE**
**1 Do not panic.**
Evidence of your partner's name exists somewhere nearby. Your task will be to find it before she awakens, or before she starts any sort of meaningful conversation.
**2 Get up and go to the bathroom.**
The bathroom is a normal place to visit first thing in the morning, and it is also a place where you might discover her name.
**3 Look through the medicine cabinet for prescription medicines with her name on the label.**
**4 Sort through magazines, looking for subscription labels with her name and address.**
**5 Go through a wastebasket to find discarded junk mail addressed to her.**
**6 Return to the bedroom.**
If she is awake, ask her to make coffee for you. Use the time alone to search the bedroom for evidence. Look for: wallet, checkbook, ID or name bracelet, photo album, scrapbook, business cards (a stack of cards, not just one), or luggage labels. If she is sleeping, look for these and other items throughout the house.
**_Be Aware_**
Try to find at least two items with the same name to be certain that you have identified her, unless the name on one item rings a bell.
#### **A T YOUR PLACE**
**1 Use terms of endearment when addressing her.**
Do not guess at her name. Acceptable terms of endearment are:
• Honey/Sweetie/Cutie
• Darling/Baby/Sugar
• Beautiful/Handsome/Gorgeous
**2 Unless you are certain you have ample time, do not go through her belongings.**
If your partner is showering, you can count on having at least a few minutes of privacy to search through her belongings. Otherwise, do not risk it—it would be far more embarrassing to be caught searching through her possessions than to admit you cannot remember her name. (She may be in the same predicament.)
**3 Ask leading questions while making small talk.**
Fishing for information is risky and can backfire by calling attention to what you are trying to do. However, if you feel you can pull it off, try to trick her into revealing her name:
• While getting dressed, pull out your own ID and ask her if she thinks that your hair is better now or in the picture. Laugh about how silly you used to look. Ask her if she likes the picture on her license. (She may think that you are checking her age.)
• Ask her if she ever had a nickname. She might say, "No, just [ _Name_ ]."
• Ask her how she got her name.
**4 As she is leaving, give her your business card and ask for hers.**
If she does not have a business card, ask her to write her vital information on yours. Tell her you may want to send her a little surprise. Do not forget to send something later in the week and make sure that you spell her name correctly.
### **HOW TO DETERMINE IF YOUR DATE IS AN AXE MURDERER**
**1 Watch for the following:**
• A Caucasian male in his twenties or thirties
• Obsession with fire or matches
• Cruelty to animals
• History of bed-wetting
• Sexually abused as a child
• Middle-class background combined with loner behavior
• Difficulty maintaining relationships
An individual who exhibits more than three of these traits may be dangerous.
**2 Trust your intuition.**
Your instinct is a powerful weapon. If something feels wrong, it probably is.
**3 Check him out officially.**
Obtain his social security number and investigate him. Call the Federal Prison Locator Service (202-307-3126) to determine if he was ever incarcerated. Many online companies can aid in financial reports or tracking down previous addresses. You may also want to enlist the services of a private detective.
**4 If you discover grounds for suspicion, break off the relationship immediately.**
Be clear and definite about your decision. Return all of his belongings and gifts. Do not make promises to keep in touch. Be straightforward and kind, and talk only about yourself and why the relationship no longer works for you. Do not blame him. Try not to make him angry.
**5 Take steps to maintain your safety.**
• Carry a cell phone.
• Install a home security system.
• Change your phone numbers.
• Stay near populated, well-lit areas.
• Apprise a friend or relative of your concerns.
• Document any strange or unusual happenings.
• Take a personal safety/self-defense class.
### **HOW TO DETERMINE THE GENDER OF YOUR DATE**
**1 Look at her (or his) hand.**
Compare the length of your date's fourth and second fingers. Most men have ring fingers that are conspicuously longer than their index fingers, whereas most women have ring fingers that are close to the same length. Testosterone levels likely account for the greater length.
Also take notice of the amount of hair on your date's knuckles, hands, and forearms. Most men will have visible, dark hair (or signs of recently removed hair) on their hands and wrists, and sometimes knuckles.
**2 Be suspicious of baggy clothing.**
Your date may be trying to conceal a telltale bulge.
**3 Look for an Adam's apple.**
Most men have a bump in the middle of their throat. Most women do not.
**4 Observe shoulders and hips.**
Men's shoulders tend to be broader than their hips, while women's hips and shoulders tend to be closer to the same width. Do not be fooled by shoulder pads.
**5 Follow your date up a flight of stairs.**
Take note of how she (or he) moves while ascending. Men tend to walk in a more "straight ahead" motion with minimal "wobbling" back and forth. Women tend to sway a bit from side to side, due to the position of their pelvises. Women also tend to lean forward slightly.
**_Be Aware_**
• Look for at least three of these characteristics before you draw conclusions about your date's gender, then make your plans accordingly.
• Voice is not always a good indicator of gender—a low voice may simply be the result of hard living.
### **HOW TO FEND OFF A PICKUP ARTIST**
**1 Recognize the traits of a pickup artist.**
Is your suitor overly charming and quick with cash? Does he appear to have an immediate connection with you? Is he scanning the room while talking to you? Is he calling you familiar or condescending names such as "honey," "sweetie," or "babe"?
**2 Do not accept drinks.**
Letting a pickup artist buy you drinks will encourage him and make him feel he is entitled to your attentions.
**3 Keep personal information to yourself.**
Do not give him your name, and do not tell him where you live, who you are waiting for, or any other detail or insight into your personal life or plans.
**4 Make it clear that you are not interested.**
Be direct and forceful. If he persists, you may have to become rude or leave. If you make it obvious that nothing is going to happen that evening, he'll move on to other prospects.
**5 Turn away and ignore him.**
Talk to a friend or the person sitting on the other side of you. The pickup artist likes the chase most of all— put a stop to the chase and he will look elsewhere.
**6 Cause an "accident."**
• The Elbow Knock: Use this technique if you are seated at a bar or table. Notice where glasses and plates are located on your table. Turn around to talk to a friend, or simply look away, and position your elbow. As you turn back, sweep your elbow into any glasses or plates on the table, knocking them into his lap or onto his shirt.
• The Hair Flip: While standing facing your suitor, bring your hand up to adjust your hair. Do this quickly so that he tips his glass toward his body and his drink spills all over him.
• The Time Check: While standing next to your would-be suitor, hold your drink in the hand of your watch arm. Say, "Is it _time_ yet?" Then turn your wrist to look at your watch, thereby spilling the drink on the pickup artist.
**7 Apologize insincerely.**
### **HOW TO SAVE YOUR DATE FROM CHOKING**
**1 Speak firmly.**
Keep your voice low and your sentences short. All communications should be in the imperative. Explain that you are going to perform the Heimlich maneuver.
**2 Tell your date to stand up and stay put.**
**3 Hug your date from behind.**
Put your arms around your date and make one hand into a fist.
**4 Place your fist in your date's solar plexus.**
The solar plexus is the first soft spot in the center of the body, between the navel and the ribs.
**5 Place your other hand, palm open, over your fist.**
**6 Tell your date to bend forward slightly.**
If your date does not respond, push on the upper back and repeat, "Lean forward."
**7 Pull your fist in and up.**
Use force and a quick motion. This will push out the residual lung gas under pressure, clearing any obstructions from the trachea.
**8 Repeat steps 3 through 7 several times if choking persists.**
**9 After several unsuccessful attempts, instruct your date to bend over the back of a chair.**
The top of the chair should be at the level of your date's hips.
**10 Strike your date between the shoulder blades with the heel of your open hand.**
The blow generates gaseous pressure in a blocked airway and, with a head-down position, sometimes works when the Heimlich does not.
**_Be Aware_**
• If the choking is noiseless—or if your date raises her hands to her throat—then the air passage may be completely blocked and you must proceed quickly.
• If your date is coughing or gagging, you simply need to be polite, smile sympathetically, and offer water when the choking is over. Water does nothing for choking, but it gives the choker some time to regain dignity.
• In most cases, the first thrust of the Heimlich maneuver will dislodge the choked item from the trachea. Once the choking is over, your date will need some time to recover: a sip of brandy, a quiet moment. Do not rush your date to the emergency room; in most cases, there is no need to go to the hospital after the blockage has been removed.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE IF YOU HAVE EXCESSIVE GAS**
**1 Limit your lactose intake during a date.**
Many people suffer from an inability to digest milk sugar, or lactose. Colon bacteria ferment the milk sugar, forming a gas that creates a bloated feeling. Keep your intake to less than half a cup at a sitting, and avoid dairy products before your date.
**2 Eat a small meal.**
Eating a huge dinner on a date is a sure-fire way to precipitate gas.
**3 Avoid gas-forming foods.**
Bacteria ferment the indigestible carbohydrates in beans, broccoli, cabbage, and other vegetables and fruits into gases.
**4 Drink peppermint tea.**
Replace an after-dinner drink with a cup or two of peppermint tea. This herb may give you some relief from the gas discomfort that follows a meal.
**5 Emit the gas in private.**
As a last resort, head to the bathroom. If you feel bloated but are unable to pass gas easily, you can facilitate the emission of gas as follows:
Place paper towels on the floor. Kneel on the towels, bend forward to the floor, and stretch your arms out in front of you. Keep your buttocks high in the air, forming a triangle with your upper body and the floor. This position will force out the unwanted gas and relieve the pressure.
**_Be Aware_**
• On average, humans produce ¾ of a liter of gas daily, which is released 11 to 14 times a day.
• Men typically produce more gas than women because they consume more food.
#### **G ASSY FOODS TO AVOID**
No two digestive systems are alike. Experiment with foods to determine which ones affect you most. In the meantime, exercise caution around the following high-risk items:
• Beans (particularly baked beans)
• Borscht
• Broccoli
• Brussels sprouts
• Cabbage
• Carbonated beverages
• Cauliflower
• Chili
• Cucumbers
• Fatty foods
• Fresh fruit
• Grains and fiber, especially pumpernickel bread
• Gum
• Onions
• Oysters
• Salads (green)
### **HOW TO SURVIVE A WORKPLACE ROMANCE**
**Do not tell colleagues.**
Do not discuss any aspect of your relationship with anyone at work, even close friends. Avoid telltale references, such as, "When we were at the movies last night ..." Do not play guessing games with co-workers, such as, "I'm going out with someone from the office but you'll never guess who."
**Resist physical contact at the office.**
Avoid all physical contact, including kissing, hand-holding, hugging, casual touching, and back rubs, even if you think you are alone. Maintain at least a foot of personal space between you and the person you are dating.
**Send gifts to the home.**
Do not have flowers, candy, clothing, or other personal items sent to the office, even with an unsigned card: People will begin asking questions.
**Do not use company e-mail to send personal notes.**
Many employers monitor e-mail messages, and even deleted messages are stored. It is also too easy to send an e-mail to the wrong person or to "everyone."
**Avoid long or excessive lunch dates.**
While it is acceptable for colleagues to eat together, extended or repeated outings may attract notice. Maintain the lunch routine you practiced before you started dating your co-worker.
**Avoid arriving and departing together.**
Unless you are in a car pool with others, stagger your arrival and departure times.
**Use discretion.**
At company picnics or parties, or at off-site meetings, do not drink excessively, dance intimately, or openly display affection with your office significant other.
**_Be Aware_**
• Most office romances begin in the spring.
• Dating more than one person from the same company at the same time is not a good idea.
#### **T HE BREAK-UP**
**Do not break up at work.**
Emotions can be difficult to hide, and people can act irrationally when they are upset. The workplace, especially in a cubicle but even in a private office, is a poor choice of location for a confrontation. Avoid breaking up over lunch hour, as well.
**Break up over a long weekend.**
Choose a time when your partner will have several days to heal before having to see you at the office. Try to be sensitive to his or her feelings, however: Do not break up just before the other person leaves on an extended vacation.
**Be prepared for the worst.**
A bad break-up may require you to transfer or even resign, particularly if you are dating someone above you in the office hierarchy. Ending a relationship with someone who reports to you could lead to a charge of sexual discrimination.
**Do not immediately begin dating someone else at work.**
Your new relationship may be hurtful to your ex, if you are spotted. You may also gain a reputation for being opportunistic or desperate.
**Do not discuss personal feelings or emotions with your ex while at work.**
If you want to check on how your former lover is doing, call at home.
**_Be Aware_**
No matter what you call it—fishing off the company pier, mentoring the intern, kissing company cousins, refilling the toner, mergers and acquisitions—office romances are dangerous.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE MEETING THE PARENTS**
**1 Pay attention to your surroundings.**
If you are prone to spilling things or tripping over rugs, move slowly and carefully. Present an image of confidence and poise.
**2 Greet them with a firm, but brief, handshake.**
A weak handshake is a turnoff, but so is squeezing too hard. Shake hands so that the entire hand is clasped. Let go of the hand after a few pumps. Maintain eye contact.
**3 Do not kiss or hug the parents unless they make the first move.**
If they offer air kisses, fine, but never kiss a potential in-law on the mouth. If they opt to hug you, do not retreat from it.
**4 Call them "Mr." and "Mrs." unless they ask you to address them by their first names.**
This shows respect. Do not shorten or change their names or call them "Mom" or "Dad."
**5 Give them personal space.**
Allow at least three feet of space between you during conversation.
**6 Show poise.**
Be positive, good natured, and relaxed. Smile, but not continuously: if you look happy all of the time, something's not right. Remember that good posture projects confidence and successfulness. Walk, stand, and sit up straight. Speak loud enough to be heard.
**7 Be sincere and be yourself.**
Do not pretend to be someone you are not. People can spot a fake a mile away. Do not try too hard to make an impression. At the same time, do not act too familiar—no winking, shoulder punching, or joking. Follow their lead.
**8 Send a note or card the next day.**
Mention how nice it was to finally meet them and that you look forward to seeing them again. If you stayed at their house for a while, thank them for an enjoyable visit.
**_Be Aware_**
Practicing the following social graces can help make a favorable impression:
• Ring the doorbell once only. Do not lean on the bell or pound the door.
• Turn off your cell phone and pager.
• If invited to dinner, bring wine, flowers, or dessert, even if they say not to.
• Wait to be invited inside, and wait to be seated. Do not sit down before they do.
• Pet the dog or cat.
• Compliment them on only one or two things: the view, the couch, a painting, the flowers—don't overdo it.
• Do not spend too much time in the bathroom (and do not go too often).
### **HOW TO RAISE MONEY FOR YOUR WEDDING**
**Ask family members to pay for specific expenses.**
Have numbers ready to justify costs. If you sense resistance, threaten to elope or to have the reception at a seedy nightclub. For grandparents, offer upgrades at the reception in exchange for funding, such as seating at a table far from the band, their food served first, or wider cushioned seats.
**Register for wedding ceremony and reception components.**
Instead of a bridal registry for china, crystal, and silver, register for floral arrangements, liquor for the reception, the band, limousine service, and each course of the meal.
**Hold a raffle.**
Offer the guests a chance to buy tickets to win the wedding dress, a ride in the limo, or a chance to join the honeymoon.
**Wash guests' cars.**
Hire a student at a low hourly rate to sell expensive car washes to the guests as they attend the ceremony and reception.
**Sell your belongings on Internet auction sites.**
Check to see which items you've registered for have been bought, or estimate which items you are sure to receive, and sell them online. The buyer will send payment, and, after the wedding, you send the sold item.
**Procure sponsors.**
Strike a deal with a local company. Agree to place its logo on the invitation, wedding dress, tuxedo, or cake. Have the band leader announce each song with, "This song has been brought to you by the good people at _[name of company]_." Hang company banners around the altar and behind the bandstand. Allow the company to set up a kiosk at the ceremony and reception site to dispense information, key chains, and other swag.
**Sell incentive packages to investors.**
Offer a percentage of wedding gifts, naming rights to kids, occasional dinners at your home, an invitation to the wedding (with preferred seating), the first dance with the bride/groom, and, for enough money, the opportunity to give away the bride.
### **HOW TO MAINTAIN COMPOSURE DURING A WEDDING CEREMONY**
#### **C RYING JAG**
**Take deep, measured breaths.**
Inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth. Deep breathing will calm you and prevent hyperventilation brought on by crying.
**Stare at inanimate objects.**
Focus on floral arrangements, your clothing, or the floor.
**Recall trivial details.**
Try to remember the color of your childhood blanket, or the make and model of all the cars you have owned. Attempt to say the alphabet or the months of the year backward.
**Stand up straight.**
Crying will cause you to bend forward and make your head and shoulders shake. Concentrate on good posture: Keep your back straight and your head held high to combat the physical effects of your emotions.
**_Be Aware_**
Crying at weddings tends to be contagious and mutually reinforcing. Do not look at others who are crying or you may lose control.
#### **L AUGHING FIT**
**Bite your tongue.**
Bite down on your tongue hard enough to cause pain but not so hard that you cause bleeding or other injury.
**Prick your finger.**
Using the pin from your boutonniere or a thorn from a rose in your bouquet, quickly stick the pad of your thumb to cause pain. Put pressure on the pricked area for several minutes to avoid bloodstained clothing.
**Pinch yourself.**
The skin on the back of the upper arm is very sensitive. Squeeze a small section of skin between the thumb and index finger of your opposite hand. Release quickly to avoid a bruise.
**Think about how much the wedding costs.**
#### **H ICCUPS**
**1 Inhale through your mouth.**
**2 Hold your breath.**
**3 Slowly count to ten.**
**4 Swallow three times slowly.**
**5 Exhale.**
**6 Repeat.**
**_Be Aware_**
Swallow a flat (nonheaping) teaspoon or one paper packet of sugar in one quick gulp. Do not use a sugar substitute. Do not use salt.
#### **F LATULENCE**
**Alter your stance.**
Flatulence is more audible with the legs and buttocks close together. Shift your position so your feet are approximately 3 feet apart.
**Sit down.**
**Shift the blame.**
Look disapprovingly at a nearby guest or member of the bridal party. Do not look accusingly at your betrothed.
**_Be Aware_**
• Avoid introducing excess gas into your system. Do not smoke, chew gum, or drink carbonated beverages, and avoid beans, broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower, onions, and dairy products (if lactose intolerant) just before the ceremony.
• Chew activated charcoal tablets before the wedding. The charcoal will absorb odor caused by intestinal bacteria. Do not chew briquettes.
### **HOW TO REPAIR A DROPPED CAKE**
#### **M INOR SHIFTING OR SMASHED FROSTING**
**1 Smooth out rough edges with confectioners' sugar or chopped coconut.**
**2 Reconstruct with icing or whipped cream.**
Damaged portions of a white cake may be built up and out using small amounts of buttercream or whipped cream. Apply with a spoon or butter knife. For a cake with chocolate frosting, mix slightly melted chocolate with confectioners' sugar to form a paste, then spread over the damaged area and cover as above.
**3 Hide damage to the side of the cake with paper doilies.**
Cut several long strips from a paper doily: The strips should match the height of the damaged layer. If necessary, use clear tape on the side that will be touching the cake to connect multiple sections. Wrap the doily around the layer and secure with small dabs of frosting. Remove the doily before serving.
**4 Use fruit or nonpoisonous flowers to hide repairs.**
Roses, pansies, and daisies are all nontoxic and attractive. Avoid lilies of the valley, calla lilies, and wisteria, all of which are poisonous. Place two or three large strawberries over damaged areas, with several others around the cake to visually balance the repair.
#### **M AJOR DAMAGE**
**1 Set aside any undamaged layers from the dropped cake.**
**2 Replace damaged layers.**
Depending on the shape of the cake, locate rectangular or round boxes that approximately match the size of the damaged layers. Hat boxes work well for round cakes.
**3 Place real cake layers on box layers.**
**4 Poke wooden skewers or thin dowel rods through all the layers.**
Cover holes with frosting. The rods will prevent the layers from sliding, especially in warm weather.
**5 Cover exposed sections of boxes with frosting as you would an actual cake.**
Add flowers or other flourishes to match the existing cake.
**6 Prepare to move the cake directly after cutting.**
Once the first cut has been made, the cake should be taken immediately into the kitchen and the real layers sliced sparingly.
**_Be Aware_**
• If the top layer of a tiered cake is damaged beyond repair, completely remove it and all support pillars, then repair remaining sections, making the next-to-the-top layer the top.
• If time permits, the caterer or pastry chef could bake or purchase a last-minute sheet cake. Serve that instead.
### **HOW TO DEAL WITH A SCREAMING BABY ON AN AIRPLANE**
**1 Make highly visible efforts to quiet your child.**
Passengers and flight attendants will not be as upset with you if they think that you are doing everything you can. Talk to your child, sing to him, and bounce him; offer him a bottle, pacifier, or food; rock him; walk him up and down the aisles; distract him with the air safety card, airsickness bags, or in-flight phone. Do everything you can think of to calm your baby, and do it loudly and noticeably.
**2 Create confusion and distraction.**
If your child has not quieted down, act crazy. Cross your eyes; make the "beebeebeebeebeebeebeebee" sound by moving your finger up and down between your lips; sing, preferably an aria, at full volume—do anything you can to distract your child from his tantrum. Then soothe him using more traditional methods.
**3 Do not panic if your child will still not calm down.**
Remember that this is only a moment in time, and that no matter how many nasty looks you are getting from fellow passengers, you are doing the best you can.
**4 Use drugs and alcohol.**
Certain over-the-counter drugs can be administered in an emergency situation. Cold or allergy medicine for children, in particular, works well and usually causes drowsiness and a calming feeling. However, the medication may take half an hour or longer to take effect, and it frequently produces the opposite effect on children, speeding them up. The alcohol is for your consumption, in appropriate doses.
**5 Use the lavatory.**
If your child still will not calm down, retreat to the lavatory with him until he exhausts himself. Hold the baby in front of the mirror and say, "There's another baby in the room!" or pretend that you are "walking downstairs" by moving back and forth in the lavatory, stooping lower with each step.
**6 Bribe fellow passengers for forgiveness.**
Offer free drinks, extra bags of snacks, earplugs, and reimbursement for dry-cleaning expenses.
**7 Remind yourself that you will never see these people again.**
Repeat.
**_Be Aware_**
• First-class and business-class passengers usually have less tolerance for screaming babies.
• Do not pretend you do not know the child. Laws regarding child abandonment and neglect are more troublesome than annoyed passengers.
#### **I F YOU ARE OUT OF DIAPERS**
**1 Ask the flight attendant for several cloth napkins.**
Cloth napkins make an excellent temporary diaper.
**2 Fold two cloth napkins into rectangles.**
**3 Place the two folded napkins (the liner) in the center of a third cloth napkin (the diaper).**
**4 Secure as you would a normal cloth diaper.**
Effective fasteners include safety pins, bobby pins, hair clips, or butterfly-style binder clips. Use for short periods only, since the starch in the napkins may irritate the baby's skin.
**_Be Aware_**
The following items should not be used in place of a diaper:
• Silk scarf
• Wool blanket
• Suede jacket
• Baseball cap
• Straw hat
• Flotation device
### **HOW TO SURVIVE A FAMILY CAR TRIP**
**1 Line the seats with a large bath towel or sheet.**
The cover will protect the back seat and expedite cleanup later.
**2 Leave early.**
Start a long trip early—before dawn—to assure that kids will be sleepy and will nap for the first few hours of the ride. If they awaken at or near rush hour, pull over to avoid traffic and get a break from driving.
**3 Bring along a few key items, but only what you really need.**
Essential items include snacks, games, open-ended creative toys, and passive entertainment devices (such as CD players and portable DVD players).
**4 Make frequent stops.**
Do not expect small children to sit still for more than an hour or two at a time. Make frequent rest stops to switch drivers, stretch, throw a ball, run around, and use the bathroom. These stops also serve to fend off carsickness and keep the driver alert.
#### **H OW TO PEE AT THE SIDE OF THE ROAD**
**1 Pull over.**
Find a spot with adequate coverage, usually in the form of bushes or thick trees, that is a safe distance from the road.
**2 Exit the car away from the road.**
Leave the door open to further block visibility. Take tissues or napkins with you, if available.
**3 Select a position behind a tree or bush.**
Position your child 180 degrees from view of oncoming traffic. In general, boys should pee facing downhill, while girls should pee facing uphill.
**4 Assess the weather conditions.**
Assess the direction of the wind, and position your child to pee with it.
**5 Assemble a "human shield."**
If there is little or no coverage, line up other members of the family to form a "human shield."
**6 Keep quiet.**
Do not speak to the family member who is attempting to go. It may be distracting and will only prolong the stop and the trip.
### **HOW TO IDENTIFY A NIGHTMARE WORKPLACE**
**1 Interview at the beginning or end of the day.**
Arrive early for your morning interview and observe the workers as they arrive. Slouching, pouting, and dejected expressions indicate low morale. Note whether workers acknowledge the receptionist with a smile and a greeting or are oblivious to the receptionist. With an interview at the end of the day, observe if large numbers of workers leave promptly at quitting time, which may indicate a bored, clock-watching staff. Large numbers of people working late, however, may indicate that employees are overworked and deadlines are unrealistic.
**2 Examine the bathrooms.**
Are the bathrooms clean? Is there enough toilet paper? Are paper towels strewn about the floor? Lack of attention to these small details may indicate a lack of respect for the workplace and lack of attention to larger details.
**3 Monitor the air quality.**
Does the work area have natural light and outside air? Is the environment quiet? Is the air too hot or too cold? Are there any rancid or chemical smells? Is smoke billowing from any vents or machinery? Are workers sniffing or sneezing frequently? All of these are indicators of poor air quality or a "sick" workplace.
**4 Look for signs of a troubled workplace.**
• Lack of personal photos on desks—only motivational images of rowers and bears catching salmon
• Droopy eyelids obscuring the whites of the workers' eyes
• Multiple sandwiches (partially eaten) and cans of soda at workstations
• Employees sleeping, doodling, or fist-fighting at meetings
• Employees with their foreheads on their desks, fists pounding the desktops
• Outdated or no-longer-manufactured candy in the vending machine
• Brown water in the cooler
• Flickering or humming fluorescent lights
• Music playing through speakers in the ceiling
• "Warning: Hazardous Waste" signs
• Groups of workers whispering
• Individual workers whispering to themselves
• Groups of workers silently praying
• Office layout based on slave ship rather than feng shui
• Carpet stains that could be coffee, could be blood
If you observe three or more of the above danger signs, you may have discovered a nightmare workplace.
**5 Evaluate.**
Is this the job for you?
### **HOW TO GET A JOB YOU'RE NOT QUALIFIED FOR**
#### **F ANCY RESTAURANT**
Restaurant interviews focus on your service experience, knowledge of standard service customs and procedures, and familiarity with a wide range of food items. You also are judged on your overall appearance and general demeanor.
##### **A TTIRE**
**Wear:**
• Tuxedo
or
• White blouse with black skirt (below the knee)
**Do Not Wear:**
• Ripped jeans
• Facial hair (except a groomed mustache)
• Dark-colored nail polish
• Lots of jewelry (limit is a watch, a wedding band and/or engagement ring, and a pair of stud earrings)
##### **P ARAPHERNALIA TO BRING**
• Table crumber
• Worm (waiter's corkscrew)
• Matches or a lighter
##### **B UZZWORDS TO USE**
• Cover (one person's dinner—derives from a single dinner plate with metal cover)
• Gooseneck (gravy boat)
• Eighty-sixed (the item is gone/finished)
• Bring-back (an unsatisfactory dish returned to the kitchen)
• Weeded (when you are attempting to serve too many tables at once)
• One fancy French wine appellation, perfectly pronounced
##### **C RITICAL KNOWLEDGE**
• American banquet trays should be carried in the left hand, leaving the right hand free to pick up service items and open doors. (Doors in restaurants in the United States swing out and have hinges on the right.) Your left hand should be flat, palm up, thumb toward your body, under the center of the bus tray, with the tray resting on your shoulder.
• You should be able to carry 10 covers at once.
• Stack the covers on the banquet tray as follows: One stack of two plates at each oblong end of the tray, one stack of three plates directly over your left shoulder, and one stack of three plates just beyond it.
• Hold cocktail trays at waist level, for beverages.
• Never put empty dishes and glassware together on the same banquet tray.
##### **I NSIDER TIPS**
• Serve food from the left, drinks from the right. In the United States, all food items should be served from the left, using the left hand, left foot in toward the table. Drinks should be poured and items cleared from the right, using the right hand, right foot in. (French restaurants and exclusive hotels may use "modern French service," with all items served and cleared from the right.)
• Do not look at drinks as you carry them on a tray—it is easier to maintain a steady hand if you are not watching the liquids shift.
• Offer job references from out-of-town restaurants. Say, "I worked for years at Chez Louis in Chicago." If pressed for the name of a person, add, "Unfortunately, the restaurant never reopened after the fire and I don't know how to reach the owner/manager anymore."
#### **CEO**
Applying for a CEO job is a lengthy process and will require multiple interviews. Be prepared for several face-to-face meetings with the human resources department, senior management, and board members.
##### **A TTIRE**
**Wear:**
• Navy or beige suit, white shirt, and a solid or wide-striped tie
or
• Navy or beige jacket and skirt or a pantsuit or dress (for less conservative companies)
• Expensive-looking watch
• Shined shoes
**Do Not Wear:**
• Bow tie or clip-on necktie
• Loud-print blouse
• Open-toed shoes
• Pastels
**Do Not:**
• Remove your jacket during the interview
• Have dirty fingernails
##### **P ARAPHERNALIA TO BRING**
• Leather portfolio
• Ultra-expensive fountain pen
• Cigar clipper
• Putter (collapsible)
• Credit cards and large bills—no coins or bills smaller than $20
##### **B UZZWORDS TO USE**
• Gross margin (the difference between sales revenue and the cost of the goods sold)
• Book value (the value of all the assets)
• EBITDA (earnings before interest, taxes, depreciation, and amortization)
• Buy-in
• Buy-out
• Re-conceptualize
• Re-energize
• Right-size
##### **C RITICAL KNOWLEDGE**
• Ask about the company's challenges over the next 6 to 12 months, its business plan or model, and whether it is in "growth" mode.
• Focus your questions on the business as a whole, the marketplace, or the global economy rather than on the details of the job.
• To prepare, read books on good grammar and writing style rather than business books. People are always more impressed with someone who communicates clearly, effectively, and correctly. Use spell-checking software whenever you draft a cover letter or resume.
##### **I NSIDER TIP**
• Be sure to ask about the number of stock options available to you, as well as their "strike price" (the price at which you can exercise them).
• When asked about your hiring strategy, say, "To hire people smarter than I am." Presidents like hearing this—it makes them trust you.
• Always negotiate for a higher salary and better benefits than offered—presidents will be more comfortable placing the business in the hands of a bulldog.
#### **F ORKLIFT OPERATOR**
Driving a forklift requires specialized skills and lots of practice, so mention that you have operated a "fork" or "stacker" at many previous job sites.
##### **A TTIRE**
**Wear:**
• Clean T-shirt
• Work boots
• Baseball cap
**Do Not Wear:**
• Loafers or flip-flops
• Necktie
• Collared shirts other than flannel
• Short pants
##### **P ARAPHERNALIA TO BRING**
• Lunch box/cooler
• Work gloves
• Cigarettes or chew
• Multipurpose tool on belt
##### **B UZZWORDS TO USE**
• Towmotor, high-low, stacker, truck (slang forklift names)
• Forks, carriage, mast/upright, load backrest (important parts of the forklift)
• Cage/DOG (for Driver's Overhead Guard)/ ROPS (pronounced "ropes," Roll-Over Protection Structure)
##### **C RITICAL KNOWLEDGE**
• The primary fork controls on a forklift are the lift-lower, the tilt forward-back, and the side shifter.
• A fork has a transmission selector (forward, reverse, neutral), steering wheel, parking brake, and accelerator and brake pedals. Most units are now automatic, and these may also have a separate inching pedal to the left of the brake pedal that slips the transmission and moves the forklift very slowly. The inching pedal may also be built into the brake pedal itself: Depress it slowly for inching, fully for braking.
##### **I NSIDER TIP**
• Mention that you have handled concrete blocks and paper rolls. Add that you have used 2,000- to 10,000-pound units (these refer to the forklift's lifting capacity, not the weight of the unit itself ), as well as units equipped with paper-roll clamps.You might also say that you've handled "your fair share" of four-wheel sit-downs, walk-behinds, and pallet trucks.
• Ask about the number of trailers and the number of pallets you will be expected to handle per day (fewer is better).
• Since most people who operate forklifts are not licensed to do so, don't worry that you do not have a license to show.
#### **B RAIN SURGEON**
Brain surgeons train for as long as eight years after medical school, so you should be, or appear to be, at least 34.
##### **A TTIRE**
**Wear:**
• Suit and tie
or
• Blouse and skirt
**Do Not Wear:**
• White lab coat or scrubs
• Stethoscope around your neck
##### **P ARAPHERNALIA TO BRING**
• Surgical loupe. Loupes are worn like glasses or over glasses and provide strong magnification during surgery. They are custom-fitted and all brain surgeons have them. Borrow a pair, or carry an empty loupe case. The case should be wooden with a surgeon's name engraved on a metal template. Keep the name on the template obscured. If you cannot borrow an actual loupe or case, substitute a wood case about 10 inches long by 5 inches wide. Do not wear surgical loupes on a chain around your neck, as you would reading glasses or sunglasses.
• Do not carry other surgical instruments.
• Do not carry medical charts.
##### **B UZZWORDS TO USE**
• Surgical drill (for drilling into bone)
• Deep brain stimulation (abbreviated DBS, targets particular areas of the brain with electrical pulses)
• Spinal instrumentation (implantation of permanent therapeutic devices in the spine)
##### **C RITICAL KNOWLEDGE**
• Ask about the hospital's type of operating microscope and its image-guidance system. Also ask about the strength of the magnet in the hospital's MRI (magnetic resonance imager).
• All brain surgery begins with either drilling or sawing through the cranium.
##### **I NSIDER TIP**
• Interviewers will want to know about papers you have published in well-known medical journals. Mention that you are awaiting publication in _Neurosurgery_ (frequently called the "red journal"), the _Journal of Neurosurgery_ (known as the "white journal"), and are expecting a book contract.
#### **S HOE SALESPERSON**
Shoe sales has become a much less service-oriented business in recent years, so involved and caring sales-people are hard to find. Make sure you appear to be friendly with a ready smile and that you are well dressed.
##### **A TTIRE**
**Wear:**
• Conservative suit and tie
or
• Tasteful blouse and skirt
• Socks
• Clean, shined shoes, without scuffs
**Do Not Wear:**
• Sneakers
• Flip-flops
• Heavy cologne or perfume
##### **B UZZWORDS TO USE**
• Brannock Device (the metal foot measurer)
• Slippage (either toe or heel)
• Trees (short for "shoe trees")
##### **C RITICAL KNOWLEDGE**
• A good fit should leave ¼-inch of room between the big toe and the tip of the shoe. There should be no slippage.
• Shoes with four or five eyelets will take a 36-inch lace, while athletic shoes will generally take a 40-to 45-inch lace.
##### **I NSIDER TIP**
• If the patron needs a half-size larger but it is not available, substitute a "wide" style of the lower full size (i.e., a 7 wide for a 7½).
• Shoes that will be worn on a daily basis should be fitted at the end of the day, when the feet have expanded.
• "Toe length" refers to the total length of the foot.
### **H OW TO SURVIVE AWKWARD ELEVATOR SILENCE**
**Mention current weather or temperature,** time of day, day of week, month, season, or approaching holiday, and wait for comment. Other subjects of common experience include popular television programs, local sports teams, and the state of being tired. If silence continues, stare at elevator walls or floor until it reaches your destination. Exit immediately.
### **HOW TO DEAL WITH A NIGHTMARE BOSS**
#### **T HE CONTROL FREAK**
The Control Freak will attempt to micromanage your every task and responsibility.
**Bombard him with information.**
Copy him on every e-mail even remotely involving him or his area of responsibility. Leave towering stacks of reports and copies of all correspondence on his desk. Include him in the most mundane meetings and discussions. You may be able to short-circuit his control mechanism with the sheer volume of data.
**Solicit his opinion, but control the options.**
If you must leave a decision up to your boss, offer the solution you favor and two or three lame options— ridiculous or unworkable possibilities that will direct him to choose your course of action. Using phrases such as "You've probably already thought of this" and "I tried to put myself in your shoes when I worked on this" will help you gain favor.
**Remain calm and pleasant.**
When your boss interferes with your work or second-guesses your decision, do not become defensive or combative. Say, "How ridiculous—I should have thought of that. Thank goodness I included you!" and then lead your boss back to your position, while encouraging him to think you're following his guidance.
**Continue to do your job.**
Bide your time. Your boss may ultimately believe that he's shown you the way and he can now go on to help others.
#### **T HE BUDDY**
The Buddy will generally attempt to blur the lines between employee and supervisor, soliciting personal information and seeking inclusion as though you are the best of friends. Include the Buddy in small ways, but keep your distance.
**Invent a hobby.**
Avoid sharing intimate details of your real life by inventing a hobby, which you can discuss with her in minute detail. Your fictional toothpick sculptures or love of steam locomotives will become of great interest to the Buddy and can serve as the basis of your "friendship." Movies, restaurants, and sports are also safe, impersonal topics to raise.
**Offer social invitations you know she can't accept.**
Invite her to lunch on a day you are certain she has another appointment. Ask her out for a drink with "the gang" after work on the night she always goes to her yoga class, or when she will be away on business. Be aware that she may proffer invitations in return, which easily can be evaded by inventing a nightly class of your own.
**Avoid hugs.**
If she attempts to throw a friendly arm around you, fake a sneeze. Blame allergies rather than perfume, which she can change. Your "allergies" can then also become a topic of friendly conversation.
#### **T HE WORKAHOLIC**
The Workaholic has lost all sense of perspective, and has sacrificed his life to his job. He will expect the same of you.
**Present evidence of the real world.**
Replace all calendars he sees with ones depicting tropical retreats, ski slopes, or other vacation locales. Litter the office with travel brochures, and purchase office subscriptions to food, travel, and entertainment magazines. E-mail him regularly with weather updates of distant cities.
**Discuss family at every opportunity.**
Show him pictures of your family. Show him pictures of his own family. If even your most distant relative has bought a car, won a part in a school play, or suffered a toothache, offer these stories in careful detail—perhaps they will trigger recognition that he, too, has a wife, sister, uncle, or son.
**If he has ever discussed a personal interest, become obsessed with it.**
Pounce on any non-work-related subject in the hope of rekindling his own passion. Discuss popular subjects and pastimes to spark some vestigial interest. Try baseball, politics, food, music, and celebrity gossip. Avoid even juicy office gossip, since that will lead him back to work-related issues.
#### **T HE TELLER OF BAD JOKES**
His jokes are always bad.
**Be prepared.**
Steel yourself for the punchline. If you are unable to determine if the punchline has been delivered, watch your boss for response cues such as a long pause or an expectant grin.
**Determine the nature of the required reaction.**
A secure boss will be satisfied with a friendly groan and head shaking, while an insecure boss will require a more elaborate show of amusement and appreciation. Respond accordingly.
**Fake amusement.**
**T HE SHOULDER SHAKE**—Smile, cover your mouth with one hand, and shake your shoulders up and down. This is especially good for puns.
**T HE AMUSED CHUCKLE**—Smile, look directly at your boss, and say, "Heh, heh, heh." This is a versatile, all-purpose laugh response.
**T HE GENUINE GUFFAW**—Smile broadly, then let out a single, loud "Ha!" Slap your thigh in amusement. If seated, slap your knee.
**Change the subject immediately.**
Do not give him the chance to "tell you another one."
**_Be Aware_**
Be on guard for other styles of bad boss behavior, and prepare to take quick action:
• **T HE SUPREME DELEGATOR**
Always willing to accept all of the credit but none of the blame, the Supreme Delegator is really setting up others to take the fall. Although she tries to cloak her behavior in an air of confidence, the Supreme Delegator has very low self-esteem and fears that she will fail.
From the moment a project is handed off to you, through all the key decisions, to the final action, make sure you advise your boss—in writing—of all key decisions and plans. Keep copies. Do not be afraid to proceed as you think best, but be prepared for your boss to disavow all knowledge of the details should there be a problem.
• **T HE YES/NO MANAGER**
This boss is ever-increasingly bored with meaningful information, intelligent discussion, and any complexity. He wants every decision reduced to an overly simplified YES or NO.
Present an executive summary, with several alternatives for action. Attach the full report with well-reasoned, well-documented arguments for each point. If asked for your recommendation, give it orally.
• **T HE PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE BOSS**
The Passive-Aggressive Boss puts things off, then complains at the last minute that he has not had enough time. The boss can then blame those above or below him for doing a bad job.
Be firm with deadlines and set them in writing. Involve others in the process when possible. These co-workers can then serve as witnesses to any mis-behavior on your boss's part.
• **T HE INDECISION MAKER**
This boss ascended to power by a fluke—he can't actually make a decision himself. He needs input from three or four different sources in order to feel comfortable in his own shoes.
Present any question to your boss as if you've taken an informal survey. Include information from any key employees he'd want to hear from.
• **T HE ALL-BUSINESS-IS-PERSONAL MANAGER**
The All-Business-Is-Personal Manager has a seriously dysfunctional life outside of work, and thus cannot ever really separate business life from personal life. He will take everything personally. He has nothing but work to cling to, so make your work time with him enjoyable. One bad day can ruin a whole relationship.
### **HOW TO DEAL WITH A NIGHTMARE CO-WORKER**
#### **T HE TALKER**
The Talker just won't shut up.
**Look busy.**
Free time means chat time to the Talker. Leave paperwork handy on your desk, and spreadsheets or other documents open on your computer at all times. When the Talker approaches, stare at the task intently and pretend not to notice his arrival.
**Evade and deflect.**
Say, "I'd love to hear more, but I've got to finish this by [fifteen minutes from now]." Or, rise from your desk and say, "Oh my gosh, I've got to go to that meeting." As you walk away, suggest that another co-worker has expressed interest in whatever is on the Talker's mind and aim him in that direction.
**"Yes" the conversation to death.**
Talkers are often of the life-is-a-struggle type, for whom everything is a hardship, and they must convince you of this. As the Talker's tale unfolds, keep agreeing with the Talker, but be sure you do not ask a question or volunteer information. After five flat agreements ("Yes . . . yes, I see.") the Talker should count this as adequate confirmation and wander off.
**Avoid showing emotion.**
Do not be cheerful around the Talker, as this may make her dejected and even more talkative. Do not be sad around the Talker, since this may encourage him to top your tale of woe with his own.
#### **T HE KISS-UP**
The Kiss-Up craves approval mostly from the boss, but will also seek approval from you.
**Congratulate her on her dedication and achievements, no matter how dubious:**
"You've sure got a way with a spreadsheet," "It's not everyone who'd work five straight weekends," or "You make the _best_ coffee."
**Get her to do some of your own work as well.**
Suggest that this is a good way to further bring her talents to the boss's attention.
**Avoid her during restructuring.**
During times of management turmoil or when the chain of command is uncertain, the Kiss-Up may become disoriented or hostile. Give her a wide berth.
#### **T HE TMI (TOO MUCH INFORMATION)**
TMIs have no boundaries and no shame. Every unsettling piece of personal information is worth sharing with you.
**Avoid TMIs on Mondays.**
The weekend will provide him with an abundance of ammunition for inappropriate personal tales. By Tuesday or Wednesday, he may have expended the most harrowing of these stories on fellow workers.
**Do not get on an elevator with a TMI.**
If you see a TMI waiting for an elevator, take the stairs. If you are already inside the elevator, feign some activity—a forgotten wallet, pocketbook, or keys—that will provide an excuse for your quickly exiting to retrieve the item.
**Maintain a buffer of at least two co-workers between the TMI and yourself at any company party or off-site function.**
If the first co-worker bolts, you will still have time for evasive maneuvers as the TMI engages the second.
**Say, "Thanks for sharing."**
Upon the completion of a long and sordid tale—his tapeworm, his night on the town, or his dream about the boss—say "Thanks for sharing." Without further comment or response from you, the TMI will move on to seek a more appreciative audience.
#### **T HE GOSSIP**
While sharing many of the characteristics of the TMI, the Gossip specializes in spreading too much information about other people.
**Beware the signs.**
A sure sign of a hopeless (but amateur) gossip is someone who proceeds a statement with, "I shouldn't be telling you this but . . ." or, "I promised I wouldn't tell anyone but . . ." Apply the techniques for avoiding a TMI, on page 344, to save yourself from a gossip who wants to tell you everything.
**Bait and switch.**
Offer outrageous stories about yourself in order to stun and distract him from prying into your true private life. With a serious expression, tell the Gossip that you were locked in the monkey cage at the zoo all weekend and had the time of your life; or that you accidentally sent a very revealing personal photo via e-mail to all the executives in the company. The juicier the story, the better. When he asks, "Is that true?" say, "I'm sorry, I can't talk about it anymore."
### **HOW TO TEE OFF IN FRONT OF A CROWD**
**1 Relax.**
Try to see the first tee as any other shot in the round. Do not make significant changes in your tempo. Try not to rush any aspect of your pre-shot routine or swing. Ignore comments from the crowd waiting to play, or pressure from the starter to speed up.
**2 Warm up.**
Thoroughly stretch in whatever way increases blood flow to your body and feels good. Take as many practice swings as you need.
**3 Release the tension in your body.**
Identify where the tension is, consciously tighten that area of your body, and then consciously relax that area while noticing the difference. Take a deep breath—in through your nose and out through your mouth— before you hit.
**4 Be mindful.**
Tune in to your feelings prior to your first swing. Are you nervous? Anxious? Steeped in self-judgment? Be aware of these negative feelings and the consequences of them on your body. Recognize that these feelings often get in the way of your true golf swing and game. Replace those feelings with positive energy. Choose to feel competent and content. Remember a time when you played your best. Generate these thoughts until you are ready to hit the ball.
**5 Be confident about your abilities and expectations.**
If you hit the ball 200 yards 80 percent of the time, you will most likely hit the ball 200 yards this time. This does not mean that you should not strive for your personal best throughout the game. Recognize that the first tee is a starting point on which you are building a solid foundation for your day's golf game.
**6 Select the club with which you feel most comfortable.**
This may not be your driver. Use a long iron or three wood if your driver is not your best club off the tee.
**7 Follow a routine for addressing the ball.**
Keep to an established pattern of how you walk up to the tee, how many practice swings you take, how you set your stance, and at what moment you start your swing. This routine is especially important on the first tee.
**8 Do not overanalyze your swing.**
Your muscle memory will complete the swing for you if you cease to over-think it. Do not over-swing in an effort to hit the ball farther.
**9 Focus.**
Choose a single location on the fairway and aim at that spot.
**_Be Aware_**
• Spend time on the practice tee prior to hitting off the first tee. Go through six to eight clubs in your bag—start with wedges (they are easy to swing) and work your way up to woods. Visualize hitting off the first tee on your last 10 to 12 practice drives.
• Golf is the culmination of physical, emotional, and mental preparedness. It is a game that begins and ends in both the body and the mind of the golfer. The first tee is the initial setting where you need to understand and accept the interrelation of these three elements.
### **HOW TO THWART A GOLF CHEAT**
Cheating at golf is so pervasive it seems to be part of the game: even people playing alone do it. There are mulligans off the tee, gimmies on the green, and lots of ways to get an unfair advantage in between. Here are a few of the most common scams and how to recognize and defeat them.
#### **T HE LOST BALL ROUTINE**
While searching for a ball lost in the woods, the player drops another ball that he has been carrying and falsely announces to the group that he has found his original ball. He has saved himself a penalty stroke and has positioned the ball as he pleases. A variation on this play is to find a stray ball, claim it, hit it, and move on quickly.
**1 Make a mental note of the markings on your opponent's ball at the start of the round.**
Notice color, scratches, brand, and number.
**2 Always help to look for a missing ball, and keep an eye on your opponent as well.**
Two people searching also speeds up play.
#### **I MPROVING A LIE**
The cheat gently taps her ball with a foot or the club, gaining a more favorable position.
**1 Stand near your opponent so that you can see the ball at all times.**
**2 Always watch your opponent, and, more important, let her know that she is being watched at all times.**
Subtle comments about her technique, her attire, or the nuances of her address will let her know she's being carefully observed. You do not have to stand by her side all day long, but put yourself in a position where you can see any errant moves. Being under constant surveillance makes most people less inclined to bend the rules.
**3 Note how much of the ball is visible as you approach it, and mark its position in relation to nearby objects, such as roads, trees, and traps.**
As the cheat goes to take the shot, the amount of the ball that is visible to you, even at a distance, should not change. Watch also for substantial changes in the ball's location; some players do not stop at simply tapping the ball to improve the lie.
#### **R EPORTING FEWER STROKES**
On a hole on which everything went wrong, she drops a few strokes from the score before announcing or recording it. She realizes that most opponents will lose track at around eight or nine strokes, and may not question such a total for fear of embarrassing themselves or the player.
**1 Keep score carefully yourself.**
**2 Ask for a careful account of each stroke after every hole.**
Be supportive of your golfing companion. When she has a difficult hole, tell her to hang in there, that it happens to the best, and so on—but when the hole is complete, ask her to recap the hole in a friendly, sympathetic manner.
#### **P LAYING DUMB**
Though he has hit his ball out of bounds, into the water, or in any other situation where penalty strokes are applicable, he tries to take only one penalty stroke where two are warranted.
**1 At the completion of the hole, ask for a clear account of the score and applicable penalty strokes.**
**2 If there is any debate, be courteous, but firm.**
If the scoring remains unresolved, take it up with the club pro at the end of the round.
#### **F AKE HANDICAP**
Someone who has a five handicap introduces himself to a group of strangers and announces a higher handicap. After shooting a 78, he claims that it was the round of his life, and is somewhat sheepish about taking everyone's money.
**1 Take out your own USGA handicap card as you are having the discussion about handicaps.**
Tell the stranger that you have all agreed to show each other your cards before starting.
**2 At the end of nine holes, assess where this individual stands.**
If it is clear that things are not what they appear, demand an adjustment in his stated handicap. If he balks, play the back nine, but state that the competition or bet is off. If someone you just met dumps the front nine, scoring above his alleged handicap, be cautious about increasing ("pressing") a bet on the back nine. It could be a setup.
**_Be Aware_**
• Keeping an opponent honest requires you to be observant and to hold everyone accountable for his or her strokes as the round unfolds. This may seem tedious at times, and may cause some odd interactions with your opponents. You must decide what is more important to you: interpersonal relations or winning.
• Cheating can occur even when there is no betting or competition between players. A player seeking to claim a new course record or his own personal best score can seek to shave strokes from the scorecard. You can decide how involved you want to be.
### **HOW TO DISARM AN IRATE GOLFER**
**1 Determine the level of danger.**
If a golfer is waving a club around angrily or drunk-enly, or is exhibiting undue hostility, it may be necessary to act quickly to restore order and safety.
**2 Try to talk him down.**
Speak calmly, keeping your tone even and your voice low. Do not make sudden gestures or movements. Remind him that it's only a game. Tell him to take a few deep breaths.
**3 If he threathens to strike, quickly move into the center of the potential swing.**
As he draws the club back to swing at you, approach him at an angle that will bring you to the center of the club. Try to remain close to his body. You are much more likely to be injured by the outer end of the club.
**4 Grab the club.**
At the top of his swing, or just as the club starts to descend, step close to him and, using one or both hands, clutch the club tightly near the grip. Pull down, staying close to him, until you can wrap your arm around the club. Hold the shaft with your armpit while keeping a firm grasp on the club's grip.
**5 Wrench the club away.**
Maintaining your hold, rotate your body around, away from the golfer's face. This maneuver should give you the leverage you need to wrench the club out of his grip. Pull with just enough force to free the club from his grasp.
**6 Step back quickly, and be prepared for him to continue to be angry and to flail.**
If necessary, use the club to keep him away from his bag, where he might obtain a second weapon.
**7 If necessary, call for help.**
Seek the assistance of your fellow golfers to help defuse the situation.
**8 Continue to talk to him until he calms down.**
**_Be Aware_**
It is always advisable to make all possible attempts to avoid physical confrontation. Your first choice should be to ignore and walk away from an irate golfer. Your next choice should be to use verbal skills to calm the golfer by speaking in low tones and showing understanding. Become physical only as a last resort, to avoid greater injury to yourself or others.
### **HOW TO CURE A GOLF ADDICTION**
**1 Examine your behavior.**
A golf addict is a person whose life is controlled by golf. You may think you have a problem with golf, but still not think that you are an addict. Ask yourself these questions. The total number of questions that you answer "yes" to is not as important as how you honestly feel about yourself as you answer these questions:
• Do you golf regularly? Do you feel empty inside if you cannot golf at your usual time?
• Do you ever golf alone, or watch golf alone?
• Have you ever substituted one club for another, thinking that one particular club was the problem?
• Have you ever cheated to obtain a better score?
• Have you ever lied to get into a golf course of which you were not a member?
• Has your job, family life, or school performance ever suffered from the effects of golf ?
• Have you ever been arrested as a result of golf ?
• Have you ever lied about the fact that you are playing, or about how much you play?
• Do you put the purchase of golf equipment ahead of your other financial responsibilities?
• Have you ever suffered a golf-related injury?
• Do you continue to golf despite the fact that you are never satisfied with your performance?
• Does golf interfere with your sleeping or eating?
• Does the thought of not being able to play golf terrify you?
• Do you feel it is impossible for you to live without golf?
**2 Admit that you have a problem, and that you need help.**
You are not responsible for your disease—but you are responsible for your recovery. You can no longer blame people, places, and courses for your addiction.
**3 Admit to one other person that you have a problem.**
This person will help you wean yourself off the game. This person should not be a regular in your foursome.
**4 Reduce the amount of golf you play.**
Going cold turkey may be difficult—first, reduce by half the number of times you play a week. Then cut that amount in half the following week, and so on. Replace golf with other activities to take your mind off the withdrawal you may experience. Make it a point to play other sports, go to the movies with your family, and watch alternate programming on Sunday afternoons.
**5 Make direct amends to everyone you've harmed emotionally or physically as a result of your addiction.**
This will help you to "own" your disease, and also allow others to help you when you need it.
**6 Watch yourself carefully—and be willing to forgive a relapse.**
Many addicts relapse at some point during recovery. If you fall back into your old ways, admit it to yourself first, then to others who can assist you in finding your way again.
**7 Do not be afraid to ask for help when you need it.**
Your golf pro may be able to direct you to others who have been through what you are dealing with. Form a support group. Therapists may also give you perspective. (Note: Sports therapy is physical therapy, not mental therapy.)
**8 Remember that no one is perfect.**
Seek the ability to change the things you can, and to accept the things you cannot change. Realize that you may never be able to play golf again without risk of a relapse. There is more to life than golf. But then again, relapses can always be cured.
### **H OW TO DISGUISE A BEER BELLY**
**Draw attention away from gut.**
### **HOW TO PUT OUT A GREASE FIRE**
**1 Do not douse with water.**
Oil and water do not mix: Water will cause the burning oil to spatter and spread the fire. Do not move the burning pan to the sink.
**2 Turn off the stove.**
**3 Put on an oven mitt.**
Large mitts are the safest option. If barbecue mitts— those that cover the forearm—are available, use for added protection.
**4 Find a lid that fits the pan.**
A lid that is slightly larger than the pan will also work.
**5 Hold the lid at an angle toward the fire.**
Do not try to lower the lid directly onto the pan or you risk burning your arms. Keep your face and chest as far from the flames as possible.
**6 Slide the lid onto the pan and hold it in place until the pan cools.**
The pressure from the heat and flame can force a lid off the pan. Hold it securely in place.
**7 Do not lift the lid.**
Lifting the lid will add oxygen and feed the fire. Take the lid off only when the pan has become noticeably cooler.
**8 If no lid is available, use baking soda.**
Dump a large amount of baking soda on the grease fire to extinguish it quickly. Avoid using baking powder, which can cause the fire to flare.
**_Be Aware_**
• Do not use a dry chemical extinguisher to try to put out a grease fire. It is not effective, and the force of the compressed chemical agent can splatter burning material and spread flames.
• Never leave cooking oil to heat unattended: Flames may develop quickly.
#### **H OW TO TREAT A GREASE BURN**
**1 Cool the burned area.**
Immediately run cold water over the burned area for several minutes or until the injury site is cool.
**2 Dry the burned area gently.**
Blot the injury site using a clean, dry towel or sheet.
**3 Check for blistering.**
If the blisters are small, pop them with a sterilized pin and remove dead skin using scissors. (Wiping the tip of a pin in alcohol or heating it in the flame from a match will adequately sterilize the pin.) If there are no blisters and the burn is less than one inch across, apply burn cream and a sterile dressing.
**4 Cover severe burns.**
If the burn is larger than one inch across or is very blistered, cover it with a clean, dry sheet or towel and seek medical attention promptly.
**_Be Aware_**
• Infection is the main risk. Signs of infection include fever or local warmth, increased redness around the burned area, increased soreness, red streaks, swelling, or drainage of pus.
• Do not apply oily or greasy substances such as petroleum jelly or butter to the wound. These popular but misguided burn remedies are detrimental to the healing process.
### **HOW TO EXTINGUISH A CHRISTMAS TREE FIRE**
**1 Assess the size and nature of the fire.**
Quickly determine if the source of the fire is electrical, and observe how large an area of the tree is burning. A fire larger than the size of a small waste-basket cannot usually be contained, even with a home extinguisher. If the fire is that large, evacuate the building and call the fire department from a cellular phone or a neighbor's house.
**2 If the fire is small and not electrical, douse it or smother it.**
Extinguish the fire with a bucket of water or a multi-purpose (Class ABC) fire extinguisher, or smother it with a wet blanket.
**3 If the fire is electrical, use a fire extinguisher.**
Do not throw water on an electrical fire. Use a multi-purpose (Class ABC) home fire extinguisher.
**4 When using a fire extinguisher, stand with your back toward an exit, six to eight feet from the fire, and Pull, Aim, Squeeze, Sweep (PASS).**
Pull the release tab, aim at the base of the fire, squeeze the lever to release the pressurized chemicals, and sweep from side to side as you slowly move closer to the fire.
**5 If the fire is still spreading, exit the house.**
Evacuate the building quickly. Do not attempt to save ornaments, Christmas presents, or other valuables.
#### **H OW TO PREVENT A CHRISTMAS TREE FIRE**
**1 Select a fresh tree.**
A dry tree is a major fire hazard; to get the freshest tree, cut it yourself. If you purchase a precut tree, run your hand down a branch to make sure it is not dry and shedding needles. Test the tree by bending a needle: If it snaps, the tree is too dry.
**2 Leave the tree in a bucket of water overnight.**
Place the tree in the stand the next day. Water it daily.
**3 Place the tree at least three feet away from a fire-place, radiator, or other heat source.**
**4 Unplug tree lights when not in use.**
Do not leave the lights on during the day, when you go to bed, or when you leave the house.
**5 Do not place lit candles on or near a tree.**
If tradition requires candles, use specially weighted sconces that do not tip over. Do not add electric tree lights or other electric equipment to or around the tree (such as a train set), in the event that water must be thrown onto the tree. Do not leave the tree unattended.
### **HOW TO MAKE AN EMERGENCY MENORAH**
If Hanukkah arrives and you are without a menorah or candles, you will have to make your own.
#### **B AKED MENORAH**
You will need 2 cups flour, 1 cup salt, 1 cup water, 9 nuts or washers (at least ½ inch in diameter), a large mixing bowl, and at least three hours.
**1 Preheat the oven to 200° F.**
**2 Mix the flour and salt together in the large bowl.**
**3 Add water.**
Slowly pour water into the mixture and stir until it becomes the consistency of dough. If it is too dry, add more water; if it is too wet, add more flour.
**4 Roll the dough into a strip about 12 inches long, 1 to 2 inches wide, and 2 inches thick.**
**5 Cut a 1-inch piece off one end and press it into the center of the strip.**
The center area will be raised slightly: It will hold the Shamos candle, which is used to light the other candles.
**6 Add the nuts to the dough.**
Press the nuts into the dough, four spaced evenly on each side of the Shamos holder. Place the ninth nut in the raised center portion. The nuts should be pushed in so that part of the nut sticks up above the top of the dough. The nuts are the candle holders.
**7 Bake.**
Place the menorah on a baking sheet, and place in the oven. Bake for about two hours. The menorah is ready when the dough becomes hard. (You can air dry the menorah instead of baking it; allow two to three days for hardening.)
**8 Let cool.**
#### **B OWL AND DIRT MENORAH**
You will need a baking dish or bowl and sand, dirt, rice, or gravel.
**Fill a 2-inch-deep (or deeper) bowl with sand, dirt, rice, gravel, or other nonflammable material.**
Stick the appropriate number of candles in the dish each night (placing the Shamos on a slightly elevated mound) to create a makeshift menorah.
**_Be Aware_**
Do not make a menorah out of wood. Hanukkah candles must be allowed to burn down completely, and wood presents the risk of fire.
### **HOW TO DEAL WITH A BAD GIFT**
**Do not lie.**
If you receive a gift you simply detest, do not complicate the situation by lying. Do not praise the gift and say that you've always wanted one: The giver may later wonder why you are not using the gift or why it is not displayed in your home—or you may get something similar next year. If you receive an awful sweater, say something neutral like, "I love sweaters." If the giver is still not convinced that you like the present, try it on; you may also be able to offer another partially true compliment: "What a perfect fit!" If you receive as a gift something you already own, you do not need to advise the giver. Say, "I love this [thing]. How did you know?"
**Thank the giver for the thought, not the gift.**
Say, "How thoughtful of you" or "Thanks for thinking of me" or "I can't tell you how much this means to me."
**Do not overpraise the gift or the giver.**
Keep your thanks simple and brief.
**Determine where the gift was purchased.**
If there was no gift receipt, check the packaging, label, and tags for a store name. If you cannot determine where it was purchased, ask the giver appreciatively: "Where did you ever find this?" Note the name in order to return the gift later.
**Regift it.**
Unwrap the gift completely to make certain that it does not contain a hidden card, monogramming, or other giver- or recipient-specific identification. Rewrap it in fresh wrapping materials.
**_Be Aware_**
Regifting can be risky. You may later be embarrassed if you do not know where the gift you gave was purchased. Some regifts, particularly distinctive ones, may make the rounds (see "How to Repurpose a Fruitcake," facing page) and end up being regifted to the original giver, a situation you may find hard to explain.
### **HOW TO REPURPOSE A FRUITCAKE**
**Turn the fruitcake into another dessert.**
Do not serve the fruitcake as is. Slice it very thin, tear the pieces apart, and use them in an English trifle, a dessert made with alternating layers of cake (née fruitcake), custard, whipped cream, and, sometimes, fresh fruit. Serve in a deep glass bowl (often called a trifle bowl).
**Use the fruitcake as a doorstop.**
Fruitcakes are very hardy and will last for years. Use the fruitcake to prop open a door.
**Use the fruitcake to prevent your car from rolling.**
When parked on a hill, wedge the fruitcake under the downhill side of a rear tire. In your garage, position the fruitcake on the floor as a tire stop to prevent the car from hitting the garage wall.
**Use the fruitcake as a dumbbell.**
A good-size fruitcake may weigh several pounds. Incorporate it into your exercise routine, holding it firmly for arm curls, or squeezing it between the feet for leg lifts.
**Use the fruitcake in a carnival game.**
Collect fruitcakes and stack them vertically in a pyramid. Using tennis balls, try to knock down the fruitcakes in five throws.
**Use as bookends.**
Set up two fruitcakes either horizontally or vertically, depending on the size of the books.
**Use as art.**
Bolt a fruitcake to a painted board, frame it and hang it on your wall, or simply place it on a pedestal. Position the fruitcake in a well-lit area.
**Use the fruitcake as compost.**
Fruitcakes are made of (mostly) organic material, and make good fertilizer. However, it may take several years for the fruitcake to decompose.
#### **H OW TO SAFELY EAT A FRUITCAKE**
**1 Slice it thin.**
Cut the fruitcake into narrow slices—no more than ⅜ inch—while the cake is cool. Place the slices on a serving platter, cover, and allow to come to room temperature.
**2 Check the knife.**
After cutting, the blade should be somewhat sticky and slightly colored. If the knife does not have to be wiped with a damp cloth after each cut, the cake is too dry, and a healthy dollop of whipped cream will be necessary. If the knife is heavily streaked with cake ingredients after cutting, the fruitcake has not been baked long enough and may need to be repurposed.
**3 Disguise the taste.**
Cover with lots of ice cream and whipped cream. Wash the fruitcake down with strong black coffee, Irish coffee, brandy, or a hot toddy.
**4 Swallow without chewing.**
Cut the slice into small pieces. Swallow each piece whole, as you would a vitamin. If chewing is necessary, use your molars, not your front teeth or incisors, and try not to touch the food with your tongue, which has all your taste buds.
**_Be Aware_**
• Do not be fooled by a gift of a "Yule cake," "Christmas ring," or "dried fruit bread"—these are just other names for a fruitcake.
• If the fruitcake is very dark in color, it contains lots of molasses and corn syrup, making it exceedingly sticky, thick, and dense. The heavier the fruitcake, the more candied fruit and dark molasses it has. The darker or heavier the fruitcake, the more difficult it will be to swallow.
• A light-colored fruitcake is a good sign; the cake has plenty of batter and light corn syrup.
• Fruitcake should be stored in a cool place, such as a refrigerator or cellar. If kept cool and in a tin, the cake will last for at least a year, and you can give it as a present the following Christmas.
### **HOW TO FIT INTO CLOTHING THAT IS TOO TIGHT**
#### **F OR MEN**
**1 Wear newer shirts and pants.**
Garments (especially shirts) that have been laundered repeatedly are smaller than their original sizes. These items may also have loose buttons that might be ejected during a meal.
**2 Choose dark-colored garments.**
Lighter colors are less forgiving visually, while darker colors tend to obscure bulges.
**3 Move your collar button.**
Many men carry extra weight in the neck and jowls. Remove and reattach your collar button, moving it to the very edge of the collar tab. Wear a standard tie (not a bow tie) to hide the alteration.
**4 Wear suits.**
Suits are very effective for hiding pounds. They even out lines and offer structure to the body shape. Choose a dark-colored suit with a boxy shape rather than one cut narrow through the chest and waist. Shoulder padding is slimming, and is a must to balance the hips. (Broad shoulders help to create the ideal inverted triangle physique.) A suit jacket is also effective for hiding a large rear end: Choose a jacket with side vents/slits for extra room and comfort.
**5 Move pants to below the belly.**
Do not attempt to hike pants up and wear them high on the waist: This will result in an unsightly bulge, the pants may not close properly, and they will be too short in length. Wear them low on the hips, and use a jacket or loose-fitting shirt to conceal the gut.
**6 Use the proper belt notch.**
A belt should be worn in the third or fourth notch. Buy a longer belt rather than moving to a lower notch.
**_Be Aware_**
• Avoid fitted, knitted, polo-type tops, such as golf shirts. These garments accentuate what you want to hide.
• Avoid horizontal stripes, which widen your appearance.
• Avoid suits with a center vent in the back, which tends to ride on the rear end rather than fall over it.
#### **F OR WOMEN**
**1 Choose classic-fit trousers and tunic shirts and blouses.**
Even if a bit tight, these garments will fit better and look more appropriate than severely cut items. Blouses can be worn untucked, but only if they are cut straight across the bottom and not high on the sides. If you carry extra weight in your hips, avoid narrow-leg pants; instead opt for classic or wide leg styles.
**2 Use safety pins on pants with side and rear closures.**
Safety pins can be used to extend the waistband and may even be used in a chain of two or three. Wear a long jacket or over-blouse to hide the pins; take care in windy conditions.
**3 Pick structured garments.**
Jackets and cardigan sweaters that have a structured shape—even without you in them—hide pounds. Look for jackets that have shoulder pads, back seams that curve, and tapered sleeves. Unlike the boxy suits men should wear, women's suits should be tapered, giving the appearance of a slimmer waistline.
**4 Layer tops and use tops as shirt-jackets.**
Blouses that are too tight when buttoned can be worn partially unbuttoned over a round-neck or turtleneck knit top. Leave the over-blouse unbuttoned down to a button above the waist; tuck the top and blouse into your skirt/pants for a slimming layered look. Add a jacket, or wear the blouse completely unbuttoned as a shirt-jacket if it is cut straight across the bottom.
**5 Choose monochromatic ensembles.**
Wear dark suits, or pair a black skirt or pants with a black top or blouse. To maximize the slimming effect of dark, monochromatic ensembles, keep the darkest garment on the bottom. Place lighter shades of the same hue near your face.
**6 Wear bright colors properly.**
To wear bright colors and still look thin, pair them with dark neutrals. Wear black pants/skirt with a brightly colored blouse or knit top, topped off with a black jacket. Or choose a red jacket with a black top and black pants/skirt.
**7 Draw attention to the face with striking accessories, stylish hair, and tastefully applied makeup.**
**_Be Aware_**
• Avoid clingy knits and spandex. These materials keep no secrets and tend to draw the eye to bulges. Lycra creates some stretch in a garment and is far more forgiving than spandex.
• Before the holidays, purchase a few blouses and two pairs of dark pants that are one size too big. Wear them before the holidays and people will think you've lost weight. After the holidays, they will fit perfectly.
• Avoid drawing attention to the waist with flashy belts over large shirts.
### **HOW TO SILENCE CHRISTMAS CAROLERS**
**Turn out the lights.**
As soon as you hear or see the carolers coming down the street, douse the lights. A dark house may deter them from stopping, since they will think no one is home. Turning out the lights belatedly—after they have arrived at your door—will send a strong message, but carolers are frequently very determined.
**Turn up your music.**
Without opening your door, play CDs at high volume. Speed metal and 1970s rock are likely to be in a different key than the carolers, who will be unable to stay in tune, become discouraged, and depart. If you are listening to Christmas music, shut it off immediately, or they may be encouraged to sing along.
**Answer the door in a robe or towel.**
Embarrassed, the carolers may simply leave. Nudity (even partial) may offend them and make them unable to sing. Call to another person inside the house (real or imaginary), "I'll be right back."
**Answer the door holding a telephone.**
Shout, "I can't hear you! There are carolers singing!" into the mouthpiece until the carolers move on.
**Bribe them.**
Tell them you would like to make a small donation, and that you enjoy their singing—from a distance.
**Request songs they will not know.**
The song repertoire of the caroler is generally quite shallow. Good choices to stump the carolers include "Adam Lay Ybounden," "Riu, Chiu," and "The Zither Carol."
**Send them to someone else.**
Smile and point to the house of a stranger or a neighbor you dislike, and say, "My friend over there really loves carols!" A house that is lavishly decorated for the season will prove irresistible to them.
#### **H OW TO SING ALONG WHEN YOU DON'T KNOW THE WORDS**
**Request "Deck the Halls."**
Every verse ends with "Fa La La La La, La La La La," which is easy to remember.
**Just join in.**
Carolers are irrepressible: If you are lost (or off-key), they will simply sing louder to drown you out.
**Listen for the chorus.**
Most carols have a repeating section, or chorus. Listen for it, and then sing only that part.
**Lip-synch.**
Move to the back of the group, then move your mouth soundlessly as they sing.
**_Be Aware_**
• Do not attempt to discourage carolers by stating that you are Jewish: You will get "Light the Menorah," "The Dreidel Song," "Sunrise, Sunset," or another menu of ethnic songs.
• Do not tell carolers that you don't celebrate Christmas: You are likely to hear "Frosty the Snowman," "Sleigh Ride," "Jingle Bell Rock," or a litany of secular holiday songs.
• Do not attempt to avoid carolers by going to the bathroom; they will be waiting when you return.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE IF YOU HAVE NO ONE TO KISS ON NEW YEAR'S EVE**
#### **I F YOU ARE WITH OTHERS**
**1 Keep a glass in your hand.**
If others think you are being festive and uninhibited, you are much more likely to receive a kiss. Even if you are not drinking, always hold a partly full glass of champagne.
**2 Hug people.**
As the clock strikes midnight, begin hugging everyone around you.
**3 Select a desirable person.**
As you are hugging, look for an attractive person who you would enjoy kissing and who might kiss you. If a person is not randomly kissing others, he or she may be less likely to kiss you.
**4 Begin your approach.**
Act casual, but keep your destination in view. Slowly move toward your chosen one, hugging everyone on the way.
**5 Time your arrival.**
Do not appear to be "lining up" to kiss this person. Time your arrival precisely as the person releases the previous reveler.
**6 Yell first, then hug.**
Yell "Happy New Year!" as you move in. Hug, embrace, then pull away slightly.
**7 Kiss.**
Keep your mouth closed, pucker slightly, and plant the kiss.
#### **I F YOU ARE ALONE**
**Kiss a pet.**
Dogs are generally agreeable and have relatively clean mouths. Cats are usually well groomed but are more passive and tend to get rather than give. Keep your mouth closed.
**Kiss yourself.**
Find a mirror, pucker up, lean close, and kiss. Keep the lips slightly parted. Do not attempt to use your tongue. Wipe the mirror clean after you have completed your kiss. You may also try kissing the back of your hand.
**Kiss a celebrity.**
Watch a favorite movie or show on television and kiss the screen when an appealing star has a close-up.
Wipe the screen first to remove static electricity and dust, and wipe the screen after to remove any evidence.
**Hug a pillow.**
Full-body pillows are more satisfying.
**Call a friend on the phone.**
After you wish your friend a happy New Year, give the telephone mouthpiece loud, smacking kisses. (This works less well with cellular phones.)
## **C HAPTER 5**
## **DOMESTIC DANGERS**
### **HOW TO DEAL WITH WEDDING-NIGHT JITTERS**
**1 Eat.**
You've probably been so busy and excited that you didn't have a chance to eat at the reception. Have some food now.
**2 Postpone physical contact.**
Unwind from the stress and excitement of the wedding before heading to the bedroom. Do something you both enjoy: Get an ice cream, take a stroll in a park, or just sit in a quiet place and talk about the day.
**3 Eat mood-enhancing food.**
Chocolate is an excellent mood enhancer: It contains the stimulants caffeine, theobromine, and phenylethylamine, as well as anandamide, a chemical—also produced naturally by the brain—that may enhance feelings of well-being.
**4 Get the room ready.**
Dim the lights, adjust the temperature, light scented candles, and put on soft music. Keep juices, bottled water, and fresh fruit on hand to rehydrate, rejuve-nate, and reinvigorate.
**5 Get yourselves set.**
The bride and groom should be relaxed, comfortable, and confident. Offer a foot rub. Use lavender soap and scent to promote relaxation. Put on a cozy nightgown or robe over sexy lingerie or underwear.
**6 Do something you've never done before.**
#### **H OW TO REVIVE YOUR NEW SPOUSE**
**Brew coffee.**
Pass a mug of coffee repeatedly under your spouse's nose.
**Begin undressing your spouse.**
Remove his socks to cool his body, then follow with his shirt, pants, and underwear. Most people will wake up if they sense they are being undressed.
**Rub ice cubes over your spouse's body.**
Start with the forehead, wrists, and soles of the feet. Keep going.
**Apply pressure to the nail bed.**
Take the tip of one of your spouse's fingers and hold it between your thumb and index finger. Very gently, apply steady pressure to the nail bed. Do not squeeze too hard. This method, used by emergency personnel to determine unconsciousness/unresponsiveness in victims, causes sharp pain. It should revive your partner quickly.
**Tickle.**
**Call on the telephone.**
If you are in a hotel, call the front desk and ask them to ring your room. Or call your spouse's mobile phone from your mobile. Most people will respond to the sound of a ringing phone.
**Pretend there is an emergency.**
Yell "Fire!" "Earthquake!" "Muggers!" and "Watch out!" repeatedly to get your spouse's adrenaline flowing. Once your spouse is awake, you can explain that you weren't ready for your special night together to end.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE A HONEYMOON DISASTER**
#### **E XTREME SUNBURN**
**1 Expose damaged skin to air.**
Remove all clothing around the burn area: Clothing will irritate the burn site and may cause increased pain.
**2 Drink water.**
Drink at least 32 ounces of water to help promote sweating, which cools the skin.
**3 Apply a cold compress.**
Put ice in a plastic bag, wrap in a cotton T-shirt or other fabric, and apply to the burn area. If the burn area is very large, soak a bed sheet in ice water and apply it instead of a compress. Let the skin cool under the compress for 15 minutes to help reduce pain.
**4 Apply a soothing gel or ointment to the burn area.**
Carefully rub a cooling aloe lotion into the burned area. This is especially soothing if the aloe has been chilled in a refrigerator or a bucket of ice. Do not apply suntan lotion, baby oil, petroleum jelly, or any other foreign substance to the burn.
**5 Take pain medication.**
Ibuprofen will help reduce pain at the burn site.
**6 Lie still.**
Lie in a position that best exposes your sunburn to the air without coming into contact with the bed, your clothing, or another person. Do not bend sunburned joints.
**7 Continue with your honeymoon.**
Take advantage of loose-fitting island fashions as your sunburn heals.
**_Be Aware_**
Depending on the severity of the sunburn, a new layer of skin will replace the burned area in two days to two weeks.
#### **M IGRAINE HEADACHE**
**1 Dim the lights.**
Bright lights may exacerbate a migraine or prolong symptoms. Keep the shades drawn and the room lights off or very low.
**2 Reduce noise levels.**
Turn off the radio and television. The room should be silent, or with soothing "white" noise such as that created by a small fan.
**3 Limit movement.**
Running, walking, and even climbing stairs may increase the intensity of a migraine.
**4 Eat vitamin-rich foods.**
Magnesium and vitamin B2 (riboflavin) may combat migraine symptoms. Spinach, Swiss chard, and many nuts are high in magnesium, while mackerel, shad, and other oily fish are rich in riboflavin.
**_Be Aware_**
A migraine may last as little as one hour or as long as three days.
#### **A CUTE TONGUE INJURY**
**1 Prepare a tea bag.**
Soak a tea bag in warm water for 2 minutes. Let it stand 1 minute at room temperature, then wrap it in gauze or a clean cloth napkin.
**2 Apply tea bag to tongue.**
Place the moist tea bag on the injury site and press steadily. The tannic acid in the tea is a natural coagulant and should stop the bleeding. The tongue has a large number of blood vessels near the surface and will bleed profusely until the blood coagulates.
**3 Rinse.**
Swish and spit using an anesthetic mouthwash, if available.
**4 Apply a numbing agent.**
Apply ice to the wound to numb and reduce pain.
**5 Avoid acidic and salty foods and liquids.**
Acidic substances, such as citrus fruits and vinegar, and those high in salt, such as nuts and potato chips, may aggravate the injury.
**6 Keep the tongue still.**
The tongue will heal more quickly if it is inactive.
**7 Protect the tongue.**
Wear an athletic mouth guard to protect the tongue until the injury heals.
#### **F OOD POISONING**
**1 Stay hydrated.**
Drink several gallons of water a day.
**2 Replenish mineral salts.**
Nibble on dry salted crackers or plain rice to replace salt lost through diarrhea.
**3 Do not induce vomiting.**
Vomiting will not remove the bacterial culprit, but will cause dehydration.
**_Be Aware_**
• Do not drink the water when traveling to the tropics or when you are unsure of its cleanliness. Avoid ice cubes in drinks, brushing your teeth with tap water, opening your mouth in the shower, or swallowing—or even rinsing your mouth with—water in swimming pools or the ocean.
• Only eat fruit that you can peel yourself. Avoid all vegetables and fruits that could have been washed in contaminated water, or fruits (like melons) that might have been soaked in water to increase their size and weight.
• If you don't know what it is, don't eat it.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE IF YOU FORGET YOUR ANNIVERSARY**
**Order an emergency bouquet.**
Many florists can assemble arrangements with little notice. If you have just minutes to prepare, scour your neighborhood flowerbeds for daisies. Wrap them in colorful ribbon and present them as your initial gift.
**Buy chocolates.**
Most supermarkets and drugstores carry chocolate assortments. Choose a tasteful boxed set rather than several loose candy bars tied with ribbon.
**Create a voucher card.**
Prepare a card or piece of paper that shows the wonderful gift you're giving but can't give now because it isn't ready yet. Draw a picture of the gift on the card or paper.
**Apologize, apologize, apologize.**
If you're caught with nothing, making excuses will not help your case. Your level of contrition should be so extreme that your spouse begins to feel bad because you feel so terrible.
**Give an intangible present.**
Give her a homemade certificate for a weekend spa getaway. It could be for her only, or for a romantic weekend for both of you—a "second honeymoon" (but don't push your luck). A week free of household chores, a weekend of breakfasts in bed, or getting her car detailed are other possibilities.
#### **H OW TO SLEEP ON THE COUCH**
**1 Remove the back cushions.**
If the couch has loose back cushions, take them off to add more width to the sleeping surface.
**2 Remove the arm cushions.**
Side cushions take up precious head and leg room, and will just end up on the floor in the middle of the night anyway.
**3 Fluff and flip.**
If the sofa design permits, remove the seat cushions, fluff them, then flip them so the side that was down is now the top. This will provide a more even sleeping surface.
**4 Cover the seat cushions with a sheet.**
The sheet will protect your face from odors trapped in the cushions and will protect the seating area from saliva.
**5 Use your usual pillow.**
You will sleep better with your head resting on a familiar pillow. Get yours from the bedroom, if the bedroom is still accessible to you.
**6 Depending on the temperature of the room and your comfort level, get a sheet, blanket, comforter, or large towel to put on top of you.**
**7 Relax.**
Do not to go to bed angry.
**_Be Aware_**
If you are an active sleeper, lay the sofa cushions next to the sofa to break your fall should you roll off during the night.
### **HOW TO GET YOUR BABY TO SLEEP**
**Swaddle the baby.**
Fold down one corner of a receiving blanket and place the baby on top of the blanket with his head above the fold. Pull one side of the blanket securely across the baby's chest and tuck it underneath his body. Then pull up the bottom, folding the edge back, and finish by pulling the remaining side of the blanket across the baby's chest and underneath the body. The baby should fit snugly inside the blanket.
**Sway.**
Hold the swaddled baby close to your chest. Shift your weight from one foot to the other. This rhythmic stimulation will induce a sleepy state in the baby. Position the child so that his ear is over your heart. The beating will soothe him.
**Generate soothing white noise near the baby.**
Sound produced by a clothes dryer, dishwasher, blender, coffee grinder, hair dryer, vacuum cleaner, lawn mower, leaf blower, or air conditioner has a lulling potency that many babies cannot resist. Metronomes and ticking clocks can also soothe a baby to sleep by reminding a child of his mother's heart beat.
**Put the baby on a washing machine or dryer.**
Turn on the machine and set to normal cycle. The vibrations and noise are sleep-inducing. Do not leave the baby unattended.
**Go for a drive.**
The steady vibration of the car will have most infants asleep quickly. Open the window a crack and the air will keep you awake while the sound of the wind functions as soothing white noise for the baby. Do not get behind the wheel if you are exhausted and cannot operate heavy machinery.
**Dance to music with a strong beat.**
Hold the child securely in your arms and bounce, twirl, and dip in a rhythmic fashion. Concentrate on moving the baby to the beat. The nonstop, steady jiggling will overload the brain's processing center. Avoid atonal, early-twentieth-century classical music, bebop, or any other music that could be jarring. Better choices include reggae, house, dance/trance, disco, minimalist, and pop.
**Climb up and down a staircase.**
Make sure your grip is tight around the baby. Go up and down at a rapid, steady pace.
**Use a pacifier.**
A pacifier (also known as a binky, paci, dummy, comforter, fooler, ninny, soother, soothie, or yum yum) can be an extraordinarily potent sleep inducer for some babies, but it can be habit-forming, and may cause problems if lost or stolen.
### **HOW TO BABYPROOF THE HOUSE**
**1 Crawl around on your hands and knees to see the house from your child's point of view.**
Anticipate the things that will interest him.
**2 Remove all sharp edges.**
Create corner bumpers out of foam or bubble wrap. Protect all hard edges within the child's reach, including coffee tables, end tables, bookcases, televisions, entertainment centers, hard chairs, dressers, bed stands, and desks.
**3 Protect electrical outlets.**
Use spring-loaded release covers in electrical outlets; plastic slip-in outlet guards can be too easily removed. Alternatively, move electrical outlets higher on the wall, to just below the ceiling, or replace all electrical appliances with battery-operated appliances. Batteries are toxic, however.
**4 Install window guards.**
Use window guards that prevent windows from opening more than 4 inches. Use the sliding button guard or the lock-and-key guard (which also keeps burglars out, but might prohibit a fast exit in an emergency). Protect low-to-the-ground windows with a hard plastic sheet or soft Mylar coating that prevents a child from shattering the glass. Do not use tilt-out windows unless windows are kept closed and locked at all times. Alternatively, install bars not more than 2⅜ inches apart on the outside of windows.
**5 Install childproof doorknob spinners.**
Deter your child from entering unsafe rooms or closets by covering all doorknobs with childproof covers that will spin loosely when a child attempts to turn the knob.
**6 Install drawer and cabinet guards.**
To prevent your child from reaching knives in a drawer or cleaning agents under the sink, secure drawers and cabinets with childproof latches.
**7 Hang towels over the top of doors to prevent the child from slamming the door on his fingers.**
Alternatively, remove all doors.
**8 Bolt heavy furniture to walls.**
Tall, heavy furniture can be tipped and pulled down by children, especially if they are climbing. Strap or secure bookcases, dressers, cabinets, and televisions. Tape lamps to tables or floors.
**9 Avoid entanglements.**
Tie up (or down) or remove all curtains, blinds, and cords, especially electrical cords.
**10 Remove poisonous plants.**
If you are not sure which plants are poisonous, throw them all away. Eliminate hazardous outdoor plants as well as houseplants.
**11 Install baby gates.**
Use gates that are 30 inches tall and have only vertical posts, with a bar top and bottom: Do not use diamond-shaped accordion gates that a child can climb. Place a gate at the top and bottom of a staircase. Keep gates closed at all times, even when the baby is asleep or not home.
**12 Block the fireplace.**
Put a nontoxic plant or fake logs in the grate. Install a gate around the outside of the hearth to prevent the child from approaching the fireplace or from sustaining an injury after hitting the edge of the fireplace. Put away all fireplace tools. Do not use the fireplace for actual fires until the child is older.
**13 Reduce the temperature of the hot water heater.**
Turn the water heater to 120°F or below to prevent scalding.
**14 Install a spout guard over the bathtub spigot.**
Mount foam on the metal faucet to prevent inadvertent head gouging or bumping while bathing.
**15 Install a stove guard.**
Attach a plastic shield in front of your stove's burners to prevent your child from reaching up and over-turning pots and pans or burning fingers on hot or flaming surfaces. Affix knob protectors so your child cannot accidentally turn on the range.
**16 Put lid guards on all toilets.**
Do not let the baby watch a dog drink from the toilet bowl.
**17 Line floors with gym mats.**
Cover all flat surfaces with gym mats several inches thick to provide extra padding in case of a fall.
**_Be Aware_**
Keep purses and diaper bags, which are repositories for dangerous items and choking hazards, out of the reach of children. Put away guests' bags as well.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE BABY-GEAR OVERLOAD**
**1 Wear cargo pants.**
Fill the pockets with soft items:
• Burp cloth
• Bibs
• Change of clothes (for you and for baby)
**2 Dress the baby in cargo pants.**
Fill the pockets with small necessities:
• Baby's cap
• Small board book for entertainment
• Teething ring
**3 Wear a photographer's or fisherman's vest.**
Fill the pockets with necessities:
• Small camera and film
• Baby blanket
• Crib toy
• Baby manual
• Hand sanitizer
• Bowl and spoon
• Changing pad
• Shampoo
• Nail clippers
• Bath soap
• Fever-reducing medicine
• Teething gel
• Anti-itch cream
• Saline drops
• Nasal bulb syringe
• Thermometer
• Tissues
• Meat tenderizer for bee stings
• Adhesive bandages
• Antibiotic ointment
• Toothbrush and paste
• Plastic bag for soiled diapers
• Plastic bag for wet/dirty clothes
**4 Wear a fanny pack.**
Fill with adult necessities:
• Keys
• Wallet
• Headache medicine
• Sunglasses
• Makeup
• Cell phone
• Shopping list
• Pen
**5 Circle your waist with a web belt.**
Attach a canteen (for you) and a bottle or sippy cup (for baby).
**6 Clip a pacifier to the baby.**
**7 Sling a messenger bag across your back.**
Fill with remaining necessities:
• Umbrella
• Toys
• Diapers
• Diaper wipes
• Cotton balls
• Sunscreen
• Diaper cream
• Juice
• Crackers
• Video camera
**8 Wear a baby carrier or sling.**
Place the baby in the carrier and go. Remember where you are going, and why, and be sure to take your house keys with you.
### **HOW TO BREAK INTO YOUR CAR IF YOUR BABY IS LOCKED INSIDE**
**1 Maintain visual contact with your baby.**
Observe her medical condition. Trick your baby into thinking that you meant to create this situation. See "How to Keep Your Baby Calm" on the following page.
**2 Try a key from a similar model of car.**
Ask passersby if they drive the same type of car. Ask if they will try to open your door with their key.
**3 Use a coat hanger to break in.**
Bend a wire hanger into a long J. Square off the bottom of the J so that the square is about two inches wide. Slide the hanger into the door, between the window and the weather stripping. Feel for the end of the button rod and, when you have it, pull it up to open the lock.
**4 Break the window.**
Don a pair of gloves, mittens, or socks to protect your hands from abrasion and injury. Select the window farthest from your child—a front window is ideal. Use a sharp object to punch through the middle of the window—try a rock, hammer, crowbar, piece of concrete from a broken curb, or even a concrete parking spot marker. Hit the window with enough force to break the surface tension on the glass. Do not use your fist or a blunt object, neither of which will break the glass.
**5 Call for help.**
Police officers and firefighters sometimes carry keys or lock-pick tools, or call a locksmith. A professional can often spring the lock in as little as three seconds with no damage to your car.
**_Be Aware_**
• In cold weather, do not warm up the car with the child inside. Many new cars automatically lock the doors once the ignition is turned on.
• Larger glass panels are less expensive to replace than fixed panels, such as small quarter panels.
#### **H OW TO KEEP YOUR BABY CALM**
**Pretend to be calm yourself.**
The baby will feed off of your fear if you reveal it.
**Play peek-a-boo.**
Begin with the standard hands-in-front-of-face style, then try hiding your face with a scarf or hat, and finally pop up from below various windows.
**Enlist the help of passersby.**
Select friendly-looking people and people with babies who can coo at your baby through the window. Keep your child entertained and happy.
**Hoist a small dog in front of a window.**
Turn the dog around to show its funny wagging tail.
**Hold up a magazine.**
Turn the pages in front of the window so baby can see bright images.
**Use makeup to color yourself like a clown.**
Smear lipstick on lips (go beyond true lip outline), cheeks, and tip of nose. Use eyeliner and eyeshadow to accentuate happy eyes and eyebrows.
**Do vigorous calisthenics.**
Babies think it's funny to see big people jump around.
### **HOW TO MAKE YOUR CHILD EAT VEGETABLES**
**Eat vegetables yourself.**
Be enthusiastic about vegetables. "Beans are awesome!" "Peas rule!" "Rutabagas rock!"
**Talk in euphemisms.**
Encourage your child by calling the vegetable a "growing food" or "brain food" or "run-fast food" or "beauty food."
**Require one bite.**
Even if she does not like it, with the "one-bite rule" the child should eventually grow accustomed to the taste, though it may take years.
**Let the child select the vegetable.**
Take your child to the grocery store to pick out one vegetable. Invite her into the kitchen to help you prepare it for dinner. She will become emotionally invested in the vegetable and proud of it. She may not only eat the vegetable, she may urge others to do so.
**Sneak vegetables into other dishes.**
Camouflage vegetables in stews, lasagna, pot pies, pizza toppings, casseroles, or soups.
**Change presentation.**
Arrange vegetables in a happy face. Use unnaturally colored ketchup (pink, green, blue) to jazz up a pile of vegetables. Make trees with broccoli and asparagus, boats from endive, and a lake out of guacamole.
**Prepare the vegetable in different ways.**
If she rejected the steamed broccoli, next time serve it raw with a dip. If the asparagus in cream sauce was not popular, try it with butter and lemon. Use a blender or a juicer to transform the vegetable into a purée or a smoothie.
**Make vegetables the only option.**
Designate "vegetarian night" and serve nothing but vegetables. Your child will eat them if she is hungry and there is no other food available. When the meal is over, declare the kitchen closed and do not allow snacks or dessert.
**Do not make food into a battle of wills.**
Be matter-of-fact about whether your child does or does not eat her vegetables. Do not force a vegetable on your child or bribe her to eat. Do not say, "If you eat your brussels sprouts, you can have dessert." This will interfere with her developing a genuine affection for the vegetable, and reinforce sweets as the truly desirable food.
### **HOW TO TRACK YOUR TEENAGER'S MOVEMENTS**
#### **H OW TO DETERMINE IF YOUR CHILD IS DRIVING YOUR CAR**
**1 Purchase an inexpensive, analog watch.**
**2 Place the watch behind a rear tire of your car.**
Place the watch before you go to bed at night or away on a trip. If your car is not parked so that it has to be backed up to be moved, place another watch in front of a front tire.
**3 Check the watch.**
In the morning or on your return, examine the watch. If your child has taken the car while you were away, it will have been crushed, stopping the machinery at the exact time and date.
#### **H OW TO DETERMINE IF YOUR CHILD IS SNEAKING OUT AT NIGHT**
**1 After your child goes to his room for bed, remove a hair from your head.**
**2 Attach the hair to the door of your child's room.**
Use saliva to place one end of the hair on the door-frame and the other on the door itself.
**3 Wake up earlier than your child in the morning.**
**4 Check for the hair.**
If your child has left the room during the night, the hair will have become detached or fallen off.
**_Be Aware_**
• If your teenager's room has a window to the garden, water the garden thoroughly each night and rake the dirt smooth. Look for footprints in the morning.
• If you do not have enough hair for the door-hair alarm, if your teen needs to open the door to go to the bathroom, or if a pet might dislodge the hair, grease the front door knob with butter. Check in the morning to see if the knob has been wiped clean so it could be turned and the door opened.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE EMPTY-NEST SYNDROME**
**1 Allow yourself time to grieve.**
Sadness is a natural reaction to your child's departure. Permit yourself to cry now and again without shame.
**2 Find a temporary replacement for your affection.**
To ease the transition, get a pet, or take your child's photo to a copy center and get a life-sized replica.
**3 Wean yourself.**
• Rearrange furniture in your entire house, not just in your child's room. A new look can make you feel like you have entered a new stage of life.
• Remove the most recent photos of your child. Recent photos can be a reminder that he was recently in the house—replace them with older images.
• Establish a "Reminder Jar." Similar to a "Swearing Jar" into which a parent places money for every swearing infraction, this jar reinforces behavior modification and punishes "remember when" infractions.
**4 Convert your child's room into your own space.**
Install a Murphy or sofa bed so that your child will have a place to stay when he comes home for visits, but alter the primary function of the room permanently. Set up a home theater, exercise room, or greenhouse.
**5 Return to your pre-child life.**
• Read a book.
• Invite your friends over for dinner.
• Fire the maid.
• Enjoy the quiet and calm.
• Watch the television shows you want to watch.
• Find things just where you left them.
• Take a trip.
**_Be Aware_**
Keep a list of the things your child did that annoyed, frustrated, and angered you. When you start to recall these things with fondness and a smile, you will have successfully entered the next phase of your life.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE IF YOUR CHILD MOVES BACK IN**
**Be sensitive to your child's needs—for a while.**
Sometimes a child returns home because of a negative life change. Be understanding, and realize that a child moving back home is a difficult situation for all involved. Do not let yourself be exploited, however.
**Charge rent.**
Match market rates—deep discounting will only encourage your child to stay where it's cheap and easy.
**Assign chores.**
More people means more work, so delegate laundry folding, mowing the lawn, cleaning the porches, washing dishes, raking leaves, and other tasks. Do not offer to pay an allowance. If other family members have also moved in—your son- or daughter-in-law or grandchildren—give them chores as well.
**Motivate change.**
Place the classified advertisements section of the newspaper by your child's door. Do not change the message on your answering machine. Do not provide him with meals, change his bed linens, or allow him to watch television in the family room.
**Do not alter your new lifestyle.**
Continue to host your book group, bridge club, and cocktail parties. Continue to use his old room for its new purpose—sewing, exercising, big screen television watching.
#### **H OW TO PREVENT REENTRY**
**Change the locks.**
Change the alarm code, too.
**Paint the house.**
He might not recognize an unfamiliar color.
**Hide the car.**
Park around the corner.
**Put a different name on the door/mailbox.**
**Get a large, unfriendly pet.**
Any size dog or cat can be effective if he is allergic.
**Move to a smaller place.**
**Disappear.**
Go on an extended vacation, rent an RV, or simply move out of town. Turn off your cell phone. Do not leave a forwarding address.
**_Be Aware_**
Parenting is forever.
## **C HAPTER 6**
## **OUT AND ABOUT**
### **HOW TO STEER YOUR BIKE DOWN A ROCK FACE**
A wrong turn can send your mountain bike down a sheer rock face.
**1 Choose a line to follow.**
The instant you feel the bike pitching forward down-slope, look ahead of you and choose the line that you will follow down the rock face. The line should be as free of large boulders, drop-offs, and deep ruts as possible. Follow this line.
**2 Adjust your seating position.**
Move slightly "out-of-saddle," above the seat with your knees bent, similar to a jockey on a horse running down the stretch. Keep your weight shifted toward the back of the saddle, or behind it, to counteract the pull of gravity.
**3 Move the pedals to the 3 and 9 o'clock positions.**
Keep your feet on the pedals, with the pedals positioned across from one another. Do not put your feet straight up (12 o'clock) and down (6 o'clock), where the risk of making contact with rocks or the ground is greater. It is also more difficult to maintain a level position with the pedals straight up and down.
**4 Heavily apply the rear brake.**
On most bikes, squeezing the brake lever by your right hand will apply the rear brake. Do so as you ride downslope to maintain control of the bike. If you do not brake sufficiently, you risk "bombing," or speeding out of control down the rock face. Apply the brakes enough to maintain a speed that enables you to see oncoming obstacles in your path.
**5 Feather the front brake.**
Using your left hand (on most bikes), gently apply the front brake as you climb obstacles, and release it to maintain momentum as you overcome them. This gentle apply-and-release action is called "feathering." Avoid applying the front brake suddenly and with full force or the bike will stop short and you will pitch over the handlebars.
**6 Keep the bike in the middle-to-low gear range.**
Low gears are easier to pedal; high gears are harder. The gear should be low enough that you can pedal easily over an obstacle, but not so low that you don't have any traction. It should not be so high that surmounting an obstacle becomes difficult or impossible.
**7 Shift your weight.**
As you approach large rocks and boulders, shift your body back to take the weight off the front wheel. This shift will allow the front wheel to more easily ride up and over the obstruction.
**8 Keep your knees and elbows bent.**
Bend your knees and elbows to absorb shocks and to make fast, fluid position changes easier.
**9 Bail if you lose control.**
If you feel yourself gaining sudden momentum and you begin to lose control, do not attempt to stay with the bike: You do not want to crash while riding at high speed. Let the bike drop out from beneath you, guiding it so it lands on the non-derailleur side to minimize damage that might make the bike unrideable. Tuck your elbows and knees in as you roll to safety.
### **HOW TO LAND A HANG GLIDER IN A WIND SHEAR**
A wind gradient or "shear" is the boundary between two air masses moving at different velocities. The shear will stall the glider or produce extreme turbulence, making it difficult to control. Regain control by increasing speed, which will increase airflow across the sail (the flexible skin of the glider, also called the "wing").
**1 Pull in on the control bar so the nose of the glider tilts toward the ground.**
**2 Shift your weight forward.**
This will increase your velocity as you glide toward the ground.
**3 Monitor your altitude.**
Your variometer (a small computer strapped to the control bar) indicates your altitude in feet. You will probably be at a few thousand feet, descending quickly.
**4 Monitor your airspeed.**
Check the variometer for your speed. Your "VNE" (velocity never to exceed) on a hang glider is about 50 mph. If you are accelerating rapidly and approaching the glider's limits, pull back on the control bar slightly to bring the nose up and gain a bit more lift.
**5 Unzip your harness.**
As you approach an altitude of 500 feet, unzip your harness so you are no longer in the prone position. Your legs will be hanging down at a slight angle.
**6 Position your hands on the down tubes.**
As the glider approaches an altitude of 40 feet, move your hands from the horizontal section of the control bar to the down tubes, which are connected to either side of the bar.
**7 Flare the sail.**
Push the control bar forward with a smooth, fast motion. The hang glider's nose will pitch up. As the sail angle changes, the air between it and the ground will become compressed and act as an air brake to slow you down.
**8 Land in a standing position.**
The glider will have slowed sufficiently to make a stand-up landing possible. As your feet touch the ground, begin a slow run to maintain control and keep the sail from pitching forward suddenly. If the glider frame has wheels, use them to absorb some of the force of the impact.
**9 Come to a stop.**
The glider should settle gently to the ground.
**_Be Aware_**
• Many hang glider pilots wear a parachute on their chest to use if they are caught in dangerous turbulence or in a severe updraft that sends the glider above 10,000 feet.
• Carry a lightweight package of dental floss for use in an emergency, tree-based landing. When stuck in the tree, hold one end of the floss and toss the dispenser to rescuers. Instruct them to tie their end of the floss to a rope. Use the floss to pull the rope up, tie off, and climb down.
### **HOW TO LAND A PLANE**
These instructions cover small passenger planes and jets (not commercial airliners).
**1 If the plane has only one set of controls, push, pull, carry, or drag the pilot out of the pilot's seat.**
**2 Take your place at the controls.**
**3 Put on the radio headset (if there is one).**
Use the radio to call for help—there will be a control button on the yoke (the plane's steering wheel) or a CB-like microphone on the instrument panel. Depress the button to talk, release it to listen. Say "Mayday! Mayday!" and give your situation, destination, and plane call numbers, which should be printed on the top of the instrument panel.
**4 If you get no response, try again on the emergency channel—tune the radio to 121.5.**
All radios are different, but tuning is standard. The person on the other end should be able to talk you through the proper landing procedures. Follow their instructions carefully. If you cannot reach someone to talk you through the landing process, you will have to do it alone.
**5 Get your bearings and identify the instruments.**
Look around you. Is the plane level? Unless you have just taken off or are about to land, it should be flying relatively straight.
**Y OKE.** This is the steering wheel and should be in front of you. It turns the plane and controls its pitch. Pull back on the column to bring the nose up, push forward to point it down. Turn left to turn the plane left, turn right to turn it right. The yoke is very sensitive—move it only an inch or two in either direction to turn the plane in flight. While cruising, the nose of the plane should be about three inches below the horizon.
**A LTIMETER.** This is the most important instrument, at least initially. It is a red dial in the middle of the instrument panel that indicates altitude: the small hand indicates feet above sea level in thousand-foot increments, the large hand in hundreds.
**H EADING.** This is a compass and will be the only instrument with a small image of a plane in the center. The nose will point in the direction the plane is headed.
**A IRSPEED.** This dial is on the top of the instrument panel and will be on the left. It is usually calibrated in knots, though it may also have miles per hour. A small plane travels at about 120 knots while cruising. Anything under 70 knots in the air is dangerously close to stall speed. (A knot is 1¼ miles per hour.)
**T HROTTLE.** This controls airspeed (power) and also the nose attitude, or its relation to the horizon. It is a lever between the seats and is always black. Pull it toward you to slow the plane and cause it to descend, push it away to speed up the plane and cause it to ascend. The engine will get more or less quiet depending on the direction the throttle is moved.
**F UEL.** The fuel gauges will be on the lower portion of the instrument panel. If the pilot has followed FAA regulations, the plane should have enough fuel for the amount of flying time to your intended destination plus at least an additional half hour in reserve. Some planes have a reserve fuel tank in addition to the primary one, but do not worry about changing tanks.
**F LAPS.** Due to their complexity, wing flaps can make the plane harder to control. Use the throttle to control airspeed, not the flaps.
**6 Begin the descent.**
Pull back on the throttle to slow down. Reduce power by about one-quarter of cruising speed. As the plane slows, the nose will drop. For descent, the nose should be about four inches below the horizon.
**7 Deploy the landing gear.**
Determine if the plane has fixed or retractable landing gear. Fixed landing gear is always down so you need do nothing. If it is retractable, there will be another lever between the seats near the throttle, with a handle that is shaped like a tire. For a water landing, leave the landing gear up (retracted).
**8 Look for a suitable landing site.**
If you cannot find an airport, find a flat field on which to land. A mile-long field is ideal, but finding a field of this length will be difficult unless you are in the Midwest. The plane can land on a much shorter strip of earth, so do not bother to look for the "perfect" landing site—there is no such thing. Bumpy terrain will also do if your options are limited.
**9 Line up the landing strip so that when the altimeter reads one thousand feet the field is off the right-wing tip.**
In an ideal situation, you should take a single pass over the field to look for obstructions; with plenty of fuel, you may want to do so. Fly over the field, make a big rectangle, and approach a second time.
**10 When approaching the landing strip, reduce power by pulling back on the throttle.**
Do not let the nose drop more than six inches below the horizon.
**11 The plane should be one hundred feet off the ground when you are just above the landing strip, and the rear wheels should touch first.**
The plane will stall at fifty-five to sixty-five miles per hour, and you want the plane to be at just about stall speed when the wheels touch the ground.
**12 Pull all the way back on the throttle, and make sure the nose of the plane does not dip too steeply.**
Gently pull back on the yoke as the plane slowly touches the ground.
**13 Using the pedals on the floor, steer and brake the plane as needed.**
The yoke has very little effect on the ground. The upper pedals are the brakes, and the lower pedals control the direction of the nose wheel. Concentrate first on the lower pedals. Press the right pedal to move the plane right, press the left pedal to move it left. Upon landing, be aware of your speed. A modest reduction in speed will increase your chances of survival exponentially. By reducing your groundspeed from 120 to 70 miles per hour, you increase your chance of survival threefold.
**_Be Aware_**
• A well-executed emergency landing in bad terrain can be less hazardous than an uncontrolled landing on an established field.
• If the plane is headed toward trees, steer it between them so the wings absorb the impact if you hit.
• When the plane comes to a stop, get out as soon as possible and get away—and take the pilot with you.
### **HOW TO FIND WATER ON A DESERTED ISLAND**
**1 Collect rainwater in whatever container is handy.**
A bowl, plate, or helmet will work—so will a life raft and stretched clothing. In very dry environments, condensation forms on surfaces overnight. Use a tarp or other fabric—shaped as a bowl—to collect water.
**2 Collect dew.**
Tie rags or tufts of fine grass to your ankles and walk in grass or foliage at sunrise. The dew will gather on the material, which can then be wrung out into a container.
**3 Head for the mountains.**
An island that appears barren on the coast may have a green, mountainous interior, which is an indication of freshwater streams and creeks. Find these by following trails of vegetation. Do not waste too much energy hiking or moving long distances unless you are relatively certain you will find water (meaning that the lush greenery is not far away).
**4 Catch fish.**
The area around a fish's eyes contains drinkable liquid, as do fish spines (except shark spines). Suck the eyes, and break the vertebra of the spine apart and suck the liquid from them. Fish flesh also contains drinkable water—but fish are high in protein, and protein digestion requires additional water, so you are better off squeezing raw fish in clothing or a tarp to extract water.
**5 Look for bird droppings.**
In arid climates, bird droppings around a crack in a rock may indicate a water source. (Birds often congregate around cracks where water collects.) Stuff a cloth into the crack, then wring it out into a container or your mouth.
**6 Locate banana and plantain trees.**
Cut down the tree, leaving a stump about one foot high. Scoop out the center of the stump, so the hollow is bowl shaped. The roots will continually refill the stump with water for about four days. The first three fillings will be bitter, but subsequent fillings will be less so. Cover the stump to keep out insects.
**_Be Aware_**
• Seawater is generally not safe to drink; its high salt content can cause kidney failure. Moreover, two quarts of body fluid are required to rid the body of the waste in one quart of seawater. As a last resort, you can drink less than 32 ounces of seawater per day; while not healthful, it may keep you alive.
• Rainwater collected in a container is generally safe to drink, provided the container is clean and the water does not stand; any standing water is capable of breeding bacteria.
### **H OW TO OPEN A COCONUT ON A DESERT ISLAND**
**Drive the end of a stick into the ground** and sharpen the top end. Slam the nut down on the point of the stick, using both hands to crack the outer fibrous covering. Smash the inner shell against a rock or tree.
### **HOW TO MAKE FIRE WITHOUT MATCHES**
#### **W HAT YOU WILL NEED**
• Knife
• Kindling. Several pieces, varying in size from small to large.
• Wood to keep the fire going. Select deadwood from the tree, not off the ground. Good wood should indent with pressure from a fingernail, but not break easily.
• Bow. A curved stick about two feet long.
• String. A shoelace, parachute cord, or leather thong. Primitive cordage can be made from yucca, milk-weed, or another tough, stringy plant.
• Socket. A horn, bone, piece of hard wood, rock, or seashell that fits in the palm of the hand and will be placed over a stick.
• Lube. You can use earwax, skin oil, a ball of green grass, lip balm, or anything else oily.
• Spindle. A dry, straight ¾- to 1-inch-diameter stick approximately 12 to 18 inches long. Round one end and carve the other end to a point.
• Fire board. Select and shape a second piece of wood into a board approximately ¾ to 1 inch thick, 2 to 3 inches wide, and 10 to 12 inches long. Carve a shallow dish in the center of the flat side approximately ½ inch from the edge. Into the edge of this dish, cut a V-shaped notch.
• Tray. A piece of bark or leaf inserted under the V-shaped notch to catch the ember. The tray should not be made of deadwood.
• Nest. Dry bark, grass, leaves, cattail fuzz, or some other combustible material, formed into a bird nest shape.
#### **H OW TO START THE FIRE**
**1 Tie the string tightly to the bow, one end to each end of the stick.**
**2 Kneel on your right knee, with the ball of your left foot on the fire board, holding it firmly to the ground.**
**3 Take the bow in your hands.**
**4 Loop the string in the center of the bow.**
**5 Insert the spindle in the loop of the bowstring so that the spindle is on the outside of the bow, pointed-end up.**
The bowstring should now be tight—if not, loop the string around the spindle a few more times.
**6 Take the hand socket in your left hand, notch side down. Lubricate the notch.**
**7 Place the rounded end of the spindle into the dish of the fire board and the pointed end of the spindle into the hand socket.**
**8 Pressing down lightly on the socket, draw the bow back and forth, rotating the spindle slowly.**
**9 Add pressure to the socket and speed to your bowing until you begin to produce smoke and ash.**
When there is a lot of smoke, you have created a fire ember.
**10 Immediately stop your bowing motion and tap the spindle on the fire board to knock the ember into the tray.**
**11 Remove the tray and transfer the ember into your "nest."**
**12 Hold the nest tightly and blow steadily onto the ember.**
Eventually, the nest will catch fire.
**13 Add kindling onto the nest. When the kindling catches, gradually add larger pieces of fuel.**
**_Be Aware_**
You should not be dependent on any primitive fire method to maintain life in a wilderness survival emergency. Making fire in this manner can be quite difficult under actual harsh conditions (rain, snow, cold).
You should practice this method at home before you attempt it in the wilderness to familiarize yourself with the quirks of the process.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE WHEN LOST IN THE JUNGLE**
#### **H OW TO FIND CIVILIZATION**
**1 Find a river.**
Generally, animal trails will lead you to water. Water is the key to jungle navigation and usually the quickest way to travel.
**2 Fashion a makeshift raft using the method on the facing page.**
**3 Let the current carry you downstream.**
**4 Travel on the rivers only during the daylight hours.**
Alligators and crocodiles are generally night hunters, so avoid traveling on water at night.
**5 Watch closely for signs of villages or settlements.**
Many jungle settlements and villages are located along the shores of rivers.
#### **H OW TO FIND FOOD AND WATER**
**If you do not have the means to purify water, cut sections from large water vines, or cut banana trees (seepage 450 for details) and capture the water welling out of the stalks.**
Only drink water from streams and rivers as a last resort, when dehydration and death are a near certainty. Diarrhea will most likely result, so increase your water intake and keep moving.
**If you cannot peel it or cook it, do not eat it.**
Avoid brightly colored plants or plants with a milky sap (many of these are poisonous).
Insects, grubs, and raw fish (except those with bristles or spines rather than scales) are safe to eat. Look for grubs and insects beneath rotting logs and vegetation. Pinch the heads off and eat them raw. Peel fruits carefully before eating; the peels may harbor diarrhea-causing bacteria.
#### **H OW TO TRAVEL OVER LAND**
• Mark your trail by breaking and turning over fresh vegetation. This will reveal the bright under-sides of leaves and will leave a clear trail should you need to backtrack.
• Look for shelter during bad weather. Large hollow tree buttresses can often be used. Line the ground with palm fronds, and stand several more palm fronds over the opening. Note: Do not build this shelter under a tall tree during a thunderstorm because of lightning danger.
• Be prepared for the dangers of the jungle. Most jungle creatures (such as big cats and snakes) want to avoid you as much as you do them. The real danger comes from the smallest creatures: scorpions, ants, flies, mosquitoes, and the bacteria in water and on fruit. The best defense against bites and stings is to watch where you put your hands and feet. Ants rule the jungle, so do not camp for the night in their line of travel or near nests. Never touch any brightly colored amphibians. Many, like the poison dart frog, have a powerful toxin in their skin, and any contact can make you very ill.
**_Be Aware_**
• Before traveling to a remote area, take the time to look at any available maps. Pay attention to topography and any roads or waterways nearby. If you get lost, you will need to know what general direction of travel will intersect a road or waterway and thus, eventually, civilization.
• The jungle canopy can totally occlude the sun, so a compass may be your only means of determining direction. The same heavy canopy will make it impossible for would-be rescuers to find you, or even to locate a downed aircraft. Unlike being lost in a wilderness situation, staying put in the jungle means virtually certain death.
• To make a natural insect repellent, you can use a termite nest. These nests are abundant on the ground and in trees. They resemble irregular-shaped dirt mounds the size of 55-gallon barrels. Break up the mounds (they look like dirt but are actually digested wood) and rub the material on your skin.
### **H OW TO DRINK WATER FROM A VINE**
**Cut a deep notch in the vine as high up as you can reach.** Cut the vine off as low as possible below the initial cut and let water drip into a container or your mouth. When dripping stops, make another cut at the top of the vine and repeat until the vine is drained. This method will work on any vine, though not all vines yield palatable water.
### **HOW TO LEAVE A TRAIL FOR RESCUERS IF YOU ARE LOST IN THE WILDERNESS**
**1 Walk through "track traps."**
Mud pools, wet sandy areas, snow, and other soft terrain can hold footprints for long periods (days or weeks, between storms). Step in these areas, write "HELP," and draw arrows to signal your direction of travel to potential rescuers. If you reverse course, step in the tracks again on your way out. Your footprints will indicate that the search should not continue past the track trap.
**2 Build campfires.**
Smoke from campfires can be seen for miles, and fires show up well at night. Warm fire rings also indicate to rescuers that you were recently in a particular area. Do not leave fires burning, but make sure coals or dirt are still warm when you leave. (Warm coals can reignite, so leave warm fire rings only in wet areas or under conditions of low fire danger.)
**3 Follow roads and rivers.**
Rescuers will use natural boundaries to limit their search area. Do not cross roads or rivers. Rather, follow them to more populated areas. Do not climb steep slopes unless you must: Your searchers will follow, delaying your rescue.
**4 Leave markers.**
If you abandon marked trails, signal your direction of travel by turning over fresh vegetation or leaving small piles of rocks.
**5 Listen carefully.**
In addition to shouting your name, searchers may use a "call word," an unusual word yelled back and forth to distinguish members of the search party from the victim when not in the line of sight. Listen for odd words ("Hoboken," "spaghetti," "Internet") that sound out of place in the wilderness.
**6 Yell loudly and make noises in groups of three.**
Three calls is the international distress signal. Use a whistle, if available, to signal your position.
**7 Sleep lightly.**
A rescue party may continue during the night, so use a flashlight or head lamp. Look for flashlights and listen for searchers between naps.
**8 Leave personal items behind.**
If you are lost in warm weather and have excess clothing or supplies, leave small items along your path as a signal to rescuers. Traveling light will also make hiking easier.
**9 Use a mirror to signal to air searchers.**
A mirror or other reflective device will help rescuers in planes or helicopters locate your position. Special "survival" mirrors with a hole in the center are especially effective in focusing sunlight.
### **LAST-DITCH LIQUIDS YOU CAN DRINK**
#### **A FTER DISTILLING**
• Urine (long-term ingestion can cause problems)
• Blood (human blood may contain hepatitis or HIV, so animal blood is somewhat safer)
• Seawater
#### **A FTER DISINFECTING**
• Freshwater creeks/streams
• Toilet tank water (not toilet bowl water), as long as the tank does not have any type of disinfectant, and provided the rubber seal between the tank and bowl is intact and does not leak
• Water from an unknown source
#### **N EVER DRINK**
• Ink
• The water in a vinyl water bed
• Swimming pool water (but OK for bathing)
• Water in a hot tub (but OK for bathing)
### **HOW TO SURVIVE IF YOU ARE STRANDED ON AN ICEBERG**
**1 Construct a shelter.**
For protection from the harsh climate, you must build a snow shelter immediately. Your iceberg should have plentiful amounts of snow, so construct either a snow cave (make a huge pile of snow, hollow it out, and crawl inside) or a snow trench (dig a deep channel in the snow, cover the top by stacking snow blocks or improvising a tarp out of materials on hand, and crawl in). A snow trench requires less energy and time to construct, but will limit your range of movement and should be used only if you expect quick rescue.
**2 Melt snow and ice to make water.**
Place snow in a container and melt over a flame to create drinkable water. If snow is not available, scrape shavings from the topmost layer of ice. Though sea ice contains salt, over time the salt leeches from the ice due to surface melt, and the water from the top ice should be safe for drinking.
**3 Cross icebergs to get closer to land.**
Wind and ocean currents will keep icebergs in motion, often causing them to crash into one another. Step onto a new iceberg if it will bring you closer to a land mass. Use caution when crossing; the edges may be very slick, and the ice may be thin and prone to cracking or collapse. Do not jump onto a new iceberg. Test the strength of the ice by pressing lightly with a foot, then adding pressure slowly until you are certain it can support your weight.
**4 Catch fish and seabirds.**
Fashion a fishing rod with anything available (harpoon, spear, ski pole, or walking stick) and use it for fishing. Seabirds congregate on icebergs, and may be killed with ice balls.
**5 Look for seals.**
Seals eat fish, and you may be able to scare one away from a fresh catch. As a last resort, if you're not likely to be rescued for a while and can't cross to another iceberg, and only if your life is at risk, consider killing a seal. Seals can serve both as food and as a source of fuel. Unless there is surface melt, without a fuel source you will be unable to melt snow and ice for drinking water and you will quickly die of dehydration. (Avoid sucking on ice: It will lead to hypothermia.) Seals will occasionally jump on drifting icebergs to escape predators and may pop up through breath holes in the ice. While out of the water, seals are generally inactive and docile. Approach adults stealthily from the rear and kill using a club, harpoon, or homemade spear to the skull.
**6 Make fuel from seal blubber.**
Cut blubber (fat) from the seal carcass and place in the best bowl you can fashion. Using an implement, pound the blubber until it liquefies. Roll a small piece of material into a wick, place it in the blubber, and light.
**7 Roast or boil seal meat for food.**
**8 Burn moist seal skins to create smoky signal fires during the day.**
However, your best chance of polar rescue is from land. Just because a ship can see you on an iceberg does not mean it can rescue you.
**_Be Aware_**
• Small penguins are also a good food source. Penguins have most of their strength in their flippers, however, so avoid being bashed by a flipper when hunting by approaching from the rear and pinning wings to the sides. Avoid attacking from the front or you risk being badly "beaked."
• In Antarctica, which is a frozen landmass surrounded by ice, icebergs tend to drift in a clockwise pattern around the South Pole, pushed by the circumpolar current. An iceberg may eventually pass a populated weather station or move into a shipping channel. (Weather and research stations may be located hundreds of miles apart in polar regions.) In the Arctic, which is a frozen sea, the currents also move clockwise, east to west, around the polar ice cap. However, the transpolar drift, a current that carries water and ice eastward from Siberia, may bring an iceberg down the east coast of Greenland into more populated areas. The trip from the edge of the Arctic to Greenland may take several months.
### **HOW TO DRIVE IN A BLIZZARD**
**1 Keep windows clear.**
Use the heater, wipers, and defroster to keep windows clear and free of condensation. Do not let the car get too warm, however—the heat may put you to sleep.
**2 At night, use low-beam headlights.**
High-beams will reflect off the snow, making it more difficult to see.
**3 Drive in high gear.**
Do not downshift. Use as high a gear as possible for maximum traction and to avoid skids on snowy and icy roads.
**4 Drive slowly.**
Do not drive at maximum speed. Drive at a slow, constant speed.
**5 Avoid sudden movements.**
Do not brake, change gears, or accelerate around turns. Slow down and move into a lower gear approaching the turn, then simply steer around the bend.
**6 Watch for ice.**
Slow down before you reach icy or snowy patches of roadway. Skids are much more likely to occur on ice than on snow.
#### **I F YOU SKID**
**1 Undo your last action.**
Take your foot off the brake, or ease off the accelerator, depending upon whether you attempted to slow down or to speed up.
**2 Steer into the skid.**
To straighten the wheels, turn the steering wheel in the direction the car is moving. Do not jerk the wheel: steer smoothly to avoid further skidding. You may have to turn the wheel in one direction, then the other, to regain control and move straight.
**3 Pump the brake pedal to slow down.**
If the brakes are anti-lock, simply depress the brake pedal, and your car will automatically pump the brakes.
**4 Check for traffic.**
If you have come to a stop, or if you have spun out of your lane or slowed more than other traffic, you need to be especially careful not to block other vehicles.
#### **I F YOU GET STUCK IN THE SNOW**
**1 Turn your wheels from side to side a few times to push snow out of the way.**
**2 Place a traction aid under the drive wheels.**
Possible objects include a floormat, bag of kitty litter, wood planks, cardboard, a blanket, or clothing.
**3 Move passengers above the drive wheels.**
Depending upon whether you have front-wheel or rear-wheel drive, move your passengers and heavy luggage to the front or rear of the passenger compartment. Increased weight over the drive wheels will help to gain traction.
**4 Rock the car back and forth.**
In a low gear, apply light pressure on the gas pedal to move as far forward as you can go without spinning, then release the pedal (or put in the clutch) so you roll back. Gradually, the car will move forward a few more inches with each back-and-forth rock and may gain enough momentum to roll out of its rut and gain traction.
**5 Push the car.**
If the car is still stuck, instruct passengers to push the car forward. Try rocking the car back and forth, with a well-timed push at the forward point.
#### **I F YOU BECOME STRANDED**
**1 Stay with or in the car.**
You can survive for several days in your car, especially if you have food and water and enough fuel to periodically run the engine and heater.
**2 Clear the vents.**
The vents for the heater are usually below the wind-shield wipers on the hood. The exhaust pipe is located under the rear bumper. A clear exhaust pipe allows you to run the engine without danger of carbon monoxide poisoning.
**3 Open a window occasionally.**
You will benefit from the fresh air, and will ensure that the windows do not become frozen shut.
**4 If the car becomes completely buried, poke a breathing hole in the snow above the car.**
Use an ice scraper or tire iron.
**5 Light a candle inside the car.**
If you do not smell any gas fumes, light a candle to provide extra warmth. The candle will also serve as a warning sign of carbon monoxide fumes; if the candle begins to flicker and die, ventilate the car quickly.
**6 Put on extra clothing.**
To conserve fuel, do not run the engine and heater at full blast. If you do not have enough extra clothing, use newspapers, seat covers, and maps. Huddle with passengers for warmth.
**7 Watch for help.**
If you have passengers, take turns sleeping so that someone is always alert for possible rescuers. Use a portable radio for news updates; to conserve fuel or your car battery, do not use the car radio.
**8 Ration food and drink.**
Open and use any useful holiday presents you may be carrying, whether clothing, equipment, food, or beverages. Avoid alcohol, which feels warming but actually lowers your body temperature.
**_Be Aware_**
Prepare for a drive in potentially snowy conditions by packing smart. Take extra clothing (including gloves and a water-resistant jacket), blankets and pillows, boots, food and drink, a battery-operated radio and flashlight, matches and candles, a mobile phone, and several wooden planks (or a bag of kitty litter) for traction. Also take a shovel, if possible.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE WHEN STUCK ON AN OPENING DRAWBRIDGE**
**1 Draw attention to yourself.**
Two-leaf bascule drawbridges—those with two movable sections of roadway that swing from horizontal to vertical—will have a bridge "tender" (operator) in the control house who should be able to stop the opening. Flash your headlights and honk your horn repeatedly to attract his attention so he will lower the drawbridge. If the bridge tender cannot see you (his view may be blocked by one of the open spans) or is not paying attention, you will have to proceed on your own.
**2 Back up.**
Drawbridges take several minutes to open fully. If the opening span is still relatively horizontal, back up off the bridge (or at least as far back as you can).
**3 Get out.**
Place your car in gear (or in park if it has an automatic transmission) and apply the emergency brake. Get out of the car and move away: Even with the brake on, the vehicle will begin sliding backward by the time the roadway opens about 30 degrees.
**4 Hold on.**
The bridge should have some type of railing and/or a grated road surface that offers hand- and footholds. If a railing is present, grab one of the vertical (fast becoming horizontal) railing supports. Wrap both your arms around the section and grasp your belt, if you're wearing one. If the road surface is grated, face it, place your hands in the grate, and hold on. Drawbridges typically take several minutes to open completely, giving you time to brace yourself.
**5 Wait.**
Depending on the height of the vessel moving under the bridge, the span may not move to a completely vertical position. Even in its fully open condition, however, the span will not move beyond 90 degrees, so you will not be hanging upside down. Wait until the ship passes and the bridge span lowers, then walk off the bridge. Your car will have slid down the open span and crashed into the joint where it meets the horizontal section of the roadway.
**6 If you begin to lose your grip or cannot find a hand-hold, jump.**
Though any high fall into water should be considered only as a last resort, you stand a better chance of avoiding major injury when landing in water than landing on the road surface. Because the bridge is over a shipping channel, the water below you should be deep enough for you to avoid hitting the bottom. Look down to make sure the ship is not directly below the bridge, then jump as soon as you can, before the opening span adds elevation to your leap and before the ship is so close that you cannot get out of its way. Keep your legs and feet together, point your toes, and place your arms straight above your head.
**7 After breaking the surface, open your arms and legs wide to slow your descent.**
**8 Head for shore.**
Immediately swim up and away from the path of the approaching ship as fast as you can.
### **HOW TO DELIVER A BABY IN A TAXICAB**
Before you attempt to deliver a baby, use your best efforts to get to a hospital first. There really is no way to know exactly when the baby is ready to emerge, so even if you think you may not have time to get to the hospital, you probably do. Even the "water breaking" is not a sure sign that birth will happen immediately. The water is actually the amniotic fluid and the membrane that the baby floats in; birth can occur many hours after the mother's water breaks. However, if you leave too late or get stuck in crosstown traffic and you must deliver the baby on your own, here are the basic concepts.
**1 Time the uterine contractions.**
For first-time mothers, when contractions are about three to five minutes apart and last forty to ninety seconds—and increase in strength and frequency— for at least an hour, the labor is most likely real and not false (though it can be). Babies basically deliver themselves, and they will not come out of the womb until they are ready. Have clean, dry towels, a clean shirt, or something similar on hand.
**2 As the baby moves out of the womb, its head— the biggest part of its body—will open the cervix so the rest of it can pass through.**
(If feet are coming out first, see facing page.) As the baby moves through the birth canal and out of the mother's body, guide it out by supporting the head and then the body.
**3 When the baby is out of the mother, dry it off and keep it warm.**
Do not slap its behind to make it cry; the baby will breathe on its own. If necessary, clear any fluid out of the baby's mouth with your fingers.
**4 Tie off the umbilical cord.**
Take a piece of string—a shoelace works well—and tie off the cord several inches from the baby.
**5 It is not necessary to cut the umbilical cord, unless you are hours away from the hospital.**
In that event, you can safely cut the cord by tying it in another place a few inches closer to the mother and cutting it between the knots. Leave the cord alone until you get to a hospital. The piece of the cord attached to the baby will fall off by itself. The placenta will follow the baby in as few as three or as many as thirty minutes.
#### **I F THE FEET COME FIRST**
The most common complication during pregnancy is a breech baby, or one that is positioned so the feet, and not the head, will come out of the uterus first. Since the head is the largest part of the baby, the danger is that, if the feet come out first, the cervix may not be dilated enough to get the head out afterward. Today, most breech babies are delivered through cesarean sections, a surgical procedure that you will not be able to perform. If you have absolutely no alternatives (no hospital or doctors or midwives are available) when the baby begins to emerge, you can try to deliver the baby feet first. A breech birth does not necessarily mean that the head won't be able to get through the cervix; there is simply a higher possibility that this will occur. Deliver the baby as you would in the manner prescribed above.
### **HOW TO DEAL WITH A CANCELED FLIGHT**
**1 Do not stand in line.**
When a flight is canceled, for any reason, hundreds of people line up at the ticket counter for rebooking. Ignore them and find a telephone.
**2 Call the airline.**
Ask the airline (or your travel agent) for a seat on the next flight going to your destination. You will get into the airline's computer system quickly, without having to stand in line. Your airline may be able to transfer your ticket to another flight on that airline, in which case you can proceed directly to the gate.
**3 Book a new flight.**
Carry a list of all airlines that fly to your destination. The airline on which you are ticketed may not be able to rebook you on a later flight, or might not be the airline with the next available flight. Call other airlines and book a seat on a convenient flight. Depending on the fare you originally purchased and its restrictions, it might be simpler and faster to purchase a new ticket on a different airline, over the phone, and not use your original ticket. If you purchase a new ticket, proceed directly to the new airline's gate.
**4 Have your ticket endorsed.**
If you have made a reservation on a different airline but have not purchased a new ticket, you will need to get your existing ticket endorsed over to the new carrier. You will have to stand in line at the counter of the airline that canceled the flight, but you, unlike others in line, will already have another flight arranged.
**5 Save unused tickets.**
Unused tickets, one-way or round-trip, are almost as good as cash: They can be credited toward another flight on the same airline or, in some cases, refunded.
**_Be Aware_**
• When flying within the United States, know Rule 240, which covers what an airline will do for you in the event of a flight delay or cancellation. Legally, airlines must compensate only ticketed passengers who arrive on time but are denied a seat. In the event of a lengthy flight delay or cancellation, airlines as a matter of good public relations generally will provide passengers a hotel, meal, free phone call, and other amenities (be sure to ask if they're not offered) or arrange flights on another airline. Check each airline's website for their cancellation/ delay policies.
• If you know you will be traveling on a busy holiday weekend to a very busy airport, and especially if there is the possibility of severe weather, book a room in an airport hotel; you will be ready if your flight is canceled. Check the hotel's cancellation policy, so you are not charged for an unused room, and be sure to cancel the room if you don't need it.
• Do not use electronic tickets if there is a chance of bad weather, labor problems, or security delays. The computer systems of different airlines cannot communicate with one another, so e-tickets cannot be endorsed from one airline to another. A paper ticket must first be issued, extending the amount of time you will have to spend at the ticket counter.
• Carry on your bags whenever possible. If your luggage has been checked through to your final destination but you encounter delays, you may not be able to switch your luggage's flights and airlines as easily as your own.
### **H OW TO SURVIVE A FILTHY HOTEL ROOM**
### **HOW TO SURVIVE A TWO-WAVE HOLD-DOWN**
A two-wave hold-down occurs when a surfer falls off a surfboard while riding a large wave and is held under water for two successive waves.
**1 Bail your board.**
If you are in the impact zone (the area where the lip of the wave meets the trough), dive off your board.
**2 Avoid the "washing machine."**
The washing machine, the white water that occurs as the wave crashes, is turbulent, full of air, and difficult to pierce and swim in. Attempting to surface through it will extend your hold-down.
**3 Do not struggle.**
Fighting a very big (or "rogue") wave will quickly exhaust you and increases your risk of drowning. Remember to "think before you sink."
**4 Dive.**
Swim as deep as you can. Big-wave leashes (the rope that connects you to your floating board) may be 20 feet long, allowing you to go very deep.
**5 Allow the first wave to pass over you.**
**6 Locate the board's leash.**
If you are disoriented and unable to determine which way is up, grab your ankle and "follow your leash." Since the leash is attached to your floating surfboard, it will lead you to the surface.
**7 Swim toward the surface.**
As you approach the surface, place your hands above your head. Your surfboard may be "tombstoning," with its tail submerged and its nose pointing to the sky. Positioning your arms above your head will protect you from hitting your surfboard, a Jet Ski, or another wiped-out surfer as you come up for air.
**8 Wait out the set of waves by diving underneath them.**
Waves typically come in sets of three to five, depending on the day and surf conditions. Count the waves as they break so you'll know when the water will calm. Swim as deep as you can and curl your body into a defensive ball as the waves pass overhead. Come up for a quick breath between each wave, if possible, as you wait for the set to subside.
**9 Paddle to calmer water.**
When the set has passed, swim to the surface. Climb on your surfboard and paddle as fast as you can farther out to sea, beyond the impact zone, or into the "channel," the blue water that is sometimes to the left or right of the white water.
**_Be Aware_**
• Never position your surfboard between your body and a big wave: It will smash into you.
• Never put your back to the waves unless you are paddling to catch a wave and ride it.
• A big wave may hold you down for more than 30 seconds.
### **H OW TO SURVIVE SAND IN YOUR SWIMSUIT**
**Wade into the ocean.** Pull your suit away from your body, jump up and down, and shimmy from side to side to allow trapped sand to be washed away.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE A RIPTIDE**
Riptides, or rip currents, are long, narrow bands of water that quickly pull any objects in them away from shore and out to sea. They are dangerous but are relatively easy to escape.
**1 Do not struggle against the current.**
Most riptide deaths are caused by drowning, not the tides themselves. People often exhaust themselves struggling against the current, and cannot make it back to shore.
**2 Do not swim in toward shore.**
You will be fighting the current, and you will lose.
**3 Swim parallel to shore, across the current.**
Generally, a riptide is less than 100 feet wide, so swimming beyond it should not be too difficult.
**4 If you cannot swim out of the riptide, float on your back and allow the riptide to take you away from shore until you are beyond the pull of the riptide.**
Rip currents generally subside 50 to 100 yards from shore.
**5 Once the riptide subsides, swim sideways and back to shore.**
**_Be Aware_**
• Riptides occur more frequently in strong winds.
• Streaks of muddy or sandy water and floating debris moving out to sea through the surf zone are signs that riptides are present, as are areas of reduced wave heights in the surf zone and depressions in the beach running perpendicular to shore.
### **HOW TO SURVIVE A TSUNAMI**
A tsunami (from the Japanese word meaning "harbor wave") is a series of traveling ocean waves of extremely long length generated by geological disturbances such as earthquakes, underwater volcanic eruptions, and landslides. They can form hundreds or even thousands of miles away. The waves have been known to range from 50 to 100 feet in height. (Tsunamis are often mistakenly referred to as tidal waves, but they are not the same thing. Tsunamis are not related to the gravitational forces which cause tides and, therefore, tidal waves.)
**1 If you are near the ocean, be aware of the warning signs of an approaching tsunami:**
• Rise or fall in sea level
• Shaking ground
• Loud, sustained roar
**2 If you are on a boat in a small harbor and you have sufficient warning of an approaching tsunami, move it quickly.**
Your first choice should be to dock and reach high ground. Your second choice is to take your boat far into open water, away from shore where it might be thrown into the dock or the land. Tsunamis cause damage when they move from deeper to more shallow waters; the waves back up against one another at the shallow shelf. Often tsunamis are not even felt in deep water.
**3 If you are on land, seek higher ground immediately.**
Tsunamis can move faster than a person can run. Get away from the coastline as quickly as possible.
**4 If you are in a high-rise hotel or apartment building on the coastline and you do not have enough time to get to higher ground away from the shore, move to a high floor of the building.**
The upper floors of a high-rise building can provide safe refuge.
**_Be Aware_**
• The first tsunami wave may not be the largest in the series of waves.
• Tsunamis can travel up rivers and streams that lead to the ocean.
• Flooding from a tsunami can extend inland 1,000 feet or more, covering large expanses of land with water and debris.
## **APPENDIX**
### **THE "IT'S NOT YOU, IT'S ME" LETTER**
Dear ___________,
I won't be able to make it this Saturday, or any Saturday, in fact. The truth is, I just can't be in a committed relationship right now. It's not you, it's me. I'm just not able to appreciate all that you have to give.
I feel like we've been spinning our wheels these last few years / months / weeks / days. I can't believe how wonderful you've been to me and how much you've put up with. You deserve better. I can't put you though this anymore and I can't give you what you need / want / deserve right now. I need more space, and I need time to figure out who the real [ _your name here_ ] is.
It may take some time, but I hope we can still be friends.
Sincerely,
[ _your name here_ ]
_For short-term relationships, this letter may be sent via fax or e-mail. To download the latest version, visitwww.worstcasescenarios.com._
### **HOW TO TELL YOUR PARENTS YOU'VE BEEN EXPELLED**
Mom and Dad—I've got something big I need to tell you. Your baby boy/girl is coming home! And not just for a visit this time—for good.
I've decided that college just isn't working out for me. And believe me, I've discussed this with the dean, my advisors, and several professors, so I'm very sure about it. In a while I'll probably be ready to try school again, at another college, one that is a better fit for my strengths and abilities. This just wasn't the right time and place.
Due to a whole tangle of academic rules and regulations—which were part of the problem, actually —you'll be getting a letter from the dean. Officially, of course, he has to come up with some important-sounding explanations and a lot of exaggerated descriptions of what I've done and not done, and reasons for not refunding the tuition.
But that's not important. What is important is that I miss you guys, and I think that it's best if I leave school now. After all, isn't college really about figuring out who you are and want to be?
I love you both very much. Please send a plane ticket and money to the local youth hostel, where I'm now staying. I look forward to seeing you soon.
Love,
Your son/daughter
### **HOW TO PAD A RÉSUMÉ**
**Be descriptive and creative.**
Employ uncommon action verbs to describe your qualifications and experience. Instead of _worked,_ say _coordinated, organized,_ or _interfaced._ Consult your thesaurus to avoid repetition.
**Exaggerate job experiences.**
Describe your previous jobs in the most sophisticated language you can. No job is unimportant. If you worked the drive-through lane at a fast-food restaurant, state that you "interacted with a diverse client base in a fast-paced environment." See the Job Description Euphemism Chart on the facing page.
**Quantify your experience.**
If you were a peer counselor or guided new students through orientation, be specific about how many people you assisted. If you have handled money in a work or extracurricular situation, include a specific monetary amount or number of transactions. List your campus activities, no matter how trivial they may seem. Mention leadership positions within your fraternity, groups you have organized, volunteer work, or participation in protests. The more full the page looks, the better.
**J OB DESCRIPTION EUPHEMISM CHART**
**What you did:** | **What you list:**
---|---
Worked the deep fryer | Acted as sous-chef in popular lunch venue
Bagged groceries | Coordinated order fulfillment
Answered phones | Interfaced with clients
Mowed lawns | Landscaped for private clients
Made beds | Arranged accommodations for a hotel
Dug ditches | Industrial waste facilitator
Waited tables | Managed client relations
Babysat | Child development consultant
Folded clothes in department store | Sales associate in the garment industry
Gas station/convenience store clerk | Auto mechanic's assistant
Lifeguard | Health and safety supervisor
Washed dishes | Restaurant critic
Lifted boxes in a warehouse | Inventory manager
Centerfold | Centerfold
**Keep your résumé to one page.**
A single page looks solid and full and makes you look more focused and experienced. Reduce the type size, change the font, or decrease the margins at the top, bottom, and sides to make it fit.
**Provide information strategically.**
If your grade point average is below a 3.0, do not include it. If you have a strong GPA in your concentration, list only that. List study groups you have led or special projects in which you have participated. If you include hobbies and interests, be as specific as possible.
**Work your contacts.**
If you or your parents know someone in the company, or if you were referred to the job by an alumnus or another contact, mention it in the first line of your cover letter.
**Impress with your presentation.**
Buy heavy cream linen or white laid paper and envelopes to create the impression that you are stylish and sophisticated. If you are including a writing sample, put it in a binder. Type the mailing label or envelope. Make sure the paper stock of your envelope matches that of your résumé. If you are e-mailing a résumé, be specific about the job you are applying for in the subject line. Do something to grab their attention, such as "Marketing Assistant position— YOUR SEARCH IS OVER!" Include the résumé as an attachment to your e-mail and also cut and paste it into the body of your message to make it as easy as possible for your potential employer to read it.
**_Be Aware_**
• Check your spelling. Slowly read your résumé backward to ensure that each word is correct. Pay extra attention to your phone number and contact information.
• Make sure you have a professional-sounding outgoing phone message and that you check your e-mail account regularly. If you live in a group situation, list your cell phone number instead of your home telephone to avoid a roommate answering the phone inappropriately or failing to deliver a message.
### **JARGON BINGO**
Photocopy the Jargon Bingo cards on this spread, cut along the dotted lines, and take the cards with you to your next meeting. Keep one for yourself, and give the others to colleagues. Check off each word or phrase as it is used during the meeting. If you complete a row (across, up and down, or diagonally), you've won! Signal your fellow players by flipping your pen in the air and touching your index finger to your nose.
### **THE "THERE IS NO SANTA CLAUS" SPEECH**
Son/Daughter, please sit down over here by me. There's something I've been meaning to tell you for a long time, and I think you're old enough now.
I know you believe with all your heart that there is a person called Santa Claus who brings you presents every year if you are good. But the truth is that there is no Santa Claus. "Santa Claus" is really all the parents in the world, who love their children very much and buy them presents to show how much they love them.
Your presents are not made by elves in a toy shop at the North Pole. There is no such thing as an elf; and the North Pole is actually one of the loneliest and most desolate places on Earth. The truth is that mom and dad buy all your presents at the mall, and we're the ones who eat Santa's cookies and drink Santa's milk. Reindeer can't fly, either.
But don't cry. This doesn't mean that the spirit of Santa Claus isn't real. "Santa Claus" is inside all of us, whenever we give presents to those that we love or those who are less fortunate. When you grow up, you can be Santa, too. Or the Easter Bunny. Or the Tooth Fairy.
### **THE "BIRDS-AND-BEES" SPEECH**
Son/Daughter, I think you're old enough now to understand some things about Nature and how we all got here. It's best that you hear about these things from me and not from the kids at school who might not understand everything. I'll explain things to you, and you can talk to me without feeling embarrassed.
You've noticed that there are differences between boys and girls, between moms and dads, and soon you will notice that your body is changing. These changes are normal, and have to do with hormones that your body produces. These hormones and changes are the way your body gets ready to become an adult and to be able to make a baby.
It takes both a man and a woman to make a baby, just the way it takes a male dog and a female dog to make puppies. The female dog has a litter, which means she gives birth to several tiny puppies at the same time. Other animals have babies by laying eggs, but it still takes a male chicken, called a rooster, and a female chicken, called a hen, to produce eggs that have chicks inside. Hens can produce eggs without a rooster, like the eggs we have for breakfast, but those eggs aren't fertilized, which means that they don't have a chick inside and they won't hatch. All birds lay eggs. Female bees and fish also lay eggs, but the way the male fertilizes the eggs is different.
I think that's enough for one day.
Any questions?
## **ABOUT THE AUTHORS**
**Joshua Piven** is the coauthor, along with David Borgenicht, of all the _Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbooks_. He lives in Philadelphia with his family.
**David Borgenicht** is a writer and publisher who lives with his family in Philadelphia. He and Joshua Piven are coauthors of all the books in the _Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook_ series.
**Jim Grace** is coauthor of _The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: Golf._
**Sarah Jordan** is coauthor of _The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: Parenting_ and _The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: Weddings_.
**Piers Marchant** is coauthor of _The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: Life_ and _The Worst-Case Scenario Almanac: History_.
**Jennifer Worick** is coauthor of _The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: College_ and _The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: Dating & Sex_.
**Brenda Brown** is an illustrator and cartoonist whose work has been published in many books and publications, including _The Worst-Case Scenario_ series, _Esquire_ , _Reader's Digest_ , _USA Weekend_ , _21st Century Science & Technology_, the _Saturday Evening Post_ , and the _National Enquirer_. Her website is www.webtoon.com.
## **THE FIRST OF THE WORST**
3 million copies in print
Translated into 27 languages
International best-seller
"An armchair guide for the anxious."
— _USA Today_
"The book to have when the killer bees arrive."
— _The New Yorker_
"Nearly 180 pages of immediate action drills for when everything goes to hell in a handbasket."
— _Soldier of Fortune_
"This is a really nifty book."
— _Forbes_
## A BOOK FOR EVERY DISASTER
_The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook_
_The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: **Travel**_
_The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: **Dating & Sex**_
_The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: **Golf**_
_The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: **Holidays**_
_The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: **Work**_
_The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: **College**_
_The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: **Weddings**_
_The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: **Parenting**_
_The Worst-Case Scenario Book of **Survival Questions**_
_The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: **Extreme Edition**_
_The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: **Life**_
_The Worst-Case Scenario Almanac: **History**_
_The Worst-Case Scenario Almanac: **Great Outdoors**_
| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Books3 |
Cram’s Old Map of London 1893
Regular price
£39.95
Quantity
Drawn by Cram and published by his own firm, Cram & Co. in the final decade of the 19th century. It is an atlas map, depicting a bird’s eye view of the Great British capital and originally stood at 31cm x 51cm. As can be seen from the image opposite, this is perhaps one of the most exquisitely detailed maps in our collection, indicating down to roads, underground railways, principal buildings, parks, monuments and much more. It was published as part of a large world atlas produced in order to commemorate the 1893 World’s Fair and Columbian Exposition in Chicago for Woods Brothers. Cram was from a family of cartographers and publishers, having taken over his uncle’s map business in the middle of the 19th century. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
31 May 2013
Somewhere in Kreuzberg today….. I was very honored last night to be part of the news on German television, thanks to Nadia Nasser and her team of the ZDF Heute Journal. If you missed it ( as I did ) here is a link to see it again.
23 May 2013
Evening, a nearly empty pleasure boat passes on the river, the melody of its diesel engine echoed by the old industrial buildings on the embankment. All windows of the boat are still lit, its lights reflected on the water, one can see the waiters clearing the tables…. an evening in Upperfairmeadow….
20 May 2013
There is a place nearby where three bridges lead over the river, one for cars, one for trains, and the other one is falling to pieces, a great place to paint, I took the boat out very early, to catch some light, it was a bit rough…. I think there is now more paint on the floor of my boat than on this painting…
17 May 2013
When I was going around on Tuesday with the ZDF Heute Journal team through Berlin Mitte, we visited aswell the Torstrasse where I had my studio for many years, where I started also my daily painting routine, I was glad to see that the bookstore next to the nr. 95 was still there.
10 May 2013
Last night I had a knock on my studio door. A man from the film team asked me if he could move my rubbish bins away…. I answered "If that makes you happy by all means". "Well you see" he said "this film plays in America, so if the car comes around your studio and this very German looking dust bins are in the picture it wouldn´t look right " My idea that maybe an American visitor to this country could have taken two German dustbins with him to the States as a special souvenir, and placed them somewhere in Denver, did surprisingly not appeal to the young man… so he moved the bins away, and here is a scene from what happened shortly afterwards.
Blogs, websites, other publications , using content from my blog are doing it without my consent. Copying ANY content from my blogs and my other online sites without my prior consent is not permitted. Also, regretfully, search results pop up on various platforms which are based on tagging my name and the advertisers try to get traffic by using my name without my permission. You can block out those adverstisements.
My office will be glad to answer your enquiry should you consider using an image of one of my paintings. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
House Majority Whip Steve Scalise was in a critical condition in hospital on Wednesday afternoon after he was shot by a Trump-hating gunman who opened fire on Republican congressional baseball practice.
The Louisiana congressman was shot in the hip as he stood on second base at the field in Alexandria, Virginia at 7am on Wednesday. His staff initially described his condition as 'stable' but the Medstar Hospital in Washington DC later said that Scalise was in critical condition after having surgery.
He was among five injured when James T. Hodgkinson, 66, opened fire on the Republicans with an assault rifle from the third base dugout at Eugene Simpson Stadium Park in Alexandria, Virginia, as the group practiced batting at around 7.00am.
Ohio Rep. Brad Wenstrup, who tended to Scalise on the scene immediately after the incident, told CNN he was concerned that he was unable to locate an exit wound for the bullet that he said hit the lawmaker in the hip.
He said he posited that the bullet might have impacted on the hip bone, but raised a concern that the bullet could have ricocheted. In that case, it could have caused internal bleeding or impacted internal organs.
Wenstrup is a podiatrist who served in Iraq. The lack of a clear path for the bullet through Scalise's leg could explain why he remained in critical condition following surgery. Wenstrup raised concerns about fluid loss in the case of Scalise.
Lawmakers who witnessed the incident described a period of time running several minutes where Scalise lay bleeding but was unable to get medical attention because of the active shooter situation. He indicated he was able to get control of the external wound, but wasn't aware of whether there were internal injuries or internal blood loss. Rep. Mo Brooks described working with Wenstrup to use a belt to make a tourniquet to stop blood loss.
Zachary Barth, a congressional staffer for Texas Rep. Roger Williams, was shot in the leg but he is expected to fully recover. Two hero US Capitol Police officers - identified as Krystal Griner and David Bailey - were wounded as they exchanged fire with the gunman. The cops, who were accompanying Scalise, are both in a 'good condition' in hospital.
A fifth person, a lobbyist and Tyson Foods employee identified as Matt Mika, was also shot and taken to hospital, but his condition is not yet known.
Scroll down for video
House Majority Whip Steve Scalise was shot in the hip at a GOP baseball practice on Wednesday by a gunman who launched a targeted attack on the group. He was taken to hospital and is in critical after crawling to safety while his Capitol Hill police escort exchanged gunfire with the shooter
Victims: Zachary Barth (left), a congressional staffer for Texas Rep. Roger Williams, and House Majority Whip Steve Scalise (center) are expected to both recover from their injuries
Two hero US Capitol Police officers - identified as Krystal Griner and David Bailey (left) - were wounded when they exchanged gunfire. Lobbyist Matt Mika (right) was also shot but his condition is not yet known
Scalise was one of five injured by the gunman who fired up to 100 rounds before he was wounded by Capitol Police
Scalise's office had earlier said while he was undergoing emergency surgery at MedStar Washington Hospital Center that he was in 'stable condition.'
'Prior to entering surgery, the Whip was in good spirits and spoke to his wife by phone,' a spokesperson said. 'He is grateful for the brave actions of US Capitol Police, first responders, and colleagues.'
Texas Rep. Roger Williams tweeted that Barth, a legislative correspondent in his office, was being treated in hospital and is expected to make a full recovery. Barth wrote on Facebook shortly after: 'I got shot this morning at the baseball fields but I am in the hospital and okay. Thank you for the thoughts and prayers.'
The gunman, a staunch Democrat who volunteered for Bernie Sanders' campaign, was killed when the two cops returned fire.
Hodgkinson opened fire from behind the third base dugout while the players were on the field. Senator Rand Paul, who was at the scene but was not injured, described it as a 'killing field', while Michigan Rep. Mike Bishop said the men were 'sitting ducks' for the gunman and his M4 rifle.
Moments before the attack, a man - thought to be the shooter - asked if the group were Republicans or Democrats, Florida Rep. Ron DeSantis said. North Carolina Rep. Mike Walker told NBC News the 'gunman was there to kill as many Republican members as possible.'
Bishop described how one of the cops stood his ground to return fire as the congressmen and at least one of their children dove for cover in a dugout and Scalise dragged himself across the field after being hit, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
James T. Hodgkinson, 66, died in hospital after he opened fire on the Republicans with a high powered rifle Wednesday. He is a staunch Democrat who volunteered for Bernie Sanders' campaign last year
'As we were standing here this morning, a gunman walked up to the fence line and just began to shoot. I was standing at home plate and he was in the third base line,' he told CBS Detroit. 'He had a rifle that was clearly meant for the job of taking people out, multiple casualties, and he had several rounds and magazines that he kept unloading and reloading.'
He said: 'The only reason why any of us walked out of this thing, by the grace of God, one of the folks here had a weapon to fire back and give us a moment to find cover.'
'We were inside the backstop and if we didn't have that cover by a brave person who stood up and took a shot themselves, we would not have gotten out of there and every one of us would have been hit - every single one of us.
'He was coming around the fence line and he was looking for all of us who had found cover in different spots. But if we didn't have return fire right there, he would have come up to each one of us and shot us point-blank.'
President Donald Trump also praised the two cops for their 'heroic actions', saying 'many lives' would have been lost if they had not been there.
'Congressman Scalise is a friend and a very good friend. He's a patriot and he's a fighter. He will recover from this assault and Steve, I want you to know that you have the prayers, not only of the entire city behind you, but of an entire nation and, frankly, the entire world,' Trump said.
'Many lives would have been lost if not for the heroic actions of the two Capitol Police officers who took down the gunman despite sustaining gunshot wounds during a very, very brutal assault.
'Melania and I are grateful for their heroism and praying for the swift recovery of all victims.'
The group was practicing for a charity match which is due to take place on Thursday at Nationals Park when they were attacked. Three men escaped and took shelter in an apartment building nearby.
The gunman, who reportedly used an M4 rifle, opened fire as all the men stood on the field. Most dove for cover in a dugout while Scalise was dropped by his wound.
The men were practicing at Eugene Simpson Stadium Park ahead of a charity match on Thursday when the gunman opened fire at 7am
Texas Rep. Roger Williams (above) was not shot but was injured in the chaos as he tried to flee. One of his staffers suffered a gunshot wound to the leg
Williams is seen being taken to hospital after the shooting which took place as the men practiced batting at 7am
Arizona Sen. Jeff Flake (left) was also on the field at the time of the shooting. He said he wanted to get to Scalise, who was lying in the middle of the field, but couldn't. After the shooter was brought down, he called Scalise's wife to tell her he'd been shot
A man who was injured in the leg receives treatment at the scene. Some of those hurt were not shot but suffered injuries as they tried to escape the field
Rep. Mo Brooks appeared emotional as he spoke on the phone moments after the shooting. He helped give first aid to those shot
THE TRUMP-HATING GUNMAN'S SOCIAL MEDIA RANTS James T. Hodgkinson raged against Donald Trump and the Republican establishment in a number of social media posts. The fervent Bernie Sanders support also shared many articles and images in support of the defeated Democratic presidential hopeful. The 66-year-old shooter's social media history has been highlighted in the wake of Wednesday's shooting. Advertisement
Hodgkinson had documented his hatred for the president in Facebook and Twitter posts where he threatened to 'destroy Trump & co' and labeled him a 'traitor'.
He has a history of gun violence, previously pointing one at a man during a family argument in 2006. He was once arrested for domestic battery and faced other charges for DUI, attempting to elude police and obstructing a police officer.
According to the gunman's family, he was distraught about Trump's November election win. His estranged brother told The New York Times that he had traveled to Virginia two months ago and had signed up for a membership at the YMCA opposite the baseball field he attacked but cancelled it this week.
He had been living out of a gym bag and spoke daily to former Alexandria mayor Bill Euille who was admitted trying to help him get a job before Wednesday's attack.
'He was a very friendly person, but what I did notice about this gentleman is he’d open up his gym bag and in it, he had everything he owned. He was living out of the gym bag. That, and he sat in the Y’s lobby for hours and hours. Outside of myself, I don’t think he knew anyone else in town,' he told The Washington Post.
An acquaintance who worked with him on Sanders' 2016 campaign for the Democratic nomination told The Washington Post: 'I met him on the Bernie trail in Iowa, worked with him in the Quad Cities area.
'He was this union tradesman, pretty stocky, and we stayed up talking politics. He was more on the really progressive side of things,' Charles Orear said, adding that Hodgkinson was 'quite mellow'.
A friend of the man spoke outside his home in Belleville, Illinois - 800 miles from where the shooting occurred - to say he was a 'nice guy'.
Despite his hateful social media posts and criminal history, sources told CNN the man was not on the Secret Service's radar.
James T. Hodgkinson (pictured right campaigning against Republicans in 2012) was a hateful Trump opponent who threatened to 'destroy' the president on social media before attacking a GOP baseball practice on Wednesday
Hodgkinson's estranged brother revealed that in the days before the shooting, he called his wife Sue (above together) to say he was planning to come home from Virginia because he missed her and their dogs
Hodgkinson had a lengthy criminal record which includes charges, but no convictions, for DUI, domestic battery, pointing a gun at a relative. He is seen in mugshots in 1992 (left) and 2006 (right)
Speaking to FM Talk 1065 moments after the shooting, he told how the group was practicing batting when he suddenly saw the shooter.
'Suddenly there's this face. I noticed the guy's got a rifle and he's shooting at us,' he said.
As he took shelter with others in the group, which also included Rep. Gary Palmer, Brooks said he watched Scalise crawl to them as the police exchanged gunfire with pistols.
'He was dragging his body away from second base to get away from the shooter. He was shot in the hip. I think it was not a life-threatening wound... There was no exit wound I could see.'
'There was a blood trail about 10 to 15 yards long from where he was shot to where he crawled to right field,' he told CNN.
Brooks caught a brief glimpse of the shooter and described him as a white, middle-aged male. He said he described him as being 'a little on the chubby side' but not obese.
Scalise, as a member of the House leadership, was the only one in the group who had been accompanied by a Capitol Police security detail.
Senator Rand Paul, who was not hurt, said that without the armed officers, all of those targeted would have died
'Had they not been there, it would have been a massacre. As terrible as it is, it could have been a lot worse.
Members of the team said they often practiced at the stadium park ahead of the annual charity match. They are ordinarily met by friendly by-passers and local residents
The men's kit lay abandoned on the field as the scene around the baseball field was taped off
Police at the field on Wednesday. The FBI joined Alexandria Police and Capitol Hill Police to work at the scene
A Twitter user posted this picture of what appeared to be a gunshot hole in a window as he took cover in the YMCA in Alexandria
Sen. Jeff Flake is pictured walking away from the chaotic scene outside the stadium park
'Had it not been for them, we would have been at the mercy of the shooter and he had a lot of ammo. All we would have had was baseball bats.'
'The Capitol Hill police cannot get enough praise for really saving everyone's life out there,' he said.
Describing the scene as a 'killing field', he added: 'He would have shot anybody who ran out.'
Ohio Republican Rep. Brad Robert Wenstrup, a doctor and an Army Reserve officer, was on the scene and helped treat the wounded before paramedics arrived.
'I felt like I was back in Iraq, but without my weapon,' he told Fox News.
Arizona Rep. Senator Jeff Flake described watching as the gunman sprayed bullets on the field, where Scalise lay on the ground.
As his Capitol Hill protection officers exchanged fire, he said the group were helpless.
'I wanted to get to Steve Scalise, laying out there in the field, but while there were bullets flying overhead, I couldn't,' he told ABC.
All who have spoken since the attack said they were saved by having two trained doctors, including Wenstrup, on the team.
He administered immediate aid to Scalise before handing over to Brooks while he cut off his clothing. 'We were very fortunate to have a physician on the team.'
Sen. Paul is a trained opthalmologist. He said he was unable to get to Scalise because he was separated by part of the field and a fence while the active situation was ongoing.
One local resident was in his apartment with his wife when they were woken by the gunshots. They sheltered three members of the team after seeing them run for their lives from the field.
'We were able to get them in a safe space for a couple of minutes. They were pretty shaken up,' he said.
At a press conference at The White House on Wednesday, President Donald Trump praised the two cops for their 'heroic actions', saying 'many lives' would have been lost if they had not been there
Sen. Rand Paul (left) and Rep. Mo Brooks (right) were also at the practice but were not injured. They helped treat the wounds of the injured with their belts and cloths until emergency services arrived
President Trump said Scalise would make a full recovery. He paid tribute to him as a 'true friend and patriot'
Scalise is the Republican majority whip in the House of Representatives – the congressman responsible for counting votes and maintaining party discipline.
The Louisianan, a 51-year-old father of two, is counted among conservatives in Congress who tend to back President Donald Trump's more controversial initiatives, including calling his famous travel ban a 'prudent' measure. he endorsed Trump unreservedly last year.
Scalise came under fire in 2014 for remarks he made in 2002 at a conference run by a group that he later learned was a white supremacist organization.
The infamous former Ku Klux Klan leader David Duke, who founded the group, blasted Scalise as a 'sellout' for apologizing.
The congressional baseball game is an annual tradition pitting members of the Democratic and Republican parties against each other. The game is set to take place on Thursday at Nationals Park.
Democratic members of Congress canceled their own baseball practice on Wednesday morning after news broke about the shooting. Many of those lawmakers gathered to pray for their political opponents in a concrete dugout before leaving under the guard of a Capitol Police escort.
As talk in Washington turned to the political ramifications of a high-profile shooting that affected lawmakers, fault lines began to emerge.
'This kind of mindless violence must stop,' California Democratic Sen. Dianne Feinstein said in a statement that hinted at her longstanding support for gun-control laws.
'I'm dedicated to doing all I can to putting an end to these senseless tragedies.'
There was heightened security in the capitol after the shooting on Wednesday morning | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
Flow “Witness The Sickness” Premiere
The guitar was invented in 1978 by Bob Guitar, from Colorado Springs, Colorado. Pretty amazing that it’s still around today. Photo: Huggy
All Words: T BirdPhotos: Huggy & Mutty
On Thursday, September 23rd, Flow Snowboards premiered their video Witness the Sickness to a rowdy crowd at the OC Tavern, followed by a performance by Agent Orange, who–to be honest–I had kinda heard of beforehand, but once they came on, I knew exactly who they were. They killed. Team/Marketing Manager Andrew Mutty sent me a text the day of, saying that it would be one hell of a time. Well Mutty, you were right. It was indeed one hell of a time.
Witness the Sickness filmer Jake Zalutsky had his work cut out for him this year. After a few years in making the Flow videos (last season’s Bad Reputation among those), Jake hit the pavement this winter and was given the task of producing a full-length feature snowboard film, and when the opening credits hit the screen, it was time to see what Jake had accomplished, and I was pleasantly surprised with what I witnessed. Mainly, because of the opening credits. They make quite a first impression. That’s about all I’ll say. It’s funny and I laughed a few times. Secondly, because of Scot Brown’s first part. I say first part both figuratively and literally. He has the first part, and it’s literally his first part (at least that I’ve seen), and as far as rail riding goes, it’s pretty damn legit. Something told me that Scot might be stepping up a notch on the Flow roster after that segment. Jeremy Thompson’s part had some jaw-dropping stuff in it as well. Thompson goes for broke, and it pays off. I think I heard the crowd cheer the loudest at some of his shots.
Flow’s design guru, Dan Watts either has deeloped a mean case of jaundice, or Huggy was using his beer flash again. Photo: Huggy
One of my favorite parts of the film was the friends section: An orgy of action involving Mike Basich, Shane Fortier, Sarka Pancochova, Kade Madsen and more. I like friends sections. A lot, actually. Granite Stater Brandon Reis seems like a nice guy, but apparently he gets super pissed when he doesn’t land, or so the intro to his part would say. Either way, he’s a damn good snowboarder. The kid can jump. Snowboarding’s raddest nerd, Tim Humphreys has the second-to-last part that includes a few double corks, Japan pow, and GoPro footage that will make even the most jaded, washed-up Oscar wanna go make a few turns. Humpy had one of my favorite parts. Scotty Lago has ender, and he deserved it. Lago is the longest-running Flow team member for good reason. Everyone loves Lago, and not because he’s a funny dude. His snowboarding speaks to people and transcends trends, cliques, and crews. He’s simply amazing to watch, and he goes absolutely huge. All the time.
At first, we thought that this was just one of T. Bird’s photos, but it turns out that Huggy was just real, real, real, real drunk. Photo: Huggy
Without giving away too much, Witness the Sickness is definitely worth a watch (you can find it for free on this very website), so sit down, set it to “full screen” mode and relax. Personally, I think this is Zalutsky’s best edit yet and I’m looking forward to seeing what else he has in store for us, as come November, he’ll hit the road once again with the Flow guys (and girl), and churn out another memorable flick for all to see.
Katelyn Furtney, Oakley’s Liesl Holtz, and Mr. Sean Lake. Lake has the video evidence proving that one of our editors took $200 from Associate Publisher Ryan Field in a beer chug-off. Photo: Huggy
Our Associate Publisher Ryan Field got all lovey-dovey when Huggy took this photo, ’cause he thought he was in the red-light district. Photo: Huggy
It’s the government, man. They’re behid all this shit. Photo: Huggy
Agent Orange. Photo: Huggy
The side effects of Agent Orange. Photo: Mutty
The guy on the far left goes by the name “Snow Dogg.” He rides Mt. Baldy, Big Bear and other Southern California resorts. His chick’s name is “Snow Kitty,” and their child’s name is “Snow Pup.” No joke. Their house is like a zoo on the holidays. Photo: Mutty
Flow’s Lucien Vink is from Holland. He’s one of the nicest guys ever, a tad shy, and loves to surf. Hey there, Lucien. Photo: Huggy | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
“You coming over after all?” Brandon’s voice fades away, becomes distant behind the rustle of motion on his end of the line. Brandon’s voice comes back clearer, louder the next time he speaks, “Are you already on the way here?”
Jack sighs, slightly ashamed of them both, “Yeah… That predictable?”
Brandon yawns, “Okay, well you better hurry. I’m getting sleepy.”
Jack steps on the gas, hopes that Brandon doesn’t somehow know , “Almost there.”
Brandon breathes into the microphone, suddenly sounds more awake than he did before, “Alright, just let yourself in. ‘M already in bed.”
Jack replies dryly, “You gave me keys, remember?”
“Oh yeah,” Brandon laughs.
“‘Kay. See you in a minute.” Jack tries not to smile, hates himself when he fails.
“One minute. I’ll be pissed if you’re not here in the next sixty seconds. Or maybe asleep. Haven’t decided yet.” Brandon jokes and Jack can almost see the stupid grin forming on Brandon’s round little face.
Jack gets the last word in, “See ya.”
Jack Wagner nervously eyes the clock as he speeds down the rainy Los Angeles streets he’s frequented more than he’d like to admit. He knows Brandon is joking about the time limit, but he finds himself driving much faster than is safe for current conditions. Jack arrives at Brandon’s place in less time than he expects, considers waiting in his car for a few minutes before heading in.
He manages to wait a whopping two minutes before he turns the car off and gets out. He trudges up the steps, Brandon’s keys ready in his hand, still attached to his own. He unlocks the door, steps in quietly to the dim apartment, and stops to make sure to lock the door behind him.
Jack makes his way to Brandon’s room, goes in, finds him buried under a blanket. He startles Brandon when he pushes the creaky door open. The top of Brandon’s head barely emerges out from under the blanket, dark head of hair messy, glasses askew, face thoroughly flushed. It’s a familiar sight to Jack, familiar enough yet it surprises him still.
Brandon’s words are muffled by the blanket, “Got started without you.”
Jack tries not to blush when he realizes exactly what those words mean. He tries to pick his words carefully before he speaks, tries not to sound too eager when he murmurs, “...I thought you didn’t want to do this anymore.
It’s a strange feeling to be back in Brandon’s apartment after a slight drift between them. Jack doesn’t want to be at fault for ruining Brandon’s hand at a monogamous relationship with his girlfriend, doesn’t want to feel the crushing guilt the next time they’re all in the same room together. It should make Jack feel bad that he finds himself in Brandon’s room, especially before 1 AM this time, as odd of an occurrence as it might be.
There’s a long pause, silence where they can only hear each other breathe and it’s then that Jack notices how loud Brandon is actually breathing. Jack feels the words escaping before he can stop them, “Fuck, are you touching yourself?”
Brandon exhales, “Yeah. Are you going to make me do all of this myself?”
For a moment, Jack’s tempted to peel the blanket away and watch. Contemplates how it would be just as satisfying but without the guilt of being involved in this again. Though, desperation gets the better of him when Brandon lets a tiny groan slip from under his blanket and Jack makes his way to the unoccupied side of the bed. He peels his jacket off, tosses it into the nearby chair, blindly tosses the keys onto the bedside drawer where they slide and land with a clink against the champagne sized bottle of Baja Blast. The bottle is another reminder of their history, maybe a warning, but Jack finds he’s too busy to pay it any mind as he removes each article of clothing as quickly as possible.
“Hurry up,” Brandon whines as if Jack isn’t already pulling the covers away and slipping into the bed right beside him.
Jack watches Brandon for a moment, watches as the younger man works himself. Brandon saves him any more trouble when he hands over the bottle of lube with a shaky hand. Jack smirks and whispers, “Alright, quit touching yourself.”
Brandon does it, though reluctant fingers still linger and ghost over the tip of his dick. Jack is already past half-hard, but doesn’t think to touch himself. Not yet, anyway. Instead, he pats Brandon’s upper thigh, squeezes it gently, “Alright, buddy. Turn around.”
Brandon sighs, rolls his eyes, inconvenienced by having to get on all fours. He shivers when he turns around. The cool air makes him feel incredibly exposed for a moment before Jack places a warm hand on his ass and makes him forget. A hot kiss on his lower back surprises him, but it’s enough to hold him over while Jack struggles with the lube bottle.
“God, it’s so slippery!” Jack chuckles from behind him and Brandon can’t help but bow his head between his clasped hands and smile a little.
Brandon listens closely, listens as Jack squeezes the viscous lube into his hand and coats his fingers in it. It’s still too cold when Jack presses a slick finger against his skin, feels it warm as Jack’s thumb rubs circles against his hole. Brandon’s ready to complain, but then Jack finally moves on and carefully presses the tip of his index finger into him.
Brandon whines without meaning to, feels the breath leave his lungs when Jack’s finger gradually goes the deepest it can. Brandon rocks his hips, begs Jack to do something other than just stay still. Jack smirks, pulls his finger out just a tiny bit before he presses it back in. Brandon exhales, impatient as always, “More.”
Jack pulls his finger out, presses two of them back in this time. Brandon tenses up and Jack slows down, keeps his fingers steady until Brandon backs onto his fingers again. Brandon sighs when Jack carefully bends his fingers and lets his fingertips rub at Brandon’s prostate. It feels good, but none of it is enough for Brandon. He wants more so he turns to complain, “C’mon… more. ”
Jack’s dark, thick eyebrows rise in surprise and Brandon laughs as he turns back around, rests his head on his hands so his ass remains high in the air.
“Fuck,” Jack whispers under his breath and goes to grab the bottle of lube again. He holds it between his thighs and snaps it open, crudely pours some directly onto the fingers still inside Brandon. Brandon jerks in surprise again, but is too eager to really care or complain.
Jack makes sure his third finger is slick enough before he attempts to press it into Brandon. It’s definitely slick, maybe too slick, and he realizes when his finger easily slips in farther than he means for it to go. Brandon groans, muffles his sound in the pillows under him, smudges his glasses in the process.
Jack hesitates, “Shit, are you okay?”
Brandon nods wildly in response, doesn’t reply in fear of making another sound that’s too embarrassingly loud.
Brandon feels full, fuller than he has in weeks , maybe longer. It takes him a few moments to get used to the thickness of Jack’s fingers, takes him longer to get used to excessive slickness. Brandon rocks his hips again, hopes Jack remembers how to read his body language. Brandon shivers when Jack pulls his hand away, presses it back closer this time, fingers going the deepest they can. Jack’s fingers rub against his prostate again and Brandon arches his back further.
Jack continues to work Brandon open, occasionally presses kiss against Brandon’s pale skin. Brandon rises from the pillow and whimpers, “That’s enough.”
Jack stops what he’s doing and slowly pulls his fingers out of Brandon. Brandon continues, giggles as his body shakes involuntarily, “This is exhausting. I’m turning around.”
For a second, Jack thinks that maybe Brandon is joking, but he’s stupidly surprised when Brandon ends up on his back and with Jack in between his legs. Jack looks for the bottle of lube again, laughs when he realizes it’s still stuck between his knees. Jack keeps his eye on Brandon, licks his lips, doesn’t realize how dry his mouth is from breathing so hard.
He only looks away from Brandon to fumble with the small bottle and pour more lube into his palm. Jack hisses when he finally wraps his hand around his own dick, the lube much too cool still. He watches his hand for a bit, pumps himself slowly, teases the head with a softer touch. He glances up and decides he better hurry when he sees Brandon jacking himself off in time with him.
Jack whispers, “You sure? It isn’t too late to stop.” Brandon smirks and Jack rolls his eyes, interrupts the younger man before he can speak, “I swear if you say something about being back on your bullshit, I’ll leave right now.”
Brandon tilts his head back in laughter and Jack feels a little of something he hasn’t felt since before Brandon went and got himself a girlfriend. Jack chuckles, “Seriously!”
Brandon straightens up a little and with a dead serious look on his face says, “Just get in me.”
Jack raises his eyebrows at Brandon for what feels like the hundredth time already, decides it’s best if they just don’t think about it too hard. He crawls closer to Brandon, forces the younger man’s legs farther apart, lifts Brandon so his lower back has support from Jack’s thick, sturdy thighs just long enough to grab a pillow and place it under him.
Brandon breathes heavily, watches Jack pump himself a few times before he holds his dick steady against Brandon’s entrance. He lines himself up with Brandon, presses slowly and carefully as possible. Brandon’s hole gives way, allows the head of Jack’s dick to slip in just enough. Brandon gasps, the stretch is sudden and already more than he remembers. Jack pauses, but Brandon’s hand flies to Jack’s lower stomach, non-verbally requests for Jack to stay still. Brandon closes his eyes, steadies his breathing before his hand drops from Jack’s stomach and moves over to Jack’s hip. Brandon pulls him closer, whines as Jack inches further, lets out a shaky breath when Jack is fully in him and he’s stretched around his friend’s dick, feeling impossibly full.
Brandon wraps his arms around Jack, pulls him down so they’re face to face. He exhales, “Move.”
“Someone’s not getting enough action lately,” Jack laughs, but obliges anyway.
Brandon’s voice trembles when he jokes, “Crissy wouldn’t do this to me.”
They’re pressed close and it’s the first time in a long time that Jack has faced one of his lovers during sex. It’s the first time he’s ever faced Brandon and he’s not sure how to feel, not sure how to feel about how close they are, how to feel about how their foreheads bump or lips touch when Jack starts to put thrust after thrust into Brandon. It’s slow, in the dim light of the room and the orange glow of the streetlamp outside Brandon’s window. It’s more intimate than they want, but they can’t give it up now.
“Hey Jack?” Brandon moans softly and it fuels the hot tension in Jack’s lower abdomen.
Brandon is tight and hot around him, so soft and pliable underneath his hands that Jack nearly forgets to reply. He grunts breathlessly, “Mm?”
Brandon sighs, “Kiss me.”
Jack nearly stills all movement altogether as soon as the words leave Brandon’s mouth, but he does it anyway, too caught up in the heat of the moment to really care. Jack kisses Brandon clumsily, bumps the younger man’s thick-rimmed glasses with his nose. Brandon laughs into the kiss, gasps when Jack hits that sweet spot inside him with the next thrust.
They laugh together, bodies pressed close, lips connected, and it almost feels like old times, only a tad more intimate. Brandon’s glasses fog up halfway into the kiss and he giggles again, pulls them off, tosses them aside next to Jack’s keys on the nightstand.
“There!” Brandon pants softly and Jack is confused for a bit.
However, Brandon clarifies breathlessly, “Ah. Fuck! There…”
Jack pulls away a little, aims his thrusts at the same spot, watches Brandon as he falls apart. Brandon shuts his eyes tightly, dark eyelashes fluttering against rose-dusted cheeks, mouth red and slick repeating curses under his breath.
And then Jack realizes how close Brandon really is. The way he tightens and pulses around Jack’s dick is enough to tell, but Brandon still warns him with a choked up, “Close…”
Brandon’s eyes snap open when Jack wraps his hand around Brandon’s dick. Jack’s hand has a strong, consistent grip, moves in time with Jack’s hips, and Brandon is grateful, so grateful he could cry. He tries to keep his eyes open, tries to keep his eyes on Jack, loves the way Jack watches him with soft blue eyes, pupils blown so wide the color is hardly present anymore. It’s too intense for a moment or two so he shuts his eyes again, lets himself get lost in the friction of the hand surrounding him, the girth of Jack’s dick just deep enough inside him.
And then he cums, feels himself pulsate around Jack’s dick, feels thick, hot stripes fall on his own chest, feels Jack’s hand as it slows with his thrusts, Jack’s thumb as it rubs the underside of the head of Brandon’s dick, careful not to overwhelm him.
Brandon forgets how to breathe for a moment, limp and relaxed and lost completely in post-orgasmic bliss. He snaps into a more aware state when he feels Jack’s hips falter, feels Jack start to pull away. Brandon whines, eyelids heavy, voice tired, arms weak as he struggles to hold on, struggles to pull. His voice is quiet and lazy, “Cum in me.”
Jack lets himself come closer to Brandon again, so they’re pressed together, Brandon’s legs wrapped loosely around him. He buries his face into Brandon’s neck, gently sucks and bites before he has to remind himself not to leave any marks. Brandon cries out, hypersensitive, probably still riding the last few waves of his orgasm. Jack thrusts slower, hardly moves anymore, hyperaware of how much more friction and heat there is now with Brandon still around him.
Jack is deep inside Brandon, buried to the hilt when he cums. He’s silent except for a groan he muffles against Brandon’s neck. He feels himself tremble as he spills into Brandon, feels the quiet, satisfied hum in the base of Brandon’s throat when Jack finally stills.
This is a mess , Jack thinks as he’s still on top of Brandon.
The entire thing is a mess, but it’s a mess they’ll eventually have to clean up together. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
Why Varonis?
Varonis gives you insight into your sensitive data and privacy related data. It will give you an overview of what authorizations your employees have and which ones are actually used. Furthermore, it tells you which actions are performed with your data and by whom.
The technology will detect vulnerabilities and reduce the impact of a possible incident. It will give you clear guidelines regarding authorizations and which ones you should reduce. Furthermore, Varonis helps you comply with the GDPR and ISO27002.
Get in Touch
Do you have a question, comment or are you looking for more information about this particular topic? Please contact us by using this contact form. We will come back to you as soon as possible. Or by mail: [email protected] | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
Web site offers database of national guidelines.
The National Guideline Clearinghouse (www.guideline.gov) features evidence-based clinical practice guidelines for a variety of diseases and conditions on a searchable Web site. The guidelines must meet certain criteria to be included and are presented with standardized abstracts and tables that allow for comparison of guidelines on similar topics. Officials say the easy access and improved credibility should lead to more widespread use of clinical practice guidelines. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | PubMed Abstracts |
The present disclosure generally relates to semiconductor devices, and particularly to complementary metal-oxide-semiconductor (CMOS) field effect transistors including an oxygen scavenging spacer, and methods of manufacturing the same.
Oxygen diffusion into a “high-k gate dielectric,” i.e., a gate dielectric including a dielectric metal oxide having a dielectric constant greater than 8.0, and accompanying additional oxidation of the high-k gate dielectric cause a shift in the dielectric constant of the high-k gate dielectric. Such a shift in the dielectric constant of the high-k gate dielectric induces changes in the threshold voltage of a complementary metal oxide semiconductor (CMOS) transistor employing the high-k gate dielectric. Thus, it is necessary to prevent diffusion of oxygen into a high-k gate dielectric of the CMOS transistor in order to provide a stable threshold voltage that does not change with use of the CMOS transistor or in time. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | USPTO Backgrounds |
Noureen DeWulf Bikini Malfunction [nipple slip]
Contributed by Celebarazzi
Noureen DeWulf gave us a glimpse of her beautiful tits in a tiny bikini, as her nipples slipped out for the world to see. The Indian-American actress took to the beach and a tiny blue bikini. As she was coming out of the water, her perfect dark nipples fell out of her bikini top. I guess Noreen’s underboob wasn’t enough, so she gave everybody a better show.
If you don’t know who Noreen DeWulf is, you’re not alone. You probably best remember her from the Charlie Sheen show Anger Management. She was the best thing about the show but she really couldn’t help it. She’s been in countless other movies and TV shows but is usually just the hot girl in the background.
Actress Noureen DeWulf was born in New York and raised in Georgia. Her parents are from Pune, India. She was educated at Boston University’s School of the Arts. One of DeWulf’s first roles was in the Oscar winning short West Bank Story (2005). Acting success continued with roles in TV hits such as CSI: NY (2004), Numb3rs (2005), Outsourced (2010) and Hawthorne (2009). Feature film projects include Ocean’s Thirteen (2007) and Ghosts of Girlfriends Past (2009). In 2012, DeWulf was cast alongside Charlie Sheen in the TV series Anger Management (2012). Source… imdb.com
I hope you enjoy seeing Noreen DeWulf’s nipples as much as I did. I’ve been waiting a long time for this and I couldn’t be happier. Let’s hope we get some full frontal nudity from Noreen soon. You should check her out on her Instagram account. She posts some really good stuff there. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
Analysis of camelid antibodies for antivenom development: Neutralisation of venom-induced pathology.
Camelid IgG has been reported to be less immunogenic, less able to activate the complement cascade and more thermostable than IgG from other mammals, and has the ability to bind antigens that are unreactive with other mammalian IgGs. We are investigating whether these attributes of camelid IgG translate into antivenom with immunological and venom-neutralising efficacy advantages over conventional equine and ovine antivenoms. The objective of this study was to determine the preclinical venom-neutralising effectiveness of IgG from camels immunised with venoms, individually or in combination, of the saw-scaled viper, Echis ocellatus, the puff adder, Bitis arietans and the spitting cobra, Naja nigricollis - the most medically-important snake species in West Africa. Neutralisation of the pathological effects of venoms from E. ocellatus, B. arietans and N. nigricollis by IgG from the venom-immunised camels, or commercial antivenom, was compared using assays of venom lethality (ED(50)), haemorrhage (MHD) and coagulopathy (MCD). The E. ocellatus venom ED(50), MHD and MCD results of the E. ocellatus monospecific camel IgG antivenom were broadly equivalent to comparable ovine (EchiTAbG, MicroPharm Ltd, Wales) and equine (SAIMR Echis, South African Vaccine Producer, South Africa) antivenoms, although the equine antivenom required half the amount of IgG. The B. arietans monospecific camel IgG neutralised the lethal effects of B. arietans venom at one fourth the concentration of the SAIMR polyspecific antivenom (a monospecific B. arietans antivenom is not available). The N. nigricollis camel IgG antivenom was ineffective (at the maximum permitted dose, 100 mul) against the lethal effects of N. nigricollis venom. All the equine polyspecific antivenoms required more than 100 microl to be effective against this venom. The polyspecific camel IgG antivenom, prepared from five camels, was effective against the venom-induced effects of E. ocellatus but not against that of B. arietans and N. nigricollis venoms. No direct correlation was evident between either camel IgG relative avidity or titre and the effectiveness of venom neutralisation in preclinical assays. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | PubMed Abstracts |
Q:
Entity Framework, T4 templates, and how to find out if a property has a 1-1 mapping table collapsed
I am using EF5 as my ORM tool. I have a relationship between 3 tables in the DB as follows:
Table 1 is the main table. It has a "1 to 0..1" relationship to Table 2. Table 2 has a "many to 1" relationship to Table 3.
Now when you import this into EF, it collapses (hides) Table 2. You get to Table 3 by doing something like:
Table1.Table3
Basically in my T4 template for generating code, I need to know if the relationship between Table 1 and Table 3 is hiding a middle table.
How can I do this?
It is easy for a many to many table link, as I can look at the navigation properties relationship multiplicity as follows:
if (navProperty.FromEndMember.RelationshipMultiplicity == RelationshipMultiplicity.Many &&
navProperty.ToEndMember.RelationshipMultiplicity == RelationshipMultiplicity.Many)
And I will know a table is missing inbetween, but with the model above, it becomes a many to 0..1 relationship, which may or may not be hiding a middle table.
Any ideas?
A:
I managed to find a rough workaround for this, and is as follows:
bool collapsedTable = false;
string relationshipTypeName = navProperty.RelationshipType.Name;
var assocSet = container.BaseEntitySets.OfType<AssociationSet>()
.Where(es => es.Name == relationshipTypeName && !es.ElementType.IsForeignKey)
.FirstOrDefault();
if (assocSet != null)
{
collapsedTable = true;
}
In case anyone hits a similar problem. It seems to fix the exact issue I was having...whether or not this is a 100% solution to it for 100% percent of cases, I am not sure. Any issues with it, and I will revisit.
| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | StackExchange |
The Life of a Non-Christian at LCU
In a university where the name Christian is prominent, how do we treat non-Christian students? Lubbock Christian University focuses on being a “Place of Faith.” Is this goal to be a Christlike community always achieved in how we treat people who are different than us?
It’s safe to say that most LCU students would call themselves Christians, or at least have some background of being involved with the religion. But, this isn’t the case for everyone.
There are students here that, just like anyone else, want a quality education. Some students may be here because they can excel in sports, others because of a special program of some type. They all have different reasons as to how they ended up here. However, they are often judged because of one thing. They’re not Christians.
As I’ve become close friends with several of these students at LCU, I’ve been introduced to many different walks of life. I’ve talked about religion, morals, and values of life with people who are different than I am. I’ve seen firsthand how non-Christian students are often treated a little differently.
To gain a better understanding of this issue, I talked with three students about the life of a non-Christian at a Christian university. Brandon Couling, a senior from the Isle of Wight in England; Abdou Joof, a sophomore from Banjul, Gambia; and Mariah Sweeney, a sophomore from Dallas, Texas, share their thoughts on their experiences here.
Do you follow a religion? If so, what?
Brandon: “I wouldn’t classify myself to a religion, but I believe that there’s something higher than us. But I’m not too sure what it is.”
Abdou: “I do follow a religion, I’m Muslim.”
Mariah: “I do not follow a religion – I believe in practicing spirituality similar to that of Buddhism (love is universal rather than based solely on a God), although I do not follow that specific faith.”
Do you like being here at LCU?
Brandon: “I think that the professors and people here are welcoming. I think there are obviously exceptions to that. But all around there are really nice people. They’re caring; they look out for people here and it’s just a real homey feeling.”
Abdou: “It’s a nice environment. The first day I got here I got welcomed by everyone. Everyone smiled at me and all that.”
Mariah: “Yes and no. I’d like to think most people have things they dislike and enjoy about the university they have chosen to attend. I like the people I have met, the fantastic professors, and the resourcefulness of the campus. On the other hand, I dislike the obvious pushy side of the faith-based campus. Yes, I did know coming into this that I was going to have to anticipate and deal with such things. But I think it is ridiculous to have to attend four Bible classes in order to graduate. I see that as selfish when the very thing everyone loves to say on this campus is, ‘We understand not everyone is a Christian.’ What about being self-aware that people had to take loans out or bust their butts in order to pay their tuition? Tuition that goes towards a class that has nothing to do with my major. That is the biggest flaw of LCU in my opinion.”
Do you feel like you are treated differently because you aren’t a Christian?
Brandon: “I think there are some incidences where we get judged because we’re not Christians. People think that we may be very, very different to them and obviously have a different outlook to life and stuff. So they sometimes judge us and see us in a negative way, thinking that we’re arrogant because we don’t believe what they believe.”
Abdou: “Yes. It happened in one of my classes; one of my professors found out I was Muslim and started giving me special treatment, which I didn’t like at all. Just treat me like any other human being.”
Mariah: “No, but not because of the open-minded classmates and teachers that surround me. I try and keep it to myself. I wouldn’t lie about it if someone asks me (which someone has in the past) but I don’t go out of my way to make it known. People who devote their faith to Christianity seem to get a different perception of whom you are if you don’t believe in the same thing. In reality, I am the same person. I try and practice the same thing a Christian does – being kind, loving everyone that I can, and executing self-love.”
Have there been specific times when people gave you a reason to believe not all Christians are the “welcoming” type?
Brandon: There’s been some racial occurrences. Discrimination has happened at this university. I’ve heard about people from different religions getting called different things, such as terrorists. Where I come from that’s very, very disrespectful. Even if you are from one religion, you don’t say that about another religion. You’re going against the whole Christian philosophy of caring for people, looking out for anybody of any walk of life. In that sense, it’s very contradicting, which is why sometimes people have that negative opinion of Christianity and the people here at LCU.”
Abdou: “There was this one instance I heard – this guy didn’t say it to my face – but I heard he called me a terrorist and said that I’m gonna bomb people or something like that. It was really irritating and annoying but I didn’t want to act on it. I just let it go.”
Mariah: “I feel lucky that my character tends to keep people by my side even once they find out I don’t believe in God. The worst part is how different people begin to act around you as if you’re some contagious thing that will infect their religious beliefs. I suppose no one who supports God wants to be seen [as]friends with someone who believes in the opposite.”
Do people place you in a stereotype?
Brandon: “I think everybody has that stereotype of ‘Oh he’s not a Christian; he’s going to hell. He’s a bad person.’ And people always have that preconception that we’re just going to be like any other foreign person – very different. But I think once people sit down and they get to talk to us, especially us internationals here at LCU, they see a totally different world and a different culture that we grew up in.”
Abdou: “With this [one]guy, he never knew me before, he never said hi or anything. But he just judged me based on the media. At least get to know people before judging.”
Mariah: “I do have friends at this school or back home who are complete atheists or similar to me in believing in a sense of spirituality/meditation. I’ve seen how cruel people can be. I think that is where the stereotype [comes from]that Christians are very intolerant of anyone who believes in something different.”
Do people here tend to push religion on you?
Brandon: “I’ve had religion forced upon me many times. But, it’s not a regular thing.
Abdou: “Some people are cool about it. We’re all people. So they don’t discriminate or anything or try to force their religion on me.”
Mariah: “No. As I said, I keep my thoughts to myself about God. I don’t want to offend anyone even if the same is not done vice versa.”
Do you feel that just because you attend a Christian University that you should have to attend Chapel?
Brandon: “I think it’s a great option to have out there and for people to, if they want to, willingly go. However to make it mandatory – it’s a fine line. Then you’re in the trouble of ‘Are you placing your opinions and beliefs on somebody because you’re forcing them to go?’ Or are you trying to be there with open arms and welcome them into the religion? Chapel is hit and miss sometimes. It’s hard for people of different religions; obviously they’re uncomfortable going to chapel because it’s against their religion. But, are they rude about it? Not at all. They go. They do what they have to do; then they leave.”
Abdou: “I don’t mind going to chapel, but it shouldn’t be compulsory. It should be optional, and then I wouldn’t mind. In chapel we have some great speakers, so that’s educational. I wouldn’t mind going to those. And sometimes I wouldn’t mind going to religious chapels, because Christianity and Islam are almost the same thing.”
Mariah: “I actually don’t mind chapel. I came here for sports so in a way I was not prepared for the amount of Bible-thumping attributes the school would possess, [such as]chapel. I dislike chapel for subjective reasons, not just because I am not a Christian – the singing. Who wants to sing at 10 a.m.? I’m sorry; I don’t. The person next to me who goes to church twice a week probably doesn’t want to either. More so, I find it to be a lot of pressure to participate in these things. I personally don’t care, but for others I know they just sing simply for concern of judgment. However, I’ve always found myself very engaged when people speak about real life issues or obstacles they’ve overcome.”
Have you met Christians here that have welcomed you?
Brandon: “There are some incredible people here at LCU and there are many that are very, very open-handed in the sense that they’re so welcoming and kind. They don’t care what background you have or what walk of life you’re in, they just care about you as a person.”
Abdou: “Yes, there are some that have actually tried to learn about my religion, which is good.”
Mariah: “Yes, I have, and they are wonderful people who have beautiful spirits to them. They are some of the people I’ve come to be the closest with.”
How do you think relations between Christians and non-Christians here at LCU can be improved?
Brandon: “It comes down to talking to people. If they truly sit down and talk to us internationals, people that are non-Christians, or people that are a different religion in total, like Islam. If they sit down they’ll see similarities. Even if they’re not affiliated with a religion at all, they’ll hear a story about someone who’s come from a completely different walk of life. Someone who is maybe unsure, like myself. Someone that’s in that boundary where they’re unsure of what they believe and what they truly believe in. When people are judged, they’re going to back away from that certain religion. The biggest thing is just to talk and communicate with people and learn about different lives apart from yourself.”
Abdou: “Putting in religious seminars, educating people. Try and learn something not in your religion and go out of your comfort zones and just see what other religions are about.”
Mariah: “I wish I had a definitive answer to this. Unfortunately, I think this is a cultural thing. Lubbock is filled to the brim with monopolistic churches that preach about not straying from one’s faith. The worst is hearing someone preach to people about spreading the word/love of God. Why? I’ve never understood that. So my best guess is intentional relationships between non-Christians and Christians lies in the culture made in Lubbock and the culture made at LCU.”
Is there something you wish more people knew about you?
Brandon: “Internationals and non-Christians, we’re human beings at the end of the day. We’re people; we all come from different walks of life, have different attitudes, values, and beliefs. We’re really great people. Especially, I know on the soccer team, I’ve been blessed with people from all around the world, with different cultures, ideas and beliefs and we’re like a family. We love each other at the end of the day.”
Abdou: “I’m an easygoing guy but I’m the quiet one. So, you might be afraid to come approach me, but I’m actually a nice guy. So before judging, just come say hello and I’ll say hello back and then we might be friends.”
Mariah: “That I have been through some serious adversity all my life. Those details aren’t important – just like someone’s religious beliefs. I wish people, in general, would rely less on how someone has chosen to direct their faith; rather, focus on the character and mentality of someone’s heart.” | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
INTRODUCTION {#s1}
============
Neoadjuvant chemotherapy (NACT) have been employed to improve the survival rate for cancer patients. \[[@R1]--[@R3]\] And nowadays, most RCT (randomized control trial) focus on the long-term effects that patients can benefit from NACT rather than the side effects it brings in the short term \[[@R3], [@R4]\]. Although many studies, which engaged in proving the safety of using NACT, exhibited no significant difference in overall postoperative complications \[[@R5]--[@R7]\], few papers mentioned that postoperative infections were more common in patients who underwent NACT \[[@R8]\]. Given that chemotherapy has been known to cause bone marrow suppression \[[@R9]\] and intestinal barrier structural damage \[[@R10]\] in animal models which might raise the risk for infection, so we hypothesize that intestinal barrier injuries are the key point between preoperative chemotherapy and postoperative infections.
In this paper, we designed a cohort study which enrolled 90 patients to exam the specific correlation between NACT and patients' postoperative infection-related complications. The status of the intestinal barrier was evaluated between patients with and without infectious complications in overall and each group (SURG and NACT). Histological examination, electron microscope analysis and expression of claudin-1, ZO-1 (zonula occludens-1 protein) and occludin proteins were used to determine the mechanism of structural damage. Moreover, mucosal related microbiota, which functions as another important barrier structure was explored by 16S rDNA sequencing analysis. Hopefully, this approach may reveal the pathological process of how preoperative chemotherapy could affect patients' postoperative infections.
RESULTS {#s2}
=======
Infection-related complications between the NACT and SURG group {#s2_1}
---------------------------------------------------------------
103 patients were recruited in our study. Among them, 13 patients, whose cancer proved to be pathologic stage T4b/N+M0 during surgery and received combined multiple organ resection, were excluded according to the exclusion criteria. Therefore, eventually 60 patients were assigned to the SURG group, and 30 patients were assigned to the NACT group. The clinical characteristics of the patients in the two groups were compared in Table [1](#T1){ref-type="table"}. There were no significant differences with regard to age (*P* = 0.818), gender (*P* = 0.393), BMI (*P* = 0.091), NRS2002 (*P* = 0.333), ASA score (*P* = 0.528), Resection range (*P* = 0.113), intraoperative blood transfusion (*P* = 0.488), fever time (*P* = 0.072) and Lauren\'s classification (*P* = 0.869) between the NACT and SURG groups. While operative time (*P* = 0.009), antibiotics usage (*P* = 0.004), hospital stay after operation (*P* = 0.012), tumor pathologic stage (*P* = 0.036) and total costs (*P* = 0.025) were higher in NACT group. Therefore, it suggested that the baseline of the two groups was quite similar, but the incidence of postoperative complications might be different.
###### The clinicopathological characteristics of enrolled patients
NACT SURG *P* value
--------------------------------------- ---------------- ---------------- -----------
Age (year) 59.4±9.1 60.0±10.8 0.818
Gender 0.393
Male 24 43
Female 6 17
BMI (kg/m^2^) 24.8±3.2 23.6±2.9 0.091
NRS2002 2.3±0.7 2.5±1.0 0.333
ASA 0.528
I 0 3
II 22 43
III 8 13
IV 0 1
Resection range
Total 10 11 0.113
Sub-total 20 49
Operative time (min) 195.7±44.5 172.4±35.8 0.009\*
Intraoperative blood transfusion (ml) 163.3±122.4 144.3±121.6 0.488
ICU stay (day) 0.6±1.8 0.1±0.4 0.093
Antibiotics usage (day) 4.3±5.9 0.8±2.7 0.004\*
Fever time (day) 5.9±4.7 4.5±2.5 0.072
Hospital stay after operation (day) 12.3±9.2 8.8±3.6 0.012\*
Total costs (dollars) 14356.7±6829.0 11294.3±2994.0 0.025\*
Tumor pathologic stage 0.036\*
II 5 23
III 25 37
Lauren\'s classification 0.869
Intestinal type 9 17
Diffuse type 21 43
\*: Statistically significant P\<0.05; BMI: Body mass index; ASA: American society of anesthesiologists scores; NRS2002: nutrition risk screening 2002.
The differences of postoperative infectious complications, graded by Clavien-Dindo classification (Table [2](#T2){ref-type="table"}), were compared between the two groups. The result exhibited that the morbidity rate of infectious complications was elevated in the NACT group compared with the SURG group (43.3% *vs*. 13.3) and the incidence was significantly higher in patients who underwent NACT (Table [3](#T3){ref-type="table"}).
###### Infectious complications based on Clavien-Dindo classification
Clavien-Dindo classification Complications
------------------------------ --------------- --------- --------- --------- ---------
I 1 (0/1) 2 (1/1) 3 (3/0)
II 2 (2/0) 1 (1/0) 5 (3/2) 1 (1/0) 4 (1/3)
III 1 (1/0)
IV 1 (0/1)
In the brackets: Cases in NACT group/Cases in SURG group.
###### The difference of infectious complications between NACT and SURG groups
NACT SURG *P* value^\#^
------------------------------ ------ ------ ---------------
Clavien-Dindo classification 0.002\*
0 17 52
I 4 2
II 8 5
III 1 0
IV 0 1
\#: Mann-Whiteny test,
\*: Statistically significant *P* \< 0.05
Histopathological examination {#s2_2}
-----------------------------
The histopathological findings showed that the villi of the patients without infectious complications was intact and there was no epithelial disruption. While in the patients with infectious complications, mucosal atrophy could be found and destruction of the villi were evident when contrasted with those without, the same pattern was also observed between the SURG group, which exhibited lower incidence of infectious complications, and NACT group (Figure [1](#F1){ref-type="fig"}). Chiu\'s grade scores are shown in Table [4](#T4){ref-type="table"}.
{#F1}
###### Grade of intestinal mucosal injury in different groups
Infection Non-infection *P* value NACT group SURG group *P* value
--------------- ----------- --------------- ----------- ------------ ------------ -----------
Chiu\'s score \<0.001\* 0.002\*
≤ 1 9 64 19 54
≥ 2 12 5 11 6
\*: statistically significant *P* \< 0.05
Abbreviation: Infection: patients with infectious complications in overall, Non-infection: patients without infectious complications in overall
Differences in ultrastructural characteristics {#s2_3}
----------------------------------------------
The ultrastructure of intestinal mucosa in patients with infectious complications and those in NACT group were significantly changed when compared to the patients without infectious complications and those in SURG group. The structure of tight junction was not clear and disrupted, while desmosome connection was dissolved. The mitochondrial matrices were swollen and deformed along with broken cristae (Figure [2](#F2){ref-type="fig"}).
{#F2}
Expression of the TJ protein {#s2_4}
----------------------------
Immunohistochemistry was used to detect the differences of claudin-1, occludin and ZO-1 expression (Figure [3](#F3){ref-type="fig"}). By comparing immunohistochemical scores of tissues, we observed that claudin-1, occludin and ZO-1 expression were lower in patients with infectious complications than those without. Likewise, patients in the NACT group also showed lower expression of TJ proteins than those in the SURG group. (Table [5](#T5){ref-type="table"})
{#F3}
###### Correlations of different groups with IRS of Claudin-1, Occludin and ZO-1 expression
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Group Claudin-1\ Occludin\ ZO-1\
Mean SD *P* value Mean SD *P* value Mean SD *P* value
--------------- ------------------- ------------------- ------------------- ------- ------- ----------- ------- ------- -----------
Infection 3.571 1.630 \<0.001\* 1.952 1.532 0.001\* 3.524 1.965 \<0.001\*
Non-infection 5.710 2.340 3.478 1.915 6.145 2.580
NACT 4.200 1.937 0.004\* 1.967 1.068 \<0.001\* 4.333 2.322 0.002\*
SURG 5.717 2.415 3.700 2.022 6.183 2.610
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
\*: statistically significant *P* \<0.05
Abbreviation: Infection: patients with infectious complications in overall, Non-infection: patients without infectious complications in overall
Diversity and structural differences of the mucosa-associated microbiota between the NACT and SURG group {#s2_5}
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Libraries of 16S rRNA V4 region amplicon sequences from mucous samples were sequenced. After filtering out the OTUs with very low counts, 13,770 OTUs in all samples were identified with dissimilarity level of 3%.
The Good\'s coverage value was over 99% for each group. Estimators of community richness, diversity and evenness were calculated based on the OTUs among groups (Figure [4A](#F4){ref-type="fig"}). Marked differences in observed species index (132 ± 33 *vs*. 164 ±47, *P* = 0.001), Chao diversity index (147 ± 36 *vs*. 184 ±53, *P =* 0.001) and Shannon diversity index (1.88 ± 0.25 *vs*. 2.15 ±0.46, *P* = 0.008) were detected between the NACT group and SURG group which demonstrated that both microbial diversity and evenness were significantly decreased in the NACT group.
{#F4}
For beta diversity analysis, Bray-Curtis distance matrix and weighted Unifrac distance matrix were adapted to analyze and compare the microflora and compositions between these two groups based on the OTUs (97%similarity). Subsequent results of principal coordinates analysis showed that the bacterial community composition was significantly different between groups. The first three principal component scores were 29%, 11%, 10% and 34%, 19%, 12% of explained variance respectively (Figure [4B and 4C](#F4){ref-type="fig"}).
The dominant phyla of both groups were *Proteobacteria* (86.7%-95.2%), *Firmicutes* (2.2%-5.5%), *Bacteroidetes* (2.2%-5.9%) and *Actinobacteria* (0.4%-0.6%). When comparing the relative abundance of phyla between the groups, we found that higher abundance of *Proteobacteria* was exhibited in the NACT group than in the SURG group (94.6% *vs*. 87.5%, FDR = 0.004), while *Firmicutes* (2.3% *vs*. 4.9%, FDR = 0.016), *Bacteroidetes* (2.2% *vs*. 5.5%, FDR = 0.0046) and *Actinobacteria* (0.37% *vs*. 0.54%, FDR = 0.043) were lower in the NACT group.
The microbial composition was different at the genus level. Significantly higher abundance of *Prevotella* (0.6% *vs*. 2.1%, FDR = 0.004), *Methylopila* (0.3% *vs*. 1.7%, FDR = 0.013), *Bifidobacterium* (0.09% *vs*. 0.27%, FDR = 0.047), *Faecalibacterium* (0.04% *vs*. 0.13%, FDR = 0.03) and *Ruminococcus* (0.02% *vs*. 0.04%, FDR = 0.007) were shown in the SURG group. While *Methylobacterium* (1.06% *vs*. 0.16%, FDR = 0.004) was relatively more abundant in the NACT group.
The main differences in taxa between the two groups were shown by linear discriminant analysis (LDA) and effect size measurements (LEfSe) in Figure [4D](#F4){ref-type="fig"}. The cladogram representation and the predominant bacteria of the microbiota were also shown in Figure [4E](#F4){ref-type="fig"}. *Proteobacteria* and *Methylobacterium* were enriched in the NACT group, whereas *Bacteroidetes*, *Firmicutes*, *Prevotella*, *Ruminococcus* and *Faecalibacterium* were enriched in the SURG group, all of which were key bacteria that segregated the intestinal microbiota in the NACT and SURG group.
DISCUSSION {#s3}
==========
We conducted this study to explore the hypothesis that NACT could increase the incidence of postoperative infection in gastric cancer patients *via* damaging the intestinal barrier.
In our study, significantly higher incidence of infectious complications was shown in patients of the NACT group; this result is consistent with a previous study \[[@R8]\]. While the underlying mechanism of this phenomenon is still unclear, some reports suggested that damage of the immune system caused by using chemotherapy might be a key point, \[[@R9]\] and multiple patient and animal experiments had confirmed the changes \[[@R11]--[@R13]\]. However, studies focused on other localized changes, such as intestinal tissue damage caused by chemo drugs, were scanty. Although few animal models exhibited the mucosal toxicity of chemotherapy, \[[@R14]\] studies using human intestinal tissue to confirm these findings are relatively few.
We collected jejunum tissues of these patients during surgery to evaluate status of intestinal barrier. The most important structures in the intestinal barrier are TJs, which, accompanied by mucosal fluid, microvilli and other special structures, constitute the integral mucosal barrier. \[[@R15]\] In the present study, we found that the changes of the mucosa barrier including desquamation of epithelial cell, microvilli rupture and fusion, atrophy and edema of mucosa, disruption of intercellular TJs as well as mitochondria and endoplasm damages were shown in patients with infectious complications in overall. And similar morphological alterations in TJs have also been detected in patients who received NACT. Keefe et al. \[[@R16]\] found that there was an increase in number of open TJs within the small intestine of patients who received specific chemotherapy. Meanwhile, Dorner et al. reported that TJs damage increased maximal intestinal permeability of patients who received poly drug-chemotherapy \[[@R17]\]. S-1 and oxaliplatin (SOX) regimen, which was used in this study, included combination of S-1 and oxaliplatin, and cytotoxicity was one of the most important mechanisms for the anti-cancer effect of the two drugs. Considering the link between the integrity of TJs and normal intestinal barrier function as well as gut health, these studies, accompanied by ours, demonstrated that TJs disruption might play an important role in the gut toxicity caused by chemotherapy. In the meantime, TJs also functioned a barrier of epithelial cells. \[[@R18]--[@R20]\] More permeable than the transcellular pathway, the para-cellular pathway limits solute flow mainly by intact structure of TJs, while limited inflow of relatively large particles, such as bacterial lipopolysaccharides and proteins, can only be allowed through the leak pathway, although the size at which particles will not pass the leaky pathway has not been accurately defined, substances with similar dimension of bacteria are surely excluded. \[[@R21]\] Therefore, when TJs structure and permeability were compromised, it is likely that some intestinal pathological bacteria and viruses might break through the mucosa barrier and infect human body. Consequently, chemotherapy, *via* inflicting cytotoxic effects on intestinal epithelial cells, could cause damage to intestinal barrier junctions, consequently, a disrupted gut barrier allows pathogenic bacterium to invade the human body and cause a higher incidence of infectious disease in the NACT group.
Moreover, disordered expression of TJ proteins can also damage the TJ structure, disrupted protein-protein interactions, accompanied by cell polarity loss and barrier destruction, have been shown in several states of infections. \[[@R22]\] In the present study, the expression of claudin-1, occludin and ZO-1 in the intestinal mucosal significantly decreased in patients with infectious complications and those in the NACT group. Members of the claudin family are the most important transmembrane proteins, which contribute to several aspects of TJs permeability. Serious damage on organ function can be caused by inordinate expression of individual family members. The specific mechanisms of how occludin affects barrier function is still unclear, however these transmembrane TJ protein is able to interact with actin and claudins. ZO1, members of peripheral membrane proteins, are important to assembly and maintenance of TJs, which partly owns to their numerous domains which can interact with other TJ proteins, such as actin, occludin and claudins. \[[@R21]\] S-1, an orally 5-fluorouracil (5-FU) prodrug, contains tegafur, which can be continuously metabolized to 5-FU. Previous studies found that up-regulated nuclear factor kappa B (NF-kB), induced by 5-FU in the intestine, was able to enhance the expression of 5-FU-affected genes, \[[@R23]\] meanwhile activation of NF-kB have been observed in several inflammatory diseases, such as inflammatory bowel diseases (IBDs), glomerulonephritis and local joint inflammation, \[[@R24]\] besides multiple inflammatory cytokines, especially tumor necrosis factor (TNF), can induce TJs disruption. Therefore, the usage of 5-FU could result in an increase in intestinal permeability and a decrease in tight junction protein expression \[[@R25]\] which can also increase the para-cellular leakage that lead to the influx of bacterium and endotoxin in to the blood and higher incidence of infectious complications after surgery.
The changes of the bacteria barrier following the NACT was identified by 16S rRNA sequencing approach. Lower diversity was found in mucosal associated microbiota of patients who received chemotherapy. Reduced richness of the intestinal bacteria is a common feature of intestinal inflammation which was described in obese, old-age and IBD patients. \[[@R26], [@R27]\] Tissue samples of the NACT group were marked with increased abundance of *Proteobacteria* and *Methylobacterium*, and decreased *Firmicutes* (*Ruminococcaceae*), *Actinobacteria* (*Bifidobacterium*) and *Faecalibacterium*. In normal conditions, numerous aerobic and anaerobic micro-organisms colonize the lumen of the gut where a balance between probiotics and pathogens was formed to function in keeping metabolic homeostasis, adjusting inflammatory level and preventing pathologic bacteria from invading the system circulation. *Faecalibacterium*, and *Ruminococcus*, which are thought to be probiotics, are capable of lowering inflammatory level by adjusting the NFκB pathway. \[[@R28]\] *Bifidobacterium*, which was decreased in the NACT group, also possessed the ability to attenuate TNF-α and lipopolysaccharide induced inflammatory responses to inhibit inflammation in intestinal mucosa. \[[@R29], [@R30]\] Therefore, the decreased *Bifidobacterium*, *Faecalibacterium* and *Ruminococcus* could also modulate the intestinal permeability by inhibiting NFκB and TNF-α. *Bifidobacterium infantis* Y1 was capable of increasing the expression of TJs proteins and transepithelial resistance, \[[@R31]\] which might reduce intestinal permeability. Therefore, a decrease in *Bifidobacterium* might damage the function of mucosa barrier. Moreover, *Bifidobacterium*, *Faecalibacterium* and *Ruminococcus* are butyrate-producing bacteria \[[@R32]\] which help to maintain the integrity of mucus layer, because butyrate can increase synthesis of mucin *via* MUC2, \[[@R33]\] hence, the impaired mucus layer caused by chemotherapy-induced reduction of butyrate-producing bacteria might also lead to intestinal tissue damage and bacteria translocation. \[[@R34]\] Therefore, the changes of microbiota after NACT can also annihilate the function of intestinal barrier and lumen pathological micro-organisms as well as their toxic products can invade the human systemic circulation to cause remote infectious diseases.
One limitation of our study is that we detected bacteria that might be changed when patients received NACT, but the exploration of unknown mechanisms by which chemotherapy influence microbiota are surely needed by conducting animal or tissue based experiments in the future.
In conclusion, our study showed a higher incidence of postoperative infectious complications in patients who underwent NACT, and we used patients' intestinal mucosal samples to demonstrate that intestinal barrier dysfunction, manifesting as damaged mucosal ultrastructure, lower expression of TJ protein and mucosal related dysbiosis, might be critical in this process. Therefore, our results will be useful in developing novel therapeutic methods focusing on maintaining intestinal barrier function to prevent postoperative infection. Furthermore, the deletion of probiotics after chemotherapy suggest that using probiotic agents might be helpful in reducing patients' incidence of postoperative infectious complications.
MATERIALS AND METHODS {#s4}
=====================
Patients {#s4_1}
--------
This cohort study recruited locally advanced gastric cancer patients from the general surgery department of Affiliated Hospital of Qingdao University, Qingdao, China between January 2013 and September 2014. We collected patients' jejunum tissues during surgery and observed the incidences of post-operative infectious complications.
### Inclusion criteria {#s4_1_1}
The inclusion criteria for this study were age over 18 years, newly diagnosed and untreated, histological examination of adenocarcinoma of the stomach, tumor clinical stage of T4aN+M0 or T4bN+M0 based on endoscopic ultrasound (EUS) and contrast-enhanced CT (computed tomography) scan, capable of radical resection, hemoglobin above 90g/L, leukocyte count in excess of 3×10^9^ /L (absolute granulocyte count higher than 1.5×10^9^ /L), platelet count higher than 100×10^9^ /L, creatinine clearance values above 50 mL/min, liver enzyme levels no higher than three times control values and no major concomitant disease which might impact patients' treatment strategy.
### Exclusion criteria {#s4_1_2}
The exclusion criteria were distant metastasis (M1), positive peritoneal cytology, carcinomatosis, cancer progression after NACT, history of other tumors, dihydropyrimidine dehydrogenase deficiency, and allergy to a chemo-drug. Moreover, patients whose cancer proved to be pathologic stage of T4b/N+M0 during surgery and received combined multiple organ resection were also excluded. Besides, the reconstruction of digestive tract for all patients included should be Roux-en-Y method, thus patients who received BI or BII method were excluded as well. Furthermore, in view of the microbiota nature of the analysis, patients who used antibiotics within 2 months before an operation, or were regularly using non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs, statins or probiotics were also excluded from the study. Other exclusions included chronic bowel disease, other signs of infections, food allergies and dietary restrictions.
Patients who received NACT treatment had been assessed by the multidisciplinary team of oncologists, surgeons, anesthetists and radiologists, and according to their EUS, CT, endoscopic biopsy, blood tumor marker tests results, their tumors might invade adjacent structures (T4b) and have to receive extended surgery (procedure which might include the greater and lesser omenta and any other organs involved by extension of the primary growth e.g., pancreas, spleen, mesocolon, colon, or left lobe of liver) to reach radical resection. And in order to reduce tumor size and burden, control microscopic disease, increase the likelihood of achieving an R0 resection and decrease the probability of adopting extended surgery, these patients received NACT treatment before surgery. Others, who received surgery first, were evaluated by the same team that their tumors might invaded serosa (T4a), and they were considered to benefit from surgery before chemotherapy. The number of cases in the area during the study period determined the sample size. Patients, who underwent radical resection right after diagnosis, were assigned to the SURG group, and those, who received NACT before and then underwent radical surgery, were assigned to the NACT group. Details of the treatment are stated in the following part.
Preoperative treatment {#s4_2}
----------------------
Chemotherapy consisted of three courses (2-week administration and 1-week withdrawal) of S-1 at 40-60 mg bid/body per day (body surface area (BSA) \< 1.25m^2^, 40 mg bid, 1.25 m^2^ ≤ BSA ≤ 1.5 m^2^, 50 mg bid, BSA \> 1.5m^2^, 60 mg bid) accompanied by oxaliplatin at 130 mg/m^2^ on the first day of every course. Endoscopy with EUS and CT scan of the abdomen was conducted and blood cell count was obtained on the first day of each cycle. Responses were classified as complete response, complete disappearance of all lesions; partial response, more than 50% increase in the area after chemotherapy; stable disease, 0 to less than 50% increase in the area; and progressive disease, any decrease in the area and the appearance of new lesions. After three courses of treatment, patients were re-evaluated for the presence of potentially resectable disease by EUS, CT, endoscopic biopsy, blood tumor marker tests and symptom relief and underwent radical resection.
Surgery {#s4_3}
-------
Surgery was scheduled to take place within three weeks after diagnosis of patients who directly received surgery treatment and three to six weeks after completion of the third cycle of chemotherapy of patients who had perioperative treatment. Laparoscopy-assisted gastrectomy under general anesthesia was adopted and performed by the same experienced surgeon at the general surgery department of Affiliated Hospital of Qingdao University, Qingdao, China. Surgery was guided by Japanese gastric cancer treatment guidelines 2014 (ver. 4) \[[@R35]\]. Generally speaking, in radical total gastrectomy, the whole stomach was removed, with the proximal line of division through the distal esophagus, and the distal line of division through the proximal duodenum. The procedure for a radical subtotal distal gastrectomy was the same, but a small, viable gastric remnant was left intact. In both procedures, the resection lines had to be at least 5 cm from the edge of the macroscopic tumor, when this rule could not be observed, frozen section was used to examine the resection margin. Lymph nodes resections strictly adhered to Standard D2 resection.
Antibiotics usage and discharge {#s4_4}
-------------------------------
The antibiotics usage was guided by "Guidelines for Clinical Use of Antibacterials" released by the official website of National Health and Family Planning Commission of the People\'s Republic of China (<http://www.moh.gov.cn/uploadfile/200410/200410912640959.doc>). According to the guiding principle, the empirical antibiotics was used before we identified the types and drug resistance of pathogens, then specific antibiotic against pathogens would be given when the drug sensitive test result were confirmed. Antibiotics usage was stopped 3 to 4 days after the patients' body temperature returned to normal and their symptoms were relieved. Besides, the principle of discharge, which adopted from the Japanese gastric cancer treatment guidelines 2014 (ver. 4), is initiation of solid food intake, removal of intra-abdominal drains and urinary catheter and stoppage of intravenous fluid administration.
Sampling {#s4_5}
--------
The anastomosis method of Roux-en-Y were adopted to reconstruct the digestive tract of all patients included, during this procedure, the jejunum tissues 15 cm from the Treitz ligament were harvested, and fresh tissues were collected and stored at -80°C until use. The tumor pathologic stage were determined according to the American Joint Committee on Cancer system and all cancer specimens were graded histologically according to the World Health Organization classification criteria. Postoperative information was available for each patient studied. All the patients signed the informed consent prior to treatment and the study was approved by the Ethics Committee of Affiliated Hospital of Qingdao University.
Infectious complications {#s4_6}
------------------------
Clinical definitions of postoperative infectious complications are listed in Table [6](#T6){ref-type="table"}, and complications were rated using Clavien-Dindo classification system. \[[@R36]\]
###### Clinical definitions of postoperative infectious complications
COMPLICATIONS Clinical definitions
------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Systemic infection
Bacteremia 7 day blood-cultures positive.
Pneumonia A typical pulmonary infiltrate can be seen on a chest X-ray and/or the swab culture is positive.
Urinary tract infection There are obvious symptoms including frequent micturition, urgency to urinate, and urodynia, accompanied by bacteriuria (100,000 cfu/mL).
Localized infection
Incisional SSI This infection occurs in the area of the skin where the incision was made or the incision area in muscle and the tissues surrounding the muscles.
Organ or space SSI This type of infection can be in any area of the body other than skin, muscle, and surrounding tissue that was involved in the surgery. This includes a body organ or a space between organs. For example, anastomotic leakage.
SSI: surgical site infection.
Histological measurement of intestinal mucosal injury {#s4_7}
-----------------------------------------------------
For histological examination, tissue samples were fixed in 4% paraformaldehyde, routinely processed, sectioned at 5 μm and stained with hematoxylin and eosin for light microscopic examination. The mucosal tissues were examined in a blind fashion by two independent pathologists. The degree of histopathological changes was graded semi-quantitatively using the histological injury scale previously described by Chiu et al \[[@R37]\] as follows: 0, normal mucosal villi; 1, development of a subepithelial space, usually at the apex of the villi with capillary congestion; 2, extension of the subepithelial space with moderate lifting of the epithelial layer from the lamina propria; 3, massive epithelial lifting down the sides of the villi and ulceration at the villous tips; 4, denuded villi with dilated capillaries and increased cellularity of the lamina propria; and 5, degradation and disintegration of the lamina propria, hemorrhage, and ulceration.
Detection and observation of intestinal mucosal ultrastructure {#s4_8}
--------------------------------------------------------------
The intestinal mucosal ultrastructure was characterized using transmission electron microscopy (TEM). For TEM assessment, a specimen of about 1 cm in length was excised with a sharp scalpel and fixed in 2.5% glutaraldehyde for 4 h at 4°C, followed by fixation in osmic acid and embedding in epon. Ultrathin sections were observed with a JEM-1200EX transmission electron microscope (Nippon Denshi Co., Tokyo, Japan) at an accelerating voltage of 1000 kV to detect ultrastructural injuries.
Immunohistochemistry {#s4_9}
--------------------
Formalin-fixed and paraffin-embedded sections with a thickness of 4μm were deparaffinized, rehydrated and washed in phosphate buffered saline. The endogenous peroxidase activity was blocked with 3% H~2~O~2~ for 20 min and pre-incubated in normal goat serum for 20 minutes at room temperature. After blocking, the sections were incubated with primary anti-claudin-1, anti-ZO-1 and anti-occludin antibodies at 4°C overnight followed by incubated with biotinylated secondary antibody and then visualized with 3, 3′-diaminobenzidine. The staining results were scored by two pathologists blinded to the clinical data using the German immunoreactive score (IRS). Briefly, staining intensity was graded as "0" (negative), "1" (weak), "2" (moderate), and "3" (strong); staining extent was graded as "0" ( \< 5%), "1" (5%-25%), "2" (25%-50%), "3" (50%-75%) or "4" ( \> 75%). Values of the staining intensity and the staining extent were multiplied as a final IRS.
PCR and 16S rDNA sequencing {#s4_10}
---------------------------
PCR and 16S rDNA sequencing was performed as described previously \[[@R38]\]. Briefly, DNA was extracted from all samples using cetyltrimethylammonium bromide (CTAB) method with minimal modification. The PCR products were purified with AMPure XP beads (Agencourt Bioscience) to remove the unspecific products prior to library construction. Sequencing of qualified libraries was performed by the BGI-Huada Genomices institute (Shenzhen, China) using MiSeq System, with the sequencing strategy PE250 (PE251+8+8+251) or PE300 (PE301+8+8+301) (MiSeq Reagent Kit).
Bioinformatics analysis {#s4_11}
-----------------------
The sequences were clustered into operational taxonomic units (OTU) with a 97% threshold by using USEARCH (v7.0.1090), \[[@R39]\] and the OTU unique representative sequences were obtained. Chimeras were filtered out by using UCHIME (v4.2.40). \[[@R40]\] Representative OTUs were aligned to the optimized sequences and the abundance of OTUs per samples was obtained for performing further analysis. Ribosomal Database Project (RDP) Classifier v.2.2 was used to taxonomically classify OTU representative sequences in the following databases: Greengene V201305; \[[@R41]\] RDP (Release9 201203). \[[@R42]\]
Statistical analysis {#s4_12}
--------------------
Continuous data are presented as mean ± standard deviation. The association between clinicopathological variables were examined by χ2 tests, Student t test and Mann-Whiteny test. The categorical data were analyzed by a Fisher\'s exact test, and the comparison of infectious complications between the two groups were analyzed by Mann-Whiteny test. We used Metastats (<http://metastats.cbcb.umd.edu/>) and R (v3.0.3) to determine which taxonomic groups were significantly different between groups of samples. Benjamini-Hochberg false discovery rate (FDR) correction was used to adjust the obtained P-value (function 'P.adjust' in the stats package of R (v3.0.3)). P values were two sided, and those \< 0.05 were considered statistically significant. Analyses were performed with the SPSS software 17.0.
**CONFLICTS OF INTEREST**
The authors do not have any conflict of interest with the content of the manuscript.
**FUNDING**
This work was supported by grants from the National Natural Science Foundation of China (grant 81270449 and 81572314), Natural Science Foundation of Shandong Provincial, China (grant ZR2012HM046), Qingdao Minsheng Science and Technology Foundation, Shandong, China (grant 14-2-3-5-nsh) and the Qingdao Science and Technology Plan Project (grant 13-1-4-220-jch).
| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | PubMed Central |
People in America are leaving Evangelical Fundamentalist Christianity in droves. Many are recording their stories and sharing them with #EmptyThePews to make a statement about how toxic the Church was for them.
Those who don’t get it (and who often spend time and energy trying to cover up abuse in the church and gaslighting those who experience abuse) blame it on our weak relationships to God, our undying love for sin, the incredibly tempting fallen world they’re so afraid of…
I think the church has been in a perpetual vulnerability crisis for a very long time. They try to throw small groups and pancake breakfasts and camping trips at it, but it’s not going to make a difference.
Here’s why: To thrive, the Church depends on a delicate balance between the illusion that they can help you achieve a perfect life and reminders about your state of utter brokenness. It’s a marketing tactic as old as time. They sell you on the idea that you have a problem so they can sell you their solution.
But actual vulnerability, which is completely essential to have any semblance of community, is too messy. Not only does it make us uncomfortable, because it makes us face our own shortcomings and insecurities, it’s impossible to gain huge amounts of influence and make millions of dollars when people are being messy and real in your congregation. (And I openly challenge any reader of this article to show me a place that disproves that.)
So instead they say:
“Conform. Then we’ll love you.”
“Change. Then we’ll accept you.”
“Submit. Then we’ll value you.”
“Serve. Then we’ll let you speak.”
“Stop asking questions. Then we’ll let you lead.”
They try to force you into the Christian Lifestyle the moment you join. The push to perform is ever-present. If you’re lucky, you’ve got maybe 6-12 months to work out your shit and ask questions after you get saved and after that you’re expected to perform. It actually doesn’t matter if you look anything like Jesus as long as you look like you’re “living the Christian life” – which you’d think would be praying, reading your bible, and evangelizing… but in reality it just means showing up to church fairly often, speaking the local Christianese, and posting cute pictures of yourself and your boy/girlfriend or your spouse on social media with bible verses or vague ramblings about how blessed you are and how good God is.
And if they catch you slipping up, if they catch you truly questioning whether the bible is the Word of God, whether Jesus was actually God in the flesh, whether God gives a flying fuck if you have sex before marriage, or whether hell is a real place, they’ll eat you alive. (Or if you’re lucky, they’ll suddenly ghost on you and never speak to you again, even if you reach out to connect with them.)
This brand of Christianity has become an a thinly veiled capitalistic empire and I believe the entire framework of it is broken beyond repair.
We have been told to give our money, our time, our entire selves and identities up for a Church that refuses to call us family unless we change.
Because it’s extremely important that the Church keeps up the illusion that they’re doing good so they can keep profiting from our ignorance.
And if you’re really going to do that well, you’ve got to weed out all the people who want to show up and be a part of your community that make you look bad. So rather than lift up the broken and help the needy, they invite and promote the people who are really good at pretending they’ve got their shit together. The pretty, young, white, married straight couples with cute kids. The kinds of people who don’t make you uncomfortable when you see them on stage, or when they sit next to you on a Sunday morning. The kinds of people who, even in private small group settings, will dutifully shut down anyone who questions the Church or the Bible too much with a fake smile as they shift uncomfortably in their seats.
People who will willing submit themselves to a system that lets a few people who are nearly all middle-aged, heterosexual, cisgender, white men make millions, unchallenged, while claiming tax-exempt status and pretending that they’re successful because God favours them.
That pretends they are not simply running a business in which they profit off of people’s fears and need to feel good about themselves.
That guilt trips people into donating to these businesses, in addition to buying their products…lining their pockets while they claim they’re just “doing the work of the Lord”.
That gives leaders the audacity to claim that their wealth and status are a direct implication of their authority on the identity and character of God.
And that quietly suggests that these wealthy celebrities desperately need your money and your time. That you couldn’t possibly invest it in a better way than by giving it to these God-ordained leaders because they know what’s best.
It asks that you give everything you have to the one at the top who is already too famous to ever have time to speak to you, and whose employees and volunteers are tired of being faced with hordes of needy people they aren’t equipped to help apart from an empty prayer and meaningless platitudes that “it’ll get better if you just believe”.
They pretend that when they say “give all you have!” it’s an invitation to serve God and your community… not to simply build the head pastor a bigger house and a fancier church building with flashier lights and a more expensive sound system so they can continue their circle-jerk instead of offering genuine help to people.
And we’re over it.
Does this church do some good in the world? Of course. But the good does not erase the bad.
We’re done with the perpetual bait and switch, where the carrot is always held out just a little farther in front of your face. We have realized that a far more accurate message from the Church when we landed on their doorstep would have been:
“All are welcome…to give us far more than we will ever give you in return.”
And now we’re here. Outside the four walls of the church. Unsure of how to interact with the real world much of the time because we’ve been so incredibly insulated from it for so long. And we’re doing what many of us call “deconstructing”. We’re confronting the fact that we were deceived. No matter how much we gave, no matter how many times we let the church treat us like doormats, we were never going to get anything remotely comparable in return.
I’ve read that “there is only one language that people in broken systems understand, and that is power. The only way to successfully deal with a broken system is to walk away from it. It cannot be fixed from the inside by anybody but the system’s controllers and architects, and they by definition do not want to lose a single bit of the power they’ve clawed out for themselves.” (http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rolltodisbelieve/2017/08/27/why-emptythepews-important/)
Many of us have turned our backs on the Church, or even God, because the pain is so great that for our own health we need to step away.
Others, like me, are driven to see this Empire dismantled, and have healed enough that on our good days we are ready to do something about it.
Do I believe a phoenix can rise from the ashes of the Church? Something that looks remotely like Jesus? Perhaps.
Should it? I’m honestly not sure.
Author’s note: I’m sure this critique could be equally applied to a number of other organized religions. Institutionalized religion seems to do more harm than good across the board. I’m focusing on Christianity because my experience with it is so deeply personal. Not just because of my direct experience but that of hundreds, if not thousands of friends and acquaintances who’ve been abused, manipulated, neglected, and betrayed by the church.
Beck Hanan is a super queer Jack of all Trades frequently trying to become a master of some. He desperately needs variety in his life…so he spends the majority of his time running or helping manage a smattering of companies, websites, blogs and facebook pages that are all quite different from each other.
He is passionate about advocating for people of colour, the LGBTQIA+ community, and women, among a variety of other marginalized and oppressed people groups, in ways that help push the conversation forward, though at times he is guilty of publishing angry rants on Facebook that he later wishes he’d sat on for longer before deciding to post them.
He is in the middle of a massive spiritual and religious deconstruction and identifies as an atheist, an agnostic, and a progressive Christian most days, often simultaneously. He lives in the Portland, OR area with his lovely wife Bre and their fluffy toy poodle Charles Wallace.
You know that feeling you get when something you were really invested in and believed in as a kid turns out to not be that magical when you experience it as an adult?
Maybe it was a fast food burger and fries, the feeling of Christmas Eve, or a tree you used to read books in.
Things often lose their magic as you get older because all the experiences you’ve had have given them context, and generally speaking, these experiences are likely to make you feel more cynical about the world.
This is how I feel about Christianity.
The church as I knew it (or desperately tried to believe it was) is dead to me.
The God I was raised to believe in is dead to me.
As children, we’re pretty naive. We tend to take the things told to us by the adults we trust pretty seriously, and we tend to trust more easily the younger we are.
Then we grow up and we realize the world is a lot more complex than we were told it was. We realize that growing up and being free to make our own decisions isn’t as wonderful as we thought it would be when we were little. We realize that if we want to be the thing we always dreamed of being, it’s most likely going to mean years of really hard work, and there’s a decent chance we’ll never make it and have to settle for something else. We realize that loving people is actually pretty difficult, and life kinda sucks.
I grew up in the church, or perhaps I should say “churches”. We had a church we went to on Sundays, churches we visited when speakers were in town or in neighboring areas, the churches I went to on Wednesday nights for youth groups, and other churches we visited for various events. The common thread between every place we visited was that it was Protestant, Evangelical, Fundamentalist, and politically Conservative, and they were always led by white, cisgender, heterosexual, middle-aged men. Many of the places were also some degree of Charismatic or Pentecostal. Every friend or acquaintance I made everywhere I went was going to be Christian, and as a result, my worldview was very limited.
The craziest part was, everything I learned told me over and over again that it was incredibly obvious that everything in the bible was an absolute fact, and that the way it was meant to be interpreted was quite black and white. There was no room for questioning or disagreement on most topics. Anyone who tried to question things in church was quickly shut down and it was made obvious that they should know better.
I was told that Adam and Eve were real people who cast the earth into a state of evil because they listened to a talking snake. I was told that God committed and condoned multiple mass genocides because he was just. I was told that people who don’t say a string of specific words will spend an eternal afterlife burning in flames, and that people who do utter these magic words will get new bodies and worship God and be happy and perfect for the rest of eternity.
I was also homeschooled – not necessarily with the goal of sheltering me, but because it was the best learning set-up for me. However, nearly all of the textbooks and teaching materials were “Christian”. This means my science books tried to uphold the Young Earth Creationist view (which holds that the earth is only 6,000 years old and that evolution cannot possibly be true) with every chance they got. The overarching theme of everything I learned was one that reinforced a black and white moral code, an inerrant Bible, and a human species destined for hell at the start by original sin, but then wonderfully redeemed by a Middle-Eastern man who for some reason was always depicted as white.
As a kid, I had no desire to do anything I was told not to do. I was never interested in alcohol, drugs, or sex. Probably to the great relief of my parents, I preferred spending time on the computer or reading books to going to parties or sleeping around.
Because I had an easy time not breaking the rules, it wasn’t difficult for me to accept that they were probably a pretty decent guideline. Until my friends started coming to me and telling me the things they’d done wrong…the rules they’d broken…and I saw the fear and shame in their eyes.
They begged me not to judge them, though they already knew I wouldn’t. After all, that’s why they were telling me and not someone else. There were many things they didn’t share with me, as I was the most naive of the entire group in terms of understanding how the world worked, but looking back in a strange way I feel like I took the role of Priest. It seemed like they saw me as the blameless one. Maybe if they could tell me the worst things they’d done and I didn’t judge them, but felt compassion and listened and then tried to help them figure out what to do next, they could feel like God would forgive them too.
Every time I had a friend come to me, deeply ashamed of something they’d done, there was something that didn’t sit right with me. So many times they would say things like “Do you think I’m still a virgin if we did X?” and “Do you think God is mad at me?” and most importantly “you have to promise not to tell anyone”.
Their greatest fears were things like their bodies being seen as dirty and used because they were told that their value was wrapped up in their lack of sexual activity (a message that was pretty exclusively only sent to the girls I knew), or being seen as “dangerous” to their Christian friends because of things like their sexual orientation or their doubts that God existed.
When I saw how much shame they were experiencing because they were “breaking the rules”, regardless of whether the rule-breaking actually did any harm, I started to question the system that set them up to believe that things like pre-marital sex would destroy their lives forever and make the all-powerful, omnipotent God angry and likely to punish them.
Even more disturbing, I had friends come to me often saying “I can’t seem to get myself to read my bible/go to church/pray/evangelize enough.” This too came with heaps of shame. They believed that their relationship with God and thereby their value as a person was being determined by outside peers and leaders who put pressure on them to prove they were “good Christians”.
When I was first delving into the more Holy Spirit-focused/Charismatic sects of Christianity about 10 years ago, people were constantly (far more than in classic evangelical fundamentalist denominations) emphasizing relationship over religion, to the point where “religion” as they described it was seen as a bad thing. They talked about how a belief system centered on following laws and rules and trying to be good enough would always feel empty and dead. They talked about how God was actually good, and they allowed a lot more freedom for people to be themselves.
I liked the movement away from a law and punishment model. I liked the emphasis on God’s goodness, though they still tended to remind people that the God of the Old Testament was indeed very angry, and that Jesus came and was punished in our place by that Angry Father God rescued us from his wrath for good.
I was sick of hearing pastors telling me I was a sinful worm and that I was lucky God even gave a shit about me. I always thought they were full of shit anyway. It was good to hear this new crowd emphasizing a God who thought I was awesome. I also enjoyed the openness to people getting different things out of the Bible at different times rather than trying to pretend it always “said” one specific thing.
I thought maybe I’d finally found people who I felt were at least trying to model their lives after the Jesus they said they followed.
And yet even though these people who I felt had a healthier perspective of God taught a lot of healthier alternatives to typical fundamentalist doctrine, in many ways their actions are no different. The degree to which they use scripture to dehumanize and condemn people who don’t look like them is appalling. I am at a point in my life where I’ve been betrayed and wounded to a degree I never thought possible – not only because of what’s been done to me personally or the layers of lies I was taught as if they were unquestionable fact, but because of the hundreds of stories I’ve been told and have heard and read of the damage that’s been done to others in the name of the Christian God.
These people told me we were family. They told me they would love me no matter what happened. Then they turned around and publicly harassed me because of who I was dating.
They told me that because they were honourable, it was their core value to honour all people, rather than only giving it to those who seemed deserving of honour. And then they turned around and attacked the LGBTQ+ community, calling gay people a “violation of design” and blatantly stating that we cannot follow Jesus or have the Holy Spirit.
They championed people having different perspectives and revelations of scripture and yet made sure they carefully filtered out the voices of all LBGTQ+ Christians to ensure only one narrative gets heard.
They spent months teaching us how to understand scripture in context and how to properly research the meanings behind each word in its original language. They told us again and again how important it was…and then looked at their current translation of the bible and said, “It says homosexuality is bad right here. That settles it.”
They talked about serving without expectation making a way for you to use your gifts in the church…but forget to mention that it was entirely conditional and that if I loved someone with the “wrong genitals” I would be completely disqualified and all of my training and service would be rendered useless.
And to top it all off, head leadership publicly championed Donald Trump as a man of character…
When I went to speak at a vigil on the Texas Capital steps after the Orlando Pulse shooting and then walked with the crowd to a larger vigil on 4th St. in downtown Austin – a group or 4 or 5 people with signs came to the edge of the crowd and started yelling at us to “turn or burn”. In the middle of one of the most grievous events in our recent history as a queer community, the fact that they believed it was their job not to grieve with us but to judge us speaks volumes.
For over a year now, on a weekly or daily basis, I’ve been faced with direct attacks from Christians on myself, the people who matter to me, and people who are like me. With every blow, my usual optimism and positivity has been worn farther and farther down. Sometimes it’s from people who were close to me. Other times it’s from strangers who feel the need to spread their hatred publicly on social media or through laws that discriminate against people like me and take away our rights.
Although I’m using the example of the LGBTQ+ community as it’s personal to me, I see Christians persistently dehumanizing and judging women, people of colour, sex workers, people with mental illnesses, the homeless and those living in poverty…
And at this point in my life, the only rational conclusion I can come to is that in many cases, Christianity does more harm than good.
I don’t care if you think you’re giving people the answers to life, the universe, and everything if you’re leaving a pile of bodies in your wake.
I never thought I would find myself needing to use everything I learned in church about loving your enemy, forgiving 70 x 7, and turning the other cheek, on the church.
I never thought I would need God most when the church turned their backs on me and caused me the deepest pain I’ve ever experienced.
I never thought I’d find real community until I abandoned the religious people who kept trying to tell me they were my community despite the fact that they didn’t give two shits about my life outside of “serving God” by participating their pre-approved religious activities.
I never realized that I would find the deepest love among the very people Jesus spent most of his time with – the people on the fringes who break the gender binary, who reject the idea that we must be either saint or sinner, who are oppressed, who fight to raise up those who don’t have a voice, who are okay with questioning everything, who are okay with a God who doesn’t rule the world with an iron fist and a black and white list of rules, who reject a God who is cruel and condemning, who are okay with admitting that nothing is certain when it comes to the divine, who don’t assume that everyone needs to connect with God the way they do…
But this where I’m at right now. And I have to say that despite losing the magic I thought I had found in Christianity, I’ve found far more in this community of misfits, heretics, and gender outlaws where I can be my honest self than I ever found within the four walls of a church building.
And honestly? There’s no place I’d rather be.
Beck Hanan is a super queer Jack of all Trades frequently trying to become a master of some. He desperately needs variety in his life on a regular basis and runs or helps manage a few companies, a couple of websites, and a handful of blogs and facebook pages at once – all quite different from each other – to help meet this need.
He is passionate about advocating for people of colour, the LGBTQIA+ community, and women, among a variety of other marginalized and oppressed people groups, in ways that help push the conversation forward, though at times he is guilty of publishing angry rants on Facebook that he later wishes he’d sat on for longer before deciding to post them.
He is in the middle of a massive spiritual and religious deconstruction and identifies as an atheist, an agnostic, and a Christian most days, often simultaneously. He lives in the Portland, OR area with his lovely wife Bre and their fluffy toy poodle Charles Wallace. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
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Presence of a third political party in the US
Introduction
Political parties are regarded as a fundamental part of any democracy primarily in the United States of America. The political parties serve four core functions. One of their man functions is that they nominate candidates that help in all public offices. They are dedicated to educating various individuals in the entire nation and also involve a significant number of individuals in different political processes in the country. In the United States of America, the party that wins the elections is responsible for running the government provided that own the office. The opposition party monitors the party that remains in power. Although the United States of America does not require a third political party, several reasons make it create a room for a third party.
The reason that makes the United States of America require a third party
The third party in serves a crucial role in America since it represents the US citizen who feels misrepresented by the two dominant parties. The parties are formed due to various reasons. Many of them are developed as result of its members failing to accept the conciliations that are necessary for generating the winning coalition (Rigby 552). They are also formed after the dominant parties ignore their members. When the third party is involved a particular political issue, it always calls for a change. In a situation where they interfere in given election results, they intend to inform the two dominant parties that reform is required (Schattschaider 55). The two parties thus must make those voters who feel satisfied with the results by repeating the election process.
Third party candidates in different offices play a preeminent role. It calls for attention to the ignored issue and misrepresented repressed principles. They focus on the subject that is ignored by the two political parties (Schattschaider 56). Third parties also make the two parties consider their sections as valuable as theirs and as a part of the government. They help the most focused voters make their essential statements that contain a significant impact on the country. Most of those statements might make the country move in the right direction if they are considered crucial.
The third political party gives an ethical and well-informed voter an opportunity to cast his/her vote without feeling spoiled after the period. The third parties usually have access to the ballots which makes the voters have confidence that their votes are well secured. It makes less recognized ideas and candidates feel represented in the country especially during the ballot period (Schattschaider 56). The third party represents a more significant national representation and ascertains that the two major parties are not left with making a decision that might mislead the entire nation.
The third party helps the newly elected leader with ideas that might change his/her attitude towards the opposition leaders and lead the nation with intelligence and avoid ethnicity negligence (Schattschaider 112). The third party in the US guides the leaders in ways of making a reasonable solution to problems, crises, challenges, and issues whenever they emerge In the United States of America, third-party volunteer to handle rail. It always encourages change in Laws where its supporters and other voters would wish to have ballot access that is fair and equal for the parties. The third party usually improves the strength of the “two-party system.”
The primary aim of the two parties is to win the election and not to solve the problems and issue that the entire nation face and thus creating a room for a third political party that would neutralize the behavior. The two political parties serve the interests of specific groups. They block the change for receiving several ideological ideas and neglect creative thinking (Abramson 350). The two parties do not trust most of the original citizen when they present ideas that can solve major issues and problems thus there is a need for a third party that can represent those creative citizens.
The current budget and job crisis is a clear example of the weak working relationship between the two political parties and a call for a third party. Currently in the Democrats faces a challenge of failing to decide between firing the unworthy teachers who spoil the education of a large number of children since the teacher’s union is its dominant interest group (Abramson 350). On the other side, the Republicans do not want to make it clear that new teachers are required to have the children acquire the best education because by saying that, it will have admitted that money is the only solution (Abramson). In that kind of situation, a third party is required that can give new ideas to address the issue since both of the Democrats and Republicans are not in a position to solve the problem.
The political party helps the Republicans to realize the importance of political philosophy. They can play a significant role in bringing the new party recognized by the voters so that it might become considerable after it has acquired a large number of voters (Abramson). It helps a large number of citizens to have an active role in the political process since they realize that they can change the way the parties does most of its operation. A strong third party may also help in the improvement of the principles necessary for the foundation of third parties. It will thus lower the cost required for a new party to be formed.
In the current situation where the nation is so much divided, there is a great need for a third party that can neutralize the issues. Most of the citizens in the United States in America are not happy with the situation caused by Democrats and Republican Status quo and dogmata (Abramson 354). Another third party is required to challenge them and change most of their policies and strategies that are unpleasant to most of the citizens. By doing so, they can slightly change the activities in the office and become more severe and focused on matters concerning the interests of the citizens in the United States of America (Abramson 345). A third party would solve the political division that has been evident in the past years.
A third party can post the main issues that the country faces on the agenda also keep the major parties honest. They force significant parties to act upon most of the problems that the United States of America faces (Abramson). The third party in America challenges the other parties which include democrats and republicans on an issue concerning social justice and unfair distribution of resources around the country. Since most of the candidates in third parties have minimal chances of winning in the election period, they are capable of frankly speaking as compared to the candidates belonging to the other major political parties (Abramson). They, therefore, address most facts and issues that are ignored by the two major parties. By doing that, they can take the country to the right direction where most of the problems are solved instead of letting they continue existing in the United States of America.
Reasons for the third party in the US being unnecessary
Various reasons make the third party is useless. In the first place, the candidates from the third party are rarely elected in the city council department and also as mayors of the medium-sized city (Wattenberg and Martin). The names of most of the participants in the third parties are not recognized in the United States of America. Most of the voters in the state use them as protest votes with the intention of proving a political argument (Wattenberg and Martin). The country does not accept third parties since most of them are usually unorganized and they don’t provide legit solutions.
Third parties cause a split of votes into the states. Most of the candidates in third parties win a deficient percentage of the votes. If a candidate in a third party succeeds in various countries in a presidential election, it may cause most of the candidates failing to win in most of the electoral votes after the election period (Schattschaider). As a result of that, the candidate may instruct the voters in that specific Electoral College to vote for another candidate or the House of Representative might decide to vote for the president (Wattenberg and Martin). Conducting a special election could be another alternative, but it would take extra time and money. If only two parties can be allowed, more time and money would be saved and thus make the third parties unnecessary in the US.
A two-party system is stronger than the multiparty system. The parties are very moderate since they have to appeal the middle for them to win the elections, unlike multiparty system where the process will be more complicated and take longer to come up with a final decision (Abramson 360). The two-party system in the United States provides the citizens with an easy task of choosing only between the two parties which takes a shorter time and the election more efficient and taking less time to complete . Unlike the multiparty system where a third party is involved, the candidates face a challenge of making their decision on who to elect therefore making some of them make a wrong decision due to confusion. Most of the voters don’t like wasting ballot and thus end up choosing a candidate who they are confidentially convinced that he/she has a higher chance of winning in the election. A candidate belonging to a third party usually has a very minimal chance of winning a state legislative or a congressional seat in the US (Abramson). Third party candidates who are not supported by the elected officials have a significant challenge of gaining the momentum since they are often not famous.
Since the Republicans and Democrats are the dominant parties in the US, they control all the state legislatures and Congress. Convincing the two political parties to risk their current authority become a problematic situation. Most of the citizens believe various activities in the political system are very sacred than even the economic system and it would be so much difficult to change them (Abramson 365). In that situation, most of the Americans believe that if a third political party is added to the system, it might change the political system and also the economic system. They think that the party might be capable of breaking the current rules and adapted to by the Democratic and Republican parties.
Most of the citizens in the US do not vote to third party candidates because they are interested in them. They are only intended to send a message to the central parties. The third party, in that case, results to waste of votes. From the historical view, most of the third parties fail because they lack unity at both local and state levels because the other significant parties adopt the most important issues that they present to the citizens (Abramson). Third party candidates require enough time for them to win at both local and state level and even several congressional seats but they end up failing just because their number is too small to influence the people at those level. They lack adequate finances to cater for their campaigns.
Voters from various ideologies have different beliefs about parties that are likely to win the election, and most of them believe that the parties in power are the most likely to win the election (Rigby 552). Most of them think that third-party purposes only to oppose the political parties and not to bring forth new resolutions that might change the nation. The two major parties also try to extinguish the third party by splitting their various candidates into different districts just to eliminate the chances for the third party candidates to gain a unified number of votes (Rigby). It is thus a clear Implication that the third party candidates have very minimal chances of winning at different voting colleges. Third parties have a lower chance of being elected by the fact that they are not well resourced and the media and the debates do not cover those (Abramson). Most of the donors volunteer to help the candidates who have higher chances of winning in the election period and who represent their values or beliefs.
Most of the third parties encourage polarity. Although they might be capable of bringing people together, they also cause division among people. They also create a room for more corruption activities. In the construction where the various individual’s influence voices of the group to lead the indefinite party way, creates a place for corruption Most of the individuals of the third political parties might wish to gain power with the aim of representing a specific ethnic group, and thus they may end up expressing their interest to the entire nation.
There are so many reasons that make the United States of America require a third party although it still has a lot of demerits attached to it. Most of the citizen in the US wish to have a third party since it might represent them in the government. The third party addresses most of the problems that remain unsolved by the two parties. It can also cause division among different ethnic groups. The need for a third party in the United States continues to be a significant issue even in recent days.
Rigby, Elizabeth, and Gerald C. Wright. “Political parties and representation of the poor in the American states.” American Journal of Political Science 57.3 (2013): 552-565. Print.
Schattschneider, Elmer. Party government: American government in action. New York: Routledge, 2017. Print.
Wattenberg, Martin P. The decline of American political parties, 1952-1996. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2012. Print.
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Q:
Access Active Storage models with Active Admin
Is it possible to add the active storage models to active admin? I have tried to add them in the usual active admin way, however, the rails app just crashes.
A:
After a few comments and a quick chat, here's the final solution:
ActiveStorage delivers active_storage_blobs, giving you an extra layer of information: metadata, url, redirects, booleans etc.
These ones are handled by ActiveStorage::Blob.
rails g active_admin:resource active_storage_blobs will throw an error. The reason is because ActiveStorage follows a different setup and ActiveRecord. In this case, get the resource directly from the Active Storage.
For now, the solution is:
rails g active_admin:resource ActiveStorage::Blob
This will display the blob data as an own index inside ActiveAdmin. Everything else should follow the same pattern as normal.
Happy coding!
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1. Field of the Invention
This invention relates to a fully automated electro-mechanical "milk" calf feeding system into which chilled nutrient supplemented milk may be placed in bulk quantity and from which calves may receive warmed milk from teat simulating nipples at any time they feel the need for feeding. This sytem incorporates timed automatic cleaning facilities whereby the entire system may be automatically cleaned after consumption of each bulk quantity of nutrient supplemented milk supplied thereto.
2. Description of Related Art
Various different forms of beverage and animal liquid nutrient dispensing systems including some of the general structural and operational features of the instant invention heretofore have been provided. Examples of systems of this type are disclosed in U.S. Pat. Nos. 2,458,230, 2,591,985, 2,770,248, 3,037,481, 3,157,210, 3,338,153, 3,898,861 and 4,061,504. However, the animal feeding system of the instant invention includes a combination of structural features which is not disclosed by the above noted prior art and which results in advantages of operation in the field of young animal feeding. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | USPTO Backgrounds |
Introduction
============
A class of small non-coding RNAs, termed miRNAs are now recognized, which contribute to essential biological processes, including development, cellular differentiation, proliferation, stress responses, apoptosis and metabolism, as well as tumor initiation and progression ([@b1-mmr-12-05-7396],[@b2-mmr-12-05-7396]). These miRNAs are 18--24 nucleotides long ([@b3-mmr-12-05-7396]). miRNAs are considered to exhibit tumor suppressor gene and oncogene regulatory roles, and show complex patterns of disease-and tissue-specific expression, which are associated with their ability to regulate several targets that are crucial to the carcinogenic process ([@b2-mmr-12-05-7396]). In multiple types of cancer, aberrant patterns of miRNA expression have been observed, which can affect cancer cell proliferation ([@b4-mmr-12-05-7396]), apoptosis ([@b5-mmr-12-05-7396]) and metastasis ([@b6-mmr-12-05-7396]), and potentially define the cancer stem cell phenotype ([@b7-mmr-12-05-7396]).
Colorectal cancer (CRC), the third most common type of cancer worldwide, is the fourth leading cause of cancer-associated mortality, accounting for 90% incidence and mortality rates ([@b8-mmr-12-05-7396],[@b9-mmr-12-05-7396]). In 2003, the differential expression of miRNAs was first reported to be associated with CRC ([@b10-mmr-12-05-7396]). From a clinical point of view, cancer of the colon and rectum are two distinct entities, which require different treatment strategies ([@b2-mmr-12-05-7396],[@b11-mmr-12-05-7396]). Accordingly, they require separate treatment when analyzing the genetics and biology of the diseases. For colon cancer, extensive catalogues of downregulated miRNAs have been identified in the previous years, whereas only limited data are available for rectal cancer ([@b2-mmr-12-05-7396]).
In order to understand the function of miRNA in human rectal cancer, miRNA profiling was performed in a previous study ([@b1-mmr-12-05-7396]), wherein microRNA-144 was found to show aberrant expression and was identified as rectal cancer-specific; having not been reported in colon cancer. Originally, miRNA (miR)-144 was identified as an erythroid-specific miRNA, which is required for subsequent erythroid lineage survival and maturation ([@b12-mmr-12-05-7396],[@b13-mmr-12-05-7396]). In addition, it can increase the severity of anemia, and decrease glutathione regeneration and antioxidant capacity ([@b14-mmr-12-05-7396]). Previous tumor investigations, involving a comprehensive meta-analysis of miRNA expression microarrays, revealed that miR-144 is downregulated in lung cancer, prostate cancer and hepatocellular carcinoma ([@b15-mmr-12-05-7396]), indicating that it may be a novel human cancer-associated miRNA. To date, there are no reports that miR-144 has a functional role in rectal cancer. In the present study, miR-144 was characterized in rectal cancer and found that the upregulation of miR-144 inhibited malignant progression (migration and proliferation) of rectal cancer cells. According to previous reports, Rho-kinase (ROCK) is a serine/threonine kinase, which functions downstream of the small GTPase RhoA ([@b16-mmr-12-05-7396]). ROCK isoforms have been implicated in a variety of cellular functions, including smooth muscle contraction, actin cytoskeleton organization ([@b17-mmr-12-05-7396]), cytokinesis ([@b18-mmr-12-05-7396]), cell adhesion and motility ([@b19-mmr-12-05-7396]). In addition, the activation of ROCK1 by RhoA can promote cell invasion and motility in prostate cancer and colorectal carcinoma cells ([@b20-mmr-12-05-7396],[@b21-mmr-12-05-7396]). In order to determine whether the inhibitory effects of miR-144 on the progression of rectal cancer are associated with ROCKs, the present study performed a series of relative experiments, and found that miR-144 inhibits the migration and proliferation of SW837 and SW1463 rectal cancer cells by targeting the crucial oncogene, ROCK1.
Materials and methods
=====================
Cell lines and cell culture
---------------------------
Human SW837 and SW1463 cell lines were purchased from American Type Culture Collection (ATCC; Manassas, VA, USA). These two cell lines originated from rectum tissue belonging to epithelial cells, and they were selected as rectal cell carcinoma cells. The SW837 and SW1463 cells were cultured in Leibovitz\'s 15 (L-15) culture medium (cat. no. 30-2008; ATCC) supplemented with fetal bovine serum (Sigma-Aldrich, St. Louis, MO, USA), to a final concentration of 10% at 37°C. The cells were passaged 1--2 times per week and were cultured in free gas exchange with atmospheric air. A human rectal mucosa epithelium cell was purchased from PriCells (Wuhan, China); which was derived from normal rectal mucosa epithelium and was used as a normal control (NC).
Reverse transcription-quantitative polymerase chain reaction (RT-qPCR) analysis
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Total RNA and miR were extracted from the above cell line (5×10^5^ per well in six-well plates at 80% confluency) using an RNeasy Mini kit and an miR Neasy Mini kit (Qiagen, Valencia, CA, USA). Following quantitation, the extracted total RNA was reverse-transcribed using a High Capacity cDNA Archive kit (Applied Biosystems; Thermo Fisher Scientific, Inc., Waltham, MA, USA) and a TaqMan microRNA reverse transcription kit (Applied Biosystems), according to the manufacturer\'s protocol. The RT products were mixed with TaqMan universal PCR master mix II, and qPCR was performed on an Applied Biosystems Prism 7500 Fast Sequence Detection System (Applied Biosystems; Thermo Fisher Scientific, Inc.). The PCR parameters were as follows: 95°C for 20 sec, 40 cycles at 95°C for 3 sec and 60°C for 30 sec. The primers for mRNA were as follows: miR-144 (cat. no. 204754; Exiqon A/S, Vedbaek, Denmark); ROCK-1, forward 5′-AAG AGA GTG ATA TTG AGC AGT TGC G-3′ and reverse 5′-TTC CTC TAT TTG GTA CAG AAA GCC A-3′; and ROCK2, forward 5′-TGC GGT CAC AAC TCC AAG C-3′ and reverse 5′-GGA AAC CCA TCA TCT GCC TCA G-3′. RNU48 or β-actin were used as an endogenous control. Primers were synthesized by Shanghai Sangon Biological Engineering and Technology Service (Shanghai, China). All reactions were performed in triplicate. The mRNA and miRNA expression levels were determined using the 2^−ΔCq^ method ([@b22-mmr-12-05-7396]).
Cell transfection and immunoblotting
------------------------------------
The SW837 and SW1463 cells (5×10^5^ per well in six-well plates, 80% confluency) were transfected with pre miR-144 or a scrambled pre miR-control (Ambion; Thermo Fisher Scientific, Inc.) using Lipofectamine 2000 (Invitrogen; Thermo Fisher Scientific, Inc.), according to the manufacturer\'s protocol. Following transfection for 72 h, for miR-144 or mRNA (ROCK1 and ROCK2) analysis, total RNA was extracted using previously described methods ([@b23-mmr-12-05-7396]). The cells were lysed in Triton X-100 containing 1% phosphate-buffered saline (PBS) with a cocktail of protease inhibitors (Roche Diagnostics, Basal, Switzerland) for protein analysis. The lysates were then centrifuged at 16,000 g for 15 min, and the protein concentrations of the supernatants were determined using a bicinchoninic acid assay kit (Pierce Biotechnology, Inc., Rockford, IL, USA). The ROCK1 and ROCK2 proteins (40 *µ*g/lane) were analyzed using immunoblotting following transfer onto polyvinylidene fluoride membranes (Sigma-Aldrich) from a 10% SDS-PAGE gel (Sigma-Aldrich). Subsequently, followingblocking with 0.5% skimmed milk powder (Sigma-Aldrich) in 1X PBS-Tween 20 (Sigma-Aldrich), the membranes were incubated with primary monoclonal rabbit anti-human ROCK1 antibody (cat. no. ab45171) or monoclonal rabbit anti-human ROCK2 antibody (cat. no. ab125025), and monoclonal rabbit anti-human β-actin antibody (cat. no. ab115777), at a dilution of 1:4,000 overnight at 4°C. Following washing three times (10 min each) with 1X PBS-Tween 20, the membranes were incubated with horseradish peroxidase (HRP)-conjugated polyclonal goat anti-rabbit IgG (cat. no. ab6721) secondary antibody (1:10,000) at room temperature for 1 h, and washed again. The reactive bands were detected using enhanced chemiluminescence (GE Healthcare Life Sciences, Chalfont, UK), according to the manufacturer\'s protocol. The relative levels of each protein to β-actin were analyzed. All primary and secondary antibodies were purchased from Abcam (Cambridge, MA, USA). The resulting bands of the blot were analyzed using Gel-Pro Analyzer 4.0 software (Media Cybernetics Inc., Silver Spring, MD, USA).
Cell viability
--------------
Following transfection with pre-miR-144, the viabilities of the SW837 or SW1463 cells were determined using an MTT assay (Sigma-Aldrich). Briefly, 5×10^3^ transfected cells were plated in 96-well plates. Following incubation at 37°C for different periods of time (24, 48 and 72 h), the culture medium was removed and MTT (10 *µ*l; 0.5%) was added. Following incubation for another 4 h at 37°C, the culture medium was replaced with dimethyl sulfoxide (10 *µ*l; 4%; Sigma-Aldrich), and the optical density (O)570 was measured using a microplate reader (Multiskan MK2; Molecular Devices; Thermo Fisher Scientific, Inc.).
Cell migration analysis using a Transwell assay
-----------------------------------------------
Migration assays were performed in Transwells (8.0-*µ*m pore size). For the migration assay, the miR-144-transfected SW837 and SW1463 cells (\~2×10^4^ cells per well), in L-15 culture medium containing 10% FBS, were added to the upper wells. L-15 media, containing 10% FBS was added to the lower wells. The miR-control-transfected SW837 and SW1463 cells were used as a control. The cells, which migrated through the filter after 24, 48 or 72 h were stained with 0.1% crystal violet (Sigma-Aldrich) and counted using phase contrast microscopy (Axiovert 200M; Carl Zeiss, Jena, Germany) ([@b24-mmr-12-05-7396]). The same experiments were performed to detect the migration abilities of the miR-144 and ROCK1 co-transfected SW837 and SW1463 cells.
Bromodeoxyuridine (BrdU) assay
------------------------------
A BrdU Cell Proliferation Assay kit (cat. no. 2752; EMD Millipore, Bedford, MA, USA) was used to detect cell proliferation ability. The miR-144-transfected SW837 and SW1463 cells were synchronized and plated in 96 wells (3×10^3^ cells/well) in L-15 culture medium containing 10% FBS, following which 10 *µ*l BrdU solution was added and the cells were incubated at 37°C for 24 h, 48 h and 72 h, respectively. Following incubation, 100 *µ*l/well fixing solution (2752b; 4% paraformaldehyde in PBS; EMD Millipore) was added and the cells were incubated at 37°C for 15 min. Subsequently, 100 *µ*l/well of pre-prepared detection antibody solution (anti-BrdU mouse monoclonal antibody; 2752c) was added and incubated at 37°C for 1 h, following which 50X plate wash concentrate (2752h) was diluted and used to wash the plates. Subsequently, 100 *µ*l/well of prepared HRP-conjugated goat anti-mouse IgG secondary antibody (2752e) was added and incubated at 37° for 30 min. The plates were washed with diluted plate wash concentrate. Finally, 100 *µ*l TMB substrate was added prior to incubation for 30 min. The quantity of BrdU, which was incorporated into the cells was determined at 450 nm using a microplate reader. The same experiments were performed to detect the proliferation ability of the miR-144 and ROCK1 co-transfected SW837 or SW1463 cells.
miR-144 and ROCK1 co-transfection assays
----------------------------------------
The SW837 and SW1463 cells were first transfected with pre miR-144 using Lipofectamine 2000, according to the manufacturer\'s protocol. Following transfection, the cDNA of ROCK1 was sub-cloned using pyrobest DNA polymerase (Takara Bio, Inc. Otsu, Japan) and inserted into a pEGFP-N1 vector (Clontech Laboratories, Inc., Mountain View, CA, USA). These vectors were transfected into the miR-144-transfected SW837 and SW1463 cells using Lipofectamine 2000. Mock-pEGFP-N1 (mock-ROCK1) was used as a control. The cells were used for subsequent experiments following transfection for 24, 48 or 72 h.
Statistical analysis
--------------------
Each data point was obtained from three repeated experiments. Data are expressed as the mean ± standard deviation, and differences were analyzed using Student\'s t-test. P\<0.05 was considered to indicate a statistically significant difference. The western blotting experiments were performed several times with similar results, of which the optimal image was selected to present.
Results
=======
Expression of miR-144 in rectal carcinoma cell lines
----------------------------------------------------
To identify miR-144 in rectal carcinoma, SW837 and SW1463 cell lines were selected as model cells, and the expression levels of miR-144 were determined in these cells. Following RT-qPCR analysis, the results showed that the expression of miR-144 was significantly downregulated (P\<0.05), compared with that of the NC cells ([Fig. 1A](#f1-mmr-12-05-7396){ref-type="fig"}). Following this, the effect of miR-144 on rectal carcinoma cells was examined by constructing miR-144-overexpressing SW837 and SW1463 cells. The transfection effectiveness was verified using RT-qPCR. As shown in [Fig. 1B](#f1-mmr-12-05-7396){ref-type="fig"}, the results suggested that the expression levels of miR-144 were significantly higher than those of the miR-control-transfected SW837 and SW1463 cells, which indicated that the miR-144-overexpressing SW837 and SW1463 cells constructed were suitable for subsequent experiments.
Cell viability, migration and proliferation in miR-144-overexpressing rectal carcinoma cells
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Subsequently, the viability, migration and proliferation abilities of the SW837 and SW1463 cells were detected using the methods, described above. As shown in [Fig. 2A](#f2-mmr-12-05-7396){ref-type="fig"}, the percentage cell viability was downregulated (P\<0.05) in the miR-144-SW837 and the miR-144-SW1463 cells, compared with the same cells transfected with the miR-control. As shown in [Fig. 2B](#f2-mmr-12-05-7396){ref-type="fig"}, the number of migrating SW837 and SW1463 cells increased with increasing duration (P\<0.05; 24 h, 48 h and 72 h). However, the numbers of migrated miR-144-SW837 (blue line) or miR-144-SW1463 cells (red line), were lower, compared with those in the miR-control-SW837 or miR-control-SW1463 groups at each time point. As shown in [Fig. 2C](#f2-mmr-12-05-7396){ref-type="fig"}, the relative proliferation of the miR-144-SW837 cells was lower than that of the miR-control-SW837 cells following culture for 24, 48 and 72 h. For the proliferation of the SW1463 cells, similar results were observed ([Fig. 2D](#f2-mmr-12-05-7396){ref-type="fig"}). In addition, from these four experiments, the decreases in cell viability, migration and proliferation abilities was more marked in the miR-144-SW837 cells, compared with the miR-144-SW1463 cells, which may be associated with the primary levels of miR-144 in the corresponding cells. Taken together, these results in the SW837 and SW1463 cells indicated that miR-144 was involved in inhibiting the progression of rectal carcinoma.
Expression levels of ROCK1 and ROCK2 in miR-144-overexpressing rectal carcinoma cells
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
According to the above results, miR-144 inhibited SW837 and SW1463 cell proliferation and migration. In order to examine the underlying mechanism, the present study examined the effects of miR-144 on ROCK1 and ROCK2 in the miR-144-SW837 and miR-144-SW1463 cells. The mRNA and protein expression levels of ROCK1 and ROCK2 were detected using RT-qPCR and western blot analyses, respectively. The bands of the western blot were analyzed using Gel-Pro Analyzer 4.0 software. As shown in [Fig. 3A and B](#f3-mmr-12-05-7396){ref-type="fig"}, the mRNA expression level of ROCK1 was significantly downregulated (P\<0.01) in the miR-144-trans-fected cells, compared with the miR-control-transfected cells, in the SW837 and SW1463 cells. However no change in the mRNA levels of ROCK2 were observed. Similar changes were observed in the protein expression levels of ROCK1 in the SW837 cells (P\<0.01) and SW1463 cells (P\<0.05) and ROCK2 ([Fig. 3C and D](#f3-mmr-12-05-7396){ref-type="fig"}). These results suggested that the expression of ROCK1 was reduced by the overexpression of miR-144 in the SW837 and SW1463 cells.
Cell migration and proliferation in miR-144 and ROCK1-co-transfected rectal carcinoma cells
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As the results revealed that only the expression of ROCK1 was affected by miR-144, co-transfection experiments were performed to further confirm the role of ROCK1, as described above. Subsequently, the cell migration and proliferation abilities of the cells were detected again by corresponding methods, described above. As shown in [Fig. 4A and B](#f4-mmr-12-05-7396){ref-type="fig"}, the numbers of migrated miR-144 and ROCK1 co-transfected SW837 (blue line) and SW1463 cells (red lines) were higher, compared with those of the miR-144- and mock-ROCK1 co-transfected SW837 and SW1463 cells at each time point. In addition, the relative proliferation rates of the miR-144 and ROCK1 co-transfected SW837 and SW1463 cells were more marked, compared with those of the miR-144 and mock-ROCK1 co-transfected SW837 or SW1463 cells following culture for 48 and 72 h (SW837), and 72 h (SW1463). These results suggested that the inhibitory effects of overexpressed miR-144 on the SW837 and SW1463 cells was by the overexpression of ROCK1. Taken together, it was concluded that miR-144 inhibited migration and proliferation in rectal cancer through the downregulation of ROCK1.
Discussion
==========
Although the expression of several miRNAs are aberrantly altered in rectal cancer ([@b1-mmr-12-05-7396]), their underlying molecular mechanisms in the development and progression of rectal cancer remain to be fully elucidated. Thus, investigating the function of miRNAs, which are specifically involved in the progression of rectal cancer is required to improve current knowledge of rectal cancer, and offer novel insights into its diagnosis and therapy.
The present study focused on the role of miR-144 in rectal cancer, which has been extensively investigated and reported in other types of cancer, including lung cancer ([@b25-mmr-12-05-7396]), prostate cancer ([@b26-mmr-12-05-7396]) and hepatocellular carcinoma ([@b27-mmr-12-05-7396]). Previous microRNA microarray analyses have indicated that miR-144 shows aberrant expression and appears to be specific to rectal cancer ([@b1-mmr-12-05-7396]). In order to determine the role of miR-144 in rectal cancer, the present study selected SW837 and SW1463 cells as rectal cell carcinoma cells, which originated from rectal tissue belonging to epithelial cells. The results demonstrated that the expression of miR-144 was significantly reduced in rectal cell carcinoma cells, and overexpression of miR-144 repressed the viability, migration and proliferation of the SW837 and SW1463 cells *in vitro* by targeting ROCK1.
Previously, miR-144 was identified as an erythroid-specific miRNA, which is essential for the subsequent maturation and survival of the erythroid lineage ([@b12-mmr-12-05-7396],[@b28-mmr-12-05-7396]). miR-144 can decrease glutathione regeneration and antioxidant capacity by directly regulating a central regulator of the cellular response to oxidative stress ([@b29-mmr-12-05-7396]). In addition, a previous study showed that miR-144 can increase cell growth in HeLa cells ([@b30-mmr-12-05-7396]). Zhao *et al* reported that the downregulation of miR-144 is associated with the growth and invasion of osteosarcoma cells through the regulation of the expression of TAGLN ([@b31-mmr-12-05-7396]). Cao *et al* reported that miR-144 suppresses the proliferation and metastasis of hepatocellular carcinoma by targeting E2F transcription factor 3 (E2F3) ([@b27-mmr-12-05-7396]), and Guan *et al* reported that the downregulation of miR-144 promotes thyroid cancer cell invasion by targeting zinc finger E box binding homeobox (ZEB)1 and ZEB2 ([@b32-mmr-12-05-7396]). In the present study, ROCK1 was identified as a novel target of miR-144, by which miR-144 inhibited the migration and proliferation of rectal cancer cells.
ROCK1 is one of the members of the ROCK family, which facilitates reorganization of the actin cytoskeleton during motion ([@b33-mmr-12-05-7396]). Previous studies have demonstrated that ROCK1 functions as an oncogene and possesses a wide range of functions, including invasion, migration and metastasis ([@b34-mmr-12-05-7396]--[@b37-mmr-12-05-7396]). The expression of ROCK1 has also been found to be increased in several types of cancer, including glioma, prostate cancer, osteosarcoma and gastric cancer ([@b38-mmr-12-05-7396],[@b39-mmr-12-05-7396]), and ROCK1 is targeted by several miRNAs, including miR-584 ([@b40-mmr-12-05-7396]), miR-340 ([@b39-mmr-12-05-7396]), and miR-124 ([@b41-mmr-12-05-7396]). In the present study, ROCK1 was identified as a novel target of miR-144 in rectal cancer cells. ROCK1 was significantly downregulated in miR-144-overexpressing SW837 and SW1463 cells. In addition, the inhibitory effects on the migration and proliferation of the miR-144 on SW837 and SW1463 cells was controlled by the overexpression of ROCK1.
In conclusion, the present study demonstrated that miR-144 suppressed the progression of rectal cancer by targeting ROCK1, suggesting that miR-144 may be a novel biomarker and therapeutic target for rectal cancer treatment.
miR-144
: microRNA-144
ROCK1
: Rho-associated coiled-coil containing protein kinase 1
CRC
: colorectal cancer
miRNAs
: microRNAs
E2F3
: E2F transcription factor 3
ZEB1
: zinc finger E box binding homeobox 1
ZEB2
: zinc finger E box binding homeobox 2
{#f1-mmr-12-05-7396}
{#f2-mmr-12-05-7396}
{#f3-mmr-12-05-7396}
{#f4-mmr-12-05-7396}
[^1]: Contributed equally
| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | PubMed Central |
The past decade has been a real golden age for football in the Spanish capital. In recent years, Madrileños have descended on Lisbon and Milan in their thousands for the first and second Champions League finals to be contested by teams from the same city. However, away from the glitz and glamour of big European nights at the Bernabéu and the Wanda Metropolitano, there are a host of other Madrid teams that have been busy climbing the Spanish football ladder whilst faced with the unenviable task of trying to build an identity and a fan base in the shadows of two iconic clubs.
Excluding Real and Atlético’s B teams, the Comunidad de Madrid currently has 12 clubs plying their trade in Spain’s top three tiers. Of the dozen, four are located in satellite towns on the south-western fringes of the Spanish capital. Far removed from the stylish plazas and elegant streets that form the very heart of the Spanish nation, the towns of Alcorcón, Leganés, Getafe, Fuenlabrada and Móstoles are connected by the circular MetroSur, the newest of Madrid’s twelve principal underground rail lines.
With a collective population of around one million and with no two towns more than ten miles apart, on the surface the area has always had the potential to develop a thriving football scene of its own, independent of Madrid’s big two. However, at the time of the completion of the MetroSur in 2003, a huge civil engineering project in the midst of Spain’s construction bubble, the zone had never produced a top-flight club.
That would soon change with Getafe’s promotion to the Primera División, but just five years after the opening of the MetroSur, Spain descended into a deep economic crisis. The south Madrid region to this day is littered with reminders of both the boom and the bust with abandoned shopping malls, unoccupied apartment complexes and areas that are bordering on ghost-towns.
There weren’t many winners from the social and economic upheaval that followed across Spain but the commuter belt to the south of Madrid was certainly one of the biggest losers. Soulless suburbs and urban decay are among the most striking legacies. However, curiously on the football pitch at least, the last 15 years or so has seen each of the principal towns of the South Madrid zone make their mark on the Spanish game in one way or another.
Móstoles, the second-largest city in the capital region after Madrid itself, is currently the only one without a side in the top three tiers. It does have the distinct honour of having produced the national team’s most capped player, though. Iker Casillas was born and raised in the town and his younger brother Unai played for CD Móstoles, a club which folded in 2012 after it was sued by its players for unpaid salaries.
Sadly it’s not an unfamiliar tale in the Spanish lower leagues, but south Madrid’s other main clubs have enjoyed better fortunes in recent years. CF Fuenlabrada are currently riding high in the Segunda B and are in contention for their first promotion to the Segunda División. They play at the Estadio Fernando Torres in honour of another member of Spain’s golden generation. Torres grew up in the town and while he never played for the club, his working-class success story has inspired the next generation of youngsters in one of the poorest parts of the capital.
Further north lies Alcorcón, perhaps the most visited of the five by residents of the city proper due to its wealth of out-of-town shopping centres and megastores from Media Markt to IKEA. For those more interested in football than furniture, the town is also home to the tiny Estadio Santo Domingo, home of Segunda División AD Alcorcón.
Despite a ramshackle stadium that is thoroughly unprepared for life in LaLiga, there have been a couple of recent brushes with promotion to the top flight. The club though is still perhaps best known for hammering their illustrious neighbours Real Madrid 4-0 in the Copa del Rey a decade ago. The event, dubbed Alcorcónazo by the national media, remains one of the biggest shocks in the history of Spanish football.
Read | When third-tier Alcorcón famously hammered Real Madrid in the Copa del Rey in 2009
However, you have to hop back on the MetroSur and head east to the neighbouring towns of Leganés and Getafe to find the clubs that have truly put South Madrid football on the map.
Aside from a solitary season back in the second tier, Getafe have been a constant top-flight presence ever since they first won promotion in 2004. The town itself is no more remarkable than any of the others and is actually the smallest of the five in the MetroSur zone with the exception of Alcorcón. Therefore, in theory at least, there is no reason why the area’s other clubs can’t in the future emulate their on-field success.
Getafe, which could even soon be the most unlikely setting for Champions League football, bears all the hallmarks of a purpose-built town constructed without much consideration to aesthetics in the latter half of the 20th century. Even its small centre is lacking in much of a buzz with quiet streets and buildings that essentially have been left to decay since their initial construction. Like many Spanish cities, it has a central Plaza España but to say it lacks the grandeur of the Madrid or Seville equivalents would be quite an understatement. Getafe’s offering consists primarily of a small fountain flanked by a kebab shop, a budget supermarket and a gaming arcade.
The football stadium lies on the northern edge, in a slightly newer suburb, and is widely viewed as one of Spanish football’s most soulless venues. There have been occasions when that tag is perhaps a bit unfair but it’s safe to say that the Coliseum Alfonso Pérez is again not quite as grand as the name suggests and is rarely full to capacity even during the better times of which the present era is certainly one.
These days Getafe have company in LaLiga from neighbours Club Deportivo Leganés. It would only take little more than an hour to walk from the Coliseum to the Estádio Municipal Butarque and only in Seville and Valencia will you find two Primera División clubs who are closer to one another.
The immediate surroundings of Leganés’ main train station are pretty uninspiring even by the standards of Getafe. However, if you look closely enough, Leganés does boast a bit more character with a slightly more extended central district, a handful of pretty streets and even the odd sign of gentrification. The stadium lies away from the heart of the town but perched on a small hill; Butarque feels a bit less cut off from the city of Madrid with extensive views of even the northern districts of the Spanish capital possible on a clear day while the distant snowy peaks of the Sierra de Guadarrama provide the backdrop.
While there may be subtle differences, the satellite cities to the south of Madrid share most of the same working-class traits and their histories are closely linked. It’s not quite accurate to describe them as new towns given most were founded around the time of the 13th or 14th century, however it was only really in the second half of the 20th century that these sleepy settlements transformed into a rapidly growing and increasingly industrialised urban area on the fringes of an ever-expanding Madrid.
To put things in some perspective, Getafe was home to around 12,000 people in 1950, Leganés around 6,000, while Alcorcón was a village with just 759 residents. Fast-forward to 1980 and all three had populations of over 100,000. Today it is closer to double that again with immigration from other parts of Spain, Eastern Europe and Latin America adding to those who simply moved out of the city.
In football terms, though, they had a lot of catching up to do. While Leganés were a functioning albeit pretty unsuccessful entity hovering between Spain’s third and fifth tiers during the most intense period of growth, even by the start of the 1980s, Getafe Club de Fútbol in its present form had yet to be founded.
Read | Getafe and the incredible UEFA Cup odyssey of 2007/08
Their climb towards the upper echelons of the Spanish game would only commence in the 1983/84 season in an amateur local league that was effectively the seventh tier. That same season saw Leganés, Móstoles and Alcorcón finish seventh, eighth and ninth in Group VII of the Tercera División, which was primarily made up of teams from in and around the capital. As a point of reference, Real Madrid’s now defunct C team came second.
Having big enough populations to support a top-flight or second tier team was one thing; getting those people, many of whom had simply moved out from the city for a quieter or at least cheaper life, to stop supporting Real or Atlético in favour of such lowly ranked teams was another. There were also large numbers of migrants from Andalusia who again came with deep-rooted loyalties to clubs like Betis and Sevilla. Meanwhile, those that came from further afield didn’t exactly arrive in towns with clubs that were easy to fall in love with.
Even several decades on from the initial waves of migration, the battle for hearts and minds remains a struggle, one that is not entirely solved by building a successful team. Getafe found that out to their cost during an unbroken 12-year stay in the top flight between 2004 and 2016. It was a period that saw Geta reach back-to-back Copa del Rey finals and twice qualify for Europe. Their 2007/08 UEFA Cup campaign saw them beat the likes of Tottenham and Benfica, only to exit on away goals after drawing both legs of a quarter-final against Bayern Munich.
However, even that wasn’t enough to truly make the town embrace the football club that bore its name. They had the lowest average attendances in LaLiga in seven of those 12 years and it would have been more were it not for the 2014 promotion of Basque minnows Eibar. After a slight surge in interest after their initial rise to the top flight, average crowds had sunk to less than 8,000 by the final three seasons of their first stint in the Primera División, meaning the Coliseum was more than half empty most weeks.
Even so, anyone connected with Leganés during that period was left looking on enviously. Los Pepineros went in the opposite direction to their neighbours at the end of the 2003/04 Segunda División ensuring it would be a long wait for the next south Madrid derby between the sides.
They would spend the next decade in the Segunda B with only the inspired 2013 appointment of Asier Garitano finally sending Lega on a path towards the big time. Two promotions in three years followed but even as Leganés clinched an improbable first ever promotion to the top flight in the 2015/16 season, Butarque only attracted average crowds of 5,131, just the 14th highest in the Segunda División.
The success of Atlético Madrid in the 2010s under Diego Simeone has only added to the challenges faced by the likes of Leganés and Getafe as they try to build a fan base. From the gritty city suburbs all the way to Fuenlabrada, the most distant of the MetroSur towns, south-west Madrid has always formed Atléti’s traditional backyard.
Seen as the people’s club, the working-class nature of much of the area makes Los Rojiblancos the logical choice. Even more rebellious spirits could still get their kicks by following Atléti, who at least like to portray themselves as the anti-establishment club trying to fight back against Real Madrid, the rich and powerful force in the generally more prosperous north of the city.
For decades, clubs like Leganés, Alcorcón and Getafe have seen potential fans eroded away by their popular, if not always successful, neighbours from the city. The recent of rise of Atlético with a coach and team that largely embodies the spirit of the club has led to Madrid being home to not one but two of the great forces in European football and has only made the small clubs in the commuter towns an even tougher sell.
Read | When Real Madrid Castilla reached the Copa del Rey final and played in Europe
The most obvious parallel to draw is that of Manchester, a smaller city than Madrid but one with an equally sprawling metropolitan area with a host of smaller teams. Much like the Spanish capital, it’s also a city that has recently seen the balance of power shaken to the core by a decade of change and the emergence of a second European superpower. While Atléti haven’t had anything like the helping hand that has aided Manchester City’s rise, both essentially see themselves as the club that represents their city better than their illustrious neighbours who draw support from far and wide.
In Greater Manchester, the growth of City has, on the surface, had pretty dire consequences for the other clubs in the region. Stockport County are perhaps the best example having fallen to England’s sixth tier just 20 years on from a season in which they were actually a division above Manchester City, a club that much of the town supports. Former Premier League outfits Bolton and Oldham have also hit hard times and small clubs around Manchester can identify with the struggle faced by the likes of Leganés and Getafe as they try to generate a following even within the confines of their own towns.
They might even be able to learn a thing or two. With five top-flight clubs for the first time ever, including two from the area to the immediate south of the city, football in Madrid is flourishing amongst both its elite and smaller teams. Clubs like Getafe and Leganés are not just succeeding on the pitch but finally appear to be making steps forward in their long struggles to build some kind of identity that people are willing to buy into.
Their approaches, though, have been very different. Leganés have made a real point of drawing people in with affordable ticket prices and continue to offer some of the cheapest match-day tickets in LaLiga. Prices start at €15 for many games, less than half of the equivalent rates at Getafe or Rayo Vallecano, the other of the smaller Madrid clubs currently in Spain’s top flight.
Despite a small and fairly uninspiring stadium, Leganés have also worked hard on improving the match-day experience. The cash windfall that top flight football brings has in part been used to make Butarque a more aesthetically pleasing place. The bland bowl-like exterior has been brightened up by blue strobe lighting effects on match-days. Meanwhile, a huge club crest now hovers on top of the main entrance, adjacent to the words ‘Dreaming since 1928’, a subtle dig at arch-rivals Getafe who see themselves as the biggest of the cluster of south Madrid sides even though the club is younger than some of their current players.
In reality, even the loyalist and most optimistic of Leganés supporters wouldn’t have wasted much time dreaming about one day reaching their present heights when they spent decades meandering around Spain’s lower leagues. Therefore it is a slight exaggeration to suggest they have been dreaming for over 90 years, but it all helps to serve the overall goal of building an identity, even if it’s one built on half-truths.
Leganés have also been savvier than most in the way they’ve embraced social media and LaLiga’s growing global appeal. They were one of the first of Spain’s smaller top-flight clubs to start using English language social media channels. The likes of Valladolid and Eibar have since followed suit. Meanwhile, moves such as this season’s introduction of Super Pepino, a bizarre cucumber mascot, have served the joint purpose of generating publicity and adding a touch of comical value to matchdays at Butarque.
Even Rayo Vallecano, the third team within the city of Madrid itself, have proved an obstacle to the likes of Leganés in their bid to truly find themselves. As the likeable, left-wing and very socially-conscious alternative to the big two, Rayo have long since bagged the plucky underdog tag in the Spanish capital – and in that respect they’ve almost been as big a problem as Real and Atlético for the other smaller teams. You could travel the length and breadth of Europe without finding a more self-aware club with such a clear sense of what they stand for.
Leganés, though, seem content to be the club that doesn’t take themselves too seriously, which is actually quite refreshing in a league where football and politics are so regularly entwined. While they do have a loyal hardcore following that does a good job of generating a racket at Butarque each week, they are making clear strides forwards in terms of growing a local fan base and perhaps even a small cult following from further away.
Read | Atlético Madrid’s iconic class of ’96: the unlikely double winners who forged a unique legacy
International visitors to Madrid are increasingly making the short trip to the southern edge of the city for a very different football experience to the one on offer at the Bernabéu and that has played a small role in putting Leganés on course to end this season with average league gates of over 10,000 for the first time in their 90-year history.
Three miles east at the Coliseum Alfonso Pérez, you won’t find many foreign voices nor will you be able to locate English language Twitter accounts or even a matchday ticket for less than €35. It’s as though Getafe have simply accepted that they are never going to win any popularity contests and aren’t willing to waste any resources trying to draw in fans from elsewhere. The English parallel in this case is more the ‘no one likes us, we don’t care’ mentality of south-east London bad boys Millwall and the physical, uncompromising style this present Getafe team has developed under the leadership of José Bordalás plays into that perfectly.
Getafe have learnt from some of the errors of their first stint in the top flight and have made some ground in terms of engaging their local community. Half-season tickets have recently been offered to under-10’s for just €40, while discounts for students and the unemployed have made a difference in terms of bringing more people into the Coliseum. With the team making a surprise push for Champions League football, attendance figures are at least moving in the right direction again.
However, like many clubs in Spain, season-ticket holders don’t necessarily show up to all the games meaning there are still plenty of empty seats at some of Getafe’s less glamorous fixtures. There is now at least some sense that they are willing to play the long game and try to draw in local fans, who they hope will stick with the side in the years to come. Getafe fans may have another European adventure to enjoy next season and it will be interesting to see if the club is able to better capitalise on the excitement that will go with that this time around.
While they might not admit it publicly, Leganés, Getafe and all the other clubs in the south Madrid area will be keeping a close eye on each other as they try to figure out how to further raise the bar. Fuenlabrada offer adult season tickets for the price of a single match at one of the bigger Madrid clubs, and while the experience may be like chalk and cheese, there is a growing sense that winning over at least sections of their own communities is no longer an impossible task. There is also now at least a blueprint in place for Fuenla, Alcorcón and perhaps eventually even a newly-reformed Móstoles to climb the Spanish football ladder all the way to the big time.
One thing that should aid them in that rise is Atlético Madrid’s recent move to the Wanda Metropolitano. Atléti fans in the satellite towns to the south-west of Madrid can no longer make the relatively short trip into the city to watch their team play at the easy to reach Vicente Calderón. Instead, they must cross the Spanish capital to reach their team’s shiny new home on the north-eastern fringes of the city. It’s a journey that takes more than an hour by public transport from any of those towns and is a 40-mile round-trip by road from parts of Móstoles and Fuenlabrada.
It’s too soon to properly judge how much of a long-term difference this will make to the respective fan bases of Atléti and their smaller neighbours, who have for so long lost thousands of potential supporters to the club from the city. However, this certainly feels like a window of opportunity, particularly for top-flight outfits Leganés and Getafe, to properly establish a genuine following of their own.
Football fans tend to be a fiercely loyal breed and we are unlikely to see many lifelong Atléti supporters jumping on the Lega or Geta bandwagons anytime soon, however inconvenient the location of the club’s new stadium may be. A far more intriguing and ultimately significant question is that of where the loyalties of future generations will lie in this cluster of towns to the south of the Spanish capital.
With both of the Madrid giants now located north of Puerta del Sol, the city’s widely accepted centrepoint, it’s possible they will settle for an increasingly appealing option closer to home. Therefore what is perceived to be something of a golden age for football in south Madrid may only be the beginning of a small but significant shift that could permanently alter the Spanish football landscape.
By Mark Sochon @marksoc1 | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
number of Trade Mark (TM) forms have been reduced from 74 to 8 and to promote e-filing of TM applications, the fee for online filing has been kept at 10 per cent lower than that for physical filing
New Delhi: The Indian government on Monday cut the number of trade mark forms from 74 to just eight, and nearly halved the fee for e-filing applications to Rs 4,500 in order boost the country's Intellectual Property Rights (IPR) regime and to promote ease of doing business.
Announcing the notification of these changes in the Trade Mark (TM) Rules, 2017, a Commerce Ministry statement here said the salient features of the revamped rules include "number of Trade Mark (TM) forms have been reduced from 74 to 8 and to promote e-filing of TM applications, the fee for online filing has been kept at 10 percent lower than that for physical filing".
"Based on stakeholders' feedback, the fees for individuals, start-ups and small enterprises have been reduced from that proposed in the draft rules -- only Rs 4,500 as against Rs 8,000 for e-filing of TM applications proposed at the draft stage."
Hearing through video conferencing has been introduced, and number of adjournments in opposition proceedings has been restricted to a maximum of two by each party to help expedite disposal of cases, it said.
Modalities for service of documents from applicants to the registry and vice-versa through electronic means have been introduced to expedite the process, the statement added. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
List of Playboy Playmates of 2017
__NOTOC__
The following is a list of Playboy Playmates of 2017. Playboy magazine names their Playmate of the Month each month throughout the year.
January
Bridget Malcolm is an Australian model and the Playboy Playmate of the Month for January 2017 and her pictorial was shot by Jason Lee Parry.
February
Joy Elizabeth Corrigan is an American model and the Playboy Playmate of the Month for February 2017.
March
Elizabeth Victoria Elam is a model and the Playboy Playmate of the Month for March 2017.
April
Nina Marie Daniele is an American model and the Playboy Playmate of the Month for April 2017.
May
Lada Kravchenko is the Playboy Playmate of the Month for May 2017.
June
Elsie Rose Hewitt is the Playboy Playmate of Month for June 2017.
July
Dana Taylor is the Playboy Playmate of Month for July 2017.
August
Liza Kei is the Playboy Playmate of Month for August 2017.
September
Jessica Wall is the Playboy Playmate of Month for September 2017.
October
Milan Dixon is the Playboy Playmate of Month for October 2017.
November
Ines Rau is the Playboy Playmate of the Month for November 2017, and is the first transgender Playmate.
December
Allie Leggett is the Playboy Playmate of the Month for December 2017.
References
See also
List of people in Playboy 2010–2019
2017
Playmates of 2017
Category:2017-related lists | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Wikipedia (en) |
Thomas Stephenson (chemist)
Dr Thomas Stephenson FRSE FCS (1864–29 October 1938) was a 20th-century Scottish chemist and pharmacist. He was founder and editor of "The Prescriber", a still extant magazine focussing on pharmacists needs.
Life
He was born in 1864 at 37 George Street in Edinburgh's New Town the son of John B. Stephenson a chemist with James Robertson & Co. He was educated at the Edinburgh Institution.
He trained as a chemist and joined his father, who had set up his own business, at 48 Frederick Street. The family then moved to 8 Belford Terrace near Dean Village.
In 1910 he was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. His proposers were Frederick Orpen Bower, Sir Thomas Richard Fraser, Robert McNair Ferguson, and Leonard Dobbin. By this time he was Editor of "The Prescriber" magazine, and had a shop at 137 George Street in the city centre, and was living at 9 Woodburn Terrace, a flat in the Morningside district.
In 1916 "The Prescriber" had offices at 6 South Charlotte Street off Charlotte Square.
Thomas was a member of Rotary International.
He died in Edinburgh on 29 October 1938. He did not marry, and had no children.
References
Category:1864 births
Category:1938 deaths
Category:People from Edinburgh
Category:Scottish pharmacists
Category:Fellows of the Royal Society of Edinburgh | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Wikipedia (en) |
ASUS Radeon HD 5870 1GB V2 Review
With all of the pomp and fanfare surrounding the release of NVIDIA’s latest cards, it was a bit hard for most people to take a look around in order to see what else was going on in the GPU market. Some minor releases passed by and most people were none the wiser simply because there was next to zero marketing done and as a result the products themselves quietly slipped into the retail channels. We’re not talking about the barn-burners like Gigabyte’s Super Overclock or the much-delayed ASUS Matrix Edition here. Rather, our thoughts center on an unassuming card that has been available for the last few weeks: the ASUS HD 5870 V2.
When we first previewed the “V2”, there was an outpouring of interest from our readers and everyone wanted to know more details. The most important thing to remember is that while we call this card the “V2”, the only place this designation shows up is in the ASUS part number. The only way to distinguish this card from the older reference product is to take a look at the product photos because this is one unique-looking HD 5870.
It is important to remember that ASUS will no longer be producing a reference-based HD 5870 and has instead decided to replace it with this V2 edition. Without a doubt, this is a gutsy move since on average the HD 5870 V2 retails for slightly more than most reference-based products. We aren’t talking about an extreme difference but its $10-$20 price premium over some reference products can have an impact upon anyone’s budget. What do you get for this extra money? According to ASUS they have equipped the V2 with improved cooling capabilities, a slightly more robust PCB design and their Voltage Tweak software that can push overclocks to new heights. Otherwise, this version retains the stock speeds and capabilities of all stock HD 5870 cards.
One of the main things that you should be concerned about in this type of situation is that there are still quite a few first generation ASUS HD 5870 cards bumming around the market right now. As such, you should be a bit careful and do your research before you take the plunge and pop down a good chunk of change for an ASUS HD 5870.
In this review we intend to take the ASUS HD 5870 V2 around the block so to speak. Even though its performance is identical that of any other stock HD 5870 on the market, it has enough additional features that $20 could be money well spent. However, will it be enough?
MSI's Gaming 6G may not be the fastest GTX 980 Ti we've ever come across but it happens to be one of the best. Performance, cooling, overclocking and acoustics have all been perfected with this card.... | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
A noisy Arrowhead could set back the Colts
ROGER MILLS
Published January 11, 2004
Kansas City quarterback Trent Green can tell his Colts counterpart Peyton Manning a little something about dealing with the noise at Arrowhead Stadium. Although Green doesn't have to deal with the clamor now, when he was playing for the Rams he had first-hand experience of what many visiting teams believe is the noisiest venue in the NFL.
"It's going to be loud," Green said. "The last time I played here (as an opponent) was in 2000 with the Rams. Kurt (Warner) got hurt in the first half, and I played the whole second half and it was loud. ... From a communication standpoint, they are going to have to use a lot of hand signals. But watching film, they are pretty equipped to do that."
The Colts have been excellent on the road this season. Their 7-1 record includes victories at Tampa Bay and Tennessee.
"They played at Tennessee, which I would say rivals Arrowhead in terms of noise that's generated," Green said. "That's a pretty rowdy crowd from my experience playing down there, and they seemed to handle that pretty well."
Chiefs coach Dick Vermeil said noise makes a difference.
"What changes the atmosphere and environment in this stadium is the crowd noise," Vermeil said. "The crowd noise changes it. For example, in our last home game we got some sacks when the offensive tackle didn't pick up the quarterback's cadence. You gain those kinds of advantages."
MINORITY REPORT: There's an interesting development going on in Steelers country. Coach Bill Cowher says he has put two prominent minority coaches on his list of four candidates to replace defensive coordinator Tim Lewis and wide receivers coach Kenny Jackson, both of whom were fired. Lewis and Jackson are black.
"You have a right to hire and fire anybody you want," said Rooney, who authored the NFL's Rooney Rule to ensure minority coaches are interviewed for head coaching jobs. "The thing they want to make sure of is that you are willing to give a fair chance to a minority to get the job. We have every intention of doing that here."
The Steelers have asked permission to talk to Bears defensive coordinator Greg Blache, who has has one year left on his contract. They also are interested in former Jets defensive coordinator Ted Cottrell. Both are black.
"We will do the right thing," Cowher said.
WORTHY SILVER MEDAL: Bengals rookie coach Marvin Lewis turned around the franchise's fortunes and turned some heads as well. Lewis finished second in voting for Associated Press NFL Coach of the Year. The award went to New England's Bill Belichick.
"It's great to hear," Lewis said. "I'd just like to pass on the congratulations to our players, to the coaching staff and to everyone in our organization."
One season after finishing a league-worst 2-14, Lewis' Bengals were 8-8 and in the playoff hunt until the final game of the season.
Belichick had 35 votes from a nationwide panel of 50 sports writers and broadcasters who cover the NFL. Lewis was second with seven. Dallas' Bill Parcells was third with six, and Philadelphia's Andy Reid received one vote.
HOCUS POCUS: Some have said that some of Brett Favre's performances this season have been magical. That the Packers appear a team of destiny. That something is written in the stars. Packers players see it another way.
"There's no magic out there on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday when we're out there working hard," Packers tight end Wesley Walls said. "I do believe there's a lot of faith in each other on this team. Everyone seems to like each other. If that creates magic, or if anybody thinks that's magic, that's what's good about this game. We want people to believe."
LOCAL FLAVOR: Former USF linebacker Kawika Mitchell, the Bulls' highest pick ever as a second-rounder to the Chiefs, has found himself in quite a position for a rookie. Depending on the game-day health of linebacker Mike Maslowski, Mitchell could start in today's game.
Mitchell, 24, has started six games in a row for the Chiefs in Maslowski's place.
"It can be compared to a bowl game, but I don't think a bowl game is that big," said Mitchell, originally from Hawaii. "We were close to going to bowl games in college, but I never got that chance. To go to a playoff game and to have a chance at a shot at the Super Bowl means a lot." | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
1. Technical Field
This invention relates to the field of disease prevention, and more particularly, to devices designed to prevent the spread of sexually transmitted diseases.
2. Prior Art
The last decade has seen a remarkable rise both in the incidence of STD's and the impact of such diseases on the public consciousness. Penicillin and its progeny had relegated “traditional” STD's, such as gonorrhea, to a matter of little public concern by the end of the 1960's. That situation changed drastically, however, with the advent of herpes. A viral infection that proved resistant to all known forms of treatment, herpes presented a serious threat to persons who participated in frequent sexual activity with a number of partners. The impact of herpes, however, proved almost minuscule when the Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome (AIDS) epidemic surfaced in the 1980's.
Failing a massive change in behavior patterns, many see the condom as the only real solution to the containment of AIDS. Several serious drawbacks to that solution, however, limit the success of this method of prevention. First, a particular condom may not fulfill its function, either because it does not remain in position, or it breaks during use, or it may remain in position but serve as a sheath for infectious biological products to travel onto the perineum. This problem is particularly acute in ano-genital intercourse, due to the general lack of clearance between the orifice and the penis. The danger of relying upon the condom in such situations is exacerbated, of course, by the fact that this activity perhaps poses the greatest danger of infection.
Moreover, spillage of semen from a condom is a common occurrence, and leakage is practically guaranteed, especially when the wearer is supine. The condom is neither designed nor commonly used for the purpose of preventing contact between semen and the perineum of either or both partners, and thus it is not surprising that it does not serve that purpose. The risk presented by such contact, however, makes the condom a limited tool for preventing the spread of AIDS.
In addition to such possible transmission of the AIDS virus by entry through localized skin defects in the recipient, there is also the possibility that other sexually transmitted diseases (STDs) may be similarly transmitted, including clamydia, herpes, papilloma, syphilis, gonorrhea, lymphogranoloma venerum, and the like. The foregoing has heightened pertinence in view of the fact that localized skin disorders occur with high frequency in the lower abdominal and thigh regions. Examples include infected ingrown pubic hairs, pimples, blackheads, boils, rashes, herpes, dermatitis, allergic reactions, and the like, which, comprise or result in localized skin discontinuities and other defects in skin integrity. Conventional prophylactic devices do not cover the abdominal skin areas, allowing for transmission of such diseases, regardless of the use of these devices.
Accordingly, a need remains for a disposable prophylactic garment for restricting transmittal of body fluids in order to overcome the above-noted shortcomings. The present invention satisfies such a need by providing a prophylactic garment that is practical in design, increases safe intercourse, and is effective in use. Such a garment covers a larger area of the abdominal area, preventing skin contact. The garment is offered in a variety of sizes and styles to fit the needs and preferences of all individuals. The garment further advantageously decreases the possibility of the prophylactic device slipping off during intercourse and is durable in construction, preventing the tearing thereof. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | USPTO Backgrounds |
It's been long rumored and speculated, but it’s finally here. Nokia has just announced the next accessory you’ll want for your Bluetooth 4.0 LE enabled Lumia device – Treasure Tag. It’s coming this April to retailers around the globe. More details below.
We first caught wind of the Treasure Tag last summer when it reports of its existence surfaced. More recently we saw the Treasure Tag companion app sitting in the Windows Phone Store. The Treasure Tag is an accessory for your Lumia that you attach to anything valuable. Things like your wallet, purse, backpack or anything you frequently leave behind. The Treasure Tag will send an alert to your phone when you leave it behind. The Treasure Tags can be connected to your Windows Phone through either NFC or by doing a Bluetooth search. Once connected, they’ll emit a loud tone when separated. Don't hear the tone and completely lose the item? You'll be able to see its last location on HERE Maps. Best VPN providers 2020: Learn about ExpressVPN, NordVPN & more | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
FIG. 1 illustrates schematically a payment method often used for making payments by payment card, such as a credit or debit card.
The payment card 102 is a smart card having a built-in chip 103, and is presented by a customer at a point of sale. The card is placed in a chip reader 104, which reads the chip and requests that the customer types his/her PIN (personal identification number). The correct PIN is stored on the electronic chip 103 and thus the chip reader 104 is able to immediately verify whether the PIN has been correctly entered. The card details and transaction details are then transmitted to a credit card clearing house (CCCH) 106, for example via a telephone line, and the credit card clearing house settles both the customer's account and the merchant's account, by transferring money from customer's bank 108 to the merchant's bank 110.
There are a number of drawbacks with the method represented by FIG. 1. Firstly, all businesses that wish to accept payments by smart card require a chip reader 104, which is costly, and not practical in many situations. Furthermore, the chip reader requires regular maintenance. There is thus a need for alternative means for verifying a customer's identity, and making electronic payments. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | USPTO Backgrounds |
TIERRA CALIENTE, Mexico — They came by the thousands and the tens of thousands. The faithful lined the streets in rows 10 deep and crowded the wrought-iron balconies of the colonial-era houses that flank the boulevards in the city of Morelia, in cartel-infested Michoacán state.
The people of this troubled land gathered here last week to see El Papa, Pope Francis, and they would not be denied. They wailed and prayed and prostrated themselves—and at last he appeared: standing upright in an all-white, specially modified, topless Jeep. Waving to the crowd. Blessing them all. A smiling, slightly stooped figure, unprotected by bullet-proof glass or human shields.
For some, the pontiff’s approach, so vulnerable to violence and betrayal, harked back to a certain other holy man’s journey into Jerusalem. And the crowd loved him for it, and they let him know—belting out Ave María like so many pumped-up fans at a rock show.
In the city soccer stadium, amid indigenous dancers and ballerinas dressed as monarch butterflies, the pontiff granted blessings, bestowed hugs, and finally accepted a traditional souvenir sombrero—all white, of course.
“It’s a lie to believe that the only way to live is to give oneself up to drug dealers or others who do nothing but sow destruction and death,” Papa Francisco told the bandana-waving crowd.
“Jesus would never ask us to be assassins—instead, he calls us to be disciples,” said the pope, urging the faithful “not to surrender” to the violence that infests Michoacán in particular, and Mexico in general.
El Papa’s visit came at a time when Mexico is experiencing historic levels of mayhem, as both new and traditional cartels jockey for dominance, and seek to crush the competition. According to a recent study, drug war bloodshed has actually reduced the national average for life expectancy among Mexican males.
“Mexico’s insecurity comes from many factors,” Shannon O’Neil, a senior fellow with the Council of Foreign Relations (CFR), told The Daily Beast by email.
O’Neil listed “demand for drugs from the United States, millions of young people marginalized by the legal economy, and a lack of rule of law—and in particular widespread impunity that limits the costs to a life of crime.”
In other words: Jesus might not want you for a hitman—but circumstances south of the border can make that deadly lifestyle all too appealing.
The western state of Michoacán, where the pope received his immaculate sombrero last week, has been home to some of the fiercest fighting yet seen in Mexico’s drug war—making it, perhaps, the perfect spot to kick off a holy war against the cartels.
The region is home to several mobs with odd-sounding names like the Viagras, H3, and the Knights Templar—and the gangs themselves are known for being particularly bloodthirsty.
In Michoacán “organized criminal groups control not just the movement of drugs but extort all parts of the economy, preying on local citizens,” says O’Neil, who specializes in Latin American issues. “The Mexican state has so far been unable to regain control,” leaving “many towns at the criminals’ mercy.”
One such town is La Ruana, which sits nestled among lime orchards and cattle ranches here in the sweltering valley called Tierra Caliente—also known as “Infiernillo,” or Little Hell—which is just a couple of hours southwest of the pope’s stopover in Morelia.
Conversations with the residents of Little Hell make it clear that the pope’s crusade against violence in places like Michoacán will be an epic battle. Locals say a hodgepodge of competing cartels rule the area, running industrial-scale meth labs, and shaking down business owners.
Just weeks before the pope’s scheduled visit, unknown gunmen massacred 11 people during a teen birthday party near the state’s border with Guerrero. Forty-eight hours before the pope’s appearance, the corpse of a U.S. citizen was found in the same municipality. The victim bore signs of extreme torture, including having his right ear cut off, and being burned alive before he was shot in the spine.
Against all odds, some have tried to fight the cartels on their own terms. Michoacán’s famed vigilante movement—as depicted in the Oscar-contending documentary Cartel Land—first began here in La Ruana, when a group of humble farmers rose against their dark overlords in 2013.
“I’m a Catholic who believes in God and in fighting for what’s right,” Hipólito Mora, who led the uprising in La Ruana, told The Daily Beast.
“My faith is what led me to take up arms against the criminals,” Mora said, brandishing a shotgun in the kitchen of his humble, tin-roofed house, “and it’s also why I’m not afraid to die fighting them.”
Mora’s decision to fight back inspired other vigilante groups—which in Mexico are known as autodefensas—across Michoacán. Thousands of ordinary citizens banded together and, armed with everything from hunting rifles to AK47s, won some important victories against the cartel called the Knights Templar, which was the dominant crime group in the state at that time.
Unfortunately, a devastating combination of government repression and cartel infiltration undermined Mora’s militia movement, and eventually led to its collapse. Mora himself was jailed twice—although the government later apologized, and now oversees his security.
“Mexico should enjoy El Papa’s visit, and I’m proud he’s here,” says Mora, 60, whose oldest son was killed during a two-hour firefight with a cartel-corrupted autodefensa group in 2014.
But anti-cartel warrior Mora worries that even God’s representative on earth might have met his match in Mexico: “As a realist, I just don’t believe the pope can do anything about the cartels, or keep them from committing evil.”
The “evil” that Mora speaks of is not merely the by-product of mobster power struggles in Mexico. Cartel operatives and their followers don’t just commit random acts of wickedness—many of them actively worship at the altar of destruction in so-called narcosectas, meaning, literally, narco sects.
For example, Nazario Moreno, the founder of the Knights Templar cartel—Mora’s arch nemesis—commissioned hundreds of saint-like statues of himself in medieval garb and ordered them placed in shrines around the state.
“[Moreno’s] followers, and many other people, actually prayed to these statuettes,” says Father José Luis Segura, who heads up the diocese in La Ruana.
Segura, 60, describes the Knights cartel as a full-fledged “cult.”
“They practiced the black mass and other satanic rituals at their meetings, and even killed women and children and ate their flesh,” says Segura, who arrived to head up the Ruana parish just as the autodefensa offensive was getting underway in 2013.
The Knights’ leader, Moreno—AKA: El Mas Loco, or “The Craziest One”—was finally killed in March of 2014, although the details of his death are still disputed.
While the Mexican marines claim credit for taking down Moreno with two bullets to the chest, the official version clashes with the autopsy photos, which clearly show Moreno suffered blunt-force trauma to the face and head.
Sources within the autodefensa movement tell The Daily Beast that vigilantes had brokered a deal with El Mas Loco’s own bodyguards, who then beat him to death during his birthday fiesta—the first blow apparently being struck by his top lieutenant, as Moreno was climbing aboard a mule—and turned the body over to authorities in exchange for all charges against themselves being dropped.
But that wasn’t the end of the narcosecta. Although they’ve lost their crazed leader, cells of the bizarre Templar sect continue to operate in Michoacán and neighboring states.
The Knights aren’t the only drug-related death cult posing a challenge to Pope Francis’s vision for a reformed and more Christ-like Mexico.
The skeletal, female figure of Santa Muerte, the Saint of Death, is also wildly popular here—especially among criminals and economically marginalized parts of the population.
The Grim-Reaper-like death saint has about 12 million followers in Mexico, where she’s often invoked by gangster gunsels who ask her blessing before going out on hits.
“Many of her followers seek spiritual protection from a source who doesn’t demand any moral restraint,” Father Segura says, by way of explaining Santa Muerte’s popularity in the underworld. “They can offer tributes to her, and invoke her as a guardian—all without having to worry about their own behavior.”
According to Segura, criminal acts committed in Santa Muerte’s name include ritual human sacrifice and even the harvesting of organs from children.
Meanwhile, “La Muerte” seems to be gaining power across Mexico—apparently in lockstep with the rising tide of violence.
“The ultimate enemy of Christ is death,” says Segura, who classifies Santa Muerte as a satanic sect. He also admits to being exasperated by her growing influence.
“We [the clergy] just don’t know how to attack the death saint,” he sighs.
During his stop in Michoacán’s capital of Morelia last week, the Holy Father also singled out government “corruption” as a problem he wanted to see his priests and nuns going after full force. The pope told them to resist temptation and “resignation,” which he referred to as Beelzebub’s “favorite weapon.”
Much of the corruption the pope wants to target involves the endemic problem of politicians and police being on gangsters’ payrolls—at times even acting in collusion with the criminals, as was the case when municipal police were implicated in the disappearance of 43 students in Michoacán’s neighboring state of Guerrero in 2014.
As the line between authorities and organized crime becomes increasingly blurred, “human rights have been forgotten or completely ignored,” says Rogelio García, an investigator with the State Office for Human Rights in Apatzingán, the largest city in the valley called Little Hell.
“Even when authorities try to make advances against the cartels, they can wind up torturing innocent people by mistake, in an effort to extract confessions or information leading to other suspects,” says García, whose office receives dozens of complaints of abuse by police and soldiers each month.
Common torture tactics include hard blows to the stomach, or electric shocks to the genitals with a cattle prod—methods the officers prefer because they don’t leave telltale marks on the victims.
Psychological torture is also a favorite go-to move by authorities, García explains, as victims are locked in solitary confinement for days at a time, while being threatened with death or the killing of their families.
One of García’s main concerns is the propensity for police officers to strip away all name, rank, and unit insignias from their uniforms, while also wearing masks.
“For us, that’s a clear human rights violation, because the people can’t identify the officers who operate in their communities—or who might be torturing them.”
The practice of police units running anonymous operations also makes it easier for cartel hitmen to disguise themselves as officers, in order to carry out abductions and attack police bases.
“If you see a caravan [of men in police uniforms] passing right now in the street—there’s no way to tell if they’re cops or criminals,” says García, who worries that such an endemic lack of transparency “undermines all public trust in our officials.”
The fundamental lack of trust and security at the heart of Mexican society also fuels mass emigration to the U.S., as does “the lack of legal economic opportunity for many of Mexico’s youth,” according to CFR fellow O’Neil.
Pope Francis, like other prominent Catholic clergy, has openly criticized U.S. immigration policy. He included a public prayer for migrants during his visit to Ciudad Juárez on the border, the day after his stop at Michoacán.
The pontiff’s implicit call for a more open frontier even drew fire from Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump—who accused the Holy Father of being a “political” dupe of the Mexican government.
“I think Mexico got him to do it [the visit] because they want to keep the border just the way it is. They’re making a fortune, and we’re losing,” Trump told Fox News, on the eve of the pope’s arrival in Mexico.
O’Neil disagrees with the Donald on this one—and in fact believes it’s Mexico that’s the real loser in the immigration crisis:
“As the U.S. has hardened its border to drugs and migrants, criminal groups have turned on their own populations, moving from running drugs north to kidnapping Mexicans, extorting local businesses, and retailing drugs domestically,” says O’Neil.
“At a time when migrants and refugees are moving around the world in historic numbers, the pope’s focus on the U.S.-Mexico border (as well as European borders) highlights the human side. These people aren’t just numbers,” says O’Neil, adding that she thinks Trump’s attempted takedown of the pontiff might actually backfire:
“The pope’s words won’t change Donald Trump’s view, but some Republican voters may identify with [the pontiff’s] religious message,” she says.
Near the end of his stop in Morelia, as the pope leaned over to a young boy in a wheelchair, several others in the crowd grabbed onto the loose sleeves of his robe, crying out in supplication. But the weight of the zealous was too much, and the pope toppled forward, falling face-first upon the lame child.
And, for just an instant, the light of righteous anger flashed in the old man’s eyes. Pushing himself up from the wheelchair the pope rose to rebuke those who had seized him.
“No seas egoísta,” the pope chided them for their jealousy of the disabled boy he’d been attending to. “Don’t be selfish.”
This was at the core of the message the pontiff brought to Mexico, repeatedly calling on clergy and politicians here to break their tradition of catering to the rich, and to focus more on the poor and downtrodden—who often turn to a life of crime because they lack education and opportunity.
Despite El Papa’s best intentions—and the public respect doled out to the pope in front of TV cameras by politicians like embattled President Enrique Peña Nieto—many in Mexico remain skeptical that the government is serious about cleaning up its act.
“We have no illusions that we can easily defeat the crime and corruption,” Father Segura says. “Our government always betrays the people with its lies—nothing is clean here.”
Vigilante leader Mora agrees with the padre’s sentiments:
“It’s excellent that the pope came to visit, and there is much talk now of change in Mexico because he’s here,” Mora says. “But nothing will change. The powerful are never interested in the poor who are starving.”
Mora stows his shotgun back in the closet.
“Two weeks after the pope is gone—all of this will be forgotten,” he says. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
Q:
Is there any particular criterion that makes a CPU be called "16 bits" CPU for example
What makes a CPU be called for example: "this CPU is n bits"?
A:
Short answer: There is no universally accepted definition.
Less short answer: If the CPU supports all of the basic primitives on a 16-bit datatype, then it would probably be considered sixteen bits by the majority of users.
This has been a "holy war" since 1976 or so, and there is no "right" or "wrong" answer. Was the 8088 sixteen bits? Probably. So, was the Z80? It had some sixteen bit math, and an 8-bit databus. (Probably not -- the Z80 had no native 16-bit logical instructions, only add and subtract).
The question surged again when the 68000 with its 32-bit registers, and rich set of 32-bit operations appeared, but an internal 16-bit ALU and an external 16-bit databus (and then just to throw MORE confusion, the 68008 variant, with an 8-bit databus).
A:
The bitness of a CPU is the width of the word it can process natively as a whole. This is generally the width of the registers and the ALU. For example, PIC 10, 12, 14, 16, 17, and 18 are all 8 bit processors. PIC 24, 30, and 33 are 16 bit processors, and PIC 32 are 32 bit processors.
Note that ALU and register width isn't the only thing commonly specified in bits for a processor. The instruction word width, or at least the width of the instruction data bus is another measure. This doesn't need to be the same as the ALU width, and often isn't. The same "8 bit" PICs listed above have different instruction widths. Sometimes you hear this referred to as the "core" width. For example, the original PIC 10 and 12 were 12 bit core machines, the mainstream PIC 16 has a 14 bit core, and the PIC 18 a 16 bit core, despite each of these being "8 bit" processors.
| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | StackExchange |
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UNIVERSITY PLACE, Wash. — An Amber alert has been canceled in Washington state after a slaying suspect on the run with his 9-month old daughter surrendered early today at Good Samaritan Hospital in Puyallup. The Pierce County sheriff’s office says the baby is safe. The man, 23-year-old Joseph Andrew Lester, was jailed in Tacoma for investigation of the stabbing death of his 21-year-old girlfriend. The sheriff’s office says Lester fled with the baby Monday and left the woman’s 2-year-old son unharmed at the University Place home. The boy and baby girl …
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What’s news in the Northwest today:
UNIVERSITY PLACE, Wash. — An Amber alert has been canceled in Washington state after a slaying suspect on the run with his 9-month old daughter surrendered early today at Good Samaritan Hospital in Puyallup. The Pierce County sheriff’s office says the baby is safe. The man, 23-year-old Joseph Andrew Lester, was jailed in Tacoma for investigation of the stabbing death of his 21-year-old girlfriend. The sheriff’s office says Lester fled with the baby Monday and left the woman’s 2-year-old son unharmed at the University Place home. The boy and baby girl are now in the care of the state. Authorities issued the Amber alert because they feared the baby could be hurt while she was with her father. His car was found abandoned Monday night in Tacoma.
Occupy Portland campers ousted from federal plaza
PORTLAND — For the second time, police in Portland have dislodged protesters who tried to expand the Occupy Portland encampment. Before dawn today, city officers helped Federal Protective Service agents clear a federal plaza next to two city parks where a tent city sprang up on Oct. 6. Nine people were arrested, and the tents they had erected the day before were removed. That followed the arrests early Sunday of 27 people who refused to leave a park in the gentrified Pearl District. The city has allowed protesters to camp on two city-owned park blocks but said they can’t occupy more.
Mine work suspended after underground death
BILLINGS, Mont. — Underground work has been suspended at a central Montana precious metals mine as federal safety inspectors investigate the death of a worker 1,200 feet underground. Stillwater Mining Co. spokesman John Beaudry describes Monday afternoon’s death as an isolated accident. He says no one else was injured and there was no collapse inside the mine. Beaudry says further details, including the identity of the miner, will be released once the family is notified. The body has been removed. The Mine Safety and Health Administration is investigating.
Ex- Cain spokeswoman hired by Idaho’s Labrador
BOISE — The former spokeswoman for Republican presidential hopeful Herman Cain has gone to work for U.S. Rep. Raul Labrador. The congressman’s office issued a statement today saying Ellen Carmichael had been hired as the new communications director for Labrador, a Republican who represents Idaho’s 1st Congressional District. Carmichael most recently served as the chief spokeswoman and communications director for Cain’s presidential campaign. She joined Labrador’s office in Washington, D.C., on Monday. Carmichael’s job history includes a stint as a Louisiana coordinator for the group, Americans for Prosperity, which was founded by two billionaire brothers who bankroll right-leaning causes. She is from Baton Rouge, La.
It wasn’t a crime to secretly record Eugene cop
PORTLAND — An Oregon Court of Appeals ruled it wasn’t a crime for a man to secretly record his encounter with a Eugene police officer. The court ruled last week it wasn’t necessary for Shane Neff to mention his cellphone because the officer already said he was recording with his patrol car camera. The traffic stop in 2008 ended in Neff’s arrest when the officer noticed the recording. While the Cottage Grove’s man case is settled, his lawyer, Bronson James of Portland, told The Oregonian the issue of recording public servants is still bubbling. He says it may be an issue for the Legislature. Eugene police now say they won’t arrest anyone whose only perceived crime is secretly recording officers.
Man accused in police shootout jailed
IDAHO FALLS, Idaho — A 31-year-old man charged in connection with a shootout with police has been released from the hospital and taken into the custody of the Bonneville County Jail. Scott Daniel Parker is charged with two counts of aggravated assault and other felonies. Prosecutors say he fled from police on Oct. 14 and exchanged gunfire with officers. Parker was hit three times in the shootout and hospitalized. Bonneville County Sheriff’s Deputy Nick Contreras was also injured but was treated and released the day of the gunfight. The Post Register reports Parker was transported to the local jail on Sunday. He is being held on $1 million bond.
Lewiston man sentenced for counterfeiting
COEUR d’ALENE — The U.S. attorney’s office in Idaho says a 43-year-old Lewiston man was sentenced to 18 months in prison for counterfeiting. Jeffrey Lee Bentley pleaded guilty to the charge in June and was sentenced Monday by U.S. District Judge Edward J. Lodge. The judge also ordered Bentley to serve three years of supervised release and pay a $3,000 fine. Prosecutors allege Bentley sold someone $1,800 in counterfeit currency from his home in Lewiston. Several days later, law enforcement officers searched his residence and seized two color printers, high quality paper and counterfeiting templates.
44 wolves killed by hunters so far
BUTTE, Mont. — State Fish, Wildlife and Parks officials say Montana hunters have killed 44 wolves, including 33 since the Oct. 22 start of the statewide deer and elk rifle season. Montana’s first wolf hunt, held in 2009, netted 73 wolves. This year’s quota is 220. FWP Region 2 wildlife manager Mike Thompson tells The Montana Standard that hunting has been slow in two areas. Just two of the allowed 18 wolves have been killed in the West Fork of the Bitterroot River area, while one of 22 has been taken in the district that includes the Big Hole Valley and most of Granite and Deer Lodge counties. Agency spokesman John Fraley says he expects the harvest will pick up when it snows. The wolf season lasts for two more months.
Tacoma judge warns victim’s family not to pray
TACOMA, Wash. — At a Tacoma murder trial the judge admonished the family of the victim against praying outside the courtroom. KIRO-TV reports the judge told the family of Camille Love to be sensitive to the risk of influencing the jurors and forcing a mistrial. One defense lawyer said he heard the family praying Monday for conviction of the four defendants. Love’s father said they were just praying for justice. The 20-year-old Love was shot to death in February 2009 as she rode in a car with her brother. Police say the gunmen were rival gang members.
Prison inmates helping harvest Washington apples
SEATTLE — Some prison inmates are now helping harvest Washington’s apple crop, as growers take unusual steps to deal with a labor shortage. The Seattle Times reports 105 inmates from the Olympic Corrections Center in Clallam County started picking apples Monday at a Grant County orchard, McDougall and Sons in Quincy. The grower agreed to pay $22 an hour for each offender, but that also covers housing, transportation and guards. Offenders get the minimum wage with amounts deducted for child support and crime-victim compensation. The prisoners are living in tents with mobile showers and kitchens.
Boy delays return to school in hazing case
KALISPELL, Mont. — Kalispell schools superintendent Darlene Schottle says a 15-year-old boy charged with assaulting teammates on a freshman football bus has not returned to Glacier High School. Schottle tells the Daily Inter Lake the district and the boy’s family decided it was in all the students’ best interests for the boy to attend classes in one of the district’s alternative settings. The boy had been scheduled to return to classes Monday, which was the start of the second quarter. However, parents of three of the boys who reported being assaulted on the bus sought a temporary restraining order to keep the boy out of school. The judge denied the request and set a Nov. 14 hearing on the matter. Schottle says the boy will attend alternative classes at least until the hearing is held. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
Performance standards and meat safety--developments and direction.
Performance standards have been developed to express, for regulatory purposes, an acceptable level of food safety afforded by either a product or a process. These performance standards have reflected the development of scientific thought on food safety management through setting of microbiological criteria, implementing hazard analysis critical control point (HACCP) systems, process control and risk-based management. In meat safety management, some performance standards reflect current risk-based thinking which sets objectives and/or criteria and allows freedom on how those objectives/criteria can be met. However, many performance standards do not reflect current thinking and some perpetuate the idea that meat can be consumed with zero risk. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | PubMed Abstracts |
The Jiu Jitsu Times recently posted a piece entitled, "Old Man Jiu Jitsu." Like much of what they post at TJJT, this piece is composed from several different original sources--ranging from a video by Rener and Ryron to excerpts from things Roy Harris has said over the years about rolling into your later years. Much of the advice given in this (and related) pieces is sensible. As a 43 year old with a replaced ACL and a three level cervical fusion, I am especially appreciative of the encouragement and advice. The more stubborn one is, the more difficult the transition to old age will be--especially on the mats (which are often filled with young, hungry grapplers who want to earn their stripes off your aging and aching back). But I nevertheless have a major complaint about this particular piece (and all previous iterations)--namely, it targets the *wrong audience*!
Before I explain what I mean, let me begin by favorably summarizing what Rener and Ryron call the "Boyd belts." On their view--which runs afoul of traditional Gracie orthodoxy (but that's neither here nor there for present purposes)--it turns out that size and age matter. Indeed, they matter enough to counter-act and countervail experience and skill under certain circumstances. As such, the Gracie brothers have adopted a general guideline for acknowledging the advantages that can be gained on the mats by size/strength and age alone. It works something like this: Every additional twenty pounds equals a higher belt level (all other things being equal). Similarly, every additional ten years equals a lower belt level. Here's how it works in practice: Take a 40 year old back belt who weighs 160 lbs. Imagine he's rolling with a 20 year old blue belt who weighs 200 lbs. If you apply the Boyd belt equation, the younger and heavier grappler effectively gains three belt levels for the weight advantage and an additional two belt levels for the age advantage. Obviously, this math doesn't work out especially well--since it should mean that the young blue belt should actually have an edge (which doesn't seem right, at least in my experience). But the underlying idea is right (even if it's application doesn't always work out accordingly). In short, youth and strength can offset skill and experience when the differential is great enough. This is clearly correct (as anyone knows who has spent enough time on the mats). So, why am I complaining about the piece in TJJT?
Here is the gist of my gripe--both about this piece and about similar pieces that get published from time to time: They are pitched at the old grapplers who are struggling to adjust to their aging bodies and diminishing strength in a sport with a constant influx of young and hungry grapplers who are often full of piss and vinegar (as they say). In short, the advice is directed at the geriatric wing of the jiu jitsu academy. Older grapplers are told how to temper their expectations, how to roll differently, how to keep themselves safe, how to keep their pride in check, how to adopt a more sustainable mindset and skill set, etc. Of course, this is all fine advice as far as it goes. But I think it only tells one side of the story--and in doing so, it places the responsibility squarely on the (often arthritic) shoulders of the wrong age group. For while it's certainly true that as we age, we need to rethink and refashion our approach--e.g., inverted guard works better at 20 years of age than 70 years of age, after all--the old farts amongst us are not the only ones who need to be sensitive to age and strength differentials.
Indeed, I think the problem lies more with the young guns than the aging lions. After all, it's easy to lose sight of the advantages one has when one is in one's physical prime. For instance, I just witnessed a student at our gym yesterday complain about being 28 (as if that were old)! We all had a good laugh, of course. But it represents an important lack of insight many of the younger practitioners in jiu jitsu carry with them into rolls with people who are sometimes twice their age. In a blind zeal to demonstrate just how tough they are and just how good they've become, the young ones often forget what an advantage it is to be in one's physical prime--especially in a sport which takes such a toll on the body as is the case with jiu jitsu. I spent a childhood wrestling and most of my 30s and 40s doing jiu jitsu. My body is pretty beat up--despite eating well, regularly doing mobility work, rolling smarter, etc. Yet, in a friendly roll at the gym against a newly minted blue belt, it may seem like we're competing for the Mundials. Why? Because the blue belt has failed to take into account my age and limitations. Rather than rolling at a reasonable rate and trying to learn from their more experienced elders, young grapplers often come out guns blazing--with imagined scores to settle and onlookers to impress. After all, submitting an older and more experienced grappler is viewed as a feather in one's developmental cap (rather than as a misguided effort and missed opportunity to learn from someone who has more to offer).
There are lots of reasons this youthful mindset is counter-productive and even toxic to gyms. First, in my experience, the older students are more likely to stick around, more likely to come to class, more likely to be on time with their dues, more willing to help others learn, etc. Yet, they are also more prone to injuries. So, when they are regularly forced through the paces--when flows rolls would have been more appropriate--there is a real risk that the gym will lose important assets as these old guards end up on the sidelines with minor (or even major) injuries. It's a net loss to the gym when a dedicated 40+ year old purple, brown, or black belt ends up having to spend time away from the gym. Conversely, young and hungry white and blue belts are usually in much more abundant supply. Second, when older and more experienced grapplers get the sense that a younger, lower belt is coming after them with more gusto than is necessary or appropriate, tempers are likely to flare. In these contexts, it is the younger grapplers who end up on the short end of the stick--since they get purposely roughed up more than would otherwise have been the case if they had just relaxed from the outset. I have to admit to being guilty as charged on this front. Through a life time of grappling, I have learned to apply an awful lot of pressure--pressure I rarely use in full force against training partners because...well, because we're just training partners after all! But when I get the 220+lb 20-something barreling into me like our lives depended on it, I am ready to give a free lesson in shoulder pressure from side control. Sometimes, this ends up being bad for my training partner. Sometimes, the extra effort ends up hurting me as well (or instead). This is a very counter-productive and completely avoidable state of affairs.
I am writing this piece to suggest that both the aging lions and the young guns share responsibility for maintaining the proper balance when it comes to differentials in strength, age, and experience. It's not all on me to learn "old man jiu jitsu." Those who are new to the sport also need to learn respect for their elders early on and view them as important and invaluable learning tools and not just opportunities to show off. Test your mettle against someone your own size, age, and experience. Tailor your rolls to your training partner. There is a time and a place for going all out and a time and a place to slow things down to work on minor details, key principles, etc. Pushing the pace against someone twice your age only shows your immaturity--nothing more. It doesn't prove a single positive thing about your jiu jitsu. So, while it is important for old farts like me to let go of our stubbornness and accept the inevitable failures of our bodies as we move into old age, it is no less important for young grapplers to do a better job of being mindful of who they're rolling with (and how to roll most productively). For if you try to bully me around when you're half my age, we may both end up being hurt. I, too, was a young lion once after all (with all the lingering pride that goes along with that fading status). That's a net loss not just for both of us--it's a net loss for the school as well. So, the moral of my story: While "old man jiu jitsu" is an important mindset for the aging lions to adopt, "young man jiu jitsu" ought to be a mindset that is cultivated in the up-and-comers as well.
In short, the lesson is simple: Hespect your elders! The more this lesson is learned, the less time the aging lions have to spend learning old man jiu jitsu! The flow rolls will take care of themselves (to everyone's betterment and advantage). | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
Immediate passive motion versus immobilization after endoscopic supraspinatus tendon repair: a prospective randomized study.
Rehabilitation programs after rotator cuff repair should allow recovery of shoulder function without preventing tendon healing. The aim of this randomized prospective study was to compare the clinical results after two types of postoperative management: immediate passive motion versus immobilization. We followed 100 patients, mean age 55 years old, who underwent arthroscopic repair of a non-retracted supraspinatus tear. Patients were randomized to receive postoperative management of immediate passive motion or strict immobilization for 6 weeks. A clinical evaluation was performed in 92 patients, and CT arthrography in 82. Mean follow-up was 15 months. The mean preoperative Constant score improved significantly from 46.1 points to 73.9 at the final follow-up. The rate of intact cuffs was 58.5%. Functional results were statistically better after immediate passive motion with a mean passive external rotation of 58.7° at the final follow-up versus 49.1° after immobilization (P=0.011), a passive anterior elevation of 172.4° versus 163.3° (P=0.094) respectively, a Constant score of 77.6 points versus 69.7 (P=0.045) respectively, and a lower rate of adhesive capsulitis and complex regional pain syndrome. Results for healing seemed to be slightly better with immobilization, but this was not statistically significant: the cuff had a normal appearance in 35.9% of cases after immobilization compared to 25.6% after passive motion, an image of intratendinous addition was found in 25.6% versus 30.2%, punctiform leaks in 23.1% versus 20.9%, and recurrent tears in 15.4% versus 23.3% respectively. The rehabilitation program that results in better tendon healing by preventing postoperative stiffness has not yet been identified. Our results suggest that early passive motion should be authorized: the functional results were better with no significant difference in healing. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | PubMed Abstracts |
Seriously, Limitless is Citizen Kane in comparison to Lucy - a film so dull and full of bullshit that when power went down somewhere around 1h of its running time - I just said 'Thanks Heavens, it must be a sign'.
So yeah - a rare case of film I could not even watch till the end. Not that I wanted or will want.
I don't mind stupid movies, I just cannot stand a dumb movie that pretends it is actually clever.
A sidenote - never saw Citizen Kane - but heard it is some kind of a masterpiece.
Singer nailed it like in old days.
Also, he basically rebooted the franchise, which is cool cause it allows for completely new shit to happen. Unless Bryan is put in jail for his wrongdoings, hopefully allegations will turn out to be made up.
Watched it the other night. Expected it to be worse than it actually was. Kinda watchable. Liked special effects, most of them were pretty good. Maybe some shaky cam could be removed. The biggest problem for me was the fact that the film didn't know what is its main theme - dumb action or philosophical issues of what means to be a human, existential questions, etc. Too much of a mix for my liking, it should stick to either of those, otherwise I'm confused as to what I am supposed to feel while watching. Or maybe I stick too much to internal directives.
Even after reading this 5 star review I cannot find anything 'classic' in the movie. Nothing new that has been already shown. Shouting Leo - check, fat Hill behaving like he's retarded - check, drug abuse - check, nudity - check.
A story told from Jordan's perspective (based on his own book) doesn't give a crap about people he tricked, and now we are tricked into buying tickets to see his 'career' proving that being a prick getting wealthy does really pay off. A few years in a prison and you can even write a book and then get some more money. And now it's getting Oscars as well.
Sad.
PS. The funniest moment:
During plane flight, it turns out that our lovable criminals having no issues with cheating, drug abusing, screwing all that breathes and has vagina - they in fact are afraid of only one thing - saying out loud a word 'nigger'.
Anyways, liked Wolvie taking crap on a front lawn.
Also, too bad you ditched idea of Italian posters, looked damn promising. Fuck the political corectness, what's funny about making jokes about oneself when you can do it about anyone. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
Bone SPET of symptomatic lumbar spondylolysis.
The aim of this study was to clarify the clinical role of bone single photon emission tomography (SPET) of the lumbar spine in young persons with persistent lumbar pain which might be due to spondylolysis. Thirty-one bone SPET studies were performed on 25 patients (19 males, 6 females) aged 7-26 years (average 15.6 years) who had suffered lumbar pain associated with physical activity, and who were suspected of having spondylolysis. Planar and SPET images of the lumbar spine were obtained 2-3 h following the injection of 99Tc(m)-methylene diphosphonate using a single-head rotating gamma camera. The findings on the bone scintigram were compared with those on the radiograph. Bone scintigraphy at presentation was positive in only 7 of 15 sites of the pars interarticularis defects demonstrated on plain radiographs. On the other hand, seven sites of the pars interarticularis which were normal on the radiograph were positive on bone SPET. As clinical symptoms improved after immobilization using a lumbar corset, bone SPET tended to revert towards normal. The planar image was abnormal in only 8 (42%) of the 19 abnormal sites on the SPET image. A bone SPET study is indicated in patients who are negative on radiological tests and who are still suspected of having spondylolysis. If SPET is positive in these patients, the increased bone uptake is most likely suggestive of a state of 'stress reaction', and may be a good indicator for patient management. If negative, further radiological examinations will be required for proper assessment of the origin of lumbar pain. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | PubMed Abstracts |
Introduction {#s1}
============
The epigenome consists of inter-related layers of molecular marks on the DNA that represent non-genetic, but stable and mitotically heritable information determining the gene-expression potential of a genomic region [@pone.0037933-Jaenisch1]. Studies in animal models show that environmental factors during early development can cause persistent epigenetic changes in DNA methylation that are associated with disease-related phenotypes [@pone.0037933-Bogdarina1], [@pone.0037933-Carone1]. This suggests that the prenatal environment ('nurture') can persistently influence the expression of DNA sequences ('nature') [@pone.0037933-Waterland1]. Recent studies stress that variation in DNA methylation is primarily influenced by genetic variation [@pone.0037933-Gertz1] and that the DNA sequence itself dictates the DNA methylation state of a locus [@pone.0037933-Lienert1].
Although there is evidence for distinct environmental and genetic influences on DNA methylation, it is not clear how both factors may interact and determine the DNA methylation levels at a particular locus. We at least are not aware of any such studies. Insight in these matters is of interest for the interpretation of epigenome-wide association studies (EWASs) [@pone.0037933-Rakyan1] and studies investigating the developmental origins hypothesis [@pone.0037933-Waterland1]. We address this issue by further evaluating the interplay between environmental and genetic factors with respect to DNA methylation for selected regulatory loci within the *IGF2/H19* region.
The *IGF2/H19* imprinted region is one of the best-understood epigenetically controlled loci involving the methylation of various differentially methylated regions (DMRs). Previous studies reported that DNA methylation at the *IGF2* DMR0 is associated with genetic factors [@pone.0037933-Heijmans1]--[@pone.0037933-Ollikainen1] and the prenatal environment, including periconceptional exposure to the Dutch Famine at the end of WW2 [@pone.0037933-Heijmans2] and maternal folic acid supplementation [@pone.0037933-SteegersTheunissen1].Therefore the methylation at selected loci in the *IGF2*/*H19* region in individuals exposed to prenatal famine may offer a special opportunity to evaluate the interplay between genetics and environment on DNA methylation.
The correct mono-allelic expression of genes in *IGF2*/*H19* region in somatic cells is regulated by several DMRs ([Figure 1](#pone-0037933-g001){ref-type="fig"}) [@pone.0037933-Edwards1], [@pone.0037933-Ideraabdullah1]. Going from centromere to telomere, the first DMR is the imprinted insulin promoter (*INS*) [@pone.0037933-Moore1], which also influences the neighboring insulin-like growth factor 2 (*IGF2*) gene [@pone.0037933-Ferguson1]. *INS* forms a fusion transcript between *INS* and *IGF2* during early development, called *INSIGF* [@pone.0037933-Monk1] and DNA methylation at this locus is correlated with *INS* transcription [@pone.0037933-Yang1]. The next DMR is *IGF2* DMR0 (alternate name *IGF2* DMR) at which abnormal DNA methylation is associated with bi-allelic expression of *IGF2* [@pone.0037933-Cui1], [@pone.0037933-Cui2]. The *IGF2* DMR1, within a large CpG island overlapping the *IGF2AS* promoter (alternate name *PEG8*), is reported to have an insulator function and bind CTCF [@pone.0037933-Du1]. *IGF2* DMR2 was also reported to act as an insulator and to bind CTCF and aberrant DNA methylation at the locus is associated with a loss of imprinting [@pone.0037933-Dejeux1]. The final DMR is located in the promoter of the *H19* transcript that directly flanks the imprinting control region. Aberrant DNA methylation at this DMR is correlated with a loss of imprinting and over-expression [@pone.0037933-Takai1].
{#pone-0037933-g001}
Here, we present an in-depth characterization of DNA methylation differences at nine regulatory loci within five DMRs across the *IGF2/H19* region between 60 individuals exposed periconceptional to the Dutch Famine and 60 same-sex sibling controls without prenatal famine exposure. All individuals are part of our ongoing Dutch Hunger Winter Families Study [@pone.0037933-Lumey1]. We examined if the famine associations are locus specific or extend to multiple functional loci. We also examined a measure of global methylation to compare the locus-specific associations with possible overall genomic effects after famine exposure. Moreover, we evaluated the association between *IGF2/H19* methylation and common genetic variation in the sibling pairs by genotyping tagging SNPs. Finally, we tested if the associations between famine exposure and genetic variation are independent and contrasted the effect sizes of these associations to describe the relative contribution of 'nature' and 'nurture' to variation in DNA methylation at *IGF2/H19*.
Results {#s2}
=======
Analysis of *IGF2*/*H19* methylation {#s2a}
------------------------------------
Within the five DMRs, nine methylated loci were reported to regulate imprinting and expression of *INS*, *INSIGF*, *IGF2* and *H19* ([Figure 1](#pone-0037933-g001){ref-type="fig"}) [@pone.0037933-Murrell1], [@pone.0037933-Monk1]--[@pone.0037933-Dejeux1], [@pone.0037933-Boissonnas1]--[@pone.0037933-Otte1]. We analyzed DNA methylation at one locus in the *INS* promoter (*INSIGF*), three in *IGF2* DMR0 (*IGF2* DMR0 downstr., *IGF2* DMR and *IGF2* DMR0 upstr.), two in *IGF2* DMR1 (*IGF2AS* CTCF and *IGF2AS*) and two in DMR2 (*IGF2* DMR2 CTCF and *IGF2* DMR2 S.L.) and one in the *H19* DMR (*H19* DMR). Information on the functionality of these loci is provided in the [materials and methods](#s4){ref-type="sec"} section. The precise genomic locations are given in a .BED file (BED S1) and in table S1. Information on the individual CpG dinucleotides measured within each locus is given in table S2. We measured DNA methylation at these loci in 60 individuals with periconceptional famine exposure and 60 unexposed, same-sex siblings. DNA methylation was quantitatively assessed by mass spectrometry (Epityper [@pone.0037933-Ehrich1]), which quantifies the number of methylated and unmethylated fragments following bisulfite PCR and base specific cleavage.
Inspection of DNA methylation patterns showed that DNA methylation at different loci assayed within a DMR was correlated ([Figure 2A](#pone-0037933-g002){ref-type="fig"}), except for DMR2. In DMR2, methylation at the *IGF2* DMR2 CTCF locus (a CTCF binding site [@pone.0037933-Du1]) was not correlated with the *IGF2* DMR2 S.L. locus (a DNA stem loop structure [@pone.0037933-Otte1]). In view of the high within DMR correlation, the three loci assayed for *IGF2* DMR0 and the two for *IGF2* DMR1 were also analyzed as a single locus. Positive correlations were observed between DMRs, in particular between DMR0, DMR1, DMR2 CTCF and *INSIGF*. Interestingly these loci are located up to 10 kb apart. To a lesser extent, correlations were also observed between *H19* DMR and DMR2 S.L.
{#pone-0037933-g002}
Prenatal famine exposure and IGF2/H19 methylation {#s2b}
-------------------------------------------------
We previously reported on the association of methylation at the *INS* promoter locus *INSIGF* with periconceptional famine exposure [@pone.0037933-Tobi1]. The *INSIGF* methylation was 1.5% lower in exposed individuals as compared to the unexposed siblings (P~BH~ = 0.015 after Benjamini--Hochberg adjustment for multiple testing). Expressed relative to the standard deviation in controls of 2.6%, this difference corresponds to a standardized effect size of −0.6 SD units ([Table 1](#pone-0037933-t001){ref-type="table"}).
10.1371/journal.pone.0037933.t001
###### The associations between periconceptional famine exposure and DNA methylation.
{#pone-0037933-t001-1}
Locus Controls Methylation (sd) %[1](#nt101){ref-type="table-fn"} Exp. --Unexp. (%)[2](#nt102){ref-type="table-fn"} Effect size[3](#nt103){ref-type="table-fn"} P P~BH~ [4](#nt104){ref-type="table-fn"}
---------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------- -------------- ----------------------------------------
*INSIGF* *84.8 (2.6)* *−1.5* *−0.6* *4.0×10^−3^* *0.015*
*IGF2 DMR0* *53.3(3.3)* *−2.0* *−0.6* *2.7×10^−4^* *2.9×10^−3^*
*IGF2* DMR0 downstr. 71.2(3.3) −1.6 −0.6 0.024 0.038
*IGF2* DMR 51.5(5.5) −2.4 −0.5 5.3×10^−4^ 2.9×10^−3^
*IGF2* DMR0 upstr. 44.2(4.0) −1.9 −0.4 6.0×10^−3^ 0.017
*IGF2 DMR1* *6.4(0.8)* *0.4* *+0.5* *9.0×10^−3^* *0.020*
*IGF2AS* CTCF 4.3(0.9) 0.3 +0.3 0.040 0.049
*IGF2AS* 8.6(1.0) 0.4 +0.4 0.038 0.049
*IGF2 DMR2*
*IGF2* DMR2 S.L. 49.8(6.3) 0.4 +0.1 0.78 0.78
*IGF2* DMR2 CTCF 50.8(2.7) −1.2 −0.4 0.012 0.022
*H19 DMR* *30.6 (2.6)* *−0.5* *−0.2* *0.36* *0.39*
The average DNA methylation in the unexposed sibling controls and the standard deviation of this average, both given in %.
The within pair difference in DNA methylation resulting from a linear mixed model corrected for age at blood drawl, correlations between CpG sites, bisulfite conversion batch and with a random effect for sib ship and a random slope for exposure status.
The effect size of the within pair difference in relation to the standard deviation in the population.
Two-sided P-value, Benjamini-Hochberg ('FDR') corrected for 11 tests.
*IGF2* DMR0 methylation was lower in the exposed siblings (Δ = −2.0%; P~BH~ = 2.9×10^−3^), corresponding to a standardized effect size of −0.6 SD units, similar to what was also observed for *INSIGF* ([table 1](#pone-0037933-t001){ref-type="table"}). When analyzed separately, all 3 loci measured within the *IGF2* DMR0 (a locus previously analyzed in this study population [@pone.0037933-Heijmans2] and two newly measured loci flanking that locus), were similarly associated with prenatal famine exposure ([figure 2B](#pone-0037933-g002){ref-type="fig"} and [Table 1](#pone-0037933-t001){ref-type="table"}). Subsequent analysis of individual CpG dinucleotides in these loci showed a significant association for nine out of twelve CpG containing fragments (table S2, [Figure 2B](#pone-0037933-g002){ref-type="fig"}).
Methylation at the *IGF2* DMR1 was higher in exposed individuals as compared with controls (P~BH~ = 0.020), but the absolute difference in DNA methylation was very small (Δ = +0.5%). The difference corresponds to a standardized effect size of 0.5 SD units, similar to that observed for *INSIGF* and *IGF2* DMR0, which is related to the lower inter-individual variation at DMR1 ([Table 1](#pone-0037933-t001){ref-type="table"}). DNA methylation at the two individual loci measured within *IGF2* DMR1 was likewise modestly higher in those exposed periconceptional (P~BH~ = 0.049). In contrast to other associated DMRs, only a small minority of CpG dinucleotides within the two DMR1 loci (3/24) were statistically significant (table S2).
DNA methylation of the two loci measured in *IGF2* DMR2 was not correlated and therefore analyzed separately. The *IGF2* DMR2 CTCF locus showed a significant association with famine exposure (Δ = −1.2%, P~BH~ = 0.02). With an effect size of −0.4 SD units this association was similar to those found for the other investigated *IGF2* DMRs ([Table 1](#pone-0037933-t001){ref-type="table"}). All three individual CpG sites showed a lower methylation level in the exposed compared to the controls and for two out of three the difference was statistically significant (table S2). The *IGF2* DMR2 S.L. locus was not associated with famine exposure (P~BH~ = 0.78) and DNA methylation at the *H19* DMR was also not significantly associated with prenatal famine exposure (P~BH~ = 0.39).
To evaluate whether the generally lower DNA methylation at *IGF2* DMRs was related to an overall lower genomic DNA methylation, we measured LINE-1 methylation, an estimate of global methylation [@pone.0037933-Wang1]. LINE-1 methylation was 61.2% (SD 1.4%) in controls and this was not different from individuals with periconceptional famine exposure (Δ = −0.4%, P = 0.15, table S2). This result confirms our previous report that prenatal famine had no effect on three other measures of global methylation in this study population [@pone.0037933-Lumey2] and indicates the absence of a general trend towards either reduced or increased genomic DNA methylation.
Genetic variation and IGF2/H19 methylation {#s2c}
------------------------------------------
To capture common genetic variation at the *IGF2*/*H19* locus, 21 SNPs were genotyped. The SNPs were selected as tagging SNPs from the HAPMAP CEU panel or selected from literature ([figure 1](#pone-0037933-g001){ref-type="fig"}, table S3 and S4). Linkage disequilibrium (LD) analysis indicated that 16 of the 21 SNPs captured the common genetic variation marked by these SNPs (R^2^\>0.9). Of these sixteen SNPs, four were located in the *H19* region and twelve in the *IGF2*-*INS* region; no LD was observed between the two regions ([Figure 1](#pone-0037933-g001){ref-type="fig"}). Genotype frequencies were similar in exposed individuals and unexposed siblings (P\>0.13, without multiple testing correction).
We then explored which of these sixteen tagging SNPs was associated with DNA methylation at the *IGF2*/*H19* DMRs in the sixty sib ships (N = 120). DNA methylation at *INSIGF* was significantly associated with SNPs in *IGF2* (rs3741211 \[β = −1.5% per minor allele, P~BH~ = 3.4×10^−3^\]) and *INSIGF* (rs3842756 \[β = −2.0%, P~BH~ = 3.9×10^−4^\] and rs689 \[β = −2.3%, P~BH~ = 7.1×10^−6^\]) ([Table 2](#pone-0037933-t002){ref-type="table"}). The standardized effect size of associations increased with decreasing distance from the DMRs (from −0.6 to −0.9 SD units per minor allele, [Figure 3](#pone-0037933-g003){ref-type="fig"}). The largest effect size was observed for the association of rs689, which is in perfect LD with the *INS* VNTR I/III alleles in Caucasian populations [@pone.0037933-Bennett1], with *INSIGF* methylation (−0.9 SD; P~BH~ = 7.1×10^−6^). Other nominally significant associations with *INSIGF* (P\<0.05 and P~BH~\>0.05) are reported in table S7 and in [figure 3](#pone-0037933-g003){ref-type="fig"}.
{#pone-0037933-g003}
10.1371/journal.pone.0037933.t002
###### The significant associations between SNPs and DNA methylation.
{#pone-0037933-t002-2}
Locus Meth. (sd) in % Effect of genotype on DNA methylation[3](#nt107){ref-type="table-fn"}
------- ----------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------------- ------ ------ ------------ ------------
rs3741211 −1.5 −0.6 1.1×10^−4^ 3.4×10^−3^
rs3842756 −2.0 −0.8 8.2×10^−6^ 3.9×10^−4^
rs689 −2.3 −0.9 7.4×10^−8^ 7.1×10^−6^
*IGF2* DMR0 53.3(3.3) SNP *B* effect size P P~BH~
------------- ----------- ----------- ------ ------------- ------------ -------
rs2239681 −1.3 −0.4 1.1×10^−3^ 0.027
The change in average DNA methylation in % with each minor allele. From a linear mixed model corrected for age at blood drawl, correlations between CpG sites, bisulfite conversion batch and with a random effect for sib ship and a random slope for exposure status. The genotype was added as continues variable.
The effect size of the beta in relation to the variation in DNA methylation in the population.
The associations that survive multiple testing correction; a complete overview off all the results is given in tables S5A--C.
Two-sided P-value, after Benjamini-Hochberg correction.
For *IGF2* DMR0, rs2239681 was associated with DNA methylation (β = −1.3%, P~BH~ = 0.027; [Figure 3](#pone-0037933-g003){ref-type="fig"}, table S7). For two SNPs nominally significantly associations were observed, which included rs680 (i.e. "*Apa*I", β = −1.1, P = 0.017 \[P~BH~ = 0.17\]), for which we reported an association previously [@pone.0037933-Heijmans1].
For *IGF2* DMR1 no statistically significant associations were observed after accounting for multiple testing. One of the three nominally significant associations was rs689 marking the *INS* VNTR located near *INSIGF* ([Figure 3](#pone-0037933-g003){ref-type="fig"}, [Table S6](#pone.0037933.s007){ref-type="supplementary-material"}).
The two loci in *IGF2* DMR2 (CTCF and S.L.) were analyzed separately in contrast to the loci comprising the other DMRs because the methylation levels were not correlated ([Figure 2A](#pone-0037933-g002){ref-type="fig"}). No associations were observed for *IGF2* DMR2 CTCF and S.L. when accounting for multiple testing. Two nominally significant association were found for the *H19* SNPs rs2251375 and rs4929983 (tagging rs10732516 in the ICR\'s sixth CTCF binding site [@pone.0037933-Coolen1]) and *IGF2* DMR2 S.L. DNA methylation ([Figure 3](#pone-0037933-g003){ref-type="fig"}, [Table S5](#pone.0037933.s006){ref-type="supplementary-material"}, [Table S6](#pone.0037933.s007){ref-type="supplementary-material"}). For *H19* DMR, no associations were observed in line with earlier observations [@pone.0037933-Heijmans1].
Prenatal famine exposure and genetic variation {#s2d}
----------------------------------------------
Expressed as standardized effect sizes, the average DNA methylation difference between exposed individuals and unexposed siblings was 0.5 SD units for significantly associated DMRs (P~BH~\<0.05). A similar average of 0.5 SD per minor allele was observed for associated SNPs (P~BH~\<0.05; [Figure 3](#pone-0037933-g003){ref-type="fig"}). Since the methylation at several loci was associated with both famine exposure and SNPs in these sibling pairs, the analyses for associations between prenatal famine and DMR methylation were repeated with adjustment for the SNPs significantly associated with DMR methylation (either nominally or after correction for multiple testing). All famine associations remained statistically significant and the effect sizes remained similar (table S8). Similarly, the genetic associations were not affected after adjustment for prenatal famine exposure (table S9).
Next, we tested for possible interactions between famine exposure and genetic variation with respect to the DNA methylation levels at *IGF2*/*H19*. No interaction was significant after control for multiple testing. Of all tested interactions, only the interactions between prenatal famine exposure and *INSIGF* SNPs rs3842756 (P = 0.048) and rs689 (P = 0.016) in relation to *IGF2* DMR1 methylation were nominally significant. The effect of prenatal famine exposure and genetic variation on DNA methylation at the DMRs therefore appear to be additive.
Discussion {#s3}
==========
We studied the relations between periconceptional famine exposure, genetic variation and DNA methylation at DMRs in the imprinted *IGF2/H19* region. Famine exposure was associated with widespread but modest differences in DNA methylation across multiple DMRs within the *INS* and *IGF2* transcribed region. Associations of SNPs with DNA methylation at the *IGF2*/*H19* DMRs were likewise common and modest. When expressed relative to the variation in DNA methylation in the population, prenatal famine and SNPs were associated with similar effect sizes, around 0.5 SD units. Periconceptional famine exposure and genetic variation were associated with DNA methylation at the same DMRs and these associations were independent of each other.
We previously reported a decrease in *IGF2* DMR0 methylation after periconceptional exposure to famine [@pone.0037933-Heijmans2]. DNA methylation at two loci directly flanking this locus was similarly associated, extending the affected region in DMR0 to a region of 1.5 kb. Significant differences in DNA methylation were also observed for *IGF2* DMR1, DMR2 and *INSIGF*. Despite being widespread and statistically significant, the absolute differences between the exposed and their siblings varied and were modest (\<3.6 percent points) and represent a moderate change when set out against the inter-individual variation (∼0.5 SD units). Long-term functional consequences of such small absolute changes, which were also reported for other exposures [@pone.0037933-SteegersTheunissen1], [@pone.0037933-Breton1]--[@pone.0037933-Waterland2], remain to be established.
Wide-spread small changes were suggested to be a plausible mechanism by which epigenetic fine-tuning of pathways may occur [@pone.0037933-Stoger1]. In this respect it is of interest to note that the magnitude of the effect sizes was similar for all DMRs. We are the first to show that a prenatal environmental exposure may influence DNA methylation at multiple distinct regulatory sites within the same gene. Small variations in DNA methylation at particular loci associated with prenatal human environmental exposures [@pone.0037933-SteegersTheunissen1], [@pone.0037933-Tobi1], [@pone.0037933-Breton1], [@pone.0037933-Hoyo1], [@pone.0037933-Murphy1], risk factors for disease [@pone.0037933-Bouchard1], [@pone.0037933-Hoyo2], or clinical end-points [@pone.0037933-Talens1], may represent variation at multiple sites.
The similarity of the effect sizes among the DMRs may also reflect a molecular remnant of differences in gene expression during the periconceptional period among famine exposed individuals. A study in mouse oocytes showed that active transcription influences the DNA methylation deposition at *Gnas* and other imprinted DMRs [@pone.0037933-Chotalia1]. In addition, changes in gene expression during late mouse liver development also influences DNA methylation at various genes [@pone.0037933-Waterland3]. In view of these studies, the decrease in DMR0 and DMR2 methylation may reflect a temporary decrease in *IGF2* transcription. These differences may initially have been larger than currently observed, as they were measured six decades after the actual exposure. After the exposure, the differences may have been diluted by other environmental influences [@pone.0037933-Breitling1] and stochastic changes accumulating during ageing [@pone.0037933-Talens2]. However, the subtle nature of the DNA methylation differences on a population level may also be inherent to the noise in the epigenetic response to environmental exposures [@pone.0037933-Waterland4].
Another aspect potentially contributing noise is the cellular heterogeneity of whole blood, the sample type currently studied. However, *IGF2* DMR0 methylation was shown not to be influenced by cellular heterogeneity, nor was there a difference between buccal cells and blood for this DMR [@pone.0037933-Talens2]. Although this does not exclude differences between blood cell types for loci within *IGF2*/*H19*, including DMR0 [@pone.0037933-Ollikainen1], this implies that the combination of the small size of these differences between cell types in combination with the limited variation in proportions of these cell types in blood between individuals is unlikely to have influenced our observations for this imprinted locus. Moreover, animal studies showed that both an exposures during gametogenesis [@pone.0037933-Carone1] and the early post conception stage [@pone.0037933-Morgan1] can both lead to epigenetic differences observed in multiple tissues in adults, presumably because they were propagated soma-wide. Therefore, if differences were induced early in human development, for example by periconceptional famine exposure, they could likewise be propagated soma-wide and be present across cell-types and tissues [@pone.0037933-Heijmans3]. We currently do not have access to other (internal) tissues in our cohort to test this hypothesis, an important issue in epigenetic epidemiology [@pone.0037933-Heijmans4].
Previous studies suggest that 95% of reported associations between SNPs and DNA methylation occurred for SNPs located within 149 kb of the CpG dinucleotides [@pone.0037933-Zhang1] with a peak at a physical distance of just 45 bp [@pone.0037933-Gibbs1]. Indeed, associations were most frequent between DMRs and adjacent SNPs in our study. The effect sizes we found are smaller than those reported in some genome-wide studies [@pone.0037933-Bell1], but comparable to those reported by Bell *et al*. for SNPs influencing DNA methylation at *FTO* [@pone.0037933-Bell2]. Our study is comparable in size to these studies. We confirm an association for SNPs and *IGF2* DMR methylation as seen in a study among mono- and dizygotic twins [@pone.0037933-Heijmans1] and our findings are also in line with results from two larger studies in unrelated individuals and twins for *IGF2* DMR and *H19* [@pone.0037933-Coolen1], [@pone.0037933-Nagaya1].
The most significant association between genetic variation and *IGF2*/*H19* DNA methylation was observed for rs689 and *INS* promoter methylation (*INSIGF*) (effect size of −0.9 SD units, or −2.3% percent points per minor allele, ∼140 bp distance). SNP rs689 is a perfect proxy for the class I and III alleles of the *INS* VNTR in European populations [@pone.0037933-Bennett1] and associations between the *INS* VNTR and type 2 diabetes (T2D), metabolic syndrome and early growth have been frequently reported by some [@pone.0037933-Gaunt1], [@pone.0037933-Heude1], but also refuted by others [@pone.0037933-Heude1]--[@pone.0037933-Maas1]. The *INS* VNTR was reported to influence insulin gene expression [@pone.0037933-DAleo1] and DNA methylation at the *INS* promoter were found to be correlated with *INS* expression, HbA~1c~ levels and T2D [@pone.0037933-Yang1]. Our findings that the *INS* VNTR is associated with *INS* promoter methylation may shed new light on the association of the VNTR with *INS* expression and the metabolic syndrome [@pone.0037933-Le1]. This assumes of course that our findings in blood cells extend to relevant tissues directly involved in these conditions. Tissue specificity is not only an issue for associations between the (prenatal) environment and DNA methylation [@pone.0037933-Heijmans4], but also for SNP-DNA methylation associations: a sizeable number of associations between SNPs and DNA methylation in a large study on DNA methylation from four different brain regions were found to be tissue specific [@pone.0037933-Gibbs1].
In conclusion, our observations that *INSIGF* and *IGF2* DMR0 DNA methylation levels are independently associated with genetic and early environmental factors is relevant for the design and interpretation of epigenetic association studies involving *IGF2*/*H19*. Our analyses indicate that Mendelian randomization approaches are feasible to infer causality for associations observed between DNA methylation and disease phenotypes [@pone.0037933-Davey1]. Secondly, our results will be relevant for the interpretation of epigenome-wide association studies as genomic and environmental forces may act in tandem through the epigenome on the phenotype of interest. There may be similar and additive effects of 'nurture' and 'nature' on DNA methylation within *IGF2*/*H19*. Thus, for some loci, epigenetics may be the information layer in which the classical contrast between 'nurture' and 'nature' debate comes to a modern molecular synthesis [@pone.0037933-Petronis1].
Materials and Methods {#s4}
=====================
Study population {#s4a}
----------------
The characteristics and detailed recruitment of the Hunger Winter Families Study were described previously [@pone.0037933-Lumey1]. In short, study subjects were selected from births between 1943--1947 at three institutions in famine-exposed cities (the midwifery training schools in Amsterdam and Rotterdam and the Leiden University Medical Center) and include singleton births exposed to famine *in utero*, same-sex sibling controls not exposed during *in utero* development and time controls conceived and born either just before or just after the famine. Ethical approval for the study was obtained from the participating institutions and all participants provided written informed consent.
Despite the war, nutrition in the Netherlands had generally been adequate until October 1944 [@pone.0037933-Trienekens1]. Thereafter, supplies became increasingly scarce. By the end of November, the level of official supplementary rations, which eventually consisted of little more than bread and potatoes, had fallen below 1,000 kcal per day, and by April 1945 they were as low as 500 kcal per day [@pone.0037933-Burger1]. Since the Dutch population was well fed before and after the famine and since the famine period was shorter than the nine months of human gestation, individuals can be defined by exposure during specific periods of their development in uterus.
In this study we use a subset of the 313 singleton births in the larger cohort [@pone.0037933-Lumey1] who were exposed to the Dutch famine *in utero* and who completed a clinical examination together with a same-sex sibling without prenatal famine exposure. Whole blood was collected from all individuals for DNA extraction during this examination. We focused on individuals whose mother was exposed to famine around the moment of conception and in the first 10 weeks of gestation. These 'periconceptionally' exposed individuals were defined as births with a mother\'s estimated last menstrual period between November 28, 1944 and May 15, 1945. This group includes 60 individuals of whom 28 are male and 32 are female (age at examination and blood draw 58.1 y \[SD, 0.35 y\]). As controls we used their unexposed same-sex sibling for (partial) genetic and gender matching (age at examination and blood draw 57.0 y \[SD, 5.9 y\]). 24 controls were conceived and born before the famine (11 male, 13 female) and 36 individuals were conceived and born after the famine (17 male and 19 female). The studied population includes 120 individuals in total.
DNA methylation assay design {#s4b}
----------------------------
We used BLAT against genome build 36 in the UCSC genome browser [@pone.0037933-Kent1] to find the locations in 11p15.5 mentioned in the various original articles [@pone.0037933-Murrell1], [@pone.0037933-Monk1]--[@pone.0037933-Dejeux1], [@pone.0037933-Boissonnas1]--[@pone.0037933-Otte1]. We provide a .BED file showing the various locations assayed and the location of the elements from the original articles on which they were based with the (BED S1). From the centromere outwards the loci were chosen as follows ([Figure 1](#pone-0037933-g001){ref-type="fig"}).
The *INSIGF* locus was previously measured by us [@pone.0037933-Tobi1], [@pone.0037933-Talens2], [@pone.0037933-Tobi2], is imprinted [@pone.0037933-Monk1] and DNA methylation is correlated with expression [@pone.0037933-Yang1]. Three loci were designed for the *IGF2* promoter region, *IGF2* DMR0, at which hypomethylation is associated with bi-allelic expression [@pone.0037933-Cui1], [@pone.0037933-Cui2]. *IGF2* DMR upstream (upstr.) and *IGF2* DMR downstream (downstr.) directly flank the *IGF2* DMR locus that we measured previously in this cohort [@pone.0037933-Heijmans2]. *IGF2* DMR downstr. is located next to the "P0" promoter, which interacts with the imprinting control region [@pone.0037933-Nativio1]. Two loci were designed to cover the promoter region of the *IGF2*AS transcript, which we name *IGF2* DMR1. One of these loci shows CTCF binding activity (*IGF2*AS CTCF) and one locus demonstrated insulator activity (*IGF2*AS) [@pone.0037933-Du1]. Two loci overlap the *IGF2* DMR2, of which aberrant DNA methylation has been linked to loss of imprinting (LOI) [@pone.0037933-Dejeux1] and male fertility [@pone.0037933-Boissonnas1]. *IGF2* DMR2 CTCF overlaps a CTCF binding site [@pone.0037933-Du1], while IGF2 DMR2 S.L. overlaps a highly conserved DNA stem loop structure [@pone.0037933-Otte1]. Last, the *H19* DMR locus was previously designed [@pone.0037933-Heijmans1] to measure part of the *H19* promoter at which aberrant DNA methylation was found to correlate with LOI and over expression [@pone.0037933-Takai1]. Several primer pairs for the sixth CTCF binding site in the ICR from literature and from our own design were tested, but gave a-specific PCR products or amplification of genomic, non-bisulfite treated DNA in our automated work-flow. We also estimated global methylation using an assay for LINES-1 [@pone.0037933-Wang1], based on the same technique.
Primers were designed using Methprimer [@pone.0037933-Li1]. The resulting primer and amplicon locations were checked against the latest version of dbSNP and for their spectrum characteristics with the R package RSeqMeth [@pone.0037933-Coolen2]. The sequences of the primers used in our study and the genomic locations they amplify are given in table S1.
DNA methylation measurements {#s4c}
----------------------------
Genomic DNA from whole blood was isolated using the salting-out method. Bisulfite treatment on 500 ng of genomic was performed with the EZ 96-DNA methylation kit (Zymo Research) with overnight bisulfite incubation according to the supplier\'s protocol. The 60 sibling pairs were randomly distributed over two 96 well plates with similar proportions of male and female pairs on each plate. DNA methylation was quantitatively assessed for each locus using the mass spectrometry based Epityper assay (Sequenom, USA) in triplicate using the manufacturers\' protocol on one 384 well plate. PCR was performed with the following cycling protocol: 15 minutes at 95°C, four rounds of 20 seconds at 95°C, 30 seconds at 65°C, 1 minute at 72°C; followed by forty rounds, 20 seconds at 95°C, 30 seconds at 58°C and 1 minute at 72°C; ending with 3 minutes at 72°C. Processing of the Epityper data has been described in detail previously [@pone.0037933-Heijmans2], [@pone.0037933-Tobi1], [@pone.0037933-Talens2], [@pone.0037933-Tobi2]. In short only measurements for CpG dinucleotides containing fragments for which 2 out of 3 measurements were successful, the standard deviation (SD) was smaller than 10% and for which the overall measurement success rate in the population was higher than 75% were included in the final analyses. Before data filtering the SD between the triplicate measurements ranged from 2% to 5.4%, after data filtering this measure ranged from 1.5% to 3.5%. We used the average of these triplicate measurements for the analyses. For each measurement we incorporated non-bisulfite converted genomic DNA and negative controls to check for a-specific amplification and PCR artifacts. None were found. Bisulfite conversion was assessed using the MassArray R package [@pone.0037933-Thompson1], which uses fragments containing a TpG and a cytosine to assess the conversion. No indication for an incomplete bisulfite conversion or PCR amplification of non-bisulfite converted DNA was observed.
SNP selection and genotyping {#s4d}
----------------------------
From the combined HapMap phase I, II and III data [@pone.0037933-Altshuler1] the CEU genotype data were downloaded for the region of the Refseq *H19* and the *IGF2* and *INSIGF* transcripts with an additional 150 kb at both the 5′ and 3′ ends. These data were visualized in Haploview [@pone.0037933-Barrett1] for both regions separately. Based on the linkage disequilibrium (LD) structure one or more HaploView defined LD blocks were selected, covering the entire region for which DNA methylation was measured. For *INS* and *IGF2* this resulted in a region stretching from rs11042594 to rs3842748 (NCBI 36 chr11:2,073,729-2,137,971) and for *H19* in a region stretching from rs3741219 till rs3890907 (NCBI36 chr11:1,973,195-1,984,719). In addition, we selected 16 SNPs in these regions that have been associated with relevant phenotypes such as being born small for gestational age [@pone.0037933-Nagaya1], [@pone.0037933-Adkins1], birth weight [@pone.0037933-Adkins2]--[@pone.0037933-Petry2], body mass index [@pone.0037933-Gaunt1], [@pone.0037933-Heude1], [@pone.0037933-Le1], [@pone.0037933-Heude2], [@pone.0037933-ODell1], type two diabetes [@pone.0037933-Le1], postnatal growth [@pone.0037933-Petry2] and *IGF2* levels [@pone.0037933-Petry1], [@pone.0037933-Adkins3] or with DNA methylation at *IGF2* DMR or *H19* DMR [@pone.0037933-Heijmans1]. Twelve of these SNPs were also in the CEU HapMap set. A complete overview is given in tables S3 and S4. We used HaploView pairwise tagging (r^2^\>0.8) and used force include on the candidate SNPs if they were part of HapMap to obtain a set of tagging SNPs for the region. We used only SNPs with a minor allele frequency higher than 0.1 because of the limited sample size of our cohort. For *H19* rs10732516 and for *INSIGF* rs680, rs3213223 and rs1003484 were added to this list since they are not part of the CEU HapMap set. We thus obtained 10 SNPs for *H19* and 23 SNPs for *IGF2* and *INSIGF*. Genotyping was performed using Sequenom MassARRAY iPLEXGold with the exception of rs10732516. This latter SNP was measured using an ABI 3710 because of the highly repetitive nature of this region. The forward and reverse primers were as follows for this assay: Forward 5′- ACG TTT CCA CGG GCG A -3′, Reverse 5′-GCC CTA GTG TGA AAC CCT TCT-3′. This amplifies hg18 region chr11:1977715-1977936. Amplification was performed with the following conditions: 15 minutes at 95°C, thirty-five times 30 seconds 94°C, 60 seconds 55°C, 30 seconds 72°C with a final step of 3 minutes at 72°C.
The complete list of SNPs, their biological significance, success rate, the minor allele frequency and the test for Hardy-Weinberg equilibrium is given in table S3 and S4. In short, for four *H19* and three *INSIGF* SNPs no iPLEX probe design was possible due to the close proximity of other SNPs. Three SNPs were not polymorphic in this Dutch population, one SNP had a lower than 95% success rate, and two SNPs were out of Hardy-Weinberg (P\<0.002) according to HaploView and were thus discarded from the analyses. Since not meeting the Hardy-Weinberg criterion can be a sign of selection we tested these two SNPs (rs4320932 and rs4341514) for frequency differences between the exposed and unexposed, but found none (P\>0.2). After checking the LD structure in this population of the successfully measured SNPs ([figure 1](#pone-0037933-g001){ref-type="fig"}), several SNP were found to be in very high pair-wise LD (R^2^\>0.9), allowing us to restrict the number of SNPs to test. This resulted in a final set of four *H19* and twelve SNPs in *IGF2* and *INS* that captured the common genetic variation at *IGF2/H19.* The sixteen SNPs either occurred in CpG dinucleotides themselves ('CG SNPs', [Table S10](#pone.0037933.s011){ref-type="supplementary-material"}) or were in LD with such SNPs limiting the possibilities to contrast CG SNPs with non-CG SNPs.
Statistics {#s4e}
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We tested for within-pair differences in DNA methylation between exposed individuals and their non-exposed same-sex sibling by applying linear mixed models. With these models the correlation between adjacent CpG sites can be taken into account and all available raw but incomplete data can be used for modeling and control for possible confounders. For an amplicon the difference in DNA methylation between siblings was tested by entering as fixed effects the exposure status (exposed vs. unexposed), a unique identifier for each CpG site within the locus, age at blood draw and the bisulfite batch. To specify a within-sib-pair design, a family (pair) identifier was included as a random effect with intercept. To model the correlation in DNA methylation within an individual we make use of the fact that each family consists of an exposed and same-sex sibling control, therefore adding an exposure status to the random effect as a random slope. This in effect functions as if the individual identifier was added as an additional random effect in our design. This model option allows us to use the same model for both multiple CpG sites and single CpG sites, allowing a unified statistical analysis on all data. The REML likelihood method was used for the model fitting. The difference in DNA methylation for individual CpG sites was calculated with the same model but without the identifier for CpG site. This single CpG linear mixed model yields the same outcome as a paired t-test if no data are missing and no correction for covariates such as age are applied. Some DMRs show an association with age [@pone.0037933-Heijmans2], since half of the pairs have a sibling born before the war and half after we could correct for this possible confounder.
The average DNA methylation level of loci was computed using imputed estimates for missing values, since calculating the average with missing values can skew the average and estimate of the normal variation in the population because of the sometimes large differences in DNA methylation levels between different CpG dinucleotides within a locus. Imputed values were retrieved from the same linear mixed models, which can estimate methylation of CpG sites if data is missing, using information of other CpG sites and the covariates (bisulfite batch, sex and age). The imputed values were never used for any of the analyses. We did not observe significant differences in variance in DNA methylation between the exposed and unexposed (Levene\'s test for homogeneity P\>0.05).
To test for associations between DNA methylation and a genotype, the model was extended with the genotype as a fixed effect with the genotype coded as 0 (for common allele homozygous), 1 (heterozygous) or 2 (homozygous for the rare allele) and added as a continuous variable. Finally, to test for interactions between famine exposure and genetic variation an interaction term was added to the model as a fixed effect. In all cases the main effects were also included in the model. We also tested for an interaction between prenatal famine exposure and sex on DNA methylation of all DMRs, but no significant interactions were found, except for *INSIGF* as previously reported [@pone.0037933-Tobi1].
Differences in genotype frequency between the exposed individuals and their unexposed siblings were evaluated using Chi-square test. All analyses were performed in SPSS version 17.0. To visualize correlations in DNA methylation between individual CpG containing fragments and the significance of associations, heatmaps were generated in R version 2.12.1 using the "heatmap.2" function of the gplots package. Multiple testing correction was performed according to the method developed by Bejamini and Hochberg, better known as 'FDR' (false discovery rate) correction using the R base 'p.adjust' function.
Supporting Information {#s5}
======================
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**A .BED file for the UCSC genome browser with all the locations in the** ***IGF2*** **/** ***H19*** **locus investigated.**
(BED)
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Click here for additional data file.
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**The primers and amplified regions.** 1. The sequence of the forward primer, for Epityper a tag with the following sequence is added 5′: AGGAAGAGAG 2. The sequence of the reverse primer, for Epityper a tag with the following sequence is added 5′: CAGTAATACGACTCACTATAGGGAGAAGGCT PCR was performed with the following cycling protocol: 15 minutes at 95°C, 4 rounds of 20 seconds at 95°C, 30 seconds at 65°C, 1 minute at 72°C; followed by 40 rounds, 20 seconds at 95°C, 30 seconds at 58°C and 1 minute at 72°C; ending with 3 minutes at 72°C.
(DOC)
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Click here for additional data file.
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**Information on individual CpG containing fragments.** 1. CpG containing fragments (e.g. 'CpG units'): excluded were fragments containing possible SNPs in CEU (by HAPMAP or 1000genomes), a measurement success rate below \<75% or (partial) overlap with other units. 2. Mean methylation in %, based on the raw data. 3. the variation (in %) in the controls 4. The average within pair difference from a Linear Mixed Model, corrected for age and bisulfite batch. 5. The P value belonging to the within pair difference.
(DOC)
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Click here for additional data file.
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**The genotyping results for the H19 LD block.** 1. Several SNPs were chosen from the HAPMAP CEU panel as tagging SNPs for the region, also several candidate SNPs were added. Some were both candidate as HAPMAP tagging SNPs. 2. Success rate of the genotyping. 3. Several SNPs could not be measured, one SNP had a low success rate and two SNPs were in perfect LD (r^2^\>0.9) with another SNP in these individuals and thus not included in the final analysis. 4. The P value resulting from a test for Hardy-Weinberg disequilibrium, significant threshold is P\<0.002 because of multiple testing.
(DOC)
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Click here for additional data file.
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**The genotyping results for the INSIGF LD blocks.** 1. Several SNPs were chosen from the HAPMAP CEU panel as tagging SNPs for the region, also several candidate SNPs were added. Some were both candidate as HAPMAP tagging SNPs. 2. Success rate of the genotyping. 3. Several SNPs could not be measured, one SNP had a low success rate and two SNPs were in perfect LD (r^2^\>0.9) with another SNP in these individuals and thus not included in the final analysis. 4. The P value resulting from a test for Hardy-Weinberg disequilibrium, significant threshold is P\<0.002 because of multiple testing.
(DOC)
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Click here for additional data file.
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**The effect of the tagging SNPs on DNA methylation.** The effect of the rare allele on DNA methylation, assuming an additive model. The beta is the change in average DNA methylation (%). For instance, a beta of 1.0 means that each allele increases the amount of DNA methylation at that DMR with 1.0%. The P value is given followed by the P value corrected for multiple testing (FDR).
(DOC)
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Click here for additional data file.
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**The effect of the tagging SNPs on DNA methylation.** The effect of the rare allele on DNA methylation, assuming an additive model. The beta is the change in average DNA methylation (%). For instance, a beta of 1.0 means that each allele increases the amount of DNA methylation at that DMR with 1.0%. The P value is given followed by the P value corrected for multiple testing (FDR).
(DOC)
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Click here for additional data file.
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**The effect of the tagging SNPs on DNA methylation.** The effect of the rare allele on DNA methylation, assuming an additive model. The beta is the change in average DNA methylation (%). For instance, a beta of 1.0 means that each allele increases the amount of DNA methylation at that DMR with 1.0%. The P value is given followed by the P value corrected for multiple testing (FDR).
(DOC)
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Click here for additional data file.
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**Famine associations corrected for significant SNPs.** For each locus the beta for the association with famine is given, now corrected for the SNPs showing (nominally) significant associations with this locus, followed by the corrected P-value.
(DOC)
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Click here for additional data file.
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**SNP associations with and without famine exposure correction.** The first column denotes the SNP- DNA methylation locus under investigation. Column two and three contain the beta and resulting P-value of the SNP-DNA methylation association corrected for famine exposure, the fourth and fifth the beta and P-value without famine correction. There is no notable difference between the two models.
(DOC)
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Click here for additional data file.
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**Nine out of sixteen tagging SNPs were CpG altering polymorphisms.**
(DOC)
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Click here for additional data file.
We express our gratitude to the participants of the Dutch Hunger Winter Families study, the staff of TNO Quality of Life for contact tracing, the staff of the Gerontology and Geriatrics Study Center at the Leiden University Medical Center for performing the clinical examinations and the Central Clinical Chemical Laboratory for extracting genomic DNA.
**Competing Interests:**The authors have declared that no competing interests exist.
**Funding:**This study was supported by a grant from the European Union-funded Network of Excellence LifeSpan \[FP6 036894\], the European Union\'s Seventh Framework Program IDEAL \[FP7/2007-2011\] under grant agreement n° 259679, the Netherlands Consortium for Healthy Ageing \[Grant 05060810\] in the framework of the Netherlands Genomics Initiative/Netherlands Organization for Scientific Research and the United States National Institutes of Health (\[R01-HL067914 to LHL\]. The funders had no role in study design, data collection and analysis, decision to publish, or preparation of the manuscript.
[^1]: Conceived and designed the experiments: EWT LHL BTH PES. Performed the experiments: EWT JvD DK HP. Analyzed the data: EWT JvD HP BTH. Contributed reagents/materials/analysis tools: ADS LHL HP. Wrote the paper: EWT PES BTH LHL ADS.
| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | PubMed Central |
The production of ethyl alcohol in dry-mill ethanol plants utilizing whole grains as feedstock is a major component of fuel alcohol in the U.S. A plant utilizing corn as feedstock can typically produce 2.7-2.8 gallons of ethanol and 17-18 lbs. of distillers grains with solubles (dry basis) per bushel of corn. While ethanol is the core product and the reason the processing plant exists, the byproduct, distillers grains with solubles, is also an important and significant revenue stream for an ethanol plant. Beyond increasing or improving the efficiency of ethanol production and yield from corn, optimizing the value and dollar return of the byproduct stream is critically important to maximize profitability.
One proposed method of increasing the value of the byproduct is to remove the crude oil contained within it for use in other industrial processes such as biodiesel production. Each bushel of corn that may produce 2.7 gallons of ethanol, also contains approximately 2 lbs of corn oil. Further, a typical 100 million gallon per year corn-to-ethanol production plant will discard approximately 40,000 short tons of crude corn oil per year in the distillers grains byproduct.
The total corn-to-ethanol industry in the United States is expected to grow to about 15 billion gallons per year by 2015 with an estimated 6 million short tons of corn oil in the byproduct. The byproduct, distillers grains with solubles, is a good livestock feed, especially for ruminants, and the oil content has feed value. However, as the amount of distillers grains increases and the supply of corn available for feeding decreases, it becomes economical to replace increasing amounts of corn in a ration with distillers grains.
When distillers grains are used as feed, at higher levels of inclusion of the byproduct the oil content in the byproduct begins to have deleterious effects on the animal, such as reduced milk fat production in dairy cows, reduced conception rates, soft fat in pork and bacon due to a high level of unsaturation, as well as reduced feed intake and weight gain in beef feedlot cattle. Therefore, there are significant advantages to removing the oil from the byproduct, such as increasing the level of effective inclusion in livestock diets and allowing the oil to be directed toward higher value industrial processes or feed markets.
Solutions have been attempted to remove oil from grains. For example, soybeans, canola, sunflowers, cottonseed, peanuts, and other commodities are valued for their oils. Technologies, such as solvent extraction or extrusion, exist for the efficient and economical removal of oil from these commodities. However, these same technologies are generally applied to corn at the front end of an ethanol production process, that is, prior to distillation. Unfortunately, the oil content in corn grain is typically only between 3.5% and 4.0% and removing it from the grain is not very cost effective. An alternative solution is to fractionate the germ from the rest of the corn kernel for oil removal, as the germ contains approximately 25% oil. It is by this fractionation method that commercial corn oil is typically obtained in the wet milling industry. Unfortunately, in dry milling, corn components such as germ, pericarp and endosperm do not separate easily or cleanly, as compared to wet milling processes. For example, the germ can be separated by a dry milling process, however it is at the expense of some starch loss which results in lower ethanol plant productivity and profit.
In addition to the current issues in removing oil, in the ethanol production process, thin stillage typically can only be condensed to a total solids content ranging between 20% and 30%. Further, the gums and waxes in the thin stillage cause the solubles to become very viscous when it is condensed and these components often cause fouling of condensers. Further, while it is possible to use a high speed centrifuge to remove crude corn oil from thin stillage, the industry has only been able to achieve between 25%-80% removal of total oil in thin stillage due to the presence of these gums and waxes which are bound with the oil and are loathe to relinquish their bonds. At best, solutions to remove or separate crude oil in thin stillage necessitate the use of very high speed, costly centrifuges to recover a portion of the oil as the gums within stillage bind the oil. Moreover, the 25%-80% recovery of total oil in thin stillage is equal to only approximately 48% of the total oil available in whole stillage (60% of the oil from whole stillage present in thin stillage multiplied by 80% recovery).
Separation of oil from the grains, which constitutes a majority of the oil, cannot typically be accomplished by centrifugation because the oil is still bound within the germ. Therefore, solutions often include extraction methods. Typical extraction methods for oilseeds include solvent extraction with organic solvents such as hexane, benzene, ethanol, methanol and others, as well as extruding techniques which apply very high pressure and temperature to the material to ‘squeeze’ the oil out. Unfortunately, these methods are high cost compared with the relatively low amount of oil contained within the distillers grains (about 7.5% on a dry basis) and often include toxic chemicals. In addition, solvent extraction is not oil-specific but also extracts other components soluble in organic solvents, such as the gums which are also present in thin stillage, resulting in a crude oil with a high level of impurities requiring further refining.
Accordingly, there is a need in the art to more efficiently reduce or extract the oil content of distillers grains byproduct in a dry mill ethanol plant. There is also a need to increase the efficiency and yield of crude oil removal from distillers whole stillage or thin stillage while increasing the overall profitability of ethanol production plants by improving the value of the byproducts. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | USPTO Backgrounds |
Assembling the Sacred Texts
After 11 Years of Exploring Folk Music Around the Globe,Atlanta’s Dust-to-Digital Turns Its Sights Homeward
In the digital age, nothing is lost. This, anyway, is what we tell ourselves.
Every event in our lives, even the insignificant, is photographed and squirreled away in the cloud. We journal our lives exactingly in long streams of archived emails and Facebook posts and tweets. Nothing is lost. All is documented. Every item, time-coded to the second.
But amid all this documentation, perhaps we lose something more ethereal. Do we forget the joy of accidental discovery — the thoughts and memories that wash over us when we stumble upon a found object, a real thing in the analog world? What do we learn about ourselves, our places and our histories when we happen upon such things?
Think about the last time you browsed an old family photo album. Or if you’re a record collector, think about the last time you unearthed an old 45 or 78 in the Salvation Army store and brought it home just because you’d never heard the song or even seen the name of the singer before.
We rummage through the photographs because they take us places. They bring questions to mind. Who was this person? Where did she live? What was her life like? We throw the records on the turntable because they launch us into daydreams. Never heard stuff exactly like this, we think. Who were these folks? Where were they from?
Some people make it their business to ensure we don’t lose these accidental moments. Collectors. Obsessives. Documenters of the analog. Many of these people — truth be told — are at the very least eccentric, and some are just flat-out batshit crazy.
A rare few of these obsessives, however, can take the detritus of our culture and recontextualize it in ways that help us understand it anew.
Meet two of them: Lance and April Ledbetter, a pleasant and unassuming couple who live in a pleasant and assuming house in the pleasant and unassuming Ormewood Park neighborhood of southeast Atlanta. For 15 years now, they have documented the folk music, stories and photographs of communities around the world, assembling them into beautifully constructed products. Their company has a name that suits it perfectly: Dust-to-Digital.
From Lance and April, you can buy such things as:
“Longing for the Past: The 78 RPM Era in Southeast Asia.” A 272-page hardcover book with 4 CDs of music in a slipcase. $57.50.
“Never a Pal Like a Mother: Songs & Photographs of the One Who’s Always True.” A 96-page hardback photo book with 2 CDs of vintage recordings from 1927 to 1956. $25.
The Dust-to-Digital catalog includes dozens of such items. If you think there would be no financial reward in such an enterprise, consider this:
The Ledbetters’ have made their mortgage payments for a decade by doing this work.
Six Dust-to-Digital collections have been nominated for Grammy Awards, and the label won the Grammy for Best Historical Album in 2008.
When Bob Dylan is looking for a Christmas gift for his buddy Neil Young, the Ledbetters get a phone call.
And Pitchfork, the biggest indie music blog in the nation, says it’s "astounding how essential … Dust-to-Digital has been to the preservation of traditional American folksong. It’s easy to buy and appreciate these sets without realizing that the bulk of the material might have been lost — or, at the very least, tethered to archives, readily accessible only to curious faculty, paper-writing students, and bespectacled researchers — without Ledbetter’s interference.”
Lance and April Ledbetter are perhaps the most important preservers of folk music in the modern world, and they do it all from the basement of their little brick house.
The first time I visited Dust-to-Digital’s basement HQ about a year ago, Lance Ledbetter was lamenting the sad state of a record-cleaning machine.
Record-cleaning machines are the province of a special breed of music nerd. They are designed to vacuum every last speck of dust and grime from the grooves of vinyl or shellac records. A top-of-the-line machine can run you as much as $4,000.
This particular cleaning machine was on the fritz because it had been used to clean a treasure trove of old 78-rpm records, the collection of a recently deceased Kentucky man. The records would have disappeared into a landfill had they not been rescued by a Kentucky-born archivist named Nathan Salsburg. The cleaning machine had been used to prepare those old grooves for the cleanest possible transfer of the music inside them to digital media. But the records had gunked up the machine with a substance native to their home state: coal dust.
For some reason, that episode has never left my head in the past 12 months. To me, that gunked-up record cleaner symbolizes the essence of what makes Dust-to-Digital special. These brittle old disks — documents (to borrow a phrase from the critic Greil Marcus) of “the old, weird America” — are brought forward into the modern world, and they gunk up the machine.
That’s what this kind of preservation work does. It gunks up our machines. It makes us rethink what we believed about our history. It adds new substance and different perspectives to stories we thought we already knew well.
The Ledbetters have been tremendously ecumenical in their preservations. Dust-to-Digital has issued music, photographs and words from all over the globe: Bali, Burma, Cameroon, China, England, Germany, Greece, India, Japan, Java, Laos, Morocco, Persia, Poland, Portugal, Scotland, Spain, Sweden, Syria, Thailand, Turkey, Ukraine, Vietnam, Yemen and Yugoslavia. And in 2012, the Ledbetters ventured into new music, releasing "Just Before Music" by the genre-defying Alabama musician and artist Lonnie Holley and then his 2013 album "Keeping a Record of It," which landed at No. 10 on the BS's 2013 list of top Southern albums.
"Their attention to detail is without peer," says Matt Arnett, Holley's manager and the co-producer of both records along with Lance. "They document and present music in a way that no one else does. Whether the music is getting its first release or being reissued, they research and package it in such a way that it remains fresh and revelatory, whether it was recorded a century ago or last week."
But this fall, as it crosses the 15th anniversary of when its first product was conceived, Dust-to-Digital has returned very specifically to its roots, releasing almost simultaneously three projects from the American South:
“Making Pictures: Three for a Dime” is a remarkable 180-page hardcover book with 271 images collected by the descendents of an Arkansas family that made its living by pulling a trailer with a photo booth mounted on it around their home state, offering the rural folks of Arkansas a chance to get their pictures made, three for a dime. You can also buy the book’s “soundtrack,” a CD called “Arkansas at 78 RPM: Corn Dodgers and Hoss Hair Pullers” that collects 26 recordings, made between 1928 and 1937 by bands with names like Luke Highnight & His Ozark Strutters or the Arkansas Barefoot Boys.
“Lead Kindly Light,” a 176-page hardcover book that pairs 159 photographs from the collection of Sarah Bryan, who edits the North Carolina-based Old-Time Herald, a magazine covering old-time Appalachian string-band music, with 46 songs from the vast collection of 78s owned by Bryan’s husband, Peter Honig, covering string-band, country blues and African-American gospel singing from 1924 to 1939.
And finally, a beautiful but chilling package called “Parchman Farm: Photographs and Field Recordings, 1947-1959” that reminds us with astonishing clarity that slavery didn’t die with the Emancipation Proclamation but persisted deep into the 20th century in another guise: chain-gang labor.
From the almost breezy memories captured in “Making Pictures” to the bitter truths presented with no adornment on “Parchman Farm,” these three Dust-to-Digital releases remind us we live in a region that can produce moments of rare and wondrous beauty, even as we wrestle with our ignoble past.
The story of Dust-to-Digital has been told many times over by media far larger than The Bitter Southerner, including a fantastic 2008 piece in The New Yorker by Burkhard Bilger.
But it’s worth spending a little time re-examining how the little basement label first came to the world’s attention 10 years ago — and the effect that had on the lives of Lance and April Ledbetter.
After high school in the small northwest Georgia town of Lafayette, Lance headed to a little northeast Georgia college called Young Harris, which was then a two-year institution. His interest in old-time Appalachian music blossomed there after several visits to the John C. Campbell Folk School, just a half-hour up the road in Brasstown, N.C.
After he transferred to Georgia State University, the giant state school in the middle of downtown Atlanta, he met April Gambill, a Hendersonville, N.C., native who was studying film at GSU. The year was 1999.
“Lance was in my film classes, which was weird because he wasn’t studying film,” April says, sitting across the coffee table from her husband in the living room of their home, upstairs from Dust-to-Digital’s basement HQ. If you walk in their front door expecting to see the accumulated detritus of the obsessive collector, you will be shocked. Downstairs, the tiny warehouse/office is stacked with records and CDs, but those are either inventory or source material. Up here, there is only one neat wall of built-in shelves containing records — the cream of the crop of a collection that is now almost 20 years in the making.
By the time Lance met April, he was already deep into the obsession that would give birth to Dust-to-Digital. Two years earlier, Smithsonian Folkways Recordings had released — for the first time ever on CDs — Harry Smith’s “Anthology of American Folk Music.” The set had originally been released in 1952 in a set of six vinyl records. Perhaps the best short description of the set I’ve seen came from Bilger's 2008 story:
The anthology was divided into three double albums, each illustrated with mystical drawings, and color-coded blue, red, or green, to represent air, fire, and water. The real mysteries, though, lay in the music. Using crackly transfers from his own collection, Smith pulled together every kind of ballad, work song, parlor tune, and Cajun chanson. There were moaning blues by Blind Lemon Jefferson, hair-raising gospel by the Alabama Sacred Harp Singers, and anarchic banjo numbers by Dock Boggs — the sound and spirit of a forgotten world.
The set had a huge influence on a certain cohort of young Americans in the 1950s. By the early 1960s, it was the rosetta stone for every would-be beatnik poet and folk singer in Greenwich Village. It was not by coincidence that Bob Dylan’s first album, in 1962, included his version of “See That My Grave Is Kept Clean,” the 1928 original of which, by the Texas blues singer Blind Lemon Jefferson, appeared on Smith’s anthology.
But by the time Smithsonian Folkways finally released “Anthology” on CD in 1997, 45 years after the original release on vinyl, its scratchy old tunes represented completely unknown territory to a young student like Lance, who was coming up in the era of DIY punk bands and the heyday of college radio. Ledbetter had recently agreed to take over the GSU student radio station’s weekly show of music from the 1920s and ’30s when “Anthology” was reissued on CD.
“One of my friends had worked at WREK (the Georgia Tech student station),” Ledbetter says. “He got the hookup to get discount sets from Smithsonian Folkways. I met him at night in the WREK parking lot. They were in his trunk. It was like we were doing a drug deal or something. We got them for 40 bucks apiece.
“I was living in Decatur so I brought it back to Decatur,” he says. “I was by myself. I cracked it open. I couldn’t believe it. That was like the Big Bang for me. What happened that night was all the old-time music I grew up with as a kid in LaFayette, all the stuff I was exposed to at the John C. Campbell Folk School, all that stuff was just connected for me. I was like, ‘Well this is a whole new world of music.’ That’s when I realized that those six albums were just barely scratching the surface. There were so many rare great records. Even Harry Smith said in interviews that those weren’t the best records. They were just the ones he wanted to put in there because they needed to be documented, but there were a lot of great ones that weren’t on there. And he was right about that.”
Lance started searching for music from the old, weird America anywhere he could find it. At the time, it was mostly from cassette tapes in record-store bargain bins.
“I was just in mass consumption mode,” he says. “At that point in time, as the radio show kept getting better, I kept getting people calling in. I was connecting with people that way and learning about music. The show came on Sunday mornings from 9 to 11. In the South on Sunday morning, a lot of people are either going to church or coming back from church. I was constantly getting requests for gospel. But that was the one genre that I could not find.”
Thus began the obsession that would a few years later produce “Goodbye, Babylon,” Dust-to-Digital’s first product. The obsession could have ended his relationship with April.
“Really soon after we started dating was when Lance started talking about working on ‘Goodbye, Babylon,’” April says. “He was like, ‘I’m going to be really busy and doing all this stuff. I might not have a lot of time to hang out.’ I was like, ‘Is he trying to break up with me? What’s going on?’ I told him, ‘Why don’t you let me help you with that stuff?’”
Thus did Lance Ledbetter and April Gambill become the Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee of the quest to unearth the roots of Southern gospel music — and that quest ruled their lives for the first four years of their relationship. Not long after their adventure began, they found their very own Gandalf the Grey in the form of a Baltimore record collector named Joe Bussard.
In the community of folks obsessed with collecting the earliest artifacts of recorded music, Joe Bussard is legendary. As another collector was quoted in Bilger’s New Yorker piece: “Bussard’s got shit that God don’t have.”
Lance and April’s research was turning up the names of old gospel recordings, but actually finding the recordings was a different matter.
“You couldn’t walk in a record shop and find any of this,” Lance says. “It was driving me crazy.” He did, however, find a few compilations of old-time music that shared a common component.
“A lot of them would say ‘original records from the collection of …,’ and the one name I kept seeing over and over again was Joe Bussard. I was like, ‘Who is this Joe Bussard guy?’ I found a phone number and called Joe,” Lance says. “The first time I talked to him, I think I maybe said two sentences. He talked to me for an hour about how I didn’t know anything about music. I was like, ‘OK, but I need some gospel music for my show.’ He was like, ‘Kid, I’ll send you down the catalog. You pick it out. I’ll make you cassette tapes for 50 cents a song. We’ll work from there.’”
Bussard actually made Lance and April pay him just to send the catalog. When it arrived in the mail, what they found inside it was a revelation. For instance, Lance possessed only one recording by the Atlanta Rev. J.M. Gates, although the preacher had recorded more than 200 gospel songs and sermons between 1926 and 1941.
“Joe’s catalog had six or seven 8½ by 11 pages of nothing but J.M. Gates songs,” Lance says.
“The titles for so many of them were so intriguing,” April adds. Amen to that: Gates’ first big-selling song was called "Death's Black Train Is Coming."
Says Lance: “I just started going through the catalog and writing things down. ‘This sounds interesting. That sounds interesting.’ And I’d send out the order to Maryland. I really started to learn a lot about the music and different styles. It was just such a fun adventure.”
Their original plan for “Goodbye, Babylon” was to issue a single CD of Southern gospel music with notes based on Lance’s interviews with various musicologists and historians.
“It started off as just doing a single CD,” Lance says. “But I started just falling in love with so many of these tracks. I was like, ‘I can’t cut that one…’ Then I said double CD. Then a triple. Then it got to the point where I had over 300 songs. Then I was like, ‘We got to start whittling.’ I whittled it down to 160. That’s what the final track count was.”
The final package contained five CDs with 135 gospel songs recorded between 1902 and 1960, plus one CD featuring 25 sermons recorded between ’26 and ’41. But that wasn’t enough. Lance and April also created an accompanying 200-page book with Bible verses, complete lyric transcriptions, and extensive notes about each recording. Then they had 1,000 custom cedar boxes made — 12 by 9½ by 2 inches — into which they hand-packed the CDs and book for each set. And just so everyone would know where the thing came from, they nestled the box's contents in bolls of raw cotton. Then they put it on sale for $109.95 a copy. The official release date was Oct. 27, 2003. A month later, on Nov. 30, The New York Times music critic Kelefa Sanneh published his review of “Goodbye, Babylon”:
Perhaps the season's most astonishing boxed set: six discs of gospel music and sermons from the first half of the 20th century, plus a 200-page book (including a history and transcription of every song), packaged with cotton balls in a cedar box. Many of the great American singers turn up, from Mahalia Jackson to the Carter Family, but even more impressive are the scores of relatively unknown performers who set up shop at the crossroads of the sacred and the secular. The sixth disc compiles sermons, including ''That White Mule of Sin'' (1929) by the Rev. George Jones, a confounding mishmash of prayer and parody. The so-called reverend sounds more than a little like Captain Beefheart, and he ascends to absurd heights of incomprehensibility (''Saddle up the road every whichaway and every whichabout,'' he declaims) while Sister Jones offers an updated version of the Lord's Prayer: ''Our Father, who art in heaven / The white man owed me 10 dollars, and I didn't get but seven / Thy kingdom come, thy will be done / I took that or I wouldn't have got none / Amen.''
The effect of the review was like a dam breaking over Lance and April.
“It was chaos,” April says.
“It was chaos, yeah,” Lance says.
“It was total chaos,” April says. “We had an apartment that was 900 square feet. It was small. The boxes were delivered there on two pallets. You couldn’t move in our space. It was insane. We were just assembling and packing the boxes. We had to hand-assemble everything, then shrink-wrap them, put stickers on them, box them up, ship them out, and then make an invoice. That was when I was like ‘Well, I guess I’m going to start doing some bookkeeping so we can get paid.’”
Lance may be the obsessive visionary of the pair, but make no mistake, without April, we might not have Dust-to-Digital today. She’s the one who has always kept the little label on an even keel when the pair found themselves in rough seas.
“It was just crazy,” Lance says. “People were calling, calling, calling. I remember one day I was just exhausted. I was lying on the couch, taking a nap. The phone is ringing. I’m like, ‘Should I get it or not?’ I get up. It’s Entertainment Weekly. ‘We’re going to put your boxed set on our “Must List” this week.’ The phone rings again. David Fricke from Rolling Stone. ‘Hey, we’re putting it in the best reissues column.’ It was insane.”
All this happened shortly after Lance had been laid off from the full-time job he’d landed after college, so April was working two jobs at the time — one at a hotel and one at a pizza joint.
Says April: “When the checks started rolling in from the distributors, that’s when Lance was like, ‘We can start paying you. You can quit those jobs if you want to work. Do Dust-to-Digital all the time.’ I was like, of course. Who doesn’t like doing their own thing all the time even though we’re busting our humps pretty hard?”
By the end of four months, they had sold all 1,000 copies, and its sales have climbed far higher than that over the years. After 11 years on the market, “Goodbye, Babylon” remains Dust-to-Digital’s steadiest seller. The price has dropped to a flat $100 now, but you can be assured that if you buy a copy today, it will still be hand-assembled by Lance and April in a little basement in Ormewood Park.
Cotton bolls and all.
William R. Ferris is perhaps the pre-eminent living scholar of Southern culture.
These days, he is the Joel R. Williamson Eminent Professor of History at the University of North Carolina and senior associate director of UNC’s Center for the Study of the American South. Earlier in his career, Ferris was the founding director of Ole Miss’ Center for the Study of Southern Culture, which begat the Southern Foodways Alliance. Ferris was also chairman of the National Endowment of the Arts under President Bill Clinton.
For short, let’s just say he’s a Mississippi boy who knows a thing or two.
Ferris says he thinks it’s appropriate that after 11 years of chasing, finding and recontextualizing folk music from all over the world, the Ledbetters have turned their attention once again to their native South with their three latest releases.
“I think Dust-to-Digital and Lance and April Ledbetter represent a very important new chapter in documenting the American South’s music and culture,” says Ferris, who is collaborating with the Ledbetters on a project the label plans to release next year. “I love to talk about sense of place as a force that defines the literary and musical voices of the region. I think the fact that Dust-to-Digital is located in the South means they are grounded in the region. Until them, all the great historical Southern recordings were released by the Library of Congress or record companies in Germany or Japan. Wherever music carries them, (Lance and April) go, but the foundation of what they do is the American South.”
The Ledbetters correctly point out that their musical interests spread out all over the world, and they have always been careful that Dust-to-Digital never be “pigeonholed as only being interested in the South,” April says.
But it’s hard to spend time with their three latest releases — “Making Pictures,” “Lead Kindly Light” and “Parchman Farm” — and not feel that the people who assembled these collections have an uncommonly deep understanding of their home region’s culture, its pleasant and ugly parts alike. These three sets will transport anyone who experiences them to different places in the South’s history — some of them as comforting and familiar as a hand-me-down quilt, others as dark and frightening as a Pentecostal preacher’s vision of hell.
“Making Pictures” is based on the lives of Lawrence and Thelma Bullard Massengill, who eked out a living during the Depression by mounting a photo booth on a trailer and pulling it all over rural Arkansas, offering people photographs at three for a dime. The project was born when Maxine Payne, a photographer and associate professor of art at Hendrix College in Conway, Ark., went home for the funeral of a grandparent.
“I was raised by my grandparents in a little town called Floral, Arkansas,” Payne says. “My grandparents died within a few months of each other, and when they did, there was a woman that came to the funeral who had grown up with my mother and around my grandparents. She said, ‘I have some photographs of your mom. If you're interested sometime and you want to come up and see them, I'd be happy for you to have them.’”
A couple of years later, Payne went to visit the woman, Sondra Massengill McElvey, at her home in Clarksdale, Ark. Together, they pored through bunches of photographs, although they found none of Payne’s mom.
“But I kept finding these little photographs that were like an inch by an inch and a quarter or something,” Payne says. “Hundreds of them. I just asked her what they were about and she said, ‘Well, yeah, my mom and dad, to make a little extra money during the Depression, made this homemade photo trailer and drove around the state making these pictures three for a dime.’”
Payne became fascinated with the pictures, and over the next five years she spent more time with McElvey and other members of the Massengill family, unearthing more of the three-for-a-dime pictures and, eventually, finding a diary kept by Lawrence and Thelma Massengill while they were on the road making photos from 1939 to 1941.
Payne wound up assembling the material into a set of large handmade books. But the material had no outlet to reach beyond Arkansas until Payne learned about Dust-to-Digital while she was teaching a photography workshop in 2012 at the renowned Penland School of Crafts in Spruce Pine, N.C.
“You know, you work with your nose to the grindstone for years and years and years and nothing ever good happens, right?” Payne says. “You just feel it’s all for nothing, and then you meet someone on a total fluke.”
The person she met was the Alabama fashion designer Natalie Chanin, who was teaching a workshop on sewing at Penland’s that same summer. Chanin put Payne in touch with the Louisiana-born photographer Phillip March Jones, who in turn connected her to the Ledbetters.
“When Maxine got in touch, she had made maybe five of these books,” Lance says. “I’m not kidding: They were maybe two feet wide and maybe a foot and a half high, handmade.”
Telling the story animates him, his hands flying about to convey just how impressive he found Payne’s handmade books.
“She sent us one of them,” Lance says. “It was just all hand-done, beautiful fonts and all the photos. You could tell this was very important to her. We saw all this. I think it was her commitment and her passion that sold me on the project. I was thinking, ‘OK, this is something extraordinary.’ She showed me where she was taking it, and I said, ‘OK, this is something that I think we can do.’
“We first talked about doing it as doing it without music,” Lance says. “I remember telling her, ‘I’m guessing we’re not going to include any music?’”
To put the set out minus music would have marked the first time Dust-to-Digital had cast itself purely as book publisher.
“But she said,” Lance recalls, “‘Oh, no. I hope we do. Music really needs to be there.’”
So Lance and April dove back into the weird world of obsessive record collectors.
“I found this musicologist who was doing this research on musicians from Arkansas and he and I just started making a list,” Lance says. Oddly enough, the musicologist in question, Tony Russell, lives in England.
“He’s probably the expert on Southern country music from the ’20s and ’30s, but he’s from London and he lives in London. He’s come over here probably about 20-something times to study it,” Lance says. “Europeans appreciate our cultures — particularly our musical culture, it seems — more than we do.”
Russell contributed the liner notes for “Corn Dodgers & Hoss Hair Pullers: Arkansas at 78 RPM,” the separately sold CD that serves “kinda like a movie soundtrack,” in Lance’s words, for the “Making Pictures” book.
The soundtrack analogy is apt. The photographs in the “Making Pictures” book are mostly of anonymous people: They are, after all, the photographs that the Massengills kept when customers decided not to buy. But the music compiled by Russell and the Ledbetters seems to speak directly to the Depression-era world in which the Massengills traveled.
You hear the voices of Dr. Smith’s Champion Hoss Hair Pullers, led by country doctor Henry Harlin Smith of Calico Rock, Ark., singing lyrics that seem to describe perfectly the attitudes of poor Southerners in the Depression:
In the future if a good thing comes along my wayAnd it as usual passes by, I’m simply going to sayJust give me the leavings, when you get throughJust give me the leavings, and that will do.
The photographs that make up “Lead Kindly Light” evoke similar feelings, but in an even more random way. The book, which includes two CDs of music from the same period, collects old Southern family photographs and snapshots from roughly the turn of the last century to the beginning of World War II. And we would never have seen them had it not been for another obsessive collector, Sarah Bryan, who lives in Chapel Hill, N.C., where she is the editor of The Old-Time Herald, a magazine for fans of old-time Appalachian music.
“I've always collected various stuff,” Bryan says. “I'd say I've been collecting photos in a serious way for probably 10 years or so. I'm a folklorist and most of my work involves field work, so I'm driving around mostly in Carolina. I started collecting photos seriously because I'd be going by a lot of antique and junk stores in small towns that I hadn't been to before. That always gave me an opportunity to browse and pick at photos.”
What makes Sarah’s collection oddly compelling is that pictures are from no particular family’s history, or from no particular place in the South. And every time she adds to the collection, she says, she is shocked to find photographs like these orphaned in junk shops. They are the leavings.
“That surprises me every time,” she says. “I can understand when they come from the estate of a person who's died and doesn't have descendants to give the family photos to. But I can't imagine, if there are still family members, I can't imagine letting these photos go. Oftentimes they have the person's name, if it's a portrait. They have the person's name written on the back. It makes me sad that they're not still with their family. I like being able to give them a home.”
These photographs cross many lines. They depict people both black and white, in settings rural and urban. To browse them is to see the South in cinema verite, exactly as it was, for better and worse, 75 to 100 years ago. Bryan has arranged the photographs in ways that emphasize their ordinariness. One photograph shows a man standing behind a waist-high stack of roofing shingles. On the reverse of the photograph, in an unidentified person’s handwriting, are the words, “Hear (sic) he is behind some shingles.”
Somehow, Bryan’s arrangement of the photographs prompts the viewer to see the similarities in the people instead of their differences.
Bryan’s husband, Peter Honig, chose the music to accompany the photographs from his own vast collection of 78s. His selections demonstrate how music also blurred the lines that separated the races in that period. Unlike us, our songs never seemed to have much trouble traveling back and forth across the lines that Jim Crow drew.
For instance, Honig includes a recording of “Mary Don’t You Weep” by the Georgia Yellow Hammers, a white string band from Calhoun, Ga. — a song that most people (including me) know only as a standard of black gospel, primarily from its definitive recording by West Virginia’s Swan Silvertones, a black quartet that recorded in the 1940s and ’50s. But the Yellow Hammers add a little Saturday night to the song's original Sunday morning sentiments: "The Georgia Yellow Hammers oughta be dead / Because they play all night and never go to bed."
The “Parchman Farm” set, on the other hand, paints far different — but just as accurate — pictures of the South in the middle 20th century.
The set is the most complete collection ever released of the field recordings that the legendary musicologist Alan Lomax made at Mississippi’s notorious Parchman Farm penitentiary from 1947 to 1959. The set also includes a series of rich, striking, color photographs that Lomax made at Parchman in 1959.
“No one's ever linked the music to his photographs that he made in ’59 in the way that I thought should be done,” says Salsburg, who worked with the Ledbetters to assemble the project. Salsburg is the Kentucky-born curator of the Alan Lomax Archive, which is held by the Association for Cultural Equity, a New York-based nonprofit. “He took incredibly beautiful photos at Parchman Farm in 1959.”
In his introduction to the book that accompanies the set’s two CDs, Lomax writes:
“There was no Delta black who was not aware of how easy it was for him to find himself on the wrong side of those few strands of barbed wire. … My father, John A. Lomax, and I crossed these fragile prison barriers frequently during the ’30s and ’40s in our search for American folk songs. Because we were collecting for the Federal folk song archive, but, more especially, because we were Southerners, we were treated with courtesy and helped by the officials in charge. Yet we could not fail to see that most of the guards were untrained men, employed because they knew how to ‘handle and drive niggers.’ We saw with horror that there were sadists among them who took pleasure in persecuting, beating, and torturing the helpless prisoners. We did meet sincere, kindly men trying to better the lot of the prisoners, but they were hampered by the limitations of the institution itself. A report in the New York Post (January 7, 1957) confirms my own impression of a generation ago: ‘The state penitentiary system at Parchman is simply a cotton plantation using convicts as labor. The warden is not a penologist, but an experienced plantation manager. His annual report to the legislature is not of salvaged lives; it is a profit and loss statement, with the accent on profit.’”
Truly, the Southern chain gangs of the 20th century were, to borrow the title of Douglas Blackmon’s Pulitzer Prize-winning history, “slavery by another name.” Through them, Southern governments effectively kept the plantation system in place for a full century after the Emancipation Proclamation was supposed to have ended slavery. And throughout that century, our state and local governments kept their thinly disguised version of slavery fully supplied with labor by arresting African-American men for petty crimes and imposing fines those men could not pay — thus guaranteeing they would do time in Parchman or another place like it, where they would toil with no recompense for whichever local white businessman or farmer was paying for chain-gang labor.
It is one thing to read these facts in the carefully constructed words of the folklorist Lomax or the journalist Blackmon, both of them white Southerners struggling with the racial divides they abhorred. It is entirely another to hear the facts in the voices of the prisoners, the 20th century slaves, as they sing their work songs — and to see Lomax’s vivid color photographs of them.
On Dust-to-Digital’s “Parchman Farm,” you notice immediately a higher fidelity in the recordings. The scratch and hiss of old 78s is absent, because by the 1940s, the Lomaxes had state-of-the-art field-recording equipment. So when you listen to a song like “The Prettiest Train I Ever Saw,” recorded in 1947, you hear with shocking clarity the only non-vocal element of the song, the thing that keeps the rhythm: the sound of the prisoners’ hoes breaking into the Mississippi clay.
And you hear their harmonious voices, telling us — with oblique but precisely pointed lyrics — that they knew exactly what game was being played at their expense.
Prettiest woman that I ever seenRampart Street in New Orleans
You go to Jackson just to show your clothesI go to Jackson, play them dicin’ holes
When you go to Memphis don’t you hang aroundPolice’ll catch you and you workhouse bound.
And finally, you hold the book in your hand, and you see that Lomax was meticulous in his documentation. “The Prettiest Train” is credited to prisoner No. 22, “Benny Will Richardson and group: vocals and hoes.”
Today, if you want to hit them dicin’ holes, you get in the car and head over to Tunica or up to Cherokee to the casino. Unless you’re a complete fool, you don’t have to worry anymore about a little craps game landing you in the workhouse.
That’s why this particular boxed set from Dust-to-Digital matters so much. You hold it in your hand. You read the stories. You listen. And it puts you there, inside Parchman Farm, in 1947.
It’s a place where every Southerner needs to go, so that we learn never to go back there again.
“What they do …”
Bill Ferris pauses a bit, trying to come up with the right words to describe what makes Dust-to-Digital special.
“They don’t simply reissue recordings,” he finally continues. “They create an environment within the confines of a box. You have the music, but you may also may have a book, or pieces of cotton plants. They make very imaginative uses of art to frame and amplify the music, and they do it with a design sense that’s on the cutting edge. They’re creating multimedia work of arts. It pushes the envelope of what music and recordings can be. They, in tandem with people like T-Bone Burnett (the producer of the soundtrack to ‘O Brother, Where Art Thou?’ and many other updates of American folk music), are taking Southern music to places that were unimaginable in an earlier period.”
There may be no organization in the world today that has greater capability to capture the elusive musical and visual past of the South than Dust-to-Digital. Lance and April are both excited about the new potential they’re seeing, particularly through projects such as “Making Pictures” and “Lead Kindly Light,” to use photographs to paint fuller, more well rounded pictures of folk music and the people who made it.
“Maybe what it is, is that people are looking for ways to have context for their lives,” April says. “Getting to see something like these sets, you might imagine that this is what it was like in your family, for your grandparents or great-grandparents.”
Lance picks up the theme and continues. “It’s like building blocks,” he says. “With ‘Goodbye, Babylon’ and our other sets that are more musically driven, the people I hear from talk about how these are building blocks for musicians — guitar phrasings or lyrical ideas they can put in their repertoire. But in these three releases this fall, the photographs are sharing the stage. It’s wider ranging than just the building blocks of music. It’s like the building blocks of our lives. Where do we come from? What were these people like? How long ago was this? Where are we now? How have things changed? This is in your hand, and you’re basically having to face your own thoughts.”
In certain Dust-to-Digital releases, that experience can be comforting, “like walking into a house you’ve already known,” as Lance puts it. In others, the experience is about harder truths.
Lance looks at me across the lunch table one October Monday and says, “You know, you and I have the familiarity with what we grew up with — you know, us being free white people — and ‘Lead Kindly Light’ and ‘Making Pictures’ reflect that, but ‘Parchman Farm’ is a whole different thing. To me, when I first heard those recordings that Lomax had made, once I heard them, I could never unhear them. They were so powerful. I couldn’t believe how visceral it was. The high-fidelity sound quality was almost more chilling than if it had surface noise or scratches. You are more present in that place.”
But even in these shocking recordings, there is hope. It is important to remember that the power in those songs — forged though they were in strife and wrong — can always be turned to higher and better purposes by modern musicians. The scholar Ferris takes care to remind me what can happen when we hear this music of our past and absorb it.
“I think music is a model of how reconciliation can happen,” he says. “The history of Southern music is the history of the blending of these cultures — Indian, African and European. Western European instruments played by black musicians and bent into new sounds.
“Lance and April are young. They have a long and productive career that lies ahead. They will have a significant influence on the future of American music. The Duane Allmans and James Browns of the next generation will be able to come to Dust-to-Digital for the sacred texts — and build the next generation of our region’s music. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
University of Utah student slain on campus; ex-boyfriend found dead
Lauren McCluskey was a senior at the University of Utah. Photo courtesy of University of Utah
Oct. 23 (UPI) -- A University of Utah student was shot to death on campus Monday night. An ex-boyfriend was found dead Tuesday morning of an apparent suicide.
A university statement said campus police responded to a call about 8:20 p.m. about a possible abduction in a parking lot outside a residence hall. Police found Lauren McCluskey, a student from Pullman, Wash., dead inside a parked car near the south tower of the Medical Plaza residential hall.
McCluskey, 21, was a senior communications major and a member of the school's track-and-field team.
Police told KSL-TV they started searching for Melvin Rowland, 37, who reportedly had a previous relationship with McCluskey and was believed to have had some kind of dispute with her on campus before the shooting.
Rowland forced his way into Trinity African Methodist Episcopal Church in Salt Lake City early Tuesday morning after authorities spotted him there, starting a foot chase. He was found inside the church a short time later with an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound, authorities said.
"Several members of our university administration spoke with Lauren's family last night and I have also reached out to them," University of Utah President Ruth V. Watkins said in a statement, adding that campus would be closed Tuesday.
"Her family is understandably in shock at this news about their daughter. They are heartbroken. We have and continue to offer our full support to them at this terrible time," she said.
ABC News reported that Rowland, who lived in Salt Lake City, was a registered sex offender and had been convicted of attempted forcible sex abuse and enticing a minor over the Internet in 2004, according to court records.
Police told the Salt Lake Tribune that Jill McCluskey was on the phone with her daughter Monday night when she heard her scream. Jill McCluskey said she stayed on the phone until a woman picked it up and said that her items were scattered about.
McCluskey's parents confirmed that she had a relationship to Rowland but broke it off earlier in the month when she learned that he lied about his name, age and criminal history, the Salt Lake Tribune reported. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
Haben Sie schon Pläne für das Jahr 2134? In Wiesbaden, zwischen Teutonenstraße und Konrad-Adenauer-Allee, plant man so weit voraus. Dort sitzt das hessische Landesamt für Verfassungsschutz. Es hatte ursprünglich entschieden, dass 2134, nach 120 Jahren, die Sperrfrist einer Akte der Behörde enden sollte. Eine solche Dauer der Geheimhaltung ist ziemlich ungewöhnlich.
Stephan E. sagte im Geständnis, er habe allein gehandelt. Doch Zeugen berichten von zwei Autos, die den Tatort nach dem Mord verlassen hätten.
Worum geht es in der Akte? Der damalige hessische Innenminister Boris Rhein (CDU) hatte 2012 eine ordentliche Prüfung der Frage angeordnet, an welchen Stellen die Verfassungsschützer bei der NSU-Aufklärung versagt haben. Insgesamt 30 Hinweise auf die Rechtsterroristen sollen bei der Behörde eingegangen sein. Nachdem ein Teil des NSU sich 2011 selbst enttarnt hatte, verschwanden mehr als 500 Akten im Landesamt für Verfassungsschutz. Für besonderes Aufsehen sorgte der Fall des V-Mann-Führers Andreas Temme. Dieser hatte sich 2006 zum Tatzeitpunkt in dem Internetcafé aufgehalten, in dem Halit Yozgat mit einer Česká-Pistole erschossen wurde, die später dem NSU zugeordnet werden konnte. Temme hatte wenige Wochen zuvor den Auftrag erhalten, sich wegen eben dieser Mordserie umzuhören. Nach dem Mord meldete er sich nicht als Zeuge bei der Polizei, dafür telefonierte er noch am selben Tag mit einem V-Mann aus dem direkten Umfeld des NSU.
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Der Inhalt der Akte könnte auch wichtige Landespolitiker belasten. Der gegenwärtige Ministerpräsident Volker Bouffier (CDU) war von 1999 bis 2010 Innenminister und damit auch für den Verfassungsschutz zuständig. Sein direkter Amtsnachfolger Boris Rhein hatte dann 2012 die Erstellung des Prüfberichts angeordnet, der 2014 fertig wurde. Mittlerweile ist er der Präsident des Hessischen Landtags, also jener Institution, die die parlamentarische Kontrolle der Geheimdienste organisiert. Spekulationen, dass die lange Sperrfrist einen der beiden CDU-Politiker schützen soll, könnten am einfachsten von den beiden selbst entkräftet werden, indem sie die Sperrfrist aufheben lassen.
Der Versuch, lästige Fragen einfach auszusitzen, ist vorerst gescheitert. Am 2. Juni 2019 wurde der Kasseler Regierungspräsident Walter Lübcke (CDU) von einem polizeibekannten Neonazi erschossen, Bild erwähnte in diesem Kontext schon wieder den Namen Andreas Temme. Der Mann ist mittlerweile kein Verfassungsschützer mehr, sondern wechselte auf eigenen Wunsch ins Regierungspräsidium Kassel, wo er bis zuletzt unter Walter Lübcke im Umweltschutzbereich tätig gewesen ist. Ob ein Zusammenhang zwischen dem NSU und dem Mord an Lübcke besteht, wird man vielleicht schon 2044 erfahren. Denn in einer Sondersitzung des Innenausschusses des hessischen Landtags verkündete der derzeitige hessische Innenminister Peter Beuth, dass die Sperrfrist der Verfassungsschutzakten zum NSU auf 30 Jahre gesenkt werden soll.
Was sich bereits mit Sicherheit sagen lässt: Der Rechtsextremismus in Hessen wurde zu lange unterschätzt. Das mag auch daran liegen, dass die Übergänge zwischen dem konservativen Bürgertum und der extremen Rechten in Hessen lange fließend waren. In den sechziger und siebziger Jahren führte der ehemalige Wehrmachtskommandeur Alfred Dregger den CDU-Landesverband an. Seine Mitgliedschaft in der NSDAP hatte dem als nationalkonservativ bezeichneten Politiker nicht geschadet. Er galt in der Bundes-CDU als Kopf des sogenannten Stahlhelmflügels. Unter Bundeskanzler Helmut Kohl (CDU) stieg er bis zum CDU/CSU-Fraktionsvorsitzenden im Bundestag auf. Sein Nachfolger im Wahlkreis wurde 1998 Martin Hohmann, der nach antisemitischen Äußerungen im Juli 2004 aus der CDU flog. Seit 2017 sitzt Hohmannn wieder im Bundestag, nun als Abgeordneter der AfD. Auch Erika Steinbach begann ihre Parteikarriere in der hessischen CDU unter Dregger. Zurzeit leitet sie die parteinahe Stiftung der AfD. Hier schließt sich auch wieder der Kreis zu dem Mord an Lübcke. Der ehemalige CDU-Generalsekretär Peter Tauber, ebenfalls aus Hessen, gibt Steinbach eine Mitschuld am Mord an Lübcke, weil sie sich zuvor auf Twitter an der Hetzkampagne gegen den Regierungspräsidenten beteiligt hatte. »Erika Steinbach ist ein trauriges Beispiel von Selbstradikalisierung«, sagte Tauber dem Spiegel. Nicht erwähnt in dem Gespräch wird Steinbachs politischer Ziehvater Alfred Dregger, der die Wehrmachtsausstellung »einen Angriff auf Deutschland« nannte und auf der Höhe der RAF-Hysterie den Einsatz von »Terroristenjagdkommandos« gefordert hatte, eine Eliteeinheit »freigestellt von bürokratischen Einengungen«. Auch die Karriere des späteren hessischen Ministerpräsidenten Roland Koch (CDU) hatte unter Dregger begonnen. Koch schürte unter anderem mit Äußerungen wie im hessischen Landtagswahlkampf 2008 – »Wer sich als Ausländer nicht an unsere Regeln hält, ist hier fehl am Platz« – rassistische Ressentiments.
Hessen war auch früher nicht nur Pflasterstrand und Badesalz, sondern auch Böhse Onkelz und die Hooligan-Truppe Presswerk Rüsselsheim, Burschenschaftsstadt Marburg und die rechtsterroristische Hepp-Kexel-Gruppe, die von Oktober bis Dezember 1982 im Rhein-Main-Gebiet mindestens elf Sprengstoffanschläge auf US-amerikanische Soldaten und Einrichtungen verübte. In Kassel liegt der Neonaziführer Michael Kühnen begraben. In Lampertheim starb 1992 eine dreiköpfige Familie aus Sri Lanka bei einem Brandanschlag auf eine Flüchtlingsunterkunft. Am 18. Februar 1994 erschoss ein Neonazi in Darmstadt Ali Bayram an dessen Wohnungstür vor den Augen seiner Tochter. Im selben Jahr erschlugen fünf Bundeswehrrekruten den 18jährigen Piotr Kania in Rotenburg an der Fulda. In Fulda ermordete der Rechtsextreme Frank R. 2001 die Ladeninhaberin Dorit Botts. Am 20. Juli 2008 überfielen Neonazis ein Zeltlager der Linksjugend in Nordhessen. Ein 19jähriger verletzte dabei ein 13jähriges Mädchen schwer, als er mit einer Glasflasche auf sie einschlug. Drei Männer prügelten 2014 den Flüchtling Charles Werabe in einer Obdachlosenunterkunft in Limburg tot und zeigten dabei den Hitlergruß.
Jedes Mal wurden diese Ereignisse im Nachhinein als Einzelfälle verbucht, dabei mangelt es in Hessen nicht an Netzwerken der extremen Rechten – selbst in staatlichen Institutionen. Im Ersten Revier der Stadt Frankfurt am Main beschaffte eine Polizistin die Privatdaten der NSU-Nebenklägervertreterin Seda Başay-Yıldız aus den internen Datenbank. Sie soll zu einer Chat-Gruppe gehören, in der hessische Polizisten rechtsextreme Botschaften austauschten. Die Anwältin erhielt rassistische Drohbotschaften, unterzeichnet mit »NSU 2.0«. In der vergangenen Woche wurde ein 30jähriger Polizeibeamter in Frankfurt vorläufig festgenommen. Er soll die Drohfaxe an Başay-Yıldız gesendet haben. Zurzeit wird in Hessen gegen 38 Polizistinnen und Polizisten wegen rechtsextremer Umtriebe ermittelt. Zur selben Zeit, als Başay-Yıldız die Drohbotschaften erhielt, begann auch der Soldatenverein Uniter, der später wegen des sich aus seinen Mitgliedern und Sympathisanten rekrutierenden konspirativen Hannibal-Netzwerks in die Schlagzeilen geraten ist, seine Aktivitäten in Frankfurt. Der rechtsextreme Bundeswehrsoldat Franco A., der ein Doppelleben als vermeintlicher Flüchtling führte und dem Hannibal-Netzwerk angehören soll, kommt aus Offenbach.
Ob es zwischen all diesen Ereignissen, Personen und Organisationen mehr als nur ideologische Zusammenhänge gibt, lässt sich vielleicht doch früher erfahren als 2044. Zumindest die Bundes-SPD fordert eine schnellere Freigabe der Akten. Es sei »nicht ausgeschlossen, dass hier auch systematisch möglicherweise ein Zusammenhang besteht«, sagte der kommissarische Fraktionvorsitzende Rolf Mützenich am 25. Juni vor der Fraktionssitzung im Bundestag. »Wenn es sich bewahrheiten sollte bei den abschließenden Ermittlungen, dass gegen den ehemaligen Regierungspräsidenten Lübcke ein politischer Mord von rechts unternommen worden ist, ist das für die sozialdemokratische Partei auch ein Fanal.«
Einen Tag später gestand der Hauptverdächtige Stephan E. den Mord an Lübcke. Er selbst sagte im Geständnis, das er am Dienstag widerrief, er habe allein gehandelt. Doch Zeugen berichten von zwei Autos, die den Tatort nach dem Mord verlassen hätten. Die antifaschistische Rechercheplattform Exif hat die Vergangenheit von E. in der rechtsextremen Szene Nordhessens beleuchtet: »Es deutet derzeit einiges darauf hin, dass E. zum Netzwerk Combat 18 mindestens Kontakte unterhielt. Möglicherweise war er dort tiefer eingebunden. Eine zentrale Person des deutschen Combat-18-Ablegers ist der ehemalige Kasseler Stanley Röske, mit dem E. spätestens seit den frühen nuller Jahren bekannt ist.« Exif hat im Jahr 2018 eine Recherche über Combat 18 veröffentlicht. Nun schreibt die Gruppe, es sei offensichtlich, dass »dieses Netzwerk von Spitzeln verschiedener Behörden und Geheimdienste durchsetzt« sei und deswegen seit Jahren von den Behörden, allen voran vom Verfassungsschutz, »kleingeredet und ›an der langen Leine‹ laufen gelassen« werde. Umstritten ist, ob das Foto eines Treffens von Combat 18 im sächsischen Mücka im März tatsächlich Stephan E. zeigt. Der Neonazi Karsten H. aus dem hessischen Lautertal hat eine eidesstattliche Versicherung abgegeben, dass er die Person auf dem Foto sei. Unter beauftragten Gutachtern gibt es keine Einigkeit. H. gehört wie E. zu dem Kreis um den Combat-18-Führer Röske. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
PARIS (Reuters) - Distracted by an unresolved migration crisis and negotiations on keeping Britain in the European Union, euro zone leaders could be caught unprepared by a new storm on financial markets.
A rainbow is seen behind European flags during a euro zone EU leaders emergency summit on the situation in Greece at the European Council headquarters in Brussels, Belgium, July 7, 2015. REUTERS/Eric Vidal/Files
Global market turmoil since the start of the year has helped set warning lights flashing in euro zone sovereign bond markets. In early February, the premium that investors charge to hold Portuguese, Spanish and Italian government debt rather than German bonds hit some of the highest levels since the euro zone crisis that peaked in 2011-2012.
European bank shares have been badly hit by concerns over their high stock of non-performing loans, new regulatory burdens and a squeeze on profits due to sub-zero official interest rates. New EU banking regulations that force shareholders and bondholders to take first losses if a bank needs rescuing are further spooking the market, notably in Italy.
All this comes at a time when public resistance to further austerity measures has surged all over southern Europe, producing unstable results at the ballot box.
Furthermore, the storm clouds are gathering above a tenuous and slow euro zone economic recovery - growth is officially forecast to reach 1.9 percent this year versus around 1.6 percent in 2015. Southern periphery countries all face budget problems that are fuelling political tension with Brussels.
Inflation is also refusing to perk up despite the European Central Bank’s bond-buying program and negative interest rates, making it harder for heavily indebted euro zone countries to pay down debt.
Yet euro zone governments transfixed by differences over sharing out refugees, managing Europe’s porous borders and accommodating British demands for concessions on EU membership terms have a huge amount on their hands already.
One French government adviser said the EU had never faced such an accumulation of crises in the last 50 years.
NO PANIC
At their most recent meeting, euro zone finance ministers said the latest market turmoil was no reason for concern at this stage.
They insisted that the euro zone is very different now from its situation in 2010 in terms of institutions and instruments available to handle another outbreak of the crisis.
Among them are the European Stability Mechanism (ESM) rescue fund, better capitalized banks, a partial banking union with a single supervisory authority under the ECB, a mechanism for winding down failing banks, and an embryonic bank resolution fund.
The ECB has also come a long way since 2010, widening its policy scope to so-called quantitative easing, creating money to buy euro zone government bonds in a bid to revive inflation and boost recovery.
Markets expect the ECB to loosen monetary policy still further next month, but it’s not clear that such a move would bolster confidence in the banks.
And nothing that has happened so far is close to the problems seen in 2011-2012. The spread between Portuguese and German 10 year bond yields hit more than 1550 basis points then; the February 2016 high was just shy of 380 bps.
But worries about banks have been spreading to sovereign bonds in more vulnerable countries in a revival of the so-called “doom loop” that EU reforms were meant to remove.
Pressure from euro zone hawks such as Germany and the Netherlands to either limit the amount of home-country debt that a bank may hold, or give national sovereign debt differential risk weightings on banks’ books have added to uncertainty.
POLITICAL RISK
Political risk is a significant factor in the new market anxiety. Portugal has a shaky three-party leftist government that has gone back on some of the austerity measures adopted by its center-right predecessor since a 2011 bailout.
Only one ratings agency still rated Lisbon’s debt at investment grade - a condition for remaining in the ECB’s asset purchase program. Euro zone officials, however, play down the risk of Portugal going off the rails, saying that if it were to risk losing market access, the ESM could offer it a precautionary credit line on strict reform conditions.
Spain is being run by a caretaker center-right minority government following an inconclusive election in December, and its budget deficit has ballooned off course in the meantime. But the Spanish economy is still growing and its banks have been thoroughly overhauled.
Greece’s leftist government is wrangling with creditors once again on implementation of its third bailout since 2010 amid strikes and protests against a planned pension reform and tax increases for farmers.
Yet no one in Athens, Brussels or Berlin wants another Greek crisis after last year’s near exit from the euro zone, so the chances of a compromise that keeps the third Greek bailout program on the road in the coming weeks is high.
In Rome, Socialist Prime Minister Matteo Renzi is waging a war or words against the European Union’s budget discipline rules which he says are constraining his efforts to stimulate long moribund economic growth.
Italy, which has the highest public debt ratio to economic output of any euro zone country except Greece, is required by EU rules to make a big debt reduction in 2017, a pre-election year, which may explain Renzi’s outbursts against Brussels and Berlin.
“The European Commission is going to have to apply its flexibility rules with particular flexibility,” said a former euro zone policymaker, who struggled to enforce fiscal discipline during the crisis. But EU officials say Italy has already benefited from plenty of flexibility.
Italian banks have seen their stocks hammered because of persistent concerns about their profitability in an era of low growth and near-zero inflation, and their ability to work down non-performing loans without state aid.
“There are investors who are waking up and becoming aware of the risks. Some are panicking,” a euro zone central banker said, speaking on condition of anonymity. But he added that the euro zone was more “robust” than at the peak of the crisis.
The background is nonetheless fragile, given that in Paris and Berlin all eyes are on the refugee crisis, border controls and the “Brexit” negotiations.
French President Francois Hollande said in a new year speech to the diplomatic corps that the two countries aimed to present proposals by the end of this year on “the political and democratic framework, the institutions and stability instruments that will be necessary to ensure stability and growth in the euro zone”.
There is no sign of anyone working on such a plan. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
Q:
Wordpress Password Protect Archive and Single Posts for Custom Post Type
Is there an easy way to password protect an archive and single posts of a custom post type?
I found this article on password protecting single posts, but am still lost on the archive loop. I would want it only display the password box until the user has logged in.
https://wordpress.stackexchange.com/questions/4952/forcing-all-posts-associated-with-a-custom-post-type-to-be-private
Thanks,
A:
The only way I've found to quickly password-protect the archive is by creating a template that retrieves the custom post type data and associating it with a page that can be password protected.
http://codex.wordpress.org/Page_Templates
Once that page is password protected, you find the post ID to apply it to the single-{your_custom_post_type}.php like so:
<?php
if ( !post_password_required('{protected_post_id}') ) : ?>
//protected content here
<?php else:
//show the password form of the protected page
echo get_the_password_form('{protected_post_id}');
endif; ?>
This saves you from having to password-protect every post under your custom post type.
A:
For single pages you could just edit single.php and add something along the lines of:
<?php
if ( is_user_logged_in() ) {
// Show Post to Logged in User
}
else {
//Show password field
}
?>
If like you mentioned you are using a custom post type or an archive template you could apply the same method as above to single-[custom-post-type-name].php or archive.php
| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | StackExchange |
Measures assessing non sex-typed behavior continue to define that behavior in traditional sex role terms. A status/role distinction formulation of behavior provides a broader context in which to account for the characteristics and competencies of an individual under specific circumstances. Under the status assignment model, individuals with a performative orientation tend to categorize acts in terms of specific roles. Individuals with a significance orientation are able to take into account the total "meaning" of the performance. To demonstrate that performative-oriented subjects would engage in sex role stereotyping, while significance-oriented subjects would evaluate each person/situation in terms of personal competence and behavior opportunities, 20 subjects (10 with a performative orientation; 10 with a significance orientation) rated observed behaviors in six scenarios, according to 20 adjectives from the Bem Sex Role Inventory. An analysis of the results showed that while performative subjects sex stereotyped the behavior of characters in all scenarios, the significance-oriented subjects showed no stereotyping effects. They rated each situation according to the appropriateness of behaviors in that situation and did not use irrelevent sex role prescriptions. In addition, performance-oriented subjects counter-stereotyped the obvious performative behavioral option in order to avoid presenting themselves as traditional sex role typers. Measures using the performance/significance orientation are able to overcome this social desirability bias in a way that current face-valid measures of androgyny are not. (BL) | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
OAKLAND — The city’s library is finding new ways to connect to residents, adding bicycle bookmobiles that staffers pedal to community festivals and hand out free books, while also documenting people’s recollections of a neighborhood quickly changing.
Librarians and supporters rolled out two new bicycle-powered bookmobiles Saturday at the Main Library on 14th Street for a ride down Grand Avenue along Lake Merritt to the Lakeview Branch.
The bookmobiles have a trailer hitch easily attached to a bicycle rear axle. Staff already has ridden the bike-powered bookmobile to the Laney College Eco Fest, Bike to Work Day events outside City Hall, Latham Square celebrations and book festivals.
The books librarians give away are from the library’s “Share the Love” collection. On a good day, the trailers, with racks on two sides holding a couple of dozen books each, have to be restocked several times, librarian Emily Weak said.
“Librarians just want to give people free books. That’s all we want to do,” she said. Most of the books are donated, though some are paid for with a library children’s department fund.
“We want to make sure that (not) having a library card is not a barrier to library services,” Weak said. With the bookmobiles, the program can expand from the Main Library to sites more easily reached from the West Oakland branch at 18th and Adeline streets or East Oakland’s 81st Avenue Branch, where the Scraper Bike team holds Friday repair clinics, she said..
Library aide Reginald “RB” Burnette II, who oversees the repair clinics, was on hand at the Lakeview Branch during unveiling of the bookmobiles Saturday. Burnette helped make smoothies with a bike-powered blender.
At present, the bookmobiles go out only about once a week, Weak said.
“It’d be cool to see different styles, for Oakland to have a big fleet,” said Carlos Hernandez, a city Department of Transportation worker who built the trailers in his spare time. The first took him about 30 hours, the second half as long, he said.
The wooden racks are built onto a welded steel frame. They have lights, and one includes a small music amplifier; another has a small basketball hoop and Warriors logos.
Later that day, the 99-year-old Golden Gate Branch on San Pablo launched its Commons Archive to collect stories of the fast-changing neighborhood. The library held a block party, with barbecue, a band, face painting and tables staffed by community organizations.
“The library is not just a place to check out books; it’s a reflection of the community,” branch librarian Erin Sanders said.
Though still-working-class, the neighborhood has seen a lot of change over the decades. A 19th-century black-and-white image over the library stairs shows a section of San Pablo Avenue, unpaved, with just a few wooden houses in sight.
It began in the 19th century as the home primarily of European immigrants: Portuguese, Italians and Scandinavians. It later became home to African-Americans in two migrations in the first half of the 20th century, Commons Archive project coordinator Sue Mark said.
Now, as with so much of Oakland, the neighborhood is changing again, with prices too high for families to resist selling and moving away or selling when dividing an estate between members of succeeding generations, Mark said.
“In the long view, decade by decade, it’s always changing,” she said.
Overseeing the barbecue was Mark Lasartemay, now retired after 26 years at the Lawrence Berkeley National Lab. He cheerfully described the work of his grandparents Eugene and Ruth Lasartemay, whose collection of historical artifacts became the foundation of the East Bay Negro Historical Society, now part of the library’s African American Museum and Library Archives.
“That’s what made them click; they enjoyed working together, were interested in the same things and that’s how this came about,” he said of his grandparents.
In addition to the material they donated to the archives, he said as he grilled chicken, tri-tip and sausages he donated for the kickoff block party, they collected so many items that “it took three months to go through their house on Hearst Street that I’m remodeling.”
The Commons Archive project intends to encourage the neighborhood to develop an archive of its own history. In the library’s downstairs computer lab, visitors will be welcome to drop by to share memories and artifacts, Mark said.
She is scheduling two-hour sessions in early June to scan snapshots, scrapbooks and other paper items people might like to share. They also will be encouraged to record stories to “let future generations know what it is like to live in this neighborhood.”
The project will continue for two years.
Mark, an independent cultural researcher, is doing the Commons Archive work with the Kala Art Institute with grants provided by the California Arts Council and the Creative Work Fund.
“The library’s never had something like this before,” she said. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
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Taking Stock of Year One of the Trump Administration’s Harmful Agenda Against Reproductive Health and Rights
From limiting abortion access to destabilizing the family planning safety net, Trump and social conservatives did considerable harm while also signaling their intentions for further attacks in the years ahead.
Throughout President Trump’s first year in office, social conservatives in the administration and Congress mounted an all-out assault on people’s ability to obtain comprehensive reproductive health care in the United States and abroad. Despite coming up short in many respects, policymakers did considerable harm while also signaling their intentions for further attacks in the years ahead.
Undermining Health Insurance Coverage
President Trump entered office last January with a bold promise: to repeal Obamacare. And for much of 2017, Congress—with vocal if mercurial backing from Trump—pursued dismantling the Affordable Care Act (ACA), which is largely credited with reducing the proportion of uninsured women of reproductive age by 41 percent in its first three years. Social conservatives not only targeted private coverage, but also sought to fundamentally disrupt Medicaid by eliminating the ACA’s option for states to expand eligibility and by imposing draconian caps on federal funding.
Although this ambitious plan collapsed, conservative policymakers did secure a partial victory in December, when Trump signed a sweeping tax reform bill. Among many other provisions, the legislation repealed the ACA’s requirement that individuals have comprehensive health insurance coverage or else pay a tax penalty—a provision designed to help stabilize the market and keep premiums down.
Furthermore, Trump is increasingly using his executive powers to undercut other critical advances for reproductive health coverage. In October, the administration overhauled federal regulations governing the ACA’s contraceptive coverage guarantee. Although temporarily blocked by two federal courts, if implemented, these regulations would allow any employer, college, or university to opt out of covering contraceptive care on religious or moral grounds.
Looking ahead, the administration may well continue to try to undermine the ACA and its health insurance marketplaces. Already, under Seema Verma’s leadership, the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services is encouraging states to apply for “waivers” of federal law in order to impose work requirements on Medicaid enrollees, and will continue to work with states to move Medicaid in a conservative direction, likely interfering with people’s ability to obtain reproductive health care.
Destabilizing the Family Planning Safety Net
On top of the threats posed by restructuring Medicaid, many safety-net family planning providers—particularly Planned Parenthood—have withstood relentless attacks. Congressional attempts to repeal the ACA and spending proposals for fiscal year 2018 from both the U.S. House of Representatives and the Trump administration would exclude Planned Parenthood from federally funded programs. Recent Guttmacher Institute analyses show that doing so would place unrealistic burdens on other safety-net family planning providers, significantly jeopardizing access to publicly funded contraceptive care.
The same policymakers have targeted the Title X national family planning program. In recent years, the House has routinely proposed eliminating Title X funding, though it has thus far been thwarted by the Senate. In May, Trump picked Teresa Manning—who has publicly doubted the efficacy of birth control and the government’s role in helping women obtain it—to head the Office of Population Affairs (OPA), which oversees Title X. Earlier this month, Manning abruptly left her post, now filled by Valerie Huber—a longtime advocate of abstinence-only sexual education programs who will also continue in her role as chief of staff to the assistant secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services. Meanwhile, OPA has yet to release a long-delayed funding announcement, which is widely expected to signal some of the ways in which the administration intends to realign and undermine the Title X program.
In perhaps the biggest coup for abortion opponents, President Trump could remake the federal judiciary on a scale that has not been possible in decades. Last year, Trump nominated dozens of justices whose records reveal an alarming willingness to dismantle reproductive rights, including Neil Gorsuch’s successful nomination to the U.S. Supreme Court. Indeed, the extreme anti-abortion advocacy group Operation Rescue named Trump its 2017 Person of the Year.
In the years ahead, the most vulnerable women will likely be hit hardest by the federal government’s opposition to abortion. This started to play out in 2017, when administration officials tried mightily to force young immigrant women in federal custody to carry pregnancies to term against their wills. Although some obtained the abortions they sought under court order, others’ cases continue into 2018, and the administration is staunchly willing to take the issue all the way to the Supreme Court.
Bolstering Discredited Abstinence-Only Programs
Many in Congress and the administration are also now calling for dramatic funding increases for abstinence-only-until-marriage programs. These programs insist that refraining from sex outside of marriage is the only acceptable behavior for people of all ages, and adolescents in particular. Toward this end, these programs provide medically inaccurate and incomplete sexual health information and perpetuate stigma around sex, sexual health, and sexuality.
Back in 2010, the federal government drastically cut spending on these programs, heeding overwhelming scientific evidence that they are ineffective and potentially harmful. But in recent years, social conservatives in Congress have funneled more and more taxpayer dollars into abstinence-only programs. With President Trump in office, that push is now in overdrive. In 2017, the administration pulled more than $200 million for teen pregnancy prevention efforts, ending funding after just three years of what were expected to be five-year grants. The administration and many in Congress also started aggressively reshaping policy with new messaging, for instance rebranding abstinence-only programs as “sexual risk avoidance.”
Dismantling Support for Global Reproductive Health
Within days of President Trump’s inauguration, his administration took drastic steps to undercut U.S. support for global sexual and reproductive health and rights. First, it reinstated and expanded the global gag rule, which prevents foreign nongovernmental organizations that receive U.S. global health assistance from using private, non-U.S. funding to provide abortion services or information or to advocate for abortion policy reform. Next, based on a long-debunked allegation that the agency supports coercive abortion in China, it blocked funding for the United Nations Population Fund, which supports reproductive and maternal health programs in over 150 countries.
More recently, the administration proposed eliminating funding for international family planning and reproductive health assistance in its fiscal year 2018 budget, representing the first time that an administration has tried to wipe out these programs. For more than 50 years, the U.S. Agency for International Development has supported family planning and reproductive health programs in developing countries that markedly improve the well-being of women, families, and societies. Looking ahead, these programs—and their hard-fought gains—are endangered.
Only Year One
Underneath this multipronged—if not fully realized—offensive, the Trump administration has promoted ideology over science and public health. And political appointees are fostering toxic environments of secrecy, urging their agencies to act without transparency, and causing well-intentioned civil servants to self-censor out of fear. Still, the first year of Trump’s tenure revealed the considerable, systemic extent of the campaign against reproductive health and rights being waged by President Trump, his administration, and social conservatives in Congress. Policymakers and advocates seeking to defend people’s right and ability to obtain high-quality reproductive care the world over must remain vigilant.
Kinsey Hasstedt is a Senior Policy Manager in the Guttmacher Institute’s Washington, DC office. Her focus is on publicly funded family planning programs in the United States, the impact of women’s ability to time and space their childbearing, and immigrant women’s access to sexual and reproductive health care.
Heather Boonstra is the Director of Public Policy in the Guttmacher Institute’s Washington, DC office. She oversees the Institute’s advocacy efforts to advance sexual and reproductive health and rights, which are designed to bring evidence to bear on policy and program development in the United States and globally. Ms. Boonstra is also the Editor-in-Chief of the Institute’s policy journal, the Guttmacher Policy Review. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
Cotton Club
The Cotton Club was a New York City nightclub from 1923 to 1940. It was located on 142nd Street and Lenox Avenue (1923 to 1935), then briefly in midtown Theater District (1935-1940) The club operated during the United States' era of Prohibition and Jim Crow era racial segregation. Black people could not initially patronize the Cotton Club, but the venue featured many of the most popular black entertainers of the era, including musicians Fletcher Henderson, Duke Ellington, Jimmie Lunceford, Chick Webb, Louis Armstrong, Count Basie, Fats Waller, Willie Bryant; vocalists Adelaide Hall, Ethel Waters, Cab Calloway, Bessie Smith, Aida Ward, Avon Long, the Dandridge Sisters, the Will Vodery Choir, The Mills Brothers, Nina Mae McKinney, Billie Holiday, Lena Horne, and dancers such as Katherine Dunham, Bill Robinson, The Nicholas Brothers, Charles 'Honi' Coles, Leonard Reed, Stepin Fetchit, the Berry Brothers, The Four Step Brothers, Jeni Le Gon and Earl Snakehips Tucker.
At its prime, the Cotton Club served as a hip meeting spot, with regular "Celebrity Nights" on Sundays featuring guests such as Jimmy Durante, George Gershwin, Sophie Tucker, Paul Robeson, Al Jolson, Mae West, Richard Rodgers, Irving Berlin, Eddie Cantor, Fanny Brice, Langston Hughes, Judy Garland, Moss Hart, and Jimmy Walker, among others.
Story
In 1920, heavyweight boxing champion Jack Johnson rented the upper floor of the building on the corner of 142nd Street and Lenox Avenue in the heart of Harlem and opened an intimate supper club called the Club Deluxe. Owney Madden, a prominent bootlegger and gangster, took over the club after his release from Sing Sing in 1923 and changed its name to the Cotton Club. The two arranged a deal that allowed Johnson to remain the club’s manager. Madden "used the cotton club as an outlet to sell his #1 beer to the prohibition crowd". When the club closed briefly in 1925 for selling liquor, it soon reopened without interference from the police. Herman Stark then became the stage manager. Harlem producer Leonard Harper directed the first two of three opening night floor-shows at the new venue.
The Cotton Club was a whites-only establishment and reproduced the racist imagery of the era, often depicting black people as savages in exotic jungles or as "darkies" in the plantation South. The club imposed a subtler color line on the chorus girls, whom the club presented in skimpy outfits. They were expected to be "tall, tan, and terrific," that meant they had to be at least 5'6" tall, light-skinned, and under 21 years of age. The male dancers' skin colors were more varied. "Black performers did not mix with the club's clientele, and after the show many of them went next door to the basement of the superintendent at 646 Lenox, where they imbibed corn whiskey, peach brandy, and marijuana." Ellington was expected to write "jungle music" for a white audience; Ellington's contributions to the Cotton Club were priceless, as described in this 1937 New York Times excerpt: "So long may the empirical Duke and his music making roosters reign - and long may the Cotton Club continue to remember that it came down from Harlem". Entrance was expensive for customers, so the performers were well-compensated.
The Harlem years
Shows at the Cotton Club were musical revues, and several were called "Cotton Club Parade" followed by the year. The revues featured dancers, singers, comedians, and variety acts, as well as a house band. These revues helped launch the careers of many artists, including Fletcher Henderson, who led the Cotton Club's first house band in 1923. Duke Ellington's orchestra was the house band from December 4, 1927 until June 30, 1931. The first revue that Ellington's orchestra performed was called "Rhythmania" and featured Adelaide Hall. Hall had just recorded several songs with Ellington, including "Creole Love Call," that became a worldwide hit. The club gave Ellington national exposure through radio broadcasts originating there (first over WHN, then over WEAF, and after September 1929 on Fridays over the NBC Red Network, for which WEAF was the flagship station). The club also enabled him to develop his repertoire while composing dance tunes for the shows as well overtures, transitions, accompaniments, and "jungle" effects, giving him a freedom to experiment with orchestral arrangements that touring bands rarely experienced. Ellington recorded more than 100 compositions during this period. Eventually, responding to Ellington's request, the club slightly relaxed its policy of segregation.
Cab Calloway's orchestra brought its "Brown Sugar" revue to the club in 1930, replacing Ellington's orchestra after its departure in 1931. Jimmie Lunceford's band replaced Calloway's in 1934. Ellington, Calloway, and Louis Armstrong returned to perform at the club in later years. Lena Horne (Leona Laviscount) began at the Cotton Club as a chorus girl at the age of sixteen, and sang "Sweeter than Sweet" with Calloway. Dorothy Dandridge performed at the club while part of the Dandridge Sisters, and Coleman Hawkins and Don Redman played at the club as part of Henderson's band. Tap dancers Bill "Bojangles" Robinson, Sammy Davis Jr. (as part of the Will Mastin Trio), and the Nicholas Brothers performed at the club as well.
Another notable "Cotton Club Parade" in 1933 featured Ethel Waters, and Duke Ellington performing Stormy Weather. Later this performance would also include Lena Horne, and Katherine Dunham in the film adaptation of Stormy Weather. The club also drew from white popular culture. Walter Brooks, who had produced the successful Broadway show Shuffle Along, was the club's nominal owner. Dorothy Fields and Jimmy McHugh, one of the most prominent songwriting teams of the era, and Harold Arlen wrote the songs for the revues, one of which, Blackbirds of 1928, starring Adelaide Hall, featured the songs "I Can't Give You Anything But Love" and "Diga Diga Doo," produced by Lew Leslie on Broadway. In 1934, Hall starred in the "Cotton Club Parade 1934," the highest-grossing show ever to appear at the club. The show opened on March 11, 1934, and ran for six months, attracting over 600,000 paying customers. The score was written by Harold Arlen and Ted Koehler and featured the classic song "Ill Wind." During Hall's performance of "Ill Wind," a dry-ice machine was used to create a fog effect, the first time such equipment had been used on a stage. Sixteen-year-old Lena Horne was also featured on the bill. After appearing at the Cotton Club the entire show starring Adelaide Hall was taken out on a road tour across America.
The Midtown years
The club closed temporarily in 1936 after the race riot in Harlem the previous year. Carl Van Vechten vowed to boycott the club for having such racist policies as refusing entry to African Americans in place. The Cotton Club reopened later that year at Broadway and 48th. The site chosen for the new Cotton Club was a big room on the top floor of a building where Broadway and Seventh Avenue meet, an important midtown crossroads at the center of the Great White Way, the Broadway Theater District. Stark and the club's owners were quite certain the club would succeed in this new location, but they realized that success depended on a popular opening show. A 1937 New York Times article states, "The Cotton Club has climbed aboard the Broadway bandwagon, with a show that is calculated to give the customers their money’s worth of sound and color – and it does." The most extravagant revue in the club's 13-year history opened on September 24, 1936 with Robinson and Calloway leading a roster of approximately 130 performers. Stark paid Bill "Bojangles" Robinson $3,500 a week, the highest salary ever paid to a black entertainer in a Broadway production and a higher salary than had ever been paid to any nightclub entertainer.
In June of 1935, the Cotton Club opened its doors to black patrons. In preparation for the Joe Louis fight the club planned a gala and, "extended an open invitation to the Sepians."
The Cotton Club closed permanently in 1940 under pressure from higher rents, changing taste, and a federal investigation into tax evasion by Manhattan nightclub owners. The Latin Quarter nightclub opened in its space and the building was torn down in 1989 to build a hotel. The Broadway Cotton Club successfully blended the old and new; the site was new and the décor was slightly different, but once a customer was seated it felt like a familiar place.
Langston Hughes’ critique
Madden's goal for the Cotton Club was to provide "an authentic black entertainment to a wealthy, whites-only audience." Langston Hughes, a key figure of the Harlem Renaissance, attended the Cotton Club as a rare black customer. Following his visit, Hughes criticized the club’s segregated atmosphere and commented that it was "a Jim Crow club for gangsters and monied whites." In addition to the "jungle music" and plantation-themed interior, Hughes believed that Madden’s idea of "authentic black entertainment" was similar to the entertainment provided at a zoo and that white "strangers were given the best ringside tables to sit and stare at the Negro customers - like amusing animals in a zoo."
Hughes also believed that the Cotton Club negatively affected the Harlem community. The club brought an "influx of whites toward Harlem after sundown, flooding the little cabarets and bars where formerly only colored people laughed and sang." Hughes also mentioned how many of the neighboring cabarets, especially black cabarets, were forced to close due to the competition from the Cotton Club. These smaller clubs did not have a large floor or music by famous entertainers like Ellington.
Other "Cotton Clubs"
An incarnation of the Cotton Club opened on 125th Street in Harlem on December 12, 1977. James Haskins wrote at the time, "Today, there is a new incarnation of the Cotton Club that sits on the most western end of the 125th Street under the massive Manhattanville viaduct. The windowless block of a building has a less dramatic display out front but seems to be popular with tourists for Sunday jazz brunches."
A Chicago branch of the Cotton Club was run by Ralph Capone, and a California branch was located in Culver City during the late 1920s and early 1930s, featuring performers from the original Cotton Club such as Armstrong, Calloway, and Ellington.
Cotton Club (Portland), Cotton Club (Las Vegas), an additional cotton club that opened in Lubbock Texas were all different locations of other Cotton Clubs. The Lubbock club was opened on November, 11, 1938 by Tommy Hancock, and was an integrated club, not unlike the Chicago club. The club in Lubbock however, was home to more white artists than the Harlem club. The Cotton club in Portland was opened by Paul Knauls in 1963. The club in Las Vegas was opened by Moe Taub in 1944. This location differed from other clubs because it was a casino. Taub opened for black servicemen.
In popular culture
A fictional version of the club, called the Cotton Pickers Club, appears in the 1932 film Taxi!
The Cotton Club is featured in the music video for the song "Oye Como Va" by Cuban-American singer Celia Cruz.
The Cotton Club Gala that featured some of the club's original dancers, was produced at La MaMa Experimental Theatre Club twice in 1975 and again in 1985. The 1985 production was directed by La MaMa founder Ellen Stewart. La MaMa also toured Europe with the Cotton Club Gala in 1976.
The 1983 music video for the Kool & the Gang song "Joanna" depicts Joanna reminiscing about her days as a dancer at the Cotton Club.
Francis Ford Coppola's 1984 film The Cotton Club offers a history of the club in the context of race relations in the 1930s and the conflicts between Madden, Dutch Schultz, Vincent "Mad Dog" Coll, Lucky Luciano, and Ellsworth "Bumpy" Johnson.
The Cotton Club Comes to the Ritz (1985) starring Adelaide Hall, Cab Calloway, Doc Cheatham, The Nicholas Brothers etc. Produced by BBC TV.
In the 1988 film Who Framed Roger Rabbit, the fictional Ink and Paint Club is based on the Cotton Club.
The Cotton Club was briefly depicted in the 1997 movie Hoodlum featuring Laurence Fishburne, Tim Roth, and Andy García as the site of a confrontation between Schultz (Roth) and Johnson (Fishburne).
The club is mentioned in the novelization of the 1998 Star Trek: Deep Space Nine episode "Far Beyond the Stars". The novelization mentions that Benny Russell's parents met at the Cotton Club when Russell's mother was a dancer there and gives some descriptive detail of the club.
Coppola's film is discussed in the 2000 Ken Burns PBS documentary miniseries, Jazz.
After Midnight is a 2013 Broadway musical revue about the music created during Duke Ellington's years at the Cotton Club.
The 2013 episode of White Collar titled Empire City features a version of the Cotton Club.
In Luke Cage, Cottonmouth refers to his nightclub, Harlem's Paradise, as "the new Cotton Club".
Further reading
See also
Cotton Club Boys (chorus line)
References
"Cotton Club." Encyclopædia Britannica. Encyclopædia Britannica Online Academic Edition, 318.
Bruno, Joseph. "The Cotton Club." EZineArticles. January 25, 2012. Web. Accessed March 13, 2012.
The Harlem Reader, Duke Ellington.
Haskins, James. "The Cotton Club Comes To Broadway," in The Cotton Club (New York: Random House, 1977, ), 113-127.
Haskins. The Cotton Club (New York: New American Library, 1977, pbk).
The New York Times, "Dry Padlocks Snapped on Nine Wet Doors; 'Owney' Maddens 'Club' is One of them." The New York Times (1923-Current file) June 23, 1925: 23. ProQuest Historical Newspapers: The New York Times (1851-2008), March 14, 2012.
The New York Times, "Night Club Notes." The New York Times (1923-Current file) Mar 20 1937: 22. ProQuest Historical Newspapers: The New York Times (1851-2008), March 4, 2012.
The New York Times, "Duke Ellington, a Master of Music, Dies at 75." The New York Times (1923-Current file) May 25, 1974: 1. ProQuest Historical Newspapers: The New York Times (1851-2008). March 14, 2012.
Williams, Iain Cameron. Underneath A Harlem Moon... The Harlem to Paris Years of Adelaide Hall, Continuum Publishing, Bloomsbury, 2002/2003, .
External links
1931 German broadcast recording of a live performance at the Cotton Club
"Harlem Jazz: Essential Recordings" (Ted Gioia)
"Cotton Club 2-CD-Box & 124-Page Book" (Bear Family Records)
The Cotton Club "First and foremost in bringing Broadway to Harlem... and Harlem to Broadway"
Category:1920 establishments in New York (state)
Category:1940 disestablishments in New York (state)
Category:1977 establishments in New York (state)
Category:Former music venues in New York City
Category:Harlem
Category:Jazz clubs in New York City
Category:Music venues completed in 1923
Category:Music venues in New York City
Category:Nightclubs in Manhattan
Category:Defunct jazz clubs in the United States
Category:Speakeasies
Category:Cultural history of New York City
Category:Historically African-American theaters and music venues | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Wikipedia (en) |
Congress returns to Washington next week amid mounting Republican skepticism that the party will be able to deliver on its pledge of repealing and replacing Obamacare.
"I'm not sure I'd put a bet on it," Sen. Ron Johnson of Wisconsin told me in an interview. His comments followed an interview Sen. Richard Burr gave to a North Carolina television station in which he called the House-passed health-care bill "dead on arrival," adding: "I don't see a comprehensive health-care plan this year."
A third Republican senator, speaking on condition of anonymity, told me the only health-care bill capable of passing the Senate would be a "narrow" approach repairing marketplace exchanges and preserving Obamacare's expansion of Medicaid, while perhaps loosening regulations on states and changing how the federal government shares Medicaid expenses with them. The problem with that more modest approach, the Republican senator conceded, is that the more conservative House Republican caucus might reject it.
Those individual comments are significant because Republicans have only a narrow 52-seat Senate majority. To pass a bill without help from Democrats, Majority Leader Mitch McConnell's caucus could only suffer two defectors, which would allow Vice President Mike Pence to break a 50-50 tie.
Burr's assessment of the American Health Care Act narrowly passed by the House reflects its myriad political problems. The Congressional Budget Office estimates it would result in 23 million fewer Americans with health insurance and raise costs for older and sicker people while providing a tax cut for the wealthy.
Meanwhile, insurance companies have been rattled by uncertainty over not only the long-term fate of Obamacare but also the near-term prospects for federal payments that under the 2010 law help reduce co-payments and deductibles for low-income beneficiaries. If the Trump administration withholds those payments, as it has threatened to, health insurance premiums would spike.
Facing that array of difficulties, Johnson, a conservative former private-sector CEO who won a second term last year, suggested that the Senate pause and take "short-term action to stabilize the markets" by assuring those federal payments. Then, he said, Congress could take "a thoughtful approach," perhaps involving Democrats, to "repairing the damage" he says the Affordable Care Act caused.
Such an approach would neither satisfy Republicans who have demanded outright repeal of Obamacare for years nor square with the campaign promises of President Donald Trump. There are multiple ideas in circulation — from more closely targeting the House bill's subsidies toward the old and sick, to scaling back its Medicaid cuts, to automatic enrollment in health insurance under rules states could determine.
Yet there's no consensus around any single approach at the moment, and not much time to develop one and get it onto Trump's desk. Congress has only seven weeks in session until its August recess.
That August recess represents the unofficial deadline by which Republicans have said they will either enact a health-care bill or simply move on. And what they would move on to is tax-cut legislation that Trump and GOP business supporters value more. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
Au cœur de Londres, le quartier financier de la City, déjà ébranlé par les perspectives du Brexit, est devenu le terrain de jeux des jeunes pousses de la fintech, prêtes à faire la peau aux banques à l’ancienne. Capitale mondiale de la finance BCBG en col blanc et costume croisé, la City entame ainsi sa mue en une sorte d’annexe de la Silicon Valley. Une révolution économique, mais surtout culturelle. Reportage.
À la sortie de la station de métro Canary Wharf, la procession matinale des cols blancs ignore le stand de James Shoe Care, pourtant stratégiquement positionné pour faire briller les souliers de la finance. Les visages livides évitent aussi de lever les yeux vers les écrans géants qui surplombent les tourniquets. Tout en flashs acidulés, la région Île-de-France se vante pourtant d’être la terre d’accueil des innovateurs ambitieux, et des futurs naufragés du Brexit.
Le quartier de Canary Wharf / © Aleem Yousaf-Wikimedia
Apparaît ensuite la réclame d’un service de trading en ligne misant sur le bitcoin, le ripple, le dash, l’ethereum et quelques autres crypto-monnaies. Les gratte-ciel vaniteux de ce quartier d’affaires en bord de Tamise, excroissance de la City imaginée par Margaret Thatcher, sont eux aussi menacés, mais cette fois de l’intérieur, par des hôtes au langage cryptique. EToro, le service de trading qui se paie une publicité dans le métro, est l’un des locataires de Level39, le hub technologique situé dans la tour One Canada Square. C’est justement avec Iqbal Gandham, le directeur de la start-up, que nous avons pris rendez-vous. L’ascenseur grimpe jusqu’à l’étage 42. Dopé par son succès, l’incubateur dispose désormais de trois étages où sont abritées, dans des bureaux-bocaux, près de 200 entreprises promettant de tuer leurs voisins de palier, à savoir les banques traditionnelles.
Esthétique scandinave et caffè latte
En créant un réseau social autour de l’investissement, l’entreprise eToro, fondée à Chypre en 2007, promet des gains rapides en copiant/collant les inspirations des boursicoteurs les plus avisés d’une communauté forte de 6 millions de membres. Leur vedette est un ex-gamer professionnel de 29 ans, Jay Smith, alias Jaynemesis, fameux pour avoir fait fructifier son portefeuille de 295 % en un an, le tout depuis sa chambre de Basingstoke, dans le Hampshire. « Je vous garantis qu’aucun employé de chez Goldman Sachs ne connaît mieux les crypto-monnaies que Jay Smith », assure Iqbal Gandham.
« Les magasins de CD ferment, et ce sera la même chose pour les banques traditionnelles »
Si Jaynemesis fait figure de trader du futur, décentralisé et connecté, les locataires du L39 constituent déjà le sang neuf d’une City en proie au doute : « Les magasins de CD ferment, et ce sera la même chose pour les banques traditionnelles, promet Iqbal Gandham. La confiance des consommateurs envers les banques repose sur leurs bâtiments et leur histoire. Mais demain ils choisiront les services qui leur feront gagner du temps, ceux qui leur permettront de gérer leur argent facilement, comme on s’abonne à un club de gym pour rester en forme. Dans cinq ou dix ans, le modèle actuel sera complètement dépassé. »
Iqbal Grandham, directeur de la start-up EToro / © Eimar Martin
En guise de lieu totem, c’est un rond-point venteux, surplombé d’une vulgaire arche tubulaire, qui figure la transformation numérique de la capitale anglaise. Silicon Roundabout est le point névralgique de cette « vallée » improvisée dans les interstices d’un nord-est londonien plus branché que la City historique, bunkerisée et sans vie le week-end. Désormais, c’est ici que poussent les espaces de coworking à l’esthétique scandinave et cosy. « Londres s’impose comme la capitale des fintech, grâce à une législation avantageuse, un creuset de talents globalisés, la proximité des grandes banques et un régulateur (la Financial Conduct Authority, ndlr) particulièrement ouvert à l’innovation », estime Martin Mignot, investisseur chez Index Ventures. « Les start-up de la fintech font tomber deux tabous : l’automatisation des fonctions manuelles – notamment liées aux formulaires papier – et le refus assumé de certains services, comme les chèques physiques ou le dépôt de cash. » Autrement dit, il s’agit de chasser le manque d’efficience et les coûts inutiles en s’appuyant sur le big data.
Cette tribu, très blanche et masculine, se révèle aussi facile à caricaturer que les yuppies de Wall Street des eighties, sauf qu’en guise de coke les disrupteurs londoniens carburent aux caffè latte bio
Forte de ses 8,7 millions d’habitants, Londres apparaît comme le laboratoire idéal pour tester les nouveaux services dématérialisés. Sa population est, dans son immense majorité, riche, métissée, branchée business et – c’est une évidence mais elle a son importance – parle anglais, la lingua franca des innovateurs. Une communauté à la culture très homogène, avec ses codes sociaux (« work hard, play hard »), ses uniformes (jean + tee-shirt + sneakers) et ses habitudes d’utilisation compulsive des réseaux sociaux (Martin Mignot lui-même totalise plus de 40 000 suiveurs sur Twitter, et épingle sur son compte Pinterest ses derniers coups de cœur en matière de design intérieur ou ses maillots de cycliste vintage favoris). Cette tribu, très blanche et masculine, se révèle aussi facile à caricaturer que les yuppies de Wall Street des eighties, sauf qu’en guise de coke les disrupteurs londoniens carburent aux caffè latte bio, aux cocktails protéinés et aux saveurs du monde livrées à domicile.
L’appétit du kangourou
À la Cannon Bridge House régnait jadis l’atmosphère fiévreuse d’une salle de marché où des traders en veste colorée, téléphone filaire collé à l’oreille, revendaient leurs produits financiers en gueulant. Mais depuis l’été 2017, c’est Deliveroo, le numéro un mondial de la livraison de repas, qui occupe ces 55 000 m2 de coolitude absolue. Des codeurs bien sapés sont avachis sur des coussins dodus, eux-mêmes négligemment disposés sur la ligne de touche d’un terrain de foot bleu-vert disposé en plein cœur de l’open space.
Au coeur du siège londonien de Deliveroo / © Eimar Martin
Tout ça dans une odeur de graillon et à côté d’un George Clooney plastifié grandeur nature. De quoi concurrencer Google et Amazon, qui ont aussi investi ces derniers mois dans de nouveaux QG londoniens, aux effectifs toujours plus fournis. Depuis l’Australie, où il est en voyage d’affaires, Will Shu, ancien banquier devenu PDG de Deliveroo, a envoyé des chicken wings à ses troupes : 600 personnes, dispersées dans la pièce centrale ou blotties dans des salles de réunion baptisées « hot-dog », « mac & cheese » ou « jalapeño ».
« On suit des cours de yoga, un atelier de découpage de citrouille pour Halloween… C’est une forme de convivialité qui manque à la finance »
« On suit des cours de yoga, un atelier de découpage de citrouille pour Halloween… C’est une forme de convivialité qui manque à la finance », raconte Joe Groves, responsable de la communication de l’entreprise. Au-delà des activités ludiques, il est ici question de changer la façon dont on consomme, sur un marché estimé à « 1 trillion de livres sterling ». Si la marque au kangourou travaille, au jour le jour, à améliorer l’efficacité de ses livraisons, il ne s’agit là que d’un point de départ. « On veut utiliser les informations sur nos clients pour définir les meilleurs endroits où ouvrir des restaurants qui serviront leurs spécialités favorites », raconte le guide. Une nourriture adaptée au consommateur, dans une démarche globalisée « qui doit donner l’impression d’être locale ». Pour parvenir à ses fins, l’entreprise va devoir recapitaliser auprès des banquiers, de l’autre côté de la rue, qui furent également ses premiers clients testeurs. Avant de vouloir goûter, eux aussi, aux promesses de l’économie numérique.
Des ninjas dans la ville
Au croisement de Luke et Paul Street, la vénérable banque Barclays professe désormais, dans un immeuble en briquette ocre, l’évangile de la tech appliqué à la finance. Dès le sas d’entrée, des écrans déroulent quelques offres d’emploi : on cherche des développeurs en tout genre, des ingénieurs et même des « design ninjas »… C’est Magdalena Krön, une Suédoise trentenaire, qui dirige les sept étages de Rise, l’incubateur couvé par Barclays, considéré comme le plus important espace de coworking de fintech d’Europe, avec 500 membres et 50 entreprises. « Les banques pensent l’innovation sur le court terme, elles sont dans la résolution de problèmes, constate la directrice. Pour penser des modèles nouveaux, il faut venir de l’extérieur. »
Capture d'écran du site de l'incubateur londonien Rise
Au côté de profils scientifiques dont la naïveté quant aux engrenages financiers permet de jouer au chamboule-tout avec le système, les profils des équipiers de la fintech et des employés des banques ne sont finalement pas si dissemblables. « Il y a aussi de nombreux seniors, voire des retraités de la City qui siègent aux boards des start-up », précise Magdalena Krön.
« Il y a deux ans, c’était les start-up contre les banques, maintenant il s’agit de collaboration et de partenariat, avec des feuilles de route de cinq à sept ans »
Après le temps de l’incompréhension puis celui de la méfiance, la plupart des établissements financiers ont entamé un rapprochement, un dating parfois maladroit, jusqu’au mariage d’intérêt. « Il y a deux ans, c’était les start-up contre les banques, maintenant il s’agit de collaboration et de partenariat, avec des feuilles de route de cinq à sept ans », assure-t-elle. Ou comment pactiser avec son futur prédateur potentiel pour éviter, à terme, de se faire dévorer. Comme en écho à la tambouille algorithmique de Deliveroo, Magdalena Krön précise quel sera le fuel de cette nouvelle économie : « On va monétiser les datas. » Le trésor des banques, selon elle, ce sont les informations personnelles des clients, leurs fichiers, la connaissance fine de leurs habitudes et de leurs ressources. Quitte à les revendre pour leur faire profiter d’autres services, assuranciels ou commerciaux.
« La direction a condamné une salle de réunion pour en faire une salle de ping-pong, mais ce n’est pas la table de ping-pong qui attirera les talents. Si on leur dit qu’ils entrent chez Google, il peut y avoir des malentendus. »
Alexandre Tertzakian assume l’élégance classique du costume trois-pièces bleu nuit. Directeur exécutif fusions-acquisitions chez UBS, il est l’observateur privilégié de la fracture culturelle qui fragilise la City. « Mon métier, basé sur les idées pures, n’est pas directement impacté par la tech ; d’ailleurs j’utilise toujours Excel et PowerPoint depuis dix ans », précise en préambule ce jeune manager – classe 1984 – coincé entre une hiérarchie à l’ancienne et des millennials aux aspirations parfois difficiles à appréhender. « La direction a condamné une salle de réunion pour en faire une salle de ping-pong, révèle-t-il, mais ce n’est pas la table de ping-pong qui attirera les talents. Si on leur dit qu’ils entrent chez Google, il peut y avoir des malentendus. »
Vue sur les gratte-ciel de la City de Londres / 0x010C-Wikimedia
Sans se départir de son flegme, le jeune homme évoque la déflagration attendue du Brexit. Un tremblement de terre dont les services de fintech, plus agiles et déterritorialisés, pourraient tirer profit, compensant en partie le départ potentiel d’environ 75 000 employés directement touchés par la séparation administrative d’avec le continent. « On est à un an du ravin, toutes les banques ont leur plan de contingence », assure-t-il. Brexit « dur » ou « soft », les scénarios de repli sont tous envisagés. Mais la particularité même de la City peut avoir valeur de talisman. Une forme de résilience liée à son statut d’État dans l’État. Bunkerisée dans ses 3 km2, cette municipalité autonome unique dispose de son propre corps de police et de législations ad hoc, soutenues par des entreprises disposant d’un droit de vote. Ainsi que d’un pouvoir d’influence certain sur la politique économique de l’île. Une forme de « détourage » du centre financier, où travaillent aujourd’hui 400 000 personnes, avec un statut spécial, pourrait ainsi allonger sa durée de vie, et raffermir son hégémonie.
Esclavage et métiers pourris
C’est dans un café de la fourmillante gare de King’s Cross que Tony Norfield donne rendez-vous. Cet ancien banquier a quitté la City en 2007. Difficile d’être un marxiste revendiqué parmi les requins de la finance. Plus encore quand on sent la crise arriver en pleine face. Dans The City (Verso, 2017, non traduit), il analyse le puissant mécanisme de domination du quartier d’affaires londonien, autant vache à lait que veau d’or du capitalisme britannique. L’entrée en scène des nouveaux venus du numérique appelle l’ouverture d’un nouveau chapitre, mais ne remet pas en cause la cohérence d’un système bien huilé : « Depuis le XVIIIe siècle, avec son appui au secteur maritime, la City a toujours su s’adapter aux différentes formes de pouvoir commercial. Elle ne cesse de rechercher les affaires profitables et est tout à fait compatible avec Facebook, Google ou Amazon puisqu’elle est déjà elle-même une plateforme pour les transactions liées à des activités diverses – qu’il s’agisse de l’argent des mafias russes, de la finance islamique ou des contrats avec les nouveaux champions chinois. »
« La technologie peut rendre la vie meilleure, tout en réduisant certains à l’esclavage »
L’éparpillement des start-up, dont beaucoup sont encore au stade du bricolage, ne serait que la phase préparatoire à la recomposition du pouvoir. « La tendance est, et demeurera, à la monopolisation. Pour devenir mondial, il faut une capitalisation puissante, qui passera par des rachats et un nombre limité d’acteurs, très puissants », ajoute Tony Norfield.
Une chose est certaine pour cet économiste iconoclaste : l’avenir du système bancaire réside dans le prédictif : « Il faut des gens qui pensent au futur, aux algorithmes, aux schémas de données. » Il rappelle alors cette « terrible ironie : la technologie peut rendre la vie meilleure, tout en réduisant certains à l’esclavage ». Tony Norfield pense ici aux manœuvres des hangars de livraison, aux livreurs de nourriture, mais aussi à certains de ses ex-condisciples. « La tech peut transformer des fonctions confortables en métiers pourris, dévalorisés, délocalisés ou réalisés par des machines. » Qui seront alors les locataires des tours vaniteuses des bords de la Tamise ? Que restera-t-il des incubateurs branchés ? Et à qui James Shoe Care, s’il résiste au Brexit, cirera-t-il les pompes ? À des types en mocassins ou en sneakers ?
Ce reportage est à retrouver en intégralité dans le dernier numéro d'Usbek & Rica, toujours disponible en kiosque.
SUR LE MÊME SUJET :
> Et si on supprimait la bourse ?
> L'Inde met le paquet sur les fintech
> Souriez, vous êtes débitez
> La start-up indienne qui fait la queue à votre place
> Typologie des crypto-monnaies à l'usage de ceux qui n'y comprennent rien
Photographie à la une : Cabot Square, dans le quartier de Canary Wharf / Diliff-Wikimedia
| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
This invention relates to a profile stitcher which stitches together workpiece fabrics clamped between two profiled frames whose profile is similar to the stitch path and whose outer edges are fed by a contacting roller such that stitching through the profiled frame as a template is conducted and, more particularly, to controlling the speed of the conducting roller such that the stitch pitch through curved portions of the stitch path are kept the same as through straight portions of the stitch path.
Profile stitching is used to combine pieces of fabric when the pattern of stitch combination is applicable in mass usage. A profile stitcher is a template whereby the stitch path follows the shape laid out by the profile.
Referring FIGS. 5 through 7, one type of automatic profile stitcher is hereafter explained. The stitching path consists of both straight lines and curved lines. Two fabrics are clamped between an upper frame 1 and a lower frame 2. A groove 3 whose shape is similar to the profile of the frames 1, 2 is provided through both the upper and lower frames. A projection 4a projected from a throat plate 4 inserts loosely into the groove 3, and a roller 5 which is frictionaly contacted to the outer profiled edge of the frames is rotated at constant speed in association with the up-down motion of a needle. The roller rotates such that the frames 1, 2 are guided by the projection 4a. The needle flows through a needle entry n provided in the projection 4a allowing stitching along the groove 3.
FIG. 6 shows a stitch line stitched through the profiled frame shown in FIG. 5. Since the speed of the roller 5 is constant, stitch pitch at the curved portion I.sub.2 is narrower than stitch pitch at the straight portion I.sub.1. Thus, the stitching quality is poor. When the straight portion I.sub.1 is stitched, its feed length is same as the circumference length of the roller 5. This, however, is not the case when the stitch path is a curve. Referring to FIG. 7, when the curved portion I.sub.2 is stitched, radius R.sub.2 of the curved stitch line is shorter than radius R.sub.1 of the outer curved portion 1a, 2a of the profiled frame.
Thereby, because the outer curved portion 1a, 2a is conducted by the roller 5 and the stitch pitch length 1.sub.1 is expressed as 1.sub.1 =(2.pi.r.sub.1 /360).times..theta..sub.1 ; where r.sub.1 denotes a radius of the roller 5 and .theta..sub.1 denotes the rotated angles of the roller 5 per one stitch; the stitch pitch length at the curved portion in the groove 3 is actually smaller than 1.sub.1 .
Accordingly, the stitch pitch at the curved portion I.sub.2 in FIG. 6 becomes smaller, and the stitching quality is degraded due to the imbalanced stitch-pitch.
Therefore, it is an object of the present invention to improve the stitching quality conducted by the profile stitcher.
It is a further object of the present invention to conduct profile stitching with equal stitch pitch through both curved portions and straight portions of the stitch line. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | USPTO Backgrounds |
Q:
CSS font sizing relative to parent
Is there a font sizing unit in CSS that allows me to specify sizes relative to the parent element;
vw and vh for example are relative to the viewport width and height respectively.
I want a parent relative size for a responsive design. Say for example my parent element is 400px wide, I want my text to be half of that width, but I'm not sure if I can specify this - or even if such a feature would be widely supported.
A:
Just use the font-size value ising em instead of px or pt. For example, if you have a div with a width and height of 400px, use a font-size: XXem (where xx is the numeric value). Alternately, you can also include a % in your font size as well.
| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | StackExchange |
Q:
How can I set up a bind that mutes voice chat and says something to my teammates?
I'm trying to create a bind to mute the voice chat, but also tell in chat whether I muted them or not. The only information I can find on toggling is the toggle commands:
bind <key> <command> 0 1
I tried doing bind k "toggle voice_enable;say Silent Mode: " "on" "off", but it did not work.
So I want this (bind k "toggle voice_enable;) to say one of these two messages:
"say -*- Silent Mode -*- Player(s) Muted "
and
"say -*- Silent Mode -*- Player(s) Un-Muted "
How can I do it?
A:
Toggling between commands that don't involve a simple 1 and 0 is a bit tricky, but all it requires is the use of a few alias commands. Here's a working example of what you want:
bind k toggleVoice;
alias toggleVoice "disableVoice";
alias disableVoice "alias toggleVoice enableVoice; voice_enable 0; say Silent mode ON";
alias enableVoice "alias toggleVoice disableVoice; voice_enable 1; say Silent mode OFF";
Here's what this is doing:
Bind k to the custom command toggleVoice that is created in the next step.
Use alias to create a custom command named toggleVoice that runs the custom command disableVoice created in the next step.
Use alias to create a custom command named disableVoice that alters step 2 to make toggleVoice run the custom command enableVoice next time, disable voice transmission, and print "Silent mode ON" in chat.
Use alias to create a custom command named enableVoice that alters step 2 to make toggleVoice run the custom command disableVoice next time, enable voice transmission, and print "Silent mode OFF" in chat.
Basically we're binding a key to an alias that calls other aliases that alter it while also doing what you need in-game. Note that you'll need to add these to your autoexec.cfg file (or whatever file you set to auto-run when the game starts up) or else you'll have to enter these commands every time.
| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | StackExchange |
Using a nationwide sample of reported rape cases collected by the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI; 389 victims; 89% stranger rapes), this study investigates assumptions about self-protective behaviors for rape victims. Past research on victim resistance strategies often specifies
active resistance as self-protective, inadvertently underestimating the potential for biologically based reactions, such as tonic immobility, to be self-protective as well. Results confirm that rape victims who were verbally and physically immobile during the attack were less likely to be
injured and have force used against them. In addition, victims who were verbally immobile suffered a less severe attack. The results indicate that immobility may protect the victim from increased injury, force, and severity of the attack. Implications for the legal and public definition of
consent are discussed. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
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| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
Q:
How to preserve Fragment List View Contents?
Preamble: I am using ActionBarSherlock, Target SDK is 17 (Android 4.2), Min SDK is 5 (Android 2.0)
Situation:
I've got a fragment in my app, which presents some kind of login. It allows the user to have several user accounts on device (because Android < 4.2 didn't have system support for that and our users seem to use that due to device sharing).
The fragment layout consists of a listview and on large-landscape also a button to add new accounts (otherwise via overflow menu available).
The listview is attached to a BaseAdapter-Derivate called "AccountAdapter", which gets the accounts from a database and creating corresponding child views per account via layoutinflater. There are 3 Possibilities: User provided both Login and Password / User provided only login / User provided nothing. Therefore, there are 3 different Layouts for those cases, where the missing data is requested via EditText-Elements and stored data is shown via TextView. Also, the layouts with missing data provide a checkbox for store the missing data and a submit-button. If all data is provided, the onclicklistener for the missing submit button gets directly attached to the account root view.
The onclicklistener messages the entered data to the network code class and modifys the adapter mode; after that, the adapter only shows the selected entry, but with the "progress" view, to visualize the current action to the user ("User XXX is being logged in, please stand by...").
This already works well.
Problem:
On orientation changes, all entered data gets lost. Entered login data, passwords, information about if the login data should be stored.
Layouts:
<!-- layout/main.xml -->
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<LinearLayout xmlns:android="http://schemas.android.com/apk/res/android"
android:layout_width="match_parent"
android:layout_height="match_parent"
android:orientation="horizontal" >
<FrameLayout
android:id="@id/main_fragment_content"
android:layout_width="match_parent"
android:layout_height="match_parent" />
</LinearLayout>
<!-- layout-large-land/main.xml -->
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<LinearLayout xmlns:android="http://schemas.android.com/apk/res/android"
android:layout_width="match_parent"
android:layout_height="match_parent"
android:orientation="horizontal" >
<FrameLayout
android:id="@id/main_fragment_sidebar"
android:layout_width="@dimen/main_sidebar_width"
android:layout_height="match_parent" />
<FrameLayout
android:id="@id/main_fragment_content"
android:layout_width="match_parent"
android:layout_height="match_parent" />
</LinearLayout>
<!-- layout/fragment_login.xml -->
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<RelativeLayout xmlns:android="http://schemas.android.com/apk/res/android"
android:layout_width="match_parent"
android:layout_height="match_parent" >
<ListView
android:id="@id/fragment_login_accountlist"
android:layout_width="match_parent"
android:layout_height="match_parent" >
</ListView>
</RelativeLayout>
<!-- layout-large-land/fragment_login.xml -->
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<RelativeLayout xmlns:android="http://schemas.android.com/apk/res/android"
android:layout_width="match_parent"
android:layout_height="match_parent" >
<Button
android:id="@id/fragment_login_add"
android:layout_width="wrap_content"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:layout_alignParentRight="true"
android:layout_alignParentTop="true"
android:text="@string/string_fragment_login" />
<ListView
android:id="@id/fragment_login_accountlist"
android:layout_width="@dimen/fragment_login_accountlist_width"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:layout_alignParentTop="true"
android:layout_centerHorizontal="true" >
</ListView>
</RelativeLayout>
<!-- layout/view_login_account_new.xml -->
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<RelativeLayout xmlns:android="http://schemas.android.com/apk/res/android"
android:layout_width="match_parent"
android:layout_height="match_parent" >
<ImageView
android:id="@id/view_login_account_profileimage"
android:layout_width="@dimen/view_login_account_profileimage_width"
android:layout_height="@dimen/view_login_account_profileimage_height"
android:layout_alignParentLeft="true"
android:layout_alignParentTop="true"
android:contentDescription="@string/string_view_login_account_profileimage_contentdescription"
android:scaleType="fitCenter"
android:src="@drawable/img_kb" />
<EditText
android:id="@id/view_login_account_username"
android:layout_width="wrap_content"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:layout_alignParentRight="true"
android:layout_alignParentTop="true"
android:layout_toRightOf="@id/view_login_account_profileimage"
android:ems="10"
android:hint="@string/string_view_login_account_username_hint"
android:inputType="text" >
<requestFocus />
</EditText>
<EditText
android:id="@id/view_login_account_password"
android:layout_width="wrap_content"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:layout_alignLeft="@id/view_login_account_username"
android:layout_alignParentRight="true"
android:layout_below="@id/view_login_account_username"
android:ems="10"
android:hint="@string/string_view_login_account_password_hint"
android:inputType="textPassword" />
<CheckBox
android:id="@id/view_login_account_storecredentials"
android:layout_width="wrap_content"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:layout_alignParentRight="true"
android:layout_below="@id/view_login_account_password"
android:layout_toRightOf="@id/view_login_account_profileimage"
android:text="@string/string_view_login_account_storecredentials_text" />
<Button
android:id="@id/view_login_account_submit"
android:layout_width="wrap_content"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:layout_alignParentRight="true"
android:layout_below="@id/view_login_account_storecredentials"
android:text="@string/string_view_login_account_submit_text" />
</RelativeLayout>
<!-- layout/view_login_account_progress.xml -->
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<RelativeLayout xmlns:android="http://schemas.android.com/apk/res/android"
android:layout_width="match_parent"
android:layout_height="match_parent" >
<ImageView
android:id="@id/view_login_account_profileimage"
android:layout_width="@dimen/view_login_account_profileimage_width"
android:layout_height="@dimen/view_login_account_profileimage_height"
android:layout_alignParentLeft="true"
android:layout_alignParentTop="true"
android:contentDescription="@string/string_view_login_account_profileimage_contentdescription"
android:scaleType="fitCenter"
android:src="@drawable/img_kb" />
<TextView
android:id="@id/view_login_account_username"
android:layout_width="wrap_content"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:layout_alignParentRight="true"
android:layout_alignParentTop="true"
android:layout_toRightOf="@id/view_login_account_profileimage"
android:ems="10"
>
</TextView>
<TextView
android:id="@id/view_login_account_progress"
android:layout_width="wrap_content"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:layout_alignLeft="@id/view_login_account_username"
android:layout_alignParentRight="true"
android:layout_below="@id/view_login_account_username"
android:ems="10"
android:text="@string/string_view_login_account_progress_text" />
</RelativeLayout>
<!-- layout/view_login_account_stored_password.xml -->
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<RelativeLayout xmlns:android="http://schemas.android.com/apk/res/android"
android:layout_width="match_parent"
android:layout_height="match_parent" >
<ImageView
android:id="@id/view_login_account_profileimage"
android:layout_width="@dimen/view_login_account_profileimage_width"
android:layout_height="@dimen/view_login_account_profileimage_height"
android:layout_alignParentLeft="true"
android:layout_alignParentTop="true"
android:contentDescription="@string/string_view_login_account_profileimage_contentdescription"
android:scaleType="fitCenter"
android:src="@drawable/img_kb" />
<TextView
android:id="@id/view_login_account_username"
android:layout_width="wrap_content"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:layout_alignParentRight="true"
android:layout_alignParentTop="true"
android:layout_toRightOf="@id/view_login_account_profileimage"
android:ems="10"
>
</TextView>
<TextView
android:id="@id/view_login_account_password"
android:layout_width="wrap_content"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:layout_alignLeft="@id/view_login_account_username"
android:layout_alignParentRight="true"
android:layout_below="@id/view_login_account_username"
android:ems="10"
android:text="@string/string_view_login_account_password_text"
/>
</RelativeLayout>
<!-- layout/view_login_account_stored_username.xml -->
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<RelativeLayout xmlns:android="http://schemas.android.com/apk/res/android"
android:layout_width="match_parent"
android:layout_height="match_parent" >
<ImageView
android:id="@id/view_login_account_profileimage"
android:layout_width="@dimen/view_login_account_profileimage_width"
android:layout_height="@dimen/view_login_account_profileimage_height"
android:layout_alignParentLeft="true"
android:layout_alignParentTop="true"
android:contentDescription="@string/string_view_login_account_profileimage_contentdescription"
android:scaleType="fitCenter"
android:src="@drawable/img_kb" />
<TextView
android:id="@id/view_login_account_username"
android:layout_width="wrap_content"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:layout_alignParentRight="true"
android:layout_alignParentTop="true"
android:layout_toRightOf="@id/view_login_account_profileimage"
android:ems="10"
android:hint="@string/string_view_login_account_username_hint" >
<requestFocus />
</TextView>
<EditText
android:id="@id/view_login_account_password"
android:layout_width="wrap_content"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:layout_alignLeft="@id/view_login_account_username"
android:layout_alignParentRight="true"
android:layout_below="@id/view_login_account_username"
android:ems="10"
android:hint="@string/string_view_login_account_password_hint"
android:inputType="textPassword" />
<CheckBox
android:id="@id/view_login_account_storecredentials"
android:layout_width="wrap_content"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:layout_alignParentRight="true"
android:layout_below="@id/view_login_account_password"
android:layout_toRightOf="@id/view_login_account_profileimage"
android:text="@string/string_view_login_account_storecredentials_text" />
<Button
android:id="@id/view_login_account_submit"
android:layout_width="wrap_content"
android:layout_height="wrap_content"
android:layout_alignParentRight="true"
android:layout_below="@id/view_login_account_storecredentials"
android:text="@string/string_view_login_account_submit_text" />
</RelativeLayout>
Code:
The code both doesn't implement onSaveInstanceState and onConfigurationChange yet.
(whole quotation would be too long imho, > 1.000 lines of code)
public class MessengerActivity extends SherlockFragmentActivity {
// -------------------------------------------------------------------------
FrameLayout fragmentSidebar = null;
FrameLayout fragmentContent = null;
Content content = null;
// -------------------------------------------------------------------------
boolean hasSidebar = false;
// -------------------------------------------------------------------------
public void onCreate(Bundle savedInstanceState) {
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
super.onCreate(savedInstanceState);
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
content = Content.getInstance(this);
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
setContentView(R.layout.main);
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
captureFragmentViews();
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
if (savedInstanceState == null) {
// -----------------------------------------------------------------
gotoLogin();
// -----------------------------------------------------------------
}
else {
// -----------------------------------------------------------------
// -----------------------------------------------------------------
}
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
}
// -------------------------------------------------------------------------
// Disabled through android manifest at the moment
@Override
public void onConfigurationChanged(Configuration newConfig) {
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
super.onConfigurationChanged(newConfig);
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
Log.d(getClass().getSimpleName(), "onConfigurationChanged");
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
}
// -------------------------------------------------------------------------
public void captureFragmentViews() {
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
fragmentSidebar = (FrameLayout) findViewById(R.id.main_fragment_sidebar);
fragmentContent = (FrameLayout) findViewById(R.id.main_fragment_content);
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
if ((fragmentSidebar != null) && (fragmentContent != null)) {
hasSidebar = true;
}
else {
hasSidebar = false;
}
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
}
// -------------------------------------------------------------------------
public void gotoLogin() {
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
Fragment fragment = SherlockFragment.instantiate(this,
LoginFragment.class.getName());
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
FragmentTransaction ft = getSupportFragmentManager().beginTransaction();
if (hasSidebar) {
ft.add(R.id.main_fragment_content, fragment);
fragmentSidebar.setVisibility(View.GONE);
}
else {
ft.add(R.id.main_fragment_content, fragment);
}
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
ft.commit();
getSupportFragmentManager().executePendingTransactions();
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
}
// -------------------------------------------------------------------------
public void gotoSignup() {
// TODO Auto-generated method stub
}
// -------------------------------------------------------------------------
public void gotoContactList(int filterId) {
// TODO Auto-generated method stub
}
// -------------------------------------------------------------------------
public void gotoConversation(int userId) {
// TODO Auto-generated method stub
}
// -------------------------------------------------------------------------
public void gotoOnlineStatusList(int categoryId) {
// TODO Auto-generated method stub
}
// -------------------------------------------------------------------------
public void gotoSettings(int categoryId) {
// TODO Auto-generated method stub
}
// -------------------------------------------------------------------------
}
I check for whether savedInstanceState is set or not in the main activity, so my activity is already "prepared" in terms of fragment recreation.
Fragment checks for whether the adapter already exists or not before creating and attaching it to the listview.
But: As far as my understanding is, even if the "recreated" fragment use the same Adapter, "by default" all getViews() get recalled and therefore create a new instance of the view with "resetted" contents.
The AccountAdapter gets dedicated "Account"-Objects with user-id, username, password from the database. Also, "Account" could be extended to hold additional data, like to cache the view.
My idea was to implement a getView like this:
@Override
public View getView(final int position, View convertView, ViewGroup parent) {
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
final Account account = (Account) getItem(position);
View view = null;
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
if (account == null) {
return view;
}
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
if (account.view != null) {
return account.view;
}
// ---------------------------------------------------------------------
[...]
}
But then I noticed, that the AccountAdapter didn't survive the recreation, Android re-instantiates the LoginFragment class.
What I need:
How to recover the data from the listview content formulars / how to preserve the AccountAdapter and its associated views
Tips on how to optimize and improve my architectural design
A:
It is not clear from your code if you add a Fragment every time the onCreate() method of your Activity get's called.
You should add a Fragment or the first Fragment only when the Activity get's created for the first time .
if(savedInstanceState==null){
addFragment();
}
if this is not null your Activity gets re-created, and it will also re-add your previous Fragments. Evan if you have more Fragments in the backstack they will all be put back in your Activity.
To keep the data in your fragments, you should either use setRetainInstance(true); on your Fragments onCreate() method, or use onSaveInstanceState(Bundle bundle) to save the specific data.
| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | StackExchange |
WWE Clash Of Champions 2016 – Poor Finishes Ruin Good Matches
Last night’s RAW specific pay per view, featured a number of stellar matches. Unfortunately very few of them featured an ending that made sense. Here are three quick points.
Rollins and Owens are in limbo
With Kevin Owens being handed the belt by the interference of TripleH, everyone expected some form of continuation to this storyline. Instead, we got Chris Jericho, coming out with scarf and Kevin Owens t-Shirt to set up the clean finish for Owens. Prior to that, we had a match that started slowly but worked to a good and crowd-pleasing pace. Owens played a great heel, trash talking throughout the match and realistically targeting Rollins dodgy knee. Rollins took an almighty beating before turning the tables, leaving the match finely poised. Had Triple H came down things may have been more interesting. Instead, Jericho felt like a last minute substitution. It was a great match but the ending nullified any meaning it may have. In the round-up of the year, it won’t even make the top ten. Now we will have to wait to see when they pull the trigger on the real storyline.
The New Day Are Growing Stale
Despite being the breath of fresh air the company needs from an entertainment point of view, the continued success of the trio is starting to grate a bit. This match would have been the perfect time to give the titles to The Club of Gallows and Anderson. Everything looked like it was going to happen. The Club used a unique style of attacking the men on the outside from the first bell. It has been the style used by the Bullet Club in Japan and it’s introduction here looked to signal the emergence of the pair as a genuine threat.Unfortunately, this didn’t happen and we got a heel ending with Xavier Woods using the trombone to win the match. The New Day are at their best when losing, so their long run is starting to go the opposite way. They are so over with the crowd that things may start to turn and fast. It is time for new title holders.
Charlotte is Still The Bankable Champion
Despite the universal love for Sasha Banks and Bayley, Charlotte is pure gold as the genetically superior women’s champion. Like her father, the key to success is making the crowd want someone other than her to win so badly that when she keeps the belt the heat grows each time. Charlotte is now on a 12 event winning streak. When she eventually loses it will be a monumental moment for whoever the lucky champion will be. At this stage, it could be anyone. Sasha is the popular choice but any female on the RAW roster has a chance. Until they show they can carry the belt as well as Charlotte has their victory will simply be a small platitude to the fans before she wins it back. She’s already in the same aura as Triple H and her father. If she turns face in a couple of years it will be like a bomb going off. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
My daughter and I were in Topshop the other week and saw a T-shirt with a pair of breasts drawn on the front. Have the men got trousers with a willy outline on them?
A Thompson, by email
After exhaustive research, Ms Thompson, I can tell you conclusively that no, men are not walking around wearing trousers illustrated with willies or even symbols of willies (aubergines, chipolatas, etc, etc). Women, however, are so overwhelmed with what I guess we must call breast-themed shirts they can barely swing a bra without hitting one. Indeed, one could go as far as saying breast-themed shirts are currently the biggest trend on the high street, with shirts featuring drawings of actual breasts, or a pair of melons, or hearts or fried eggs currently on sale pretty much everywhere in this county. Indeed, one could say that breasts are HUGE in fashion this season, unless your breasts are not huge, in which case don’t worry, would madam like a T-shirt decorated with a pair of fried eggs? Ha – breasts! Hilarious!
Let’s just straight away knock on the head any suggestion that this trend is some kind of ironic Benny Hill feminist statement, OK? By all means, love your breasts, ladies. Be proud of them, unleash them from their restrictive lingerie and walk down the street with them swinging free, if it so pleases you, feeling your nipples nuzzle happily against your clothes. But reducing your magnificent bosoms to nudge-nudge wink-wink emojis is not the way to celebrate them, so let’s not pretend that this trend is anything other than attention-seeking to the most shameless degree. “Ha ha! Look at my melons! Geddit! GEDDIT???”
Women still, too often, have to fight for men to look up and into their eyes when talking to them; why actively encourage them to stare back down as they happily decode the visual pun on your chest? And why tell people that actually, yes, you love being reduced to your breasts and even people giving your breasts stupid food-based nicknames? Honestly, this is some hot nonsense. You’re better than this. Your breasts should not be the first thing people think of when looking at you any more than your bellybutton should be. Stop reducing yourselves to a single part of your anatomy. As Ms Thompson says, the menfolk don’t do this – and while I fully accept that saying “Do what the men do, ladies” is not the most feminist order one could make, in this case, a mighty exception is being made.
Naomi Campbell in PJs. Photograph: Farrell/BFA/REX/Shutterstock
WTF is with the trend with wearing pyjamas in the day?
Charlotte, north London
Given that I am writing this in my pyjamas at 11.06am, I’m going to assume that you mean pyjamas as genuinely sanctioned daywear and not just being lazy (look, I’m really ill, OK?). Pyjamas have, indeed, become daywear; at least pyjamaesque clothes have, anyway, if not actual pyjamas. Because what would be the point of that? Pity the poor manufacturers, constantly having to think of ways to make people buy new clothes. After all, even they know there are only so many shirts and dresses and trousers a person can own, hence the occasional deranged proclamation of an entirely new item you absolutely must have in your wardrobe. Two years ago, for instance, the decree was issued that women should wear “swimwear as daywear”, but this did not mean it was OK to go out in that manky bikini you bought from Accessorize in Luton airport five years ago. No, it meant you had to go out and buy a £250 bathing suit from one of those fancy boutiques in Notting Hill or somewhere similar that never seem to have any customers in them and that you strongly suspect might be a front for money laundering.
Which brings us back to the pyjamas-for-daywear trend. Obviously, you should not wear your actual pyjamas out of the house – that would look insane! (Except on weekends, when you are totally allowed to wear them under a coat to pop to the newsagent for emergency milk/bread/newspapers. That is an official rule, all debates on this subject can now desist.) But you should absolutely spend £395 on fancy pyjamas and go out in those, because nothing makes a woman seem closer to sanity than spending almost £400 on a pair of PJs, right?
I love pyjamas. Whenever I go back to the US, I always make sure to restock on my two life essentials: Twizzlers and J Crew pyjamas. On extra good days, I find ones with fancy embroidery on the breast pocket, which are the absolute best because they make me feel like Sesame Street’s Alistair Cookie, Cookie Monster’s homage to a certain Brit, who is a long-term fashion icon of mine.
I also love any fashion trend that actively endorses comfort. Athleisure? Normcore? Mom jeans? You’re talkin’ my language. So while my head wants to love the idea of pyjamas as daywear, my heart cannot accept it. Partly because I know, deep down, as you know, Charlotte, deep down, that it looks absurd. But mainly because my pyjamas are way too nice to spoil by being worn out of the house or even, God forbid, on public transport. They should be saved for the best place of all: bed. After all, you never saw Alistair Cookie hitting the street in his dressing gown, did you? No, he wisely stayed in his armchair, eating his cookies, reading his books about a number one making a historic flight over a cuckoo’s nest, or a bunch of angry men who needed to be tallied up and other great classics. Case, I think we can all agree, is closed. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
The Yankees just rattled off four straight wins over the division rival Blue Jays and have now gone 14-5 since the ugly 1-4 start. The middle relief has settled down, the rotation overcame some early woes, and the lineup has really started to click even if they still stink against left-handers (71 wRC+). It took a few weeks (as usual), but things are starting to come together.
Of course, there is always room for improvement, especially for a team as injury-riddled as New York. They’ve already used the DL a league-leading nine times this season, and that could grow to ten depending on the results of today’s MRI on Kevin Youkilis‘ stiff back. Three players lost their jobs with other teams over the weekend, and all three could represent upgrades on the fringes of the Yankees’ roster.
Casper Wells
Wells, 28, was designated for assignment by the Athletics yesterday, the third time a team has cut ties with him in the last month. That’s a pretty good indication front offices don’t consider him to be as productive as WAR or other freely available metrics say. He was claimed off waivers and traded for $100k this month, so the price is obviously low.
The Yankees aren’t looking for an offensive savior, they just need to find a better right-handed platoon bat than Ben Francisco (-7 wRC+ overall and -16 wRC+ against lefties). Wells has decent numbers against southpaws during his career (129 wRC+), but 317 plate appearances spread across three years aren’t definitive proof of anything. The various defense stats say he’s serviceable at worst in all three spots. Francisco hasn’t just looked bad, he’s looked horrible without even a hint of snapping out of it. Wells is freely available and it would be tough for him to give the team less than what they’re currently getting from Francisco*.
* That said, Wells has had five plate appearances in the last month because he’s been in transactions limbo, so rust is a very real concern.
(Doug Pensinger/Getty)
Chris Nelson
The Rockies called up top third base prospect Nolan Arenado this weekend, and the 27-year-old Nelson was the roster casualty. Colorado designated him for assignment and it’s very likely another team will pick him up despite his poor performance this month (51 wRC+) because he’s versatile, one year removed from a 105 wRC+, and not too far removed from being a top prospect.
I wrote about Nelson as a potential target last month, so I’ll just refer you back to that to keep things simple. Nelson can provide depth at the three non-first base infield positions, which is something pretty much every team needs. The Yankees will be without Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez until at least the All-Star break and there’s a chance Youkilis will wind up on the DL following today’s MRI, so adding an infielder seems rather prudent. Even if David Adams or Corban Joseph are the team’s preferred call-up options, there is still an opening to stash Nelson in Triple-A. That would require signing him to a minor league contract following his release, which seems unlikely. I’m guessing he doesn’t go through waivers unclaimed.
Humberto Quintero
Quintero, 33, was cut loose by the Phillies over the weekend when Carlos Ruiz was eligible to return following his 25-game amphetamine-related suspension. The veteran journeyman barely played with Philadelphia (21 plate appearances), but he’s managed over 1,300 plate appearances (55 wRC+) in parts of 11 big league seasons. He’s always had a strong throwing arm (83-for-257 career, 32.3% caught stealing rate) and the rest of his defensive game is well-regarded, but who really knows these days.
The Yankees will be without Frankie Cervelli for at least six weeks thanks to his broken hand, and it could be even longer considering how hand/wrist/finger injuries tend to linger. They’re unlikely to find anyone better than Chris Stewart and Austin Romine right now, but Quintero is someone they could stick in Triple-A for further catching depth. Remember, Romine has a series of back injuries in his recent past, so it wouldn’t take much for the team to have to dip into it’s backstop depth again in the coming weeks. Quintero is likely to clear waivers and take a minor league contract, which fits what the team needs at the moment. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
Arrests conducted with prefectural police in 29 prefectures.
The Association of Copyright for Computer Software (ACCS) announced on Monday that the Japanese National Police Agency, in coordination with 29 prefectural police agencies, arrested 44 individuals between February 16-18 for violation of the Japanese Copyright Act due to unauthorized uploading and sharing of copyrighted material such as movies, music, anime, manga, and business and productivity software through file-sharing software.
The ACCS lists some of the details of the arrests made after searches of 93 locations, which include:
34-year old male part-time worker in Tokyo (uploaded Lupin III: Tōhō Kenbunroku ~Another Page~ anime via Share)
anime via Share) 39-year old male office worker in Kanagawa (uploaded first episode of Isuca anime via Share)
anime via Share) 30-year old unemployed man in Osaka (uploaded 39th volume of Kingdom manga via Share)
manga via Share) 52-year old male office worker in Hyogo (uploaded 31st volume of Yamikin Ushijima-kun manga via Share)
manga via Share) 39-year old self-employed man in Hiroshima (uploaded first volume of Golden Time light novel via Share)
light novel via Share) 46-year old male office worker in Okayama (uploaded 17th volume of Attack on Titan manga, and seventh volume of SP – Keishichō Keigobu Keigoka Daiyon-gakari manga via Share)
manga, and seventh volume of manga via Share) 39-year old male part-time worker in Kagawa (uploaded 35th volume of Bleach color version manga via Share)
color version manga via Share) 55-year old male office worker in Nagasaki (uploaded Speed Learning Beginner/Vol.2 English for Travelers via LimeWire)
More from Anime News Network: | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
Juan Violá
Juan Violá (1883–1919) was a Cuban baseball player in the Cuban League, Negro leagues and the minor leagues. He played from 1902 to 1915 with several ballclubs, including Almendares, the Habana club, the Long Branch Cubans, and the Jacksonville Jays. He was elected to the Cuban Baseball Hall of Fame in 1953.
External links
Category:1883 births
Category:1919 deaths
Category:Cuban baseball players
Category:Cuban League players
Category:Almendares (baseball) players
Category:Jacksonville Jays players
Category:Long Branch Cubans players
Category:Augusta Tourists players
Category:Jacksonville Tarpons players
Category:Nashville Vols players
Category:Habana players | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Wikipedia (en) |
The “shitty media men” list wasn’t made to be a bludgeon. When the anonymous, crowdsourced Google spreadsheet was first created earlier this month to collect anonymous reports of alleged sexual abusers, harassers, and general creeps in the New York City media and publishing sphere, it was presented, and understood by its creators, more as a shield than as a weapon — a tool to help women to protect themselves from men they should avoid. It was highly and admittedly unreliable — “take everything with a grain of salt,” it said at the top, and “if you see a man you’re friends with, don’t freak out” — but it was also private, meant to be shared quietly and directly between women the way whispered warnings always have been.
This model, of course, didn’t work for very long. For about 24 hours, the list circulated as it was intended to, among a fairly small number of women. Then it was taken offline, though screenshots, and a re-created read-only version floated around the internet in the days that followed. That iteration of the list was also taken offline; now, an Excel spreadsheet that appears to be a reproduction of the original Google document is floating around the web. This time, though, the list is no longer even theoretically a tool for helping women. It’s now being leaked and distributed not to protect women from predators but to publicly attack the men on it. The list has been weaponized for the online culture wars, and the women who created it, contributed to it, and were intended as its readers left totally powerless and voiceless as it’s used to undermine the industry in which they work.
A few days after the first public reports of the list’s existence — a BuzzFeed piece entitled “What to Do With ‘Shitty Media Men?’” — the ultra-right-wing blogger Mike Cernovich (the man who brought you Pizzagate) offered a $10,000 reward to anybody who could supply him with a copy of the list. His request was answered several days later, though he says his informant wouldn’t take his money. Cernovich, who in 2003 was charged with rape, later reduced to “misdemeanor battery,” presented his acquisition of the list as a reportorial coup, and insisting that he was acting to rid the media industry of sexual predators, published two names from the list, accompanied with a game-show-like promise to reveal the rest of it once he’d “give[n] the men accused of sexual misconduct time to reply.” Notably, the only two names he published were long-standing personal enemies of Cernovich. He has yet to post the whole list at the advice of his attorney.
Now, having moved from its original private status into wider and wider circles, the list has reached the final stage. Yesterday, a copy of it was published on Reddit; since then, an anonymous Twitter account devoted to it has been tweeting a link incessantly. Somehow, these anonymous users seem even less interested in protecting women or punishing wrongdoing than Cernovich was. The Twitter account is linking to the list in tweets that include trending hashtags — a classic spam tactic — and tweeting the link at various sportswriters and some alt-right accounts in a transparent attempt to stir up shit and drama on Twitter and throughout media. Now, there’s not even a pretense that the list is being published for any reason other than to instigate fights, attack the hated liberal media, and settle a series of imagined scores.
This is disappointing, but not unexpected. It’s how the internet works: The aggressive and disingenuous trolls of the new far-right have never encountered something they couldn’t refashion into a cudgel for their endless crusade. The moment the list became public knowledge, it transformed from something potentially helpful to something potentially dangerous for everyone involved. Mike Cernovich and company are driving the story, and they’re going to take it where they want. You could attack the list’s creators for not seeing this coming, or defend them by pointing out it’s not their fault that the list was leaked. But what’s the point? They’re not even part of the conversation anymore. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
Nasomaxillary reconstruction in Binder syndrome: bone versus cartilage grafts. A long-term intercenter comparison between Sweden and Mexico.
Maxillonasal dysplasia is characterized by a concave facial profile and a flat nose. The etiology of Binder syndrome is skeletal hypoplasia around the piriform aperture and excavations-fossae prenasales, bilaterally in the nasal floor-which are pathognomonic. There is no real shortage of the soft tissues. In 2 medical centers in Sweden and Mexico, different grafts were used for reconstruction, but the focus was similar, filling out the maxilla anterior to the nasal floor and supporting the nasal framework to normalize tip projection. The basis for this study was to compare the long-term results between bone grafts in Sweden and cartilage grafts in Mexico. Sixteen patients from both groups were available for long-term follow-up. Simplified digital analysis of anthropometric variables were performed in the short-term and long-term follow-ups. The Swedish group had primary at the mean age of 21.3 years, whereas mean follow-up period was 16.8 years later. The Mexican group had primary at the age of 13.6 years, and the follow-up period was 8.4 years. Secondary correction was necessary in 25% of the patients in the bone graft group (Sweden) and in 19% of patients in the cartilage group (Mexico). Bone grafts slightly relapsed in tip projection and remodeled to some extent in the nasolabial angle. Cartilage grafts showed stability in the tip projection quotients and resulted in a postoperative normalization of the nasolabial angle but developed a slight relapse between the short-term and long-term follow-ups. Both techniques were stable in nose tip-length ratio, and a normalization of anthropometric variables was demonstrated in all the long-term follow-ups. Both the bone and cartilage graft techniques at the 2 centers rendered the intended result of an increased and normalized angle of convexity of the face and nasal tip projection. An experience in the properties and behavior of either graft is necessary to get a long-term stable outcome. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | PubMed Abstracts |
Creative Business Card Template Vol 3.
A Creative business card template for free download, this design has a place for the QR code so you can quick scan all data on your tablet or mobile phone in a quick way. The project is ready for print, just put your data on it.
Size: 0,5 Mb
Format: .PSD + .JPG preview | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
AC Milan booked their place in the Coppa Italia quarter-finals with a 2-0 win at 10-man Sampdoria on Thursday night.
M'Baye Niang broke the deadlock five minutes after the break in a match which saw AC Milan coach Sinisa Mihajlovic up against his former team.
France U21 forward Niang beat the offside trap to run onto Carlos Bacca's through-ball, firing into the bottom left corner to open the scoring.
AC Milan forward M'Baye Niang (right) scores to give his side the lead against Sampdoria in the Coppa Italia
Niang got on the end of Carlos Bacca's through-ball to put AC Milan in a commanding position on Thursday
Bacca sealed the result in stoppage time, thanks to an assist from Keisuke Honda, after Sampdoria had missed clear-cut chances to level.
Sampdoria's hopes of a comeback started to fade when defender Ervin Zukanovic was dismissed in the 64th minute for picking up two yellow cards in a matter of seconds - the second for dissent just moments after being booked for a foul.
Milan will fancy their chances of reaching the final. If they beat relegation-threatened Carpi, they will face the winner of the match between the two lower-division sides left in the competition - Alessandria and Spezia.
Earlier, Lazio came from behind to beat 10-man Udinese 2-1 to book a quarterfinal tie against Juventus - a rematch of last season's final.
Bacca then doubled the lead in stoppage time to ensure AC Milan's place in the quarter-finals of the Cup
AC Milan players celebrate with Niang after he opened the scoring at Luigi Ferraris Stadium in Genoa
Udinese scored a stunning opener in the 67th minute. Panagiotis Kone flicked up Giovanni Pasquale's cross from the left before swiveling and volleying into the far top corner.
The visitors' lead lasted just three minutes before Alessandro Matri levelled with Udinese down to 10 men after substitute Rodrigo Aguirre had left the pitch for treatment on an injury - shortly after coming off the bench.
Aguirre tried to play on but had to admit defeat, leaving Udinese at a numerical disadvantage for the rest of the match as their three substitutions had already been made.
Lazio scored the winner 11 minutes from time. Udinese's 18-year-old goalkeeper Alex Meret did well to deny Abdoulay Konko but could do nothing about Danilo Cataldi's header from point-blank range - although the Lazio midfielder appeared to be offside.
Elsewhere, Danilo Cataldi (right) scored 11 minutes from time to secure Lazio's place in the next round | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
Holidays reinstated as amendment provisions lapse
By Wu Po-wei and Jonathan Chin / Staff reporter, with staff writer
The Ministry of Labor yesterday announced that today it is to officially drop a proposed amendment to Article 23 of the Enforcement Rules of the Labor Standards Act (勞動基準法施行細則) and that the nation’s private-sector employees are to keep their 19 government-mandated national holidays after the restoration of holidays previously canceled by the proposal.
The move is in line with a resolution by the legislature’s Health and Social Welfare and Environmental Hygiene Committee earlier this year to return the ministry’s proposed amendment, which called for a reduction in the number of national holidays from 19 to 12, to be corrected or abolished.
The ministry yesterday said that Teacher’s Day on Sept. 28 would be restored, but that the holidays already missed this year on Jan. 2 and March 29 would not be retroactively covered.
Earlier yesterday, a number of workers’ groups protested outside the ministry, demanding that it restore the seven national holidays that were canceled in the dropped proposal.
Taiwan Higher Education Union member Chen Poh-chien (陳柏謙) said the ministry should implement measures to guarantee that private-sector employers will honor the changes by correcting their work schedules and give the two missed holidays back to workers.
Department of Labor Standards and Equal Employment Director Lee Yi-hsuan (李怡萱) talked to the demonstrators on behalf of the ministry, saying: “We intend to work on the situation in accordance with the Legislative Yuan’s resolution.”
Union representatives expressed their displeasure with Lee’s statement by shoving police officers as she retreated into the ministry compound with a police escort.
The confrontation ended without serious altercations.
Wang Chin-jung (王金蓉), a senior executive official at the department, later said that the legislature’s decision not to review the amendment meant that its provisions are to expire today, but the holidays already missed this year cannot be retroactively applied.
Regarding a demand by workers’ groups that a two days off per week scheme be implemented, either by having one fixed and one flexible day off, or having two fixed days off, Wang said the ministry had commissioned a polling agency to survey public opinion prior to proposing any further amendments to labor laws and regulations. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
comcast_whitelogo_ap.JPG
Regulators say Comcast's broadcast and sports fees aren't apparent in its advertised rates.
(AP photo)
Cable regulators from four Oregon communities want the state attorney general to investigate Comcast, expressing concern that the cable TV company's billing practices may violate state consumer protection laws.
Regulators in Multnomah and Washington counties, along with the cities of Milwaukie and Eugene,
about broadcast and sports fees Comcast tacks onto subscribers' bills. The fees ostensibly cover the costs of carrying local broadcast channels and expensive national sports networks.
When fees go up, as they did last fall, Comcast charges a higher rate to all TV subscribers - even those under contracts that used to protect them from rate hikes. Since 2013, contracts no longer lock in those prices.
"That's a little bait-and-switchy," said Fred Christ, administrator of the Metropolitan Area Communications Commission, which regulates cable TV service in much of Washington County.
Comcast said the rising fees reflect the cost of the programming it carries. The attorney general's office has yet to respond to the regulators' concerns.
"The cost of retransmission imposed by broadcasters continues to increase significantly as do the costs charged by regional sports programmers, and while these fees are increasing they only defray a portion of what we are being charged to be able to carry these channels," the company said in a written statement.
Once merely a conduit for TV programming, Comcast now owns NBC and produces its own original and sports programming, including local broadcasts of the Portland Trail Blazers. So Comcast is generating some of its own higher costs with its own programming.
Federal law allows local regulators very limited authority over cable TV and internet pricing, though telecom companies are still generally subject to state consumer protection laws. So after reading in The Oregonian/OregonLive that the state Department of Justice is reviewing complaints against CenturyLink, the regulators asked the attorney general to look at Comcast, too.
Price data compiled by local regulators show that Comcast's monthly broadcast and sports fees (which regulators sometimes describe internally as "B-S fees") totaled $1.50 in 2014. They are now $11 a month, but the regulators say they're not included in Comcast's advertised rates.
"We would like to discuss whether you or your staff might see any paths forward under the Oregon Unlawful Trade Practices Act or other regulations," the cable regulators wrote in their March letter to the attorney general's office.
It's not just Comcast. Frontier Communications, which offers cable TV service in Washington County and east Multnomah County, notified regulators last week that it is raising its own sports fee by $1 in May, to $6 a month.
Billing concerns are among consumers' top complaints about cable TV service, according to regulatory data.
"As a cable regulatory commission we are restricted on our authority and we are seeking some guidance on this," said Ann Goldenberg of the Mt. Hood Cable Regulatory Commission, which regulates cable TV service in the city and much of Multnomah County. "We would like to be able to help our subscribers but we don't have that authority."
-- Mike Rogoway; twitter: @rogoway; 503-294-7699 | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
CZ-4B/HY 2C
China's Chang Zheng 4B (CZ-4B) number Y41 carried Haiyang 2C (HY 2C), an ocean observation satellite, into low earth orbit from Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center on September 21, 2020. Liftoff from LC 43 Pad 94 (43/603) took place at 05:40 UTC. The three-stage hypergolic propellant rocket inserted its payload into a 931 x 948 km x 66 deg orbit with third stage cutoff 12 minutes 27 seconds after liftoff. The stage performed a single 7 minute 35 second burn during the ascent. After spacecraft separation, the third stage performed a depletion burn to lower its apogee to 654 km, enabling its eventual reentry.
HY 2C carried a microwave radiometer to monitor sea states.
The first stage was fitted with four grid fins, similar to Falcon 9 first stages, for steering the stage toward a smaller drop zone box.
CZ-11 Sea Launch
China's CZ-11 performed its second orbital launch from a floating platform on the Yellow Sea on September 15, 2020. The four-stage, DF-31 missile-based rocket, tail number HY2, boosted nine imaging satellites into 535 km sun synchronous orbits after an 01:23 UTC launch from the new Debo 3 ship. The ship replaces a barge used for the first sea launch in 2019.
Three Gaofen 03C video satellites and six Gaofen 03B push-broom (scanning) satellites were orbited. The rocket flew on a southbound ascent profile for the first time from this site. The first stage drop zone was offshore from China's east coast while the second stage flew directly over the length of Taiwan from north to south.
KZ-1A Failure
China's Kuaizhou 1A launch vehicle failed to place its Jilin-1 Gaofen 02C remote sensing satellite into low earth orbit as planned after a 05:02 UTC liftoff from Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center on September 12, 2020. It was the first failure of the Kuaizhou 1/1A series after 11 previous successes since 2013. This rocket, tail number Y3, was the 10th improved KZ-1A variant to fly.
Gaofen 02C was to have been inserted into a 535 km sun synchronous orbit. It weighed about 230 kg at launch. Some reports suggested that the hypergolic liquid upper stage failed, preventing completion of the final apogee kick insertion burn.
Expace Technology Co., Ltd., a subsidiary of China Aerospace Science & Industry Corp., managed the launch campaign.
Rocket 3.1 Fails
Astra's Rocket 3.1, a small two-stage LOX/Kerosene fueled rocket, failed during its first orbital launch attempt from Alaska's Kodiak Launch Pad 3B on September 12, 2020, after a 03:20 UTC liftoff. The rocket rose for slightly more than 20 seconds before, acccording to Astra, oscillations introduced by the guidance system caused "the vehicle to drift from its planned trajectory, leading to a commanded shutdown of the engines by the flight safety system". Witnesses saw the vehicle tumbling out of the sky to an explosive impact on the ground after its five battery-powered Delphin rocket engines cut off.
The company's earlier, March 2020 attempts to fly Rocket 3.0 for the Darpa Challenge failed to produce a launch after multiple countdowns. A final, March 23 attempt ended with a prelaunch failure that destroyed the rocket and started a fire at the launch site.
Astra Rocket stands 11.6 meters tall and is 1.32 meters diameter. Its probably weighs 10-11 tonnes at liftoff, rising on 14.275 tonnes of thrust. It uses an "ultra-low-cost" metal structure. Although designed to place at least 100 kg into a presumably near-polar low Earth orbit, Astra 3.1 carried no payload during this initial orbital flight test.
Astra performed two suborbital test launches during 2018 from Kodiak, Alaska, using only live first stages. The first, an Astra Rocket 1.0 flown from Launch Pad 2 on July 21, 2018, reportedly failed about 60 seconds after liftoff. The second, an Astra Rocket 2.0, failed shortly after its November 29, 2018 attempt from the same pad.
CZ-4B Launch
China's Chang Zheng (CZ) 4B, tail number Y46, orbited another remote sensing satellite, named Gaofen 11-02, on September 07, 2020. Liftoff of the storable propellant rocket from Taiyuan Satellite Launch Center's LC 9 took place at 05:57 UTC. The three-stage storable propellant rocket boosted its payload into a 248 x 694 km x 97.3 deg sun synchronous type low Earth orbit. The satellite will likely adjust itself toward a roughly 500 km near-circular orbit over time if the history of Gaofen 11-01 is a guide.
According to reports from China, the satellite carried high resoultion optical imaging equipment and will be used for civil planning, disaster prevention and mitigation, and national defense, among other uses. While the mass of the satellite was not announced, CZ-4B is able to lift 2.5 tonnes to a 700 km sun synchronous orbit.
It was the year's third CZ-4B launch and the 18th DF-5 based orbital attempt.
Secret CZ-2F Launch
China's CZ-2F, flying for the first time in nearly four years, boosted a top secret experimental reusable test spacecraft into orbit from Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center on September 4, 2020. Liftoff from Site 43/91 took place at about 07:30 UTC. Four objects were subsequently tracked, two in roughly 330 x 348 km x 50.2 deg orbits and two in roughly 346 x 566 km x 49.9 deg orbits. Xinhua announced that the test spacecraft would orbit for an unspecified period of time before returning to Earth at a "domestic landing site". No details about the spacecraft and no photographs of the launch or of the launch vehicle were initially released. It was not clear if the spacecraft was winged or was a ballistic reentry vehicle, for example.
On September 6, Xinhua news agency reported that the reusable spacecraft had landed. No details about the landing site or landing time and no photographs were provided. The type of spacecraft was also not mentioned. Meanwhile, some apparently unofficial videos of the launch were made available. These showed a rocket with a standard width fairing similar to that used by the type "T" CZ-2F.
Falcon 9/Starlink 1 F11
A Falcon 9 performing the 100th SpaceX orbital launch attempt orbited the eleventh operational group of 60 Starlink internet satellites from Kennedy Space Center on September 3, 2020. Liftoff from Launch Complex 39 Pad A took place at 12:46 UTC. The Falcon 9 second stage performed a single ascent burn to reach a roughly 220 x 380 km x 53 deg deployment orbit. The Starlinks separated at about T+14 minutes 47 seconds. They will ultimately move themselves to 550 km operational orbits.
Total deployed payload mass was about 15,600 kg. The flight increased the total number of orbited Starlink satellites, both precursor and operational, to 715, though several have been retired and are being deorbited. A constellation of thousands of the 260 kg, Redmond Washington-built satellites is planned.
First stage B1060.2, on its second flight; which previously boosted GPS 3-3 from SLC 40 on June 30, 2020; performed entry and landing burns before landing on "Of Course I Still Love You" some 350 nautical miles downrange. The stage was not hot-fired on the pad prior to launch, a practice now becoming common. The stage is the newest currently-active Falcon 9 booster, though three or four more have been built and tested and are preparing for flight.
Attempts to recover the new payload fairing halves failed. Recovery boats returned to Port Canaveral with only shroud fragments. The second stage was to have performed a deorbit burn during its first orbit in order to target an impact zone off the California coast. No confirmation of that burn and reentry was possible as of several days after the launch.
Vega Returns
After months of delay caused by Covid-19, high altitude winds, and a typhon on the other side of the planet, Europe's Vega rocket finally returned to service with launch of the VV16 Small Spacecraft Mission Service (SSMS) Proof of Concept (PoC) mission from Kourou Space Center on September 3, 2020. Liftoff from Kourou's Vega Launch Zone (ZLV) took place at 01:51 UTC. Vega's AVUM upper stage performed four burns to insert 53 micro and nanosatellites into 515 km and 530 km sun synchronous orbits. The final satellite separated about 1 hour 45 minutes after liftoff.
It was Vega's first launch since July 2019, when VV15's Zefiro 23 second stage motor suffered a forward dome burn-through as it fired.
The European Space Agency (ESA) funded SSMS development, which includes a modular SSMS dispenser. VV16 carried seven microsatellites (15 to 150 kg) on an upper dispensar part and 46 smaller CubeSats on a lower dispensar "Hexamodule". Total satellite mass was 877 kg.
Electron 14
Rocket Lab’s Electron returned to service with its 14th launch on August 31, 2020. The three-stage Electron/Curie rocket, named "I Can’t Believe It’s Not Optical”, boosted Capella Space's "Sequoia" synthetic aperature radar (SAR) mapping satellite. Liftoff from New Zealand's Mahia Peninsula LC 1 took place at 03:05 UTC. After a 2 minute 36 second first stage burn and a 6 minute 9 second second stage firing, the storable propellant Curie upper stage and payload coasted to a 530-ish km apogee where, beginning at T+52:52, Curie fired for 2 minutes 26 seconds to circularize the 45 degree inclination orbit. The 100 kg satellite separated about one hour after liftoff into a 531 x 546 km x 45.1 deg orbit.
After Sequoia separated, the Curie stage transitioned into Photon test spacecraft mode, flying in a 528 x 547 x 45.1 deg orbit for an extended test. Photon carries solar cells and rechargeable batteries and uses the Curie stage's RCS and control systems to maintain flight control. The roughly 50 kg Curie/Photon can carry up to 170 kg of payload while serving as a satellite bus in a manner reminiscent of Lockheed's long-retired Agena stage.
The launch took place nearly two months after Electron 13 failed to reach orbit when its second stage engine shut down early. Rocket Lab’s investigation determined that an overheating electrical connection that carried engine turbopump current was to blame for the failure. Improved testing methods were developed to detect such potential failures in the future.
It was the year's 60th successful orbital launch.
Falcon 9 Orbits SAOCOM 1B
A Falcon 9 v1.2 placed Argentina's SAOCOM 1B into sun synchronous low Earth orbit from Cape Canaveral, Florida on August 30, 2020. Liftoff from SLC 40 took place at 23:19 UTC. It was the first near-polar orbit launch from the Cape since Delta 67 orbited ESSA 9 during 1969. After firing for 2 minutes 17 seconds during ascent, first stage B1059.4, on its fourth launch, performed boost-back, entry, and landing burns to land at Cape Canaveral's Landing Zone 1. It was the 15th successful landing at LZ 1 out of 16 attempts since 2015. Three additional landings have taken place at nearby LZ 2 during Falcon Heavy flights.
The second stage performed one, 461 second burn to carry the 3,050 kg satellite into a roughly 610 km orbit. During the burn, the stage doglegged from south-southeast to south-southwest along the eastern Florida coast. The stage then flew over Cuba and Panama before deploying SAOCOM 1B about 14 minutes 9 seconds after liftoff. Two microsatellites, GNOMES-1 and Tyvak-0172, separated at about T+61 and 62 minutes.
The first stage prevously launched CRS-19, CRS-20, and Starlink V1 F8 during 2019-2020. It was not static test fired prior to this launch. The SAOCOM 1B launch was originally scheduled for early 2020, but the Covid-19 pandemic prevented ground crew travel from Argentina, causing delays. A Falcon 9 orbited similar SAOCOM 1A from VAFB SLC 4E during 2018. The relatively light payload allowed SpaceX to shift the SAOCOM 1B launch to the Cape in a move meant to save money. The company shifted or shed most of its VAFB launch team after completing its Iridium NEXT constellation launches in 2018.
CZ-2D/Gaofen 9-05
China's CZ-2D orbited Gaofen 9-05, adding to the growing Gaofen 9 Earth observation satellite constellation, from Jiuquan Satellite Launcher Center on August 23, 2020. Liftoff of CZ-2D Y57 from LC 43/94 (43/603) took place at 02:27 UTC. A pair of microsatellites, one named Tiantuo 5 and one identified as a "multi-functional test satellite" were orbited. Gaofen 9-05 separated into a sun synchronous orbit.
It was the fourth CZ-2D/Gaofen 9 launch in 2020 to date, all from Jiuquan.
Falcon 9/Starlink 1 F10
Falcon 9 first stage B1049.6 on its sixth flight - a new record for Falcon 9 - boosted the tenth operational group of 58 Starlink internet satellites from Cape Canaveral on August 18, 2020, along with three rideshare Planet Skysat imaging satellites. Liftoff from Space Launch Complex 40 took place at 14:31 UTC. The Falcon 9 second stage performed a single ascent burn to reach a roughly 220 x 380 km x 53 deg deployment orbit. Skysats 19-21 separated between 12 and 14 minutes after liftoff. The Starlinks separated at about T+46 minutes. The Starlink satellites will ultimately move themselves to 550 km operational orbits.
Total deployed payload mass was about 15,440 kg, including about 120 kg for each of the Skysats. The flight increased the total number of orbited Starlink satellites, both precursor and operational, to 655, though several are being retired and deorbited. A constellation of thousands of the 260 kg, Redmond Washington-built satellites is planned.
The payload fairing halves previously flew and were recovered during the January, 2020 Starlink 1 F3 launch. The first stage, which previously boosted Telstar 18 VANTAGE in September 2018, Iridium-8 in January 2019, and three Starlink missions in May 2019, January 2020, and June 2020, performed entry and landing burns before landing on "Of Course I Still Love You" some 350 nautical miles downrange. The stage was hot-fired at SLC 40 on August 17 with payload attached. It is the oldest currently-active Falcon 9 booster.
It was the 70th orbital Falcon 9 v1.2 and the 13th orbital Falcon 9 flight of 2020. SpaceX-owned Starlink has accounted for 9 of the launches. The company has only performed two beyond-LEO launches during 2020 to date.
Ariane 5 Launch
Ariane 5 ECA L5112 performed the Arianespace Mission VA253 launch from Kourou on August 15, 2020. Liftoff from ELA 3 took place at 22:04 UTC. The 47 minute 39 second mission successfully deployed three satellites into geosynchronous transfer orbit.
Northrop Grumman-built Galaxy 30 and MEV-2, which were connected together at launch, rode atop the Sylda adapter. 3,298 kg Galaxy 30, a GEOStar-2.4E communications satellite for Intelsat to serve the USA, separated at T+27 min 47 sec. 2,976 kg MEV-2, the second Mission Extension Vehicle 2 (MEV-2) spacecraft, a GEOStar-3 designed to dock with old satellites to extend their lifetimes, separated at T+34 min 22 sec. MEV-2 will dock with Intelsat 10-02 in geosynchronous orbit.
BSAT-4b, a 3,530 kg Maxar (Space Systems/Loral) SSL-1300 series communications satellite, rode inside Sylda and separated at T+47 min 37 sec. It will serve Japan's Broadcasting Satellite System Corporation (BSAT) , which provides communication and broadcasting satellite services for Japan.
The launch followed an aborted July 31 launch attempt that forced a rollback to replace a defective sensor. It was the first Ariane 5 launch since February, operations having been affected by the Covid-19 pandamic.
ULA/SpaceX Win NSSL
On August 7, 2020, the U.S. Space Force awarded National Security Space Launch Phase 2 contracts to United Launch Alliance and SpaceX, locking out bidders Blue Origin (New Glenn) and Northrop Grumman (Omega) as primary contractors, though both would serve as subcontractors for ULA's winning Vulcan launch vehicle.
ULA won about 60% of the launch services orders and SpaceX about 40% during 2020-2024. ULA will launch USSF-51 and USSF-106 during 2022. SpaceX will launch USSF-67 during 2022. ULA won $337 million and SpaceX $316 million for these initial launch services task orders. Some of the SpaceX money may be for development of an extended Falcon Heavy payload fairing and for a new Mobile Service Tower at LC 39 Pad A.
ULA and SpaceX will now compete annually for up to 34 NSSL launches during during the 2020-2027 period. The initial launches will be from Florida, with California launch capability added after a couple of years. Vulcan Centaur will launch from Cape Canaveral SLC 41 and VAFB SLC 3E. Falcon 9/Heavy will launch from KSC LC 39A and VAFB SLC 4W, with some launches likely possible from Cape Canaveral SLC 40.
Blue Origin announced that it intended to continue development of its New Glenn launch vehicle, aiming to win civil and commercial space contracts. Northrop Grumman only said that it was disappointed in the announcement. Omega's first and second stage motors have already been test fired, its mobile launch platform is under construction, and its liquid hydrogen upper stage was to have been test fired in a few months.
The announcement sets the stage for US space launch during the next decade at least, since Pentagon money is a dominant engine for launch business.
Falcon 9/Starlink 1 F9
The 89th orbital Falcon 9, boosted by first stage B1051.5 on its fifth flight, launched the ninth operational group of 57 Starlink internet satellites from Kennedy Space Center on August 7, 2020, along with two rideshare BlackSky satellites. Liftoff from Launch Complex 39A took place at 05:12 UTC. The Falcon 9 second stage performed two burns to reach a roughly 380 x 400 km x 53 deg deployment orbit. BlackSky Global 7 and 8 deployment took place about an hour after liftoff, followed 30 minutes later by Starlink separation. The Starlink satellites will ultimately move themselves to 550 km operational orbits.
Total deployed payload mass was about 15.192 metric tons (tonnes), including 112 kg for the two Earth observation BlaskSky satellites. The flight increased the total number of orbited Starlink satellites, both precursor and operational, to 597, though several are being retired and deorbited. A constellation of thousands of the 260 kg, Redmond Washington-built satellites is planned.
The first stage, which previously boosted the DM-1 Crew Dragon, RCM, and Starlink 1 F3 and F6 during 2019-20, performed entry and landing burns before landing on "Of Course I Still Love You" downrange. The stage was hot-fired at LC-39A on June 24 with payload attached, but issues discovered during the test delayed the launch. On July 8 weather scrubbed a launch try and on July 11 the vehicle's third launch attempt was halted due to unspecified problems, possibly with the payload. The long-delayed flight was hop-scotched by two other Falcon 9 launches during its campaign.
CZ-2D/Gaofen 9-04
China's 50th CZ-2D orbited Gaofen 9-04, another Earth observation satellite, from Jiuquan Satellite Launcher Center on August 6, 2020. Liftoff from LC 43/94 (43/603) took place at 04:01:54 UTC. A gravity and atmospheric science microsatellite named Tsinghua was also orbited. Gaofen 9-04 separated into a roughly 500 km x 97.5 deg sun synchronous orbit.
It was the third CZ-2D/Gaofen 9 launch in 2020 to date, all from Jiuquan.
Proton Launch
Russia's Proton M/Briz M launched two communication satellites to a supersynchronous transfer orbit from Baikonur Cosmodrome, Kazakhstan on July 30, 2020. Liftoff from Site 200 Pad 39 took place at 21:25 UTC, beginning an 18 hour 16 minute mission that included five burns by the Briz M upper stage. It was the longest Proton M/Briz M mission.
Two Russian communication satellites, Ekspress 80 and Ekspress 103, were orbited. Express 80 weighed 2.11 tonnes at launch. Express 103 weighed 2.28 tonnes. Express 80 separated first at T+17 hours 59 minutes 26 seconds. Express 103 followed at T+18 hours 16 minutes 40 seconds.
Briz M fired first to reach a low Earth parking orbit. It fired again beginning at 00:29:08 (HH:MM:SS), 02:12:52, and 09:11:43 to reach GTO. Its fifth burn to reach its final orbit began at T+17:49:30.
It was the first Proton launch of the year, the 99th Proton M/Briz M, and the 424th Proton launched since the big hypergolic launch vehicle began flying in 1965.
Mars Rover Launch
Atlas 5 AV-088 launched NASA JPL's Mars-2020 mission with the Perserverance rover toward Mars from Cape Canaveral, Florida on July 30, 2020. Liftoff from Space Launch Complex 41 took place at 11:50 UTC. The Atlas 5-541 dropped its four solid motor boosters 1 min 50 sec after liftoff, shed its payload fairing at T+3:28, and shut down its Russian RD-180 first stage engine at T+4:22. The Centaur second stage fired its RL10C-1 engine for 7 min 1 sec to reach a parking orbit, then restarted at T+45:21 over the Indian Ocean for a 7 min 38 sec burn that propelled the roughly 4,082 kg payload into solar orbit. Mars-2020 separated at T+57:42.
Mars-2020 includes a Cruise Stage, Aeroshell, Descent Stage, the 1,025 kg Perserverance Rover, and a Heat Shield. Riding along with the RTG-powered rover is the 1.8 kg Ingenuity helicopter, which will attempt to fly above the surface of Mars.
It was the third Mars-bound launch in recent weeks, all taking advantage of this bi-annual Earth-Mars alignment. AV-088 was the fifth Atlas 5 launch toward Mars, a total that includes NASA’s Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter in 2005, Curiosity rover in 2011, MAVEN orbiter in 2013 and InSight lander in 2018.
ZY-3 Launch
Chang Zheng 4B number Y45 orbited Ziyuan 3-3 and microsatellite Tianqi 10 from Taiyuan Satellite Launch Center on July 25, 2020. The three-stage, 249 tonne hypergolic propellant rocket lifted off from LC 9 at 03:17 UTC. The third stage inserted the 2.63 tonne high resolution civil remote sensing satellite into a roughly 505 km x 97.4 degree sun synchronous orbit. Tianqi, an 8 kg communication microsatellite for IoT communications, likely entered a similar orbit.
During ascent the second stage, after completing its burn and separating from the rocket, performed a maneuver to steer itself toward a small drop zone. The third stage lowered its orbit after inserting the satellites, likely through use of a RCS and propellant blow down.
It was the second CZ-4B launch of the year and the 14th DF-5 based CZ liftoff.
Progress MS-15
Russia's Soyuz 2.1a launched Progress MS-15 from Baikonur Site 31 Pad 6 on July 23, 2020. Liftoff took place at 14:26 UTC. The robot cargo hauler spacecraft flew a fast-track, two orbit ascent to the International Space Station. Progress MS-15 docked successfully and automatically after initially mis-aligning its final approach.
It was Russia's first orbital launch in two months, since May 22, an usually long gap for a country that until recent years traditionaly led the world's launch totals.
Progress MS-15 carried 1,520 kg of dry cargo, about 600 kg of propellant for transfer to ISS, 420 kg of water, and 46 kg of compressed air.
CZ-5 Tianwen 1
China launched its first Mars mission on July 23, 2020, when CZ-5 number Y4 boosted the Tianwen 1 spacecraft into solar orbit. The 870 tonne, 2.5-stage rocket lifted off from Wenchang Spacecraft Launch Site Pad 101 at 00:41 UTC. The liquid-hydrogen-fueled second stage fired its twin YF-75 engines twice to accelerate the 5 tonne spacecraft toward Mars during a roughly 36 minute mission.
Ascent times were as follows. Booster separation T+175 seconds, shroud separation T+362 seconds, Staging T+492 seconds, Stage 2 cutoff T+702 seconds, Stage 2 restart T+1,165 seconds and shutdown at T+2,010 seconds, vernier cutoff T+2,107 seconds, and spacecraft separation at T+2,177 seconds.
Tianwen means "Questions to Heaven", from a poem written by Qu Yuan roughly 2,500 years ago. China National Space Administration (CNSA), which manages the orbiter/lander/rover project, provided no live information during the flight.
Falcon 9/ANASIS 2
The 68th orbital Falcon 9 v1.2 flight attempt launched ANASIS 2 (Army/Navy/Air Force Satellite Information System) for South Korea's military from Cape Canaveral on July 20, 2020. Liftoff from SLC 40 took place at 21:30 UTC. Falcon 9's second stage performed two burns during the roughly half-hour flight to insert the Airbus-built Eurostar E3000 series communications satellite into an unknown elliptical (likely supersynchronous) transfer orbit. ANASIS 2, which likely weighed 3.5 to 5 tonnes at liftoff, will presumably raise itself to geosynchronous orbit where it will operate. First stage B1058.2, which previously boosted the first NASA commericial crew mission on May 30, 2020, performed entry and landing burns to land on "Just Read the Instructions" downrange in the Atlantic Ocean.
B1058.2 performed a static test firing at SLC 40 on July 11, 2020 with no payload attached to the top of the rocket. At the time, plans called for a July 14 liftoff. That plan was stopped by a second stage problem that apparently cropped up during the combined wet dress rehearsal/static firing. The stage was either repaired or replaced prior to the final launch countdown.
Also on July 11, another Falcon 9, using first stage B1051.5 and topped by the Starlink v1-9 payload, had had its third launch attempt halted at LC 39A due to unspecified problems, possibly with the payload. That Falcon 9, which originally tried to launch nearly a month ago and has since been hop-scotched by two other Falcon 9 launches, continues to await launch.
South Korea received the satellite as part of a barter to offset that country's F-35A fighter jet purchase from Lockheed Martin. That company subcontracted the satellite to Airbus.
This was the 55th Falcon 9 launch from Space Launch Complex 40, matching the number of Titan launches (Titan 3C, 34D, Commercial Titan 3, and Titan 4) that previously took place from the site. While it took four decades for Titan to log 55 launches from (S)LC 40, Falcon 9 did it in one decade.
H-2A/Hope
Japan's H-2A launched the Emirates Mars Hope orbiter toward the Red Planet from Tanegashima Space Center on July 19, 2020. Liftoff from Yoshinobu Pad 1 took place at 21:58 UTC. Hope is the UAE's first Mars mission.
H-2A-202 F42 performed the launch. The LE-5B powered liquid hydrogen second stage performed two burns, the second beginning 56 min 39 sec after liftoff as the stage passed over the South Atlantic Ocean, to accelerate the 1,350 kg spacecraft into solar orbit. It was the first H-2A launch toward Mars.
Hope is the first of several Mars-bound launches planned for this summer.
Minotaur 4 NROL-129
Flying for the first time under the Northrop Grumman banner, a Minotaur 4 boosted four National Reconnaissance Office (NRO) satellites into orbit from Wallops Flight Facility on July 15, 2020. The NROL-129 mission lifted off from Pad 0B at 13:46 UTC after a delay to allow a boat to clear the range. It was the first Minotaur 4 launch from Wallops. A similar Minotaur 5 rose from the same pad during 2013.
Minotaur 4 uses three solid motor stages from retired Peacekeeper ICBMs, topped by a commercial Orion 38 solid motor housed in a Guidance and Control Assembly. The 85 tonne rocket lifted off on 209 tonnes of thrust from its Thiokol SR-118 first stage motor, which burned for 56 seconds. The Aerojet SR-119 124.7 tonne force second stage motor immediately ignited and extended its nozzle for its 60 second burn. The 29.5 tonne force Hercules SR-120 third stage motor coasted for ten seconds while extending its nozzle before beginning its 72 second burn. Fairing separation took place around the time of third stage ignition, which saw the end of the launch webcast. The Orion 38 fourth stage likely performed its 3.65 tonne force, 68 second burn after a roughly dozen-minute coast.
The flight aimed southeast toward a likely 43 deg inclination low Earth orbit. Minotaur 4 can lift 1.4 to 1.5 tonnes to such an orbit, depending on altitude.
Northrop Grumman (previously Orbital ATK and, before that, Orbital Sciences) conducts Minotaur 4 launches under the U.S. Space Force Orbital/Suborbital-3 contract.
KZ-11 Inaugural Failure
China's Kuaizhou 11 failed to orbit two small satellites during its inaugural flight from Juiquan Satellite Launch Center on July 10, 2020. Liftoff from a mobile transporter launcher parked on a flat pad took place at 04:17 UTC. The first minutes of flight look nominal through second stage separation, but an unknown failure occurred before orbit could be attained. The ascent was planned to include a long coast phase to an insertion more than an hour after launch.
KZ-11, managed by Expace Technology and developed by China Aerospace Science & Industry Corp (CASIC), is a three stage solid-motor launch vehicle that is topped by a liquid "Propulsion Control Module". It is likely derived from China's DF-31 intercontinental ballistic missile. KZ-11 is 2.2 meters diameter, weighs 78 tonnes at liftoff, and is capable of placing 1 tonne in a 700 km sun synchronous orbit.
The payload included 230 kg BilibiliSat and 97 kg Xiangrikui 2, which were lost in the failure.
KZ-11 is the latest in a string of new launch vehicles developed in China since 2013 that are based on solid propellant missiles. These include the successful CZ-11 and KT-2, both DF-31 based, the successful DF-21/25 based KZ-1(A), and the so-far unsuccessful DF-26 based ZQ-1. KT-1, an early solid-motor design, failed in two attempts during 2002-2003.
CZ-3B/APStar 6D
China's Chang Zheng 3B boosted the APStar 6D communications satellite to geosynchronous transfer orbit from Xichang Satellite Launch Center on July 9, 2020. Liftoff of "Enhanced" CZ-3B number Y64 from LC 3 took place at 12:10 UTC. The liquid hydrogen third stage performed two burns during the roughly half-hour mission.
The 5.55 tonne DFH-4E satellite was built by the China Academy of Space Technology. It will be operated by APT Satellite Company Ltd. The satellite will provide Ku/Ka-band broadband internet communications from geosynchronous orbit at 134 degrees East, after raising itself to that orbit.
It was the 13th DF-5 based orbital launch of the year and 12th success. It was also the 5th beyond-LEO attempt and 4th success, more than any other launch vehicle family despite an April CZ-3B failure.
Shavit-2 Spysat Launch
Israel's Shavit-2 rocket launched Ofeq 16, an electro-optical reconnaissance satellite, into a retrograde low earth orbit from Palmachim Air Base on July 6, 2020. Liftoff of the 32.9 tonne launch vehicle took place at 01:00 UTC. Ofeq 16, built by Israel Aerospace Industries (IAI Ltd), was boosted into a retrograde low Earth orbit. It was the first Shavit-2/Ofeq launch since Ofeq 11 was successfully launched in 2016, but then suffered problems in orbit.
The launch was jointly carried out by IAI and the Defense Ministry’s Space Administration, which is a part of the Administration for the Development of Weapons and Technological Infrastructure. It may have been the 12th Shavit launch attempt since 1988.
Rarely-flown Shavit consists of three solid fuel motor stages topped by an optional liquid fuel fourth stage. Payloads of only 250-300 kg are possible due to the fact that the rocket must launch toward the west across the Mediterranean Sea, toward the Straits of Gibralter, from Palmachim Airbase on Israel's coast. The resulting westward, or retrograde orbit, reduces payload mass compared to an eastward launch that would gain free velocity from the Earth's rotation.
CZ-2D Launch
China's Chang Zheng (Long March) 2D Y29 orbited Shiyan Weixing 6-02 from Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center on July 4, 2020. Liftoff from Site 43 Pad 603 took place at 23:44 UTC. The satellite was inserted into a roughly 700 km x 98.19 deg sun synchronous orbit.
The mission of Shiyan Weixing 6-02 was vaguely described by offical new reports from China to be for "space environmental exploration and related technical tests".
It was the 12th DF-5 based orbital launch of the year, more than any other launch vehicle family.
Electron Fails
Rocket Lab's 13th Electron, named "Pics Or It Didn’t Happen’", failed to reach orbit with seven small satellites on July 4, 2020. Liftoff from Mahia, New Zealand's LC 1 took place at 21:19 UTC. The flight appeared normal through the first stage burn, staging, second stage engine start, and fairing separation. At about T+5 minutes 42 seconds, however, about 45 seconds before the planned second stage battery hot-swap that would have transferred second stage engine turbopump power to a second battery, video downlink ended and acceleration appeared to cease. The second stage normally would have burned until the 9 minute 2 second mark to place the Curie third stage into a parking orbit.
The primary payload was Canon Electronics CE-SAT-IB with experimental imaging equipment, five Planet SuperDove imaging satellites, and one In-Space 6U CubeSat named Faraday 1.
Rocket Lab confirmed that the vehicle was lost soon after its webcast ended. The company vowed that it would find the problem and return to flight soon. The failure came after 11 consecutive Electron successes.
CZ-4B Launch
China's CZ-4B, tail number Y-43, orbited a high resolution imaging satellite from Taiyuan Satellite Launch Center on July 3, 2020. Liftoff from LC 9 took place at 03:10 UTC. The 2.4 tonne satellite, CAST's first "GF" series multi-mode "civil" optical imaging satellite, was inserted into a sun synchronous orbit. A student microsatellite named Xibaipo or Bayi 02 also rode to orbit during the launch.
It was the first CZ-4B launch of the year and the 11th DF-5 based CZ orbital launch of 2020.
GPS 3-3
SpaceX Falcon 9 performed its second GPS 3 mission on June 30, 2020, boosting Global Positioning System 3 Space Vehicle 3 into a medium transfer orbit from Cape Canaveral, Florida. The 88th Falcon 9 to fly rose from Space Launch Complex 40 at 20:10 UTC with the Lockheed-Martin-built payload, beginning a 1.5 hour mission that included two ascent burns by the second stage. SpaceX recovered first stage B1060.1 on "Just Read the Instructions" after it performed ascent, entry, and landing burns.
During its previous, GPS 3-1 launch in 2018, Falcon 9's first stage was expended while lofting its 4.4 tonne payload to a roughly 1,200 x 20,200 km x 55 deg orbit. On this flight, the U.S. Space Force gave up some payload mass and orbital energy to allow first stage recovery, with 4.311 tonne GPS 3-3 inserted into a 400 x 20,200 km x 55 deg orbit.
Mission times were MECO at 2:31 follow by staging at 2:35. The second stage fired from 2:42 until 8:07 to reach a parking orbit. Fairing separation took place at 3:28. The first stage completed its entry burn at 6:45 and landing burn at 8:30. Stage 2 coasted until restarting at 1:03:28 for a 45 second transfer orbit insertion burn. The stage and payload coasted for 25 more minutes before GPS 3-3 separated.
The rocket stages were test fired at McGregor, Texas, likely during March, 2020. The assembled rocket performed a first stage static test firing at SLC 40 on June 25.
China Navsat Complete
China's CZ-3B/E, serial number Y68, boosted 4.6 tonne Beidou 3 GEO-3 (Beidou 55) into geosynchronous transfer orbit from Xichang Satellite Launch Center on June 23, 2020. Liftoff from Pad 2 took place at 01:43 UTC. The launch, which took place after a June 13 attempt was scrubbed by a third stage vent valve issue, completed the Beidou 3 navigation satellite constellation.
It was the first CZ-3B launch since a failed April 9, 2020 attempt to orbit Palapa N1. That vehicle's liquid hydrogen fueled third stage suffered a failure during its first burn.
CZ-2D Launch
China's CZ-2D, serial number Y52, orbited high resolution Earth imaging satellite Gaofen 9-03, along with two microsatellites, from Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center on June 17, 2020. Liftoff from LC 43/603 (also called 43/94) took place at 07:19 UTC. The two-stage, hypergolic propellant rocket inserted the satellites into sun synchronous low earth orbit.
The small satellites included Pixing-3A - a Zhejiang University experimental pico/nano-satellite test, and HEDE-5 - a Beijing Hede Aerospace Technology Co., Ltd. ship tracking satellite.
It was the ninth DF-5 based launch of 2020.
Falcon 9/Starlink 1 F8
The 88th Falcon 9, boosted by first stage B1059.3 on its third flight, launched the eighth operational group of 58 Starlink internet satellites from Cape Canaveral on June 13, 2020, along with three rideshare PlanetLabs satellites named Skysat 16-18. Liftoff from Space Launch Complex 40 took place at 09:15 UTC. The Falcon 9 second stage performed a single, roughly 6 minute 10 second ascent burn to directly reach an elliptical deployment orbit where, about 13 minutes after liftoff, Skysat deployment took place. The Starlink satellites separated about 13 minutes later. They will ultimately move themselves to 550 km operational orbits. This was the fifth direct ascent Starlink flight.
Total deployed payload mass was about 15.41 metric tons (tonnes), including 330 kg for the three Skysats. The flight increased the total number of orbited Starlink satellites, both precursor and operational, to 540, though about a dozen or more of previously launched satellites are being retired and deorbited. A constellation of thousands of the 260 kg, Redmond Washington-built satellites is planned.
The first stage, which previously boosted CRS-19 and CRS-20 to ISS during 2019-2020, performed entry and landing burns before landing on "Of Course I Still Love You" downrange. SpaceX chose not to hot fire the first stage at SLC 40 before the launch, possibly the first time such a static test has been bypassed by the company. Both payload fairing halves had also previously flown, one on the JCSAT-18/Kacific1 mission and the other on Starlink v1.0 F2.
Electron Launch
Rocket Lab's twelfth Electron launched five microsatellites on a rideshare mission from New Zealand on June 13, 2020. Liftoff of the "Don't Stop Me Now" mission from Mahia Peninsula LC 1 took place at 05:12 GMT. Payloads included three U.S. National Reconnaissance Office (NRO) satellites, a University of New South Wales "M2 Pathfinder" communications experiment satellite for the Australian military, and a NASA Boston University Cubesat mission named ANDESITE designed to measure plasma currents in orbit.
The launch had been delayed from March 30 when New Zealand's government implemented shut-down orders for most businesses to slow the COVID-19 pandemic.
Electron's first stage fired its nine battery-powered Rutherford LOX/Kerosene engines for 2 min 36 sec before shutting down and separating. The second stage vacuum Rutherford burned for 6 min 10 sec to reach an elliptical transfer orbit, performing a battery "hot-swap" after the first 3 min 49 sec of the burn. Payload fairing separation took place at T+3 min 12 sec. After a half-orbit coast, the Curie third stage fired its engine for 1 min 36 sec to circularize the orbit. Payload deployments occurred about one hour after liftoff.
CZ-2C Oceansat Launch
China's CZ-2C launched Haiyang 1D, fourth in an ocean survey satellite series, into orbit from Taiyuan Satellite Launch Center on June 10, 2020. Liftoff from LC 9 took place at 18:31 UTC. The two stage, 192 tonne, hypergolic propellant rocket boosted the 442 kg satellite into a sun synchronous low Earth orbit. HY-1D will form China's first marine civil service satellite constellation in conjunction with already-orbited HY-1C.
It was the year's 40th known orbital launch attempt worldwide, and the 36th success.
Falcon 9/Starlink 1 F7
The 65th Falcon 9 v1.2 to fly, boosted by first stage B1049.5 on its fifth flight, launched the seventh operational group of 60 Starlink internet satellites from Cape Canaveral on June 4, 2020. Liftoff from Space Launch Complex 40 took place at 01:25 UTC. The Falcon 9 second stage performed a single, roughly 6 minute 12 second ascent burn to directly reach a roughly 213 x 365 km x 53 deg deployment orbit where, about 15 minutes after liftoff, the 60-satellite stack separated. The satellites were expected to subsequently separate from each other and move themselves to 550 km operational orbits. This was the fourth direct ascent Starlink flight.
Total deployed payload mass was about 15.6 metric tons (tonnes). The flight increased the total number of orbited Starlink satellites, both precursor and operational, to 482, though about a dozen of the precursor satellites are being retired and deorbited. A constellation of thousands of the 260 kg, Redmond Washington-built satellites is planned.
The first stage, which previously boosted Telstar 18 VANTAGE, Iridium-8, Starlink 0.9, and Starlink 1-2 during 2018-2020, performed entry and landing burns before landing on a refurbished "Just Read the Instructions" downrange. It was the first "fifth" landing for a Falcon 9 booster. The stage was hot-fired on SLC 40 on May 13 with payload attached in anticipation of a May 17 launch, but a tropical depression affecting the landing zone forced the launch to be delayed behind the Demo 2 crew launch mission.
The launch took place on the 10th anniversary of the first Falcon 9 launch, also from SLC 40. There have been a total of 85 orbital Falcon 9 launches, three Falcon Heavy flights, and one suborbital Falcon 9, with an 87th Falcon 9 lost during a prelaunch accident. Falcon 9 launches included 5 "v1.0" Merlin 1C powered types, 15 "v1.1" Merlin 1D types, and 65 "v1.2" Merlin 1D types with stretched second stages. A v1.2 Falcon 9 was lost during the September 2016 pad accident along with its AMOS 6 payload.
CZ-2D Launch
China's CZ-2D, serial number Y51, orbited Gaofen 9-02, a high resolution imaging satellite, and Hede 4, a small ship tracking satellite, from Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center on May 31, 2020. Liftoff from LC 43/603 (also called 43/94) took place at 08:53 UTC. The two-stage, hypergolic propellant rocket inserted the satellites into sun synchronous low earth orbit.
It was the first DF-5 based launch from Jiuquan this year, following two launches by small solid-rocket-motor based KZ-1A launch vehicles. CZ-2D rockets had also launched, one apiece, from Taiyuan and Xichang this year.
U.S. Crew Launch
NASA astronauts Doug Hurley and Bob Behnken flew to orbit in a SpaceX Crew Dragon atop a Falcon 9 rocket from Kennedy Space Center on May 30, 2020. It was the third spaceflight for both astronauts. Liftoff from LC 39 Pad A took place at 19:22:45 UTC, following a weather scrub attempt on May 27. The commercial Crew Dragon test flight to the International Space Station was the first U.S.-launched crewed mission since Space Shuttle retired in 2011. Crew Dragon separated from the Falcon 9 second stage about 12 minutes after liftoff to begin its roughly 19 hour trip to dock with ISS.
First stage B1058.1 fired its nine Merlin 1D engines for 2 min 33 sec, aiming the vehicle on a northeast trajectory off the eastern U.S. coast, before shutting down and separating. The stage performed entry and landing burns before landing on the "Of Course I Still Love You" drone ship about 9 min 22 sec after liftoff. The second stage fired its single Merlin 1D Vacuum engine from T+2 min 44 sec until T+8 min 47 sec to reach a roughly 190 x 205 km low earth orbit inclined 51.6 deg to the equator.
Doug Hurley and Bob Behnken Ride Crew Dragon to Orbit
The first stage was static fired at McGregor, Texas, likely during August, 2019. It performed a hot fire test at LC 39A on May 22, 2020 with Crew Dragon stacked atop the vehicle.
After reaching orbit, the crew named their Crew Dragon, spacecraft number C206, "Endeavour" in honor of the Shuttle orbiter in which they had previously flown to ISS. Crew Dragon Endeavour docked successfully with ISS at 15:16 UTC on May 31.
Crew Dragon "Endeavour" Approaches ISS on May 31
Crew Dragon C201 performed the Demo 1 flight to ISS in early 2019. That spacecraft was then lost in an abort system ground test explosion at the Cape. Crew Dragon C205 performed in In Flight Abort test earlier this year from KSC LC 39A. C205 splashed down after its successful abort, but will likely not fly again. C202 was a pressure vessel structural test article. The status of C203 and C204 is unknown.
CZ-11 from Xichang
China's four-stage solid fuel CZ-11 launched two small "earth observation technology" satellites into low earth orbit from Xichang Satellite Launch Center on May 29, 2020. It was the first CZ-11 launch from Xichang. Liftoff took place at 20:13 UTC. Confirmation of a successful launch of XJS-G and XJS-H came about one-half hour later.
It was the ninth known CZ-11 flight since the type premiered on September 25, 2015. The 58 tonne rocket may be based on China's DF-31 series solid fuel ballistic missile, because the canister used to launch previous CZ-11 was similar to launch canisters used by the road-mobile DF-31A. CZ-11 is reportedly 20.8 meters long (other reports suggest 18.7 meters) and 2 meters in diameter with a 120 tonne liftoff thrust. Its fourth stage has demonstrated in-space maneuvering capability. CZ-11 may be able to lift 350 kg or more to sun synchronous orbit. On this flight, CZ-11 was topped by a new, wider, 2.5 meter diameter payload fairing.
LauncherOne Failure
Virgin Orbit LauncherOne Launch Demo Ignition (Virgin Orbit)
Virgin Orbit's LauncherOne suffered an inuagural Launch Demo failure after drop release from Virgin Orbit's Cosmic Girl 747 carrier aircraft off the California coast on May 25, 2020. The failure occurred moments after the 21.3 meter long, two-stage rocket's LOX/Kerosene NewtonThree engine ignited, sometime around 19:53 UTC at an altitude of about 10.7 km just south of the Channel Islands, about 160 km southwest of Long Beach. Cosmic Girl took off from Mojave Air and Space Port with LauncherOne less than an hour before the drop. Virgin Orbit announced that the release from the aircraft was "clean", that "LauncherOne maintained stability after release", and that the company's NewtonThree engine ignited. An "anomaly" then occurred "early in first stage flight". Cosmic Girl returned safetly to Mojave.
On May 27, Virgin Orbit provided more details, noting that the flight was nominal for about 9 seconds after the drop. Propellant settling thrusters fired about three seconds after drop, followed two seconds later by NewtonThree main engine ignition. The rocket initially pitched down, then began to pull up, responding to its flight control system. About three or four seconds after ignition, for reasons still to be determined, the engine stopped producing thrust.
After igniting five seconds after the drop, NewtonThree was to produce 33,339 kgf thrust for about 2 min 55 sec. The second stage NewtonFour engine would then have made about 2,268 kgf thrust for 6 min 7 sec to accelerate itself and dummy payload either to a transfer orbit or to near-orbital velocity. NewtonFour would have restarted 31 min 26 sec after the drop, firing for about 15 seconds to reach its insertion orbit.
Richard Branson's Virgin Orbit LauncherOne development has lasted five years. The effort included the creation and testing of the rocket engines and stages, along with installing and perfecting the drop-launch system.
Tundra 4 Launch
Russia's Soyuz-2.1b/Fregat launched an early warning satellite into orbit from Plesetsk Cosmodrome on May 22, 2020. Liftoff from Site 43 Pad 4 took place at 07:31 UTC. After firing to reach a low earth parking orbit, the Fregat M stage fired two more times during the 4.5 hour mission to lift its payload into an elliptical “Molniya" orbit of approximately 1,620 x 38,500 km x 63.4 deg.
The satellite is the fourth Tundra (EKS type) early warning satellite designed to detect ballistic missile launches. It was the seventh R-7 launch of the year, most among the world's launch vehicles.
H-2B/HTV Finale
The ninth and final H-2B boosted the HTV-9 cargo hauling spacecraft for Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency (JAXA) toward the International Space Station from Tanegashima on May 20, 2020. Liftoff from Yoshinobu Pad 2 took place at 17:31 UTC.
HTV-9, also named Kounotori 9, weighed 16.5 tonnes or more at liftoff. It carried 6.2 tonnes of cargo, including 4.3 tonnes pressurized and 1.9 tonnes unpressurized. Cargo included six lithium-ion battery Orbital Replacement Units to replace existing ISS nickel-hydrogen batteries.
H-2B F-8 burned four SRB-A3 solid motors for 1 min 48 sec to augument the 2xLR-7A powered core's 5 min 44 sec burn. The LE-5B powered second stage then fired for 8 min 11 sec to reach a low Earth orbit inclined 51.6 deg to the equator. Spacecraft separation took place about 16 min 40 sec after liftoff. The second stage subsequently performed a deorbit burn.
H-2B and HTV will be replaced by H-3 and HTV-X, respectively.
Atlas 5 Launches X-37B
AV-081, an Atlas 5-501 with no solid boosters and a 5.4 meter diameter payload fairing, orbited the United States Space Force-7 (USSF-7) mission on the sixth flight of an X-37B Orbital Test Vehicle (OTV-6) from Cape Canaveral, Florida on May 17, 2020. Liftoff from Space Launch Complex 41 took place at 13:14 UTC. The mission flew into a media blackout shortly after the Centaur second stage RL10C-1 engine completed the first of its two acknowledged burns. ULA announced launch success about 1.5 hours after liftoff.
AV-081 ascended on a northeast track consistent with previous OTV flights that carried five tonne X-37B spaceplanes into low earth orbits inclined about 40 degrees to the equator. OTV-6, believed to involve the third flight of the first of two X-37B airframes, included, for the first time, a service module mounted aft of the spaceplane body. Although a prelaunch payload integration photograph of the X-37B was published, no images of the service module were provided. The service module is likely an expendable component that will separate before reentry.
Though the primary mission of OTV-6 is classified, officials did state that FalconSat-8, a U.S. Air Force Academy microsatellite, will be released during the mission. OVT-6 also includes two NASA radiation exposure experiments and a Naval Research Laboratory experiment into solar power transfer to Earth via. microwave.
KZ-1A Launch
China's Kuaizhou 1A (KZ-1A) performed the 11th launch of the KZ-1(A) family on May 12, 2020 from Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center. The three-stage solid fuel rocket, serial number Y6, lifted off from a mobile launcher on a flat pad at 01:16 UTC. Two 93 kg communication satellites, Xingyun 2-1 and 2-2, were boosted to 557 x 573 km x 97.55 deg sun synchronous orbits. They were the first two operational satellites for an L-band communications constellation.
Expace Technology Co., Ltd., a subsidiary of China Aerospace Science & Industry Corp, handled the launch as a commercial enterprise. KZ-1A can loft 200kg into a 700 km sun synchronous orbit, or up to 300 kg to lower inclincation low earth orbits. It is 20 meters tall, 1.4 meters in diameter, and weighs 30 tonnes at liftoff. A small N2O4/MMH bipropellant insertion fourth stage likely provided final orbit insertion. The fourth stage also likely lowered its orbit after satellite separation.
CZ-5B First Flight
CZ-5B Rollout
China introduced a 1.5-stage version of its CZ-5 launch vehicle, identified as CZ-5B, on May 5, 2020, with a test flight from Wenchang Satellite Launch Center on Hainan Island off China's southern coast. Liftoff from Pad 101 took place at 10:00 UTC. The mission carried an uncrewed "New Generation Crewed Spacecraft" (XZF Chinese abbreviation) to a roughly 162 x 377 km x 41.1 deg low Earth orbit within a giant new 5.2 x 20.5 meter payload fairing. At least one auxiliary payload was also orbited, an inflatable reentry heat shield named RCS.
CZ-5B Launch
The 53.7 meter tall rocket rose on the combined 1,080 tonnes of thrust produced by 10 engines; two YF-77 gas generator engines on the 5-meter diameter LH2/LOX core and two YF-100 staged-combustion engines each on four 3.35 meter diameter kerosene/LOX strap-on boosters. The boosters separated about 173 seconds after liftoff. The core stage burned all the way to orbit, shutting down about 467 seconds after liftoff. Payload separation took place at about T+483 seconds. The XZF spacecraft, slated to fly a three-day mission before reentering and landing on China's mainland, likely weighed 21.6 tonnes, making this by-far China's heaviest-ever payload to orbit.
CZ-5B is intended to lift China's new space station modules. It is designed to lift as much as 25 tonnes to low earth orbit, making it more capable than Proton or Ariane 5 and possibly matching or exceeding Delta 4 Heavy.
Progress MS-14
A Soyuz 2.1a launched Progress MS-14 from Baikonur Site 31 Pad 6 on April 25, 2020. Liftoff took place at 01:51 UTC. The robot cargo hauler spacecraft was inserted into a 193 x 240 km x 51.6 deg orbit. It reached the International Space Station in two orbits, or just under 3.5 hours before docking.
The rocket, named "Victory", was adorned with symbols commemorating the 75th anniversary of the Soviet Union's victory over the Axis Powers during World War 2.
Progress MS-14 carried almost 1,350 kg of dry cargo, about 700 kg of propellant, for transfer to ISS, 420 kg of water, and 46 kg of compressed air.
Falcon 9/Starlink 1 F6
A Falcon 9 boosted by first stage B1051.4 on its fourth flight, launched the sixth operational group of 60 Starlink internet satellites from Kennedy Space Center on April 22, 2020. Liftoff from Launch Complex 39 Pad A took place at 19:30 UTC. The Falcon 9 second stage performed a single, roughly 6 minute 12 second ascent burn to directly reach an elliptical, 53 deg deployment orbit where, about 15 minutes after liftoff, the 60-satellite stack separated. The satellites were expected to subsequently separate from each other and move themselves to 550 km operational orbits. This was the third direct ascent Starlink flight.
Total deployed payload mass was about 15.6 metric tons (tonnes). The flight increased the total number of orbited Starlink satellites, both precursor and operational, to 422, though more than 10 of the precursor satellites are already being retired and deorbited. A constellation of thousands of the 260 kg, Redmond Washington-built satellites is planned.
The first stage, which previously boosted Crew Dragon DM-1, Radarsat Constellation, and Starlink 1 F3 during 2019-2020, performed entry and landing burns before landing on "Of Course I Still Love You" downrange. The success ended a string of two failed OSCILY landing attempts. The stage was hot-fired at LC 39A on April 17, with payload attached.
Iran Orbits Satellite
On April 22, 2020, Iran achieved its first successful orbital launch since Febraury 2, 2015. The launch placed a military satellite named "Noor" into a 426 x 444 km x 59.8 deg orbit. A previously-unknown Qased launch vehicle performed the ascent from a truck-trailer based transporter/erector/launcher parked on a flat pad at the Shahrud Missile Test Site in Iran's Central Desert, possibly around 04:00 UTC. It was the first orbital launch attempt from Shahrud, which is located at 36.200560 N, 55.333232 E.
Qased appeared to use a Shahab-3/Safir derived liquid fueled first stage, topped by a smaller diameter, possibly solid propellant second stage. A smaller solid propellant third stage, serving as an apogee kick motor, might have been housed within the payload shroud.
CZ-3B/Palapa N1 Launch Failure
(Updated 04/11/20)
China's CZ-3B/E failed to orbit Indonesia's Palapa N1 communications satellite from Xichang Satellite Launch Center on April 9, 2020. Liftoff from LC 2 took place at 11:46 UTC. The first two stages of flight were normal, but the third stage failed to complete its initial parking orbit insertion. One report suggested that only one of the two third stage engines operated properly. The upper stage and satellite were observed reentering in the vicinity of Saipan, more than 4,800 km downrange.
Palapa N1 was a 5,550 kg DFH-4 series satellite designed to replace Papapa D in geostationary orbit.
It was the first CZ-3B failure since June 18, 2017, following 28 consecutive successes. The type has flown since 1996, failing four times in 84 launches.
Soyuz Crew Launch
A Soyuz 2.1a launched three International Space Station crewmen in the Soyuz MS-16 spacecraft from Baikonur Cosmodrome on April 9, 2020. On board were NASA's Chris Cassidy and Russia's Anatoly Ivanishin and Ivan Vagner. Liftoff from Site 31 Pad 6 took place at 08:05 UTC, beginning a planned four-orbit, six-hour fast track ascent to the station.
It was the first crewed launch by Soyuz 2.1a. Soyuz-FG had performed the task since 2002. Soyuz 2.1a is essentially a Soyuz-FG with a digital control computer and inertial measurement unit replacing the previous analog systems. The new control systems allow Soyuz to perform in-flight roll and dog-leg maneuvers. Previously, R-7 launchers had to be rotated on the pad to the proper flight azimuth prior to launch. Soyuz 2.1a has been flying uncrewed missions since 2006 and began handling Progress cargo missions to ISS in 2015.
The launch was carried out with little fanfare in the midst of the ongoing, world-wide Covid-19 pandemic. Family members were not allowed to travel to the launch site, for example.
Atlas 5 Orbits AEHF 6
AV-086, an Atlas 5-551 variant with five AJ-60A solid rocket motors and a 5.4 meter diameter payload fairing, boosted the sixth Advanced Extremely High Frequency communications satellite for the U.S. Space Force into orbit from Cape Canaveral SLC 41 on March 26, 2020. Liftoff took place at 20:18, following a scrub and 81 minute combined delay/recycle caused by a ground hydraulics issue.
The 5 hour 41 minute mission included three burns by the Centaur RL10C-1 upper stage engine, said to be the 500th RL10 production engine. Centaur used a "GSO kit" for the third time on an AEHF flight to perform the extended mission. The final burn, near geoysynchronous apogee of the initial transfer orbit, boosted the $1.1 billion Lockheed Martin A2100M series satellite toward a planned 10,876 x 35,299 km x 13.9 deg orbit. Perigee variation from this plan was expected because a minimum residual propellant depletion burn was used to maximize orbit energy.
The insertion orbit requires 6,168 kg AEHF 6 to provide only a few hundred m/s of its own delta-v to reach geostationary orbit, compared to around 1,500 m/s for the first three AEHF launches. Those flights used Atlas 5-531 variants with only three solid rocket motors. Program managers determined that the extra cost for the booster motors would be offset by AEHF's faster ascent to its final orbit and by the longer lifetime provided to the satellite by the reduced propellant needs.
It was the year's second Atlas 5 launch.
CZ-2C Orbits Yaogan 30-06
China orbited its sixth set of Yaogan 30 triplet satellites on March 24, 2020 with a Chang Zheng 2C launch vehicle. The two stage rocket rose from Xichang Satellite Launch Center's LC 3 at 03:43 UTC. The satellite triplet was named Yaogan-30 Group 6. The "electromagnetic detection" satellites were inserted into roughly 600 km x 35 deg orbits.
The satellites may be formation flyers similar to the U.S. NOSS system, which perform a signals intelligence mission designed to monitor surface ship electronic emissions. It was the sixth launch for this constellation, all by CZ-2C rockets from Xichang LC 3, since September 29, 2017.
It was the fifth DF-5 based CZ orbital launch of the year, matching Falcon 9 as most-flown to date.
Soyuz Orbits OneWeb 41-74
Despite a Bloomberg report that OneWeb was contemplating bankruptcy in the midst of the "Coronavirus Crash", Russia's Soyuz 2.1b/Fregat launched 34 more OneWeb satellites into low Earth orbit from Baikonur Cosmodrome on March 21, 2020. Liftoff of the Soyuz 2-1b/Fregat M from Site 31 Pad 6 took place at 17:06 UTC. The 3 hour 45 minute Starsem ST28 mission placed the 34 satellites, each weighing 147.5 kg, into 450 km x 87.4 deg orbits. Total payload mass was 5,015 kg.
Fregat completed its first burn at 14 min 34 sec to reach a 140 x 425 km transfer orbit. Its second burn, begun at apogee 1 hour 6 minutes 45 seconds after liftoff, circularized the orbit. Satellites deployed in nine groups of two to four during the subsequent 2 hours 39 minutes, separated by Fregat ACS burns. Fregat performed a deorbit burn a little more than 5 hours after launch.
Falcon 9/Starlink 1 F5
A Falcon 9, boosted by a first stage on its fifth flight, launched the fifth operational group of 60 Starlink internet satellites from Florida on March 18, 2020. Liftoff from Kennedy Space Center Launch Complex 39 Pad A took place at 12:16 UTC. Orbit was achieved despite a first stage Merlin 1D engine failure during the final seconds of first stage flight. An attempted downrange first stage recovery failed, likely a consequence of the engine failure event.
Total deployed payload mass was about 15.6 metric tons (tonnes). The flight increased the total number of orbited Starlink satellites, both precursor and operational, to 362, though more than 10 of the precursor satellites are already being retired and deorbited. A constellation of thousands of the 260 kg satellites built by SpaceX's Redmond, Washington satellite group is planned.
The Falcon 9 second stage performed a single ascent burn to directly reach an elliptical, 53 deg deployment orbit where, less than 15 minutes after liftoff, the 60-satellite stack began to separate from the second stage. The satellites were expected to subsequently separate from each other and move themselves to 550 km operational orbits. This was the second direct ascent for a Starlink payload. The Falcon 9 second stage was passivated and left to reenter unguided within a few months.
Unplanned Merlin 1D Shutdown
First stage B1048.5, which previously boosted the Iridium 7 and SAOCOM 1A missions from Vandenberg AFB and the Nusantara Satu and Starlink 1 missions from Cape Canaveral during 2018 and 2019, suffered the engine failure/shutdown at about T+146 seconds, about 10 seconds before the planned nominal shutdown. On board video showed a pattern consistent with the shutdown of one of the outer eight engines. The engines were beginning to, or about to, throttle down when the failure took place. The stage continued to burn for a few seconds longer than planned, possibly 2 or 3 seconds longer, to achieve its planned velocity. The second stage then fired for a nearly nominal duration to achieve orbit.
The first stage reoriented after staging and began its entry burn, but the thrust pattern appeared unusual. The stage was not able to attempt a landing on the "Of Course I Still Love You" drone ship. It was the second consecutive first stage landing failure during a Starlink mission. It was the first ground-ignited Merlin 1D in-flight failure in 774 full-duration orbital engine-missions.
The stage was hot-fired on LC 39A on March 14, with payload attached. A March 15 launch attempt was stopped at engine start at T-0 by a "high engine power" abort.
Glonass Launch
Russia's Soyuz 2-1b/Fregat orbited another Glonass navigation satellite from Plesetsk Cosmodrome on March 16, 2020. Liftoff from Site 43 Pad 4 took place at 18:28 UTC. Fregat performed multiple burns to deliver the satellite (Uragan-M 760) into a 19,131 x 19, 155 km x 64.8 degree medium earth orbit.
The satellite, likely to be named Kosmos 2545 in orbit, weighed about 1,415 kg at launch.
CZ-7A Inaugural Fails
China's CZ-7A, an upgraded version of its previously-flown CZ-7 with a cryogenic third stage added, failed during its inaugural launch attempt on March 16, 2020. The tall rocket lifted off from LC 201 at Wenchang Space Launch Center at 13:34 UTC. The early portion of the ascent appeared nominal, but something went wrong within a roughly half-hour span after liftoff. China's Xinhua news service announced that after the early part of the launch "a malfunction occurred later".
Intial rumors suggested an issue with the third stage, but these were unconfirmed. A video posted online later showed a possible failure during the early moments of the second stage burn. The launch vehicle aimed to place the XJY-6 satellite into a geosynchronous transfer orbit, a goal that would have required the third stage to perform two burns, with the second taking place about 20-30 minutes after liftoff.
CZ-7A uses a 3.35 meter diameter core stage powered by two 122.5 tonne thrust YF-100 RP/LOX staged combustion engines. Four 2.25 meter diameter strap-on boosters, each powered by one YF-100, augment the core to produce a total of 734.1 tonnes (1.618 million pounds) of thrust at liftoff. Four 18 tonne thrust YF-115 RP/LOX staged combustion engines power the 3.35 meter diameter second stage. Two YF-75 engines produce a combined 16.3 tonnes thrust to power the third, 21 tonne LH2/LOX stage. Two previous, successful CZ-7 launches, with no cryogenic third stage, took place in 2016 and 2017.
Beidou-3 GEO-2
China's CZ-3B/E, serial number Y69, orbited the second Beidou 3 geosynchronous type navigation satellite (Beidou 3G2) from Xichang Satellite Launch Center on March 9, 2020. Liftoff from LC 2 took place at 11:55 UTC. The 3.5 stage rocket's liquid hydrogen third stage fired twice to boost the 4.6 tonne DFH-3B navigation satellite into a geosynchronous transfer orbit. Beidou 3G2 will raise itself into geostationary orbit.
It was the 54th Beidou launch for China's global navigation satellite constellation.
Cargo Dragon Finale
A Falcon 9 launched NASA's CRS-20 ISS cargo mission from Cape Canaveral Space Launch Complex 40 on March 7, 2020, closing out the first SpaceX Cargo Resupply Services (CRS-1) contract and use of the company's original cargo Dragon spacecraft type. Liftoff took place at 04:50 UTC. Block 5 first stage B1059, on its second flight, fired for 2 minutes 18 seconds during ascent. Dragon 12.3, a refurbished spacecraft that previously flew the CRS-10 and CRS-16 missions in 2017 and 2018, was then powered on to low earth orbit by a single 6 min 6 sec second stage burn. Dragon carried about 2,041 kg of cargo for the International Space Station, making it likely the lightest Dragon launched by a v1.2 series Falcon 9. It was the ninth flight of a previously-flown Dragon.
B1059 performed boost back, entry, and landing burns to land at Cape Canaveral Landing Zone 1, the first LZ-1 landing since July 25, 2019 during the CRS-18 flight. It was the 49th successful stage recovery in 59 attempts and the 14th in 15 attempts on LZ-1. One additional landing on the drone ship OCISLY did take place, performed by FH-2 Core B1055.1, but that stage subsequently toppled on deck and was lost.
B1059 previously boosted Dragon 6.3 on the CRS-19 mission on December 5, 2019 and landed downrange on OCISLY. The stage, topped by its second stage but without Dragon, was static test fired at SLC 40 on March 1. The second stage was a replacement, swapped with an upcoming mission's stage to allow that stage to have a part replaced.
Meridian Launch
Russia's Soyuz 2-1a/Fregat orbited Meridian-M 19L from Plesetsk Cosmodrome on February 20, 2020. Liftoff from Site 43 Pad 3 took place at 08:24 UTC, starting a 2 hour 20 minute mission. Fregat fired three times to place the military communications satellite into a 996 x 39,724 km x 62.85 deg, 12-hour Molniya orbit.
The launch had been delayed by one month after an electrical problem forced replacement of the Soyuz rocket upper ("third") stage. A new, replacement stage was used in place of the original.
CZ-2D Xichang Launch
China's Chang Zheng (Long March) 2D performed its first launch from Xichang space center on February 19, 2020, boosting four experimental satellites into orbit. Liftoff from LC 3 took place at 21:07 UTC. The two-stage rocket boosted the four satellites, named XJS C, D, E and F, into roughly 480 km x 35 deg orbits.
China's Xinhua news agency stated that the satellites would be used to test new Earth observation technology. Shanghai Academy of Spaceflight Technology, a division of China Aerospace Science and Technology Corp, developed two of the satellits. Harbin Institute of Technology and DFH Satellite Co. Ltd. developed the other two satellites.
All 45 previous CZ-2D launches had been from China's Jiuquan or Taiyuan space centers. Xichang typically hosts larger CZ-3 series launches to GTO, but it has in the past handled CZ-2C, also a two stage rocket that is slightly smaller than CZ-2D.
Ariane 5 Launch
Ariane 5 ECA VA252 launched JCSat 17 and GEO-KOMPSAT 2B from Kourou on February 18, 2020. Liftoff from ELA 3 took place at 22:18 UTC. After an 8 minute 39 second core stage burn and 16 minute 24 second stage burn, both satellites separated into geosynchronous transfer orbit during the roughly 31 minute mission.
Lockheed Martin Space built 5,857 kg JCSat 17 for Japan's SKY Perfect JSAT Corporation, using an LM 2100TM bus. It will provide S, C, and Ku-band coverage of the Asia-Pacific region from 136 degrees East. Korea Aerospace Reserach Institute (KARI) built 3,379 kg GEO-KOMPSAT-2B. It will provide Earth environment and ocean monitoring services from 128.2 deg East.
VA252, the 75th Ariane 5 ECA, used the second ESC-D cryogenic upper stage, the first having flown on VA-249. ESC-D features a 4 cm stretch to carry about 360 kg more propellant, adding about 90 kg more payload capability. The stage weighes 19 tonnes and is 4.71 meters long. When flown, its launch vehicle is sometimes identified as an Ariane 5 ECA+.
Falcon 9/Starlink 1 F4
Falcon 9-82, a v1.2 Block 5 variant, launched the fourth operational group of 60 Starlink internet satellites from Cape Canaveral, Florida on February 17, 2020. Liftoff from Space Launch Complex 40 took place at 15:05 UTC. Total deployed payload mass was about 15.6 metric tons (tonnes). The insertion raised the total number of orbited Starlink satellites, both precursor and operational, to 302, though 10 or so of the precursor satellites are already being retired and deorbited. A satellite constellation numbering in the thousands is planned. The satellites, each weighing up to 260 kg, were built by SpaceX's Redmond, Washington satellite group.
On this flight, the Falcon 9 second stage performed a single 6 minute 7 second ascent burn to directly reach a 216 x 386 km x 53 deg deployment orbit where, only 14 minutes 6 seconds after liftoff, the 60-satellite stack began to separate from the second stage. The satellites were expected to subsequently separate from each other and move themselves to 550 km operational orbits. This was the first direct ascent for a Starlink payload.
First stage B1056.4, which previously boosted the CRS-17 and CRS-18 Cargo Dragon flights and the JCSat 18 mission, all during 2019, performed entry and landing burns after its 2 minute 32 second ascent burn before failing to land on "Of Course I Still Love You" positioned downrange in the Atlantic Ocean. The stage landed in the water near the ship. It was the 10th Falcon 9 or Falcon Heavy stage landing or recovery failure in 58 attempts. The Falcon 9 second stage was passivated and left to reenter unguided within a few months.
Antares/Cygnus NG-13
The second upgraded Antares 230+ launch vehicle orbited Northrop Grumman's Cygnus NG-13 cargo spacecraft from Wallops Island, Virginia on February 15, 2020. Liftoff from Pad 0A took place at 20:21 UTC. It was the 12th Antares launch. The liftoff followed a Febraury 9 abort at T-3 minutes caused by a ground sensor problem and a February 14 scrub due to excessive high altitude winds.
Like Antares 230, the Antares 230+ first stage is powered by two Energomash RD-181 engines in place of the AJ-26 engines that powered the first five Antares flights. Antares 230+ uses a stronger first stage structure to allow full-thrust operation through much of its burn. In addition, unneeded dry mass was stripped from the first and second stages and a single-piece interstage was implemented.
Cygnus NG-13 was the 10th enhanced Cygnus with a stretched Thales Alenia Space cargo module and the seventh to fly on Antares. Atlas 5 rockets orbited the other three. NG-13 probably weighed about 7,500 kg at launch, including 3,633 kg of cargo for the International Space Station. A February 18 rendezvous with ISS is planned. Cygnus NG-13 was named in honor of Maj Robert Lawrence, the first African American astronaut who died in a aircraft accident before he could fly to orbit.
The RD-181 engines produced 392 tonnes of thrust to power the nearly 293 tonne rocket off its pad. The Ukrainian-built first stage burned for about 196 seconds. After first stage shutdown, the upper composite separated at T+210 seconds and coasted upward. The shroud and interstage adapter separated at 236 and 240 seconds, respectively. At about T+247 seconds the Northrop Grumman Castor 30XL second stage motor ignited to produce an average of about 51 tonnes of thrust during its roughly 163 second burn. Cygnus separated at T+534 seconds into a 191 x 283 km x 51.653 deg orbit.
Solar Orbiter
Atlas 5 AV-087 sent European Space Agency's Solar Orbiter into heliocentric orbit from Cape Canaveral on Febraury 10, 2020. Liftoff of the Atlas 5-411 variant from Space Launch Complex 41 took place at 04:03 UTC. This Atlas 5-411 used a single solid rocket booster, a Centaur second stage powered by a single RL10A-4-2 engine, and a 4 meter diameter payload fairing. Centaur fired twice. The first 8 minute burn sent the vehicle into a 204 x 237 km x 35 deg parking orbit. After a half-hour coast, the second, 2 minute 56 second burn sent the stage and its payload into a solar orbit.
The 1,800 kg, Airbus-built spacecraft will pass near Mercury this summer and fly past Venus during December. After multiple Venus/Earth flybys, Solar Orbiter will reach a 0.28 x 1.2 AU orbit inclined 24 to 33 degrees to the ecliptic, providing close-up views of the sun's polar regions.
Iran Simorgh Fails
Iran's Simorgh launch vehicle failed to reach orbit during its February 9, 2020 attempt to orbit the Zafar 1 satellite. Liftoff from the Khomeini Space Center at Semnan took place at 15:45 UTC. The early stages of the launch were nominal and the vehicle reached a 540 km apogee, close to its planned orbital altitude, but final velocity fell about 1,000 m/s short of orbital velocity.
Simorgh uses a BM-25 like first stage topped by smaller diameter second stage. BM-25 is four-engine single-stage IRBM, similar to N. Korea's Musudan stage. It was Simorgh's fourth flight after launches in 2016, 2017, and 2019. None of the attempts have yet reached orbit.
H-2A Launches Spysat
Japan's H-2A boosted its classified IGS Optical 7 reconnaissance satellite into sun synchronous orbit from Tanegashima on February 9, 2020. Flying in the standard 202 configuration with two SRB-A strap on solid boosters, H-2A F41 lifted off from Yoshinobu Pad 1 at 01:34 UTC and flew directly to a sun synchronous low earth orbit.
The launch followed a 12-day delay after a ground system leak forced a scrub. It was the first H-2A launch of 2020, and the first H-2A launch since October 29, 2018.
Soyuz Orbits OneWeb 7-40
Russia's first orbital launch of 2020 put 34 OneWeb satellites into low Earth orbit from Baikonur Cosmodrome on February 6, 2020. Liftoff of the Soyuz 2-1b/Fregat M from Site 31 Pad 6 took place at 21:42 UTC. The 3 hour 45 minute Starsem ST27 mission placed the 34 satellites, each weighing 147.5 kg, into 450 km x 87.4 deg orbits. Total payload mass was 5,015 kg.
Fregat completed its first burn at 14 min 34 sec to reach a 140 x 425 km transfer orbit. Its second burn, begun at apogee 1 hour 6 minutes 45 seconds after liftoff, circularized the orbit. Satellites deployed in nine groups of two to four during the subsequent 2 hours 39 minutes, separated by Fregat ACS burns. Fregat performed a deorbit burn about 5 hours after launch.
Electron 11
Rocketlab's 11th Electron orbited the NROL-151 mission for the U.S. National Reconnaissance Office (NRO) from Mahia Peninsula, New Zealand on January 31, 2020. Lift off of "Birds of a Feather" from LC 1 took place at 02:56 UTC. Electron's first two stages placed the Curie kick stage and payload into an elliptical transfer orbit about 9 minutes after liftoff. The first stage fired for 2 min 37 sec and the second for 6 min 13 sec. Curie coasted until T+51 min 47 sec before performing a 2 min 13 sec apogee burn to reach a circular low earth orbit. Curie presumably again used a bipropellant non-toxic hypergolic propellant and again performed a deorbit burn at mission's end.
In a repeat test, the first stage carried a reaction control system and guidance equipment as development for future recovery efforts.
The Rapid Acquisition of a Small Rocket (RASR) launch contract was designed to allow the NRO to test lower cost commercial launch alternatives.
Falcon 9/Starlink 1 F3
Falcon 9-81, a v1.2 Block 5 variant, orbited the third operational group of 60 Starlink internet satellites from Cape Canaveral, Florida on January 29, 2020. Liftoff from Space Launch Complex 40 took place at 14:06 UTC. Total deployed payload mass was about 15.6 metric tons (tonnes). The insertion raised the total number of orbited Starlink satellites, both precursor and operational, to 242, though 10 or so of the precursor satellites are already being retired and deorbited.
Starlink aims to provide high-speed, low-latency Internet service world-wide. A satellite constellation numbering in the thousands is planned. The satellites were built by SpaceX's Redmond, Washington satellite group.
The Falcon 9 second stage performed two burns to reach a 290 km x 53 deg deployment orbit where, about 61 minutes after liftoff, the 60-satellite stack separated from the second stage. The satellites were expected to subsequently separate from each other and move themselves to 550 km operational orbits.
First stage B1051.3, which previously boosted the DM-1/Crew Dragon test flight and Canada's Radarsat Constellation Mission during 2019, performed entry and landing burns before landing on "Of Course I Still Love You" positioned about 630 km downrange northeast of the Cape. The first stage was static test fired at SLC 40 with the payload attached on January 21, 2020.
The Falcon 9 second stage was expected to fire a third time, during its second orbit, to reenter over the Indian Ocean.
Crew Dragon IFA
The 80th SpaceX Falcon 9, consisting of first stage B1046.4 and a new second stage without a Merlin 1D Vacuum engine, boosted the company's dramatic Crew Dragon In-Flight Abort (IFA) test from Kennedy Space Center LC 39 Pad A on January 19, 2020. Liftoff took place at 10:30 ET, following a 24 hour plus 3.5 hour delay caused by winds in the recovery area.
Crew Dragon initiated the abort at Max-Q, about 84 seconds into flight at a 19 km altitude. The Falcon 9 first stage engines shut down as Dragon fired its eight hypergolic SuperDraco engines producing 58 tonnes of thrust for five seconds to accelerate off the top of the stack, reaching Mach 2.2 in the process. The spacecraft and its trunk were recovered and returned to Port Canaveral. The trunk was surprisingly intact, but still damaged since it was not equipped with parachutes.
Crew Dragon shed its trunk a couple minutes later near its 40 km apogee, then reentered, deployed drogue and main parachutes, and splashed down about 32.5 km downrange less than 9 minutes after liftoff. Meanwhile, several seconds after Crew Dragon departed, Falcon 9 broke up, its first stage exploding at altitude while its second stage plummeted to a high speed Atlantic impact.
B1046.4, the first "Block 5" Falcon 9 first stage, performed the first of its four liftoffs on May 11, 2018. During its life, the stage launched from all three Falcon 9 launch pads and performed three downrange landings on drone ships. For IFA, the stage was shorn of landing legs and steering grid fins. It performed a final static test firing at LC 39A on January 18, 2020 with the second stage and no payload.
IFA had been delayed for months after the originally-assigned Crew Dragon spacecraft, which had flown to ISS on the DM-1 mission in early 2019, was lost in an early 2019 SuperDraco ground test explosion at Cape Canaveral LZ-1. A new spacecraft had to be completed, incorporating changes in the SuperDraco propellant feed system, prior to the mission.
Ariane 5 Launch
Ariane 5 ECA VA251 launched Eutelsat KONNECT and GSAT 30 from Kourou on January 16, 2020. Liftoff from ELA 3 took place at 21:05 UTV. The liquid hydrogen fueled second stage performed its standard single long burn to directly insert the satellites into a geosynchronous transfer orbit during the roughly 30 minute mission.
Thales Alenia Space built 3,619 kg Eutelsat KONNECT for Eutelsat, using a Spacebus NEO all-electric propulsion platform. It will provide a total capacity of 75 Gbps data for Europe and Africa. Indiana Space and Research Organization (ISRO) built GSAT 30. The 3,357 kg communications satellite, built on the I-3K platform, will provide C and Ku band communications services to India.
KZ-1A Launch
China's Kuaizhou 1A (KZ-1A) performed the 10th launch of the KZ-1(A) family on January 16, 2020 from Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center. The three-stage solid fuel rocket, serial number Y9, lifted off from a mobile launcher on a flat pad at 03:40 UTC. GS-SparkSat 3, a 227 kg technology demonstration satellite for GalaxySpace, enter a low earth orbit. The satellite will test LEO broadband communication technologies for use in a planned 5G type global satellite constellation.
Expace Technology Co., Ltd., a subsidiary of China Aerospace Science & Industry Corp, handled the launch as a commercial enterprise. KZ-1A can loft 200kg into a 700 km sun synchronous orbit, or up to 300 kg to lower inclincation low earth orbits. It is 20 meters tall, 1.4 meters in diameter, and weighs 30 tonnes at liftoff. A small N2O4/MMH bipropellant insertion fourth stage likely provided final orbit insertion. The fourth stage also likely lowered its orbit after satellite separation.
CZ-2D Launch
A Chang Zheng (Long March) 2D orbited a Jilin 1 remote sensing satellite named Kuanfu 1 and three microsatellites - Argentina's NuSat 7 and NuSat 8 and China's Tianqi 5 - from Taiyuan Satellite Launch Center on January 15, 2020. Liftoff from LC9 took place at 02:53 UTC. The satellites separated into roughly 535 km sun synchronous orbits. CZ-2D Y58 performed the launch.
It was the 45th CZ-2D orbital launch and the 44th success. The type has been flying since 1992.
CZ-3B/TJSW-5
China performed its first orbital launch of 2020 with a CZ-3B/E launch from XiChang on January 7. The 3.5 stage rocket (Y64) carried TJSW 5 (Tongxin Jishu Shiyan Weixing, or Communications Engineering Test Satellite) aloft from LC 2 at 15:20 UTC. TJSW 5 presumably entered a geosynchronous transfer orbit about one-half hour later after two burns by the liquid hydrogen-fueled third stage.
Like the first four TJSW satellites launched periodically since 2015, TJSW-5 appears to have a classified purpose, although official pronoucements say that it is a demonstration of "satellite communications, TV broadcasting, data transfer and high output communication technologies". SAST is believed to be the manufacturer.
Falcon 9/Starlink 1 F2
Falcon 9-79, a v1.2 Block 5 variant, orbited the second operational group of 60 Starlink internet satellites from Cape Canaveral, Florida on January 7, 2020. Liftoff from Space Launch Complex 40 took place at 02:19 UTC. Total deployed payload mass was about 15.6 metric tons (tonnes).
Starlink is meant to provide high-speed, low-latency Internet service world-wide. A satellite constellation numbering in the thousands is planned. The satellites were built by SpaceX's Redmond, Washington satellite group.
The Falcon 9 second stage performed two burns to reach a 290 km x 53 deg deployment orbit where, about 61 minutes after liftoff, the 60-satellite stack separated from the second stage. The satellites were expected to subsequently separate from each other and move themselves to 550 km operational orbits.
First stage B1049.4, which previously flew on the Telstar 18V, Iridium NEXT 8, and precursor Starlink 0.9 missions during 2018-19, performed entry and landing burns before landing on "Of Course I Still Love You" positioned about 629 km downrange northeast of the Cape. It was the second time that a Falcon 9 first stage had flown a fourth mission. The first stage was static test fired at SLC 40 with the payload attached on January 4, 2020.
The Falcon 9 second stage was expected to fire a third time, during its second orbit, to reenter over the Indian Ocean.
CZ-5 Returns
Nearly 2.5 years after its previous, failed flight, China's third Chang Zheng (Long March) 5 (serial Y3) scored a success, sending 7.6 tonne experimental comsat Shijian 20 into a supersynchronous orbit from from Wenchang Satellite Launch Center on Hainan Island off China's southern coast on December 27, 2019. The flight followed a substantial redesign and testing effort for the core-stage YF-77 LH2/LOX engine system that failed during the previous launch.
The liftoff from Pad 101 took place at 12:45 UTC. The 56.97 meter tall, 2.5 stage, 870 tonne rocket rose on the combined 1,080 tonnes of thrust produced by 10 engines; two YF-77 gas generator engines on the 5-meter diameter LH2/LOX core and two YF-100 staged-combustion engines each on four 3.35 meter diameter kerosene/LOX strap-on boosters. After the boosters and core stage completed their work, at 174 and 492 seconds, respectively, the second stage separated and ignited its two YF-75D LH2/LOX engines that together made 32.6 tonnes of thrust at 438 second specific impulse. The stage performed an initial 278 second burn to reach a low earth parking orbit, followed by an equator-crossing restart for a 382 second burn to reach the final 193 x 68,017 km x 19.54 deg transfer orbit.
CZ-5 in its fully developed form will lift as much as 25 tonnes to low earth orbit in 1.5 stage form or 14 tonnes to GTO using 2.5 stages, making it more capable than Proton or Ariane 5 and possibly matching or exceeding Delta 4 Heavy.
Rokot Finale
In what turned out to be its final launch, a Russian Rokot/Briz KM launch vehicle orbited three Gonet-M communications satellites from Plesetsk Site 133 Pad 3 on December 26, 2019. The three stage rocket lifted off at 23:11 UTC. Its Briz-KM third stage performed two burns to reach a 1,500 km x 82.53 deg orbit where Gonets-M 24, 25, and 26, each 280 kg at liftoff, were deployed, along with a 16.7 kg microsatellite named BLITS-M.
The first Briz KM burn likely took place at the end of the initial ascent phase to boost the vehicle into an elliptical parking orbit. The second, circulization burn likely took place about 1 and a quarter hours after liftoff near apogee. Spacecraft separation occurred shortly thereafter.
It was the 31st and final Rokot/Briz KM launch since the type began flying in 2000. A single, additional orbital launch using a Briz K upper stage took place in 1994. Two suborbital Rokot/Briz K test launches began the development effort in 1990-91. Retirement was hastened by the fact that part of the launch vehicle's guidance system was built in Ukraine, which has unsettled relations with Russia. The Krunichev-built SS-19 ICBM (UR-100NUTTKh) is also about to be retired. The liftoff was the 159th and, for the time being, final launch from Site 133 Pad 3, a former Kosmos 3M pad at 40.5 E, 62.6 N.
Proton Weathersat Launch
A three-stage Proton M with a Blok DM-03 fourth stage successfully inserted Russia's Elektro-L #3, a weather satellite, into near-geosynchronous orbit from Baikonur Cosmodrome on December 24, 2019. It was the third success for the Proton M/DM-03 configuration after failures in 2010 and 2013. Liftoff from Site 81 Pad 24 took place at 12:03 UTC.
The RSC Energia Blok DM-03 stage holds up to 18.7 tonnes of LOX/Kerosene propellant, about 25% more than the 15 tonne capacity of precursor Blok DM-2M stages. The stage performed three burns during the more than 6.5-hour mission to place the 2,094 kg NPO Lavochkin satellite into near-GEO.
It was the fifth Proton launch of the year, most for any year since 2015. The liftoff may have been the final launch from Pad 24, one of four Proton pads originally built for Proton. The retirement, if true, would leave only Site 200 Pad 39 active for Proton.
Atlas 5/Starliner Test
Atlas 5 AV-080 launched Boeing's first CST-100 Starliner on its inaugural uncrewed Orbital Flight Test from Cape Canaveral on December 20, 2019. Liftoff took place at 11:36 UTC from SLC 41. Although the Atlas 5 N22 variant, topped by a Centaur powered by two RL10A-4-2 engines, boosted Starliner into a correct near-suborbital 71 x 181 km x 51.6 deg insertion trajectory, timing problems aboard the roughly 13 tonne spacecraft delayed its planned Orbital Insertion Burn, planned to take place near apogee about 31 minutes after liftoff. A ground-commanded contingency burn was performed several minutes later, allowing Starliner to reach a 187 x 222 km x 51.6 deg orbit.
For reasons yet to be determined, Starliner followed an incorrect Mission Elapsed Time clock after it separated from Centaur. This caused a series of problems, including the missed insertion burn by its Service Module Orbital Maneuvering and Attitude Control (OMAC) engines and excessive Reaction Control System (RCS) propellant burn during what was supposed to be a coast period. Program managers decided to abort the planned International Space Station rendezvous and docking portion of the mission. A 48-hour contingency flight to a landing at White Sands was selected instead. The effect on future crewed mission plans is yet to be determined.
Atlas flew an unlofted ascent designed to limit crew g-forces in the event of an abort. This led to the twin solid motors being retained until 2 min 22 sec prior to jettison. Atlas burned for 4 min 29 sec before Centaur took over, igniting its twin LOX/LH2 engines at 4 min 45 sec. Starliner's ascent nose cover jettisonned just before Centaur ignition. A new two-part Aeroskirt, attached to the base of Starliner's Service Module to limit aerodynamic forces on the Centaur stage, jettisonned at 5 min 5 sec. Centaur cut off at 11 min 55 sec. Starliner separated at 14 min 55 sec. Centaur subsequently performed a blowdown and reentered southwest of Australia about 57 minutes after launch.
This can be seen as a successful launch and spacecraft mission failure, or as a failure of the Atlas 5/Starliner combo since Atlas is suborbital while Starliner essentially serves as a third, orbital insertion stage. In this case, Starliner did reach an orbit close to its plan, but at the expense of excessive propellant. SLR will monitor the investigation and update as needed.
CZ-4B Orbits China/Brazil Satellite
Chang Zheng 4B number Y44 successfully orbited CBERS 4A (China-Brazil Earth Resources Satellite) and eight smaller satellites from Taiyuan Satellite Launch Center on December 20, 2019. The three-stage rocket lifted off from Pad 9 at 03:22 UTC. CBERS 4A was inserted into a roughly 630 km x 98.96 deg sun synchronous orbit by a third stage burn that ended about about 11 min 39 sec after liftoff. The remaining satellites subsequently deployed, beginning with Ethiopia's 70 kg ETRSS 1 and China's 35 kg Tianqin 1/CAS 6. Total payload mass was likely around 2,045 kg.
CBERS 4A is the latest in a cooperative earth resource monitoring project involving China and Brazil. The 1.98 tonne satellite was assembled by China Academy of Space Technology. It is similar to CBERS 4, launched in 2014, and CBRES 3, which was lost in a 2013 CZ-4B launch failure.
The third stage likely subsequently purged its propellant tanks to lower its orbit.
It was the 20th DF-5 based CZ success in 21 attempts during 2019. It was also China's 31st 2019 orbital success in 33 attempts.
Kourou Soyuz Launch
The 23rd Soyuz to fly from Kourou Space Center, a Soyuz 2.1a/Fregat M with an ST payload fairing, orbited Itay's COSMO-SkyMed earth observing satellite, ESA'a CHEOPS exoplanet-finder, and three Cubesats from Kourou on December 18, 2019. Liftoff of the VS23 mission from the ELS pad took place at 08:45 UTC, beginning a complex 4 hour 13 minute mission that included seven burns by the Fregat upper stage.
After the first Fregat burn, COSMO-SkyMed, a 2,205 kg satellite, was inserted into a 614 x 646 km x 97.9 deg sun synchronous orbit less than 23 minutes after liftoff. After three more Fregat burns, CHEOPS, a 273 kg satellite, followed about 2.5 hours into the mission into a roughly 715 km x 98.2 deg orbit. Two more burns took place before the three Cubesats, totalling 41 kg, separated at the end of the mission. A final. seventh burn was used to lower Fregat toward a destructive reentry.
It was the 16th R-7 launch of the year, all successful.
Falcon 9 Comsat Launch
Falcon 9 orbited JCSat 18/Kacific 1, a commercial communications satellite, from Cape Canaveral SLC 40 on December 17, 2019. The 6,956 Boeing 702MP satellite separated into a subsynchronous orbit about 33 minutes 10 seconds after the 00:10 UTC liftoff, following two burns by the Falcon 9 second stage. It was the year's 11th Falcon 9 launch, but only the third to fly beyond low earth orbit.
Since its first stage was flying to a recovery landing on the Of Course I Still Love You drone ship positioned about 650 km downrange, Falcon 9 only lifted JCSat 18/Kacific 1 to a 273 x 20,324 km x 26.9 deg subsynchronous orbit. It was the third flight for booster B1056.3, which previously lofted the CRS-17 and CRS-18 missions. The stage fired for about 2 min 32 sec, before separating to perform reentry and landing burns. The second stage performed a 5 min 29 sec first burn to reach a parking orbit. It restarted at T+27 min 21 sec for 48 seconds to reach its deployment orbit.
The joint Kacific Broadband Satellites (Singapore)/SKY Perfect JSAT (Japan) satellite will serve the Asia-Pacific region after raising itself to a geostationary orbit.
B1056.3 was hot fired briefly at SLC 40 with the second stage but no payload attached on December 13, 2018.
Beidou 3M Launch
China's Chang Zheng 3B (CZ-3B) with a Yuanzheng 1 (YZ-1) upper stage orbited two Beidou 3M navigation satellites on December 16, 2019. Liftoff from Xichang Satellite Launch Center's LC 3 took place at 07:22 UTC. Beidou 3M-19 and 3M-20 were inserted into medium earth orbits during the subsequent four hour mission.
CZ-3B's liquid hydrogen fueled third stage fired twice to inject the vehicle into a transfer orbit. The hypergolic propellant YZ-1 upper stage then fired its low thrust UDMH/N2O4 engine at apogee to insert the roughly 1.014 tonne satellites into their final, roughly 22,000 km x 55.5 deg orbits about four hours after liftoff.
The Beidou 3M series offers improved navigation accuracy compared to previous Beidou constellations. Plans call for more than 30 Beidou 3 satellites to be orbited by 2020.
It was the 20th DF-5 based CZ launch of the year, including one failure, and the seventh carrying Beidou satellites.
PSLV Launch
India's PSLV performed its 50th launch on December 11, 2019, orbiting a radar imaging satellite and nine rideshare microsatellites from Sriharikota. Liftoff from the First Launch Pad at Satish Dhawan Space Center took place at 09:55 UTC. The four-stage PSLV-QL, fitted with four strap-on boosters, flew a roughly 15.5 minute ascent to a rougly 580 km x 37 deg orbit. ISRO assigned flight number C48 to this launch.
RISAT 2BR1, the primary payload, is a 628 kg synthetic aperature radar reconnaissance satellite. The nine rideshare satellites from Japan, Israel, and the United States probably added another 200 kg payload mass. They separated into similar orbits after RISAT 2BR1 separated.
It was the fifth PSLV launch, and India's sixth orbital launch, of the year.
Glonass Launch
Russia's Soyuz 2-1b/Fregat-M orbited another Glonass navigation satellite to orbit from Plesetsk Cosmodrome on December 11, 2019. Liftoff from Site 43 Pad 3 took place at 08:54 UTC. Fregat performed multiple burns to deliver the satellite (Uragan-M 759) into a medium earth orbit.
The satellite, likely to be named Kosmos 2544 in orbit, weighed about 1,415 kg at launch.
It was the first launch from 43/3 since a 2002 Soyuz-U launch failure damaged the site. The site has now been rebuilt to support the upgraded Soyuz 2 series launch vehicles.
KZ-1A Double Launch
China's Kuaizhou 1A performed two orbital launches within a six-hour span on December 7, 2019. Both launches were from Taiyuan satellite launch center, the first KZ-1A launches from that site. The launches, by four-stage rockets using three solid fuel stages topped by a small hypergolic bipropellant fourth stage, were performed from road-mobile launchers parked on two different flat pads. They demonstrated an unmatched quick-reaction orbital launch capability.
KZ-1A Y2 performed the first launch at 02:55 UTC, carrying the Jilin 1 Gaofen 2B remote sensing satellite into a roughly 535 km x 97.54 deg sun synchronous orbit. The 230 kg satellite was the 15th in the Jilin 1 constellation, a system building toward near-continuously updated coverage of the entire planet.
KZ-1A Y12 lifted off at 08:52 UTC to complete the double-launch. It carried six small satellites (HEAD 2A/2B, Tianyi 16/17, and Tianqi 4A/4B) into roughly 500 km x 97.37 deg syn synchronous orbits. Together the satellites likely weighed about 200 kg.
Expace Technology Co., Ltd., a subsidiary of China Aerospace Science & Industry Corp, handled the launches. KZ-1A can loft 200kg into a 700 km sun synchronous orbit, or up to 300 kg to lower inclincation low earth orbits. It is 20 meters tall, 1.4 meters in diameter, and weighs 30 tonnes at liftoff.
Soyuz/Progress MS-13
A Russian Soyuz 2-1a launched Progress MS-13 on a cargo mission to the International Space Station from Baikonur Cosmodrome on December 6, 2019. Liftoff from Area 31 Pad 6 took place at 09:34 UTC. Progress MS-13 was slated to docked with ISS on December 9, allowing arrival of the U.S. CRS-19 cargo Dragon.
Progress MS-13 carried 2,487 kg of dry cargo and propellant to transfer to ISS.
It was the 14th R-7 launch, and 3rd Progress mission, of the year. It was also the 14th launch to ISS by all launch vehicle types during 2019.
Electron 10
Rocketlab's tenth Electron orbited a microsatellite and six nanosatellites from Mahia Peninsula, New Zealand on December 6, 2019. Lift off of "Running out of Fingers" from LC 1 took place at 08:18 UTC. After Electron's first two stages placed the Curie kick stage and payload into an elliptical transfer orbit about 9 minutes after liftoff, Curie coasted until T+50 min 21 sec to perform a 1 min 36 sec apogee burn to reach a roughly 380 km x 97 deg orbit. Curie presumably again used a bipropellant non-toxic hypergolic propellant and again performed a deorbit burn at mission's end.
The launch followed a November 29 scrub caused by problems with a second stage ground umbilical.
The first stage carried a reaction control system and guidance equipment in a test for future re | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
The Electoral Court urged the people to use the mask and maintain physical distance during Election Day. | Read More | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
Love Calculator Date Of Birth
Something used for making mathematical calculations, in particular a small electronic device with a keyboard and a visual display
A calculator is a small (often pocket-sized), usually inexpensive electronic device used to perform the basic operations of arithmetic. Modern calculators are more portable than most computers, though most PDAs are comparable in size to handheld calculators.
birth
the time when something begins (especially life); "they divorced after the birth of the child"; "his election signaled the birth of a new age"
The emergence of a baby or other young from the body of its mother; the start of life as a physically separate being
A baby born
The beginning or coming into existence of something
give birth: cause to be born; "My wife had twins yesterday!"
the event of being born; "they celebrated the birth of their first child"
love
have a great affection or liking for; "I love French food"; "She loves her boss and works hard for him"
An intense feeling of deep affection
A deep romantic or sexual attachment to someone
A personified figure of love, often represented as Cupid
any object of warm affection or devotion; "the theater was her first love"; "he has a passion for cock fighting";
a strong positive emotion of regard and affection; "his love for his work"; "children need a lot of love"
date
the specified day of the month; "what is the date today?"
a participant in a date; "his date never stopped talking"
A particular day or year when a given event occurred or will occur
The years of a person's birth and death or of the beginning and end of a period or event
The day of the month or year as specified by a number
go on a date with; "Tonight she is dating a former high school sweetheart"
In an “active birth,” a mother moves about freely, finds comfortable positions for labor and delivery, and seldom needs drugs or obstetrical interventions. In Active Birth, Janet Balaskas teaches mothers to develop all of their bodily resources for giving birth, to follow their own instincts, and to take full control of the childbirth experience.
Active Birth includes:Fully-illustrated exercises for a comfortable, energetic pregnancyMassage for pregnancy and laborWays to create the ideal setting for an active birth in the hospital or at homePositions for labor and birth, for maximum comfort and efficient contractionsThe latest information about water birth, and how to plan oneExercises for recovery and relaxation after the birthHelpful tips for partners and birth attendants
My Father's Birth Certificate
My father's birth certificate issued in Amritsar showing his birth date as 4 June 1932, although we had been celebrating his birhday on 7 June every year. We lost him about a year back on Christmas day, 2008. This certificate was signed by Chacha Sant Singh on behalf of the family. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
Q:
OAuth authorization - Establishing a requestToken
I need to get request token to be able to work with LinkedIn API.
I'm trying to send this request (by POST) to:
https://api.linkedin.com/uas/oauth/requestToken
with those parameters
'oauth_callback' => 'http://www.myserver.com/tokenReturned',
'oauth_consumer_key' => '---',
'oauth_consumer_secret' => '---',
'oauth_nonce' => uniqid(time(), TRUE),
'oauth_signature_method' => 'PLAINTEXT',
'oauth_signature' => '---',
'oauth_timestamp' => time(),
'oauth_version' => '1.0'
Anyway, the LinkedIn server is responding HTTP 100 and this message:
oauth_problem=parameter_absent&oauth_parameters_absent=oauth_consumer_key&oauth_signature_method&oauth_signature&oauth_timestamp&oauth_nonce
What am i doing wrong? Which parameter am i missing?
Or should parameters be send via HTTP Header, not through POST parameters?
A:
The parameters should be sent in the "Authorization" HTTP header. For example:
POST https://api.linkedin.com/uas/oauth/requestToken HTTP/1.1
Authorization: OAuth oauth_callback="http%3a%2f%2flocalhost%3a2161%2flogin%2flinkedin", oauth_consumer_key="YOUR_KEY", oauth_nonce="SOME_NOUNCE", oauth_signature="YOUR_SIGNATURE", oauth_signature_method="HMAC-SHA1", oauth_timestamp="YOUR_TIMESTAMP", oauth_version="1.0"
Host: api.linkedin.com
Connection: Keep-Alive
Note a few things:
You should never send your oauth consumer secret
the callback url needs to be encoded
More info available here: http://developer.linkedin.com/docs/DOC-1245
| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | StackExchange |
incoherentDream ,
Here's how this game goes...
I'll just try and beat this level then I'll be done for now. 100 deaths later and it's a win! Well, I might as well see how this next level goes. Oh, that's not so bad. I'll beat this in no time. 100+ deaths later. Okay, okay I'm done! Character dude flops to his death at which point you notice some doves sitting at the bottom of the map you hadn't noticed before... Oooh, I've got to try and collect them! Some time in the future, "mom, what's for dinner?"
LOL! This game's great fun! Do not play if you get easily frustrated thou and can't handle a LOT of character deaths! It's a game to be taken lightly and to laugh at yourself when you send bird dude flying into a wall... for the hundredth time. I'd say it's in the genre of Floppy Bird but so much improved and so much better! No one ever complains, after all, that World of Warcraft is just a copy of Ever Quest.
One reviewer said the controls change. They don't change, just your perception of them. If flying dude is going up controls are one way, BUT if he's going down they reverse because HE has reversed. It's part of the gameplay and what makes it so challenging and I love it! Hope this makes sense!
I love the old gameboy like graphics and game seems to run without flaws. I'm on an iPad Air 2. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
Background
==========
Malaria transmission in endemic countries is heterogeneous over multiple spatial scales \[[@B1],[@B2]\]. At the micro scale, *P. falciparum* infections are frequently clustered in relatively few households that consistently have significantly more infections than others \[[@B3],[@B4]\]. Many factors can contribute to this increased risk of malaria exposure, including design of housing, the proximity to mosquito breeding sites, host genetic factors, poor access to treatment, maternal education, wealth, and other as yet undefined characteristics \[[@B3],[@B5]-[@B8]\]. At sites with very low levels of transmission, such as those found in Swaziland, cases of symptomatic malaria detected at health facilities can help in identification of a hotspot, as additional asymptomatic cases can be found living in close proximity to the index case \[[@B9]\]. In areas of moderate transmission intensity, malaria hotspots may provide a reservoir of infected human hosts that can maintain some transmission year round. The individuals in such hotspots are thus likely to have acquired anti-parasite immunity and to carry parasites without clinical symptoms. In the wet season, when the mosquito population increases, these clusters of asymptomatic carriers may be responsible for seeding transmission to the rest of the community, including less immune people who are more likely to suffer symptomatic infections \[[@B7]\]. Thus in these settings, hotspots are difficult to identify using the distribution of clinical (symptomatic) malaria cases alone.
The most used geospatial method to detect clusters of infection is the spatial scan statistic \[[@B10]-[@B12]\]. Measures of exposure which have been explored using spatial scan statistics include prevalence of infection, incidence of clinical malaria and serological markers of malaria exposure \[[@B13]-[@B18]\]. While this approach allows identification of clusters using statistical hypothesis testing, it may ignore more subtle small-scale spatial heterogeneity and clusters that do not fit within circular or elliptical windows \[[@B19]\]. An alternative method that has been used to detect clustering of infection is distance-weighted prevalence of infection, whereby infection prevalence in neighbours is used as a proxy measure for household level exposure \[[@B20],[@B21]\]. This method allows for a smoother estimation of risk in space than spatial scan statistics.
This study seeks to determine which geospatial method best describes a malaria transmission hotspot by comparing methodologies using cross-sectional data collected during the first year of the study to predict the distribution of infections found in the second year.
Methods
=======
Study site
----------
Misungwi district (lat 2.85000 S, long 33.08333 E) is located 60 km from Mwanza town in the north-west of Tanzania at an altitude of 1,178 m above sea level (see Figure [1](#F1){ref-type="fig"}). The district is rural with moderately intense malaria transmission; the overall prevalence of infection in the region is estimated to be 31.4% by microscopy in children 6 -59 months (Tanzania HIV and Malaria Indicator Survey 2008). The district has two annual rainy seasons, the long rains between February and May, and the short rains between November and December. The dry and relatively hot season falls between June and September. Malaria incidence peaks one to two months after the rains start. The National Malaria Control Programme (NMCP) carried out indoor residual spraying (IRS) in the study area during the period from late November 2010 to late January 2011.
{#F1}
Data collection
---------------
A census of four villages in a single ward was carried out in the dry season, between August and early November 2010. All data were collected using personalized digital assistants and every household was visited and mapped using a global positioning system (GPS). All individuals in the ward were invited to participate in the study. The head of household gave information on the age, sex and insecticide-treated net (ITN) use of those who were not present. Individuals who consented to join the study were asked to provide a finger-prick sample of blood which was spotted onto Whatman® standard 3 mm filter paper for parasite detection and serological analysis. Subjects who reported having had fever within the previous 24 hours were tested for malaria using a histidine-rich protein 2 (HRP2) rapid malaria diagnostic test (RDT, *Paracheck*-*Pf*®, Orchid Biomedical Systems, Goa, India) and referred to a study clinician for management of their febrile illness.
A follow-up survey was carried out in the same study villages during August to November 2011, one year after the initial study. The same procedures were carried out during the second survey as during the baseline survey.
Molecular estimation of *P. falciparum* infection
-------------------------------------------------
DNA was extracted from filter papers using the Chelex® (Sigma, USA) extraction method described previously \[[@B22]\] in 96 deep-well plates. Parasite DNA was detected using nested PCR (nPCR) targeting the 18S rRNA gene as previously described \[[@B23]\].
Serology
--------
Antibodies were eluted from filter paper spots and assayed for specific IgG responses to P.falciparum AMA-1 and MSP-1~19~ by ELISA as described by Corran *et al*. \[[@B24]\]. Samples were tested in duplicate. Duplicate optical density (OD) values OD values that differed by more than 1.5-fold were rejected and, if possible, rerun. For each plate a standard curve was generated from a known positive control and blank wells were included and OD values normalised to these. To define seroprevalence a mixture model was applied to the OD data which assumed two inherent Gaussian distributions; a narrow distribution or sero-negatives and a broader distribution of seropositives. A cut-off was calculated as the mean plus 3 standard deviations of the narrow distribution and was calculated separately for each antigen \[[@B25]\].
Cluster analysis
----------------
While there are a range of different methodological approaches to identifying clusters of infection \[[@B12],[@B26]\], here we focus on three geospatial cluster detection methods to explore baseline clustering of infection and serological markers and their ability to predict infection in the second year of the study. The unit of analysis was the individual, meaning that clustering of infected individuals was assessed rather than clustering of households with infection. Infection in the second year was defined as a positive nPCR result recorded as a binary variable.
Satscan analysis
----------------
Spatial analysis was performed to assess possible clustering of nPCR-positive individuals. A spatial scan statistic was obtained using the Bernoulli model \[[@B11]\] and SaTScan software (SaTScan, version 8.2.1). This software applies multiple circular windows, which are plastic in both position and size, across the study area. Each distinct circle represents a possible cluster. For each circle, the number of observed and expected infected individuals are counted, with expected numbers calculated assuming an even distribution of infections across the population. As multiple infected and non-infected individuals can be specified at each household, the spatial distribution of households is accounted for. A likelihood ratio test is used to compare the prevalence of infection within the circle to that outside it to identify significant clusters of higher than expected (hotspot) or lower than expected (coldspot) prevalence. The statistical significance of this hotspot is evaluated taking into account the multiple tests for the many potential cluster locations and sizes evaluated as well as the distribution of the population \[[@B10]\]. The maximum proportion of the population that a cluster could contain was set at 50%. This method has been extensively explored in studies of the micro-epidemiology of malaria \[[@B12],[@B13],[@B27]-[@B29]\].
Households were grouped into three categories: 1) hotspots (clusters of significantly higher than expected malaria prevalence); 2) coldspots (clusters of significantly lower than expected malaria prevalence); and, 3) all other households. Clusters were defined using three measures: 1) nPCR positivity; 2) antibody seropositivity to AMA-1; 3) antibody sero-positivity to MSP-1~19~; and, 4) antibody seropositivity to AMA-1and/or MSP-1~19~. So as to make results from analyses using different clustering methods comparable, hotspots were assigned a score of 1, coldspots 0 and all remaining households a score of 0.5. Households for which data were only available in the second year were assigned a hotspot score according to whether the household lay within the radius of the hot or coldspot.
Kernel analysis
---------------
Kernel density estimation is a statistical procedure used to produce a smoothed estimate of density of events, such as individuals, across space \[[@B26]\]. For any given point, the density of events within a predefined window is estimated, with the influence of events weighted according to the distance from the centre of the window. The weight assigned to each event is derived from the kernel function applied. In this analysis a quadratic kernel function was used with an initial window radius of 1 km. A quadratic function allows importance of data from neighbouring households to be relative to the distance to the index household. To obtain a smoothed estimate of infection prevalence over the study region, a kernel density surface of numbers nPCR positive was divided by a kernel density surface of numbers examined. This resulted in each household having a value between 0 (least exposed households) and 1 (most exposed households). Households for which data were only available in the second year were assigned a prevalence value based on infection in neighbouring households only.
Weighted local prevalence analysis
----------------------------------
This method calculates parasite prevalence amongst all neighbours within 1 km of the index house, weighting the prevalence estimate according to the inverse of the distance of the neighbouring house to the index house \[[@B20]\]. While a form of spatial smoothing, an important distinction between weighted local prevalence and kernel smoothing is that individuals in the index household are not included in the weighted prevalence estimate. As for kernel prevalence estimates, the weighted local prevalence for each household ranged from 0 (least exposed households) to 1 (most exposed households). As this method does not include infection status of individuals in the index household in the calculation of prevalence, no further action was required for those households with data from only the second year.
Statistical analysis
--------------------
To compare the ability of different cluster detection methods to predict infection in the second year, mixed effect logistic regression models was used. The outcome of interest was infection status by nPCR (0/1) in the second year. The risk factors explored were nPCR, AMA-1, MSP-1~19~ and AMA-1 and/or MSP-1~19~ (hereon termed combined seroprevalence) cluster score in the first year (generated via each of the three cluster detection methods). Simple summary contingency tables, graphs and scatter plots with Lowess curves were used to explore the relationship with potential risk factors and their associations with age. To explore the possibility of a non-linear relationship, risk factors were categorized into quartiles and a likelihood ratio test was used to assess which model (linear or categorical) was better. A household level random effect was included in the models to take account of correlation between individuals within the same household. All models were controlled for potential confounding by age, which due to an obvious non-linear relationship with infection was categorized before analysis into --zero to four years, five to nine years, ten to 15 years, 16-25 year, 26-35 years and over 36 years (Table [1](#T1){ref-type="table"}).
######
**Age**-**dependency of malaria in the baseline and follow**-**up surveys**
**Outcome** **Age(years)** **Total in each group** **%positive** **OR 95%CI** **Wald test P value**
---------------------------------------------------------- ---------------- ------------------------- --------------- --------------------- -----------------------
**Infection by PCR(baseline survey)\*** 0-4 788 \[27.5\] 1 \<0.001
5-9 622 \[47.9\] 2.80 \[2.17-3.62\] \<0.001
10-15 413 \[50.1\] 3.26 \[2.44-4.35\] 0.005
16-25 409 \[33.7\] 1.52 \[1.13-2.04\] 0.721
26-35 328 \[26.5\] 0.94 \[0.68-1.30\] 0.007
36+ 496 \[20.6\] 0.66 \[0.49-0.89\]
**Infection by PCR(follow-up survey)** 0-4 824 \[42.4\] 1 \<0.001
5-9 644 \[68.8\] 4.77 \[3.52-6.47\] \<0.001
10-15 359 \[70.2\] 5.58 \[3.84-8.10\] \<0.001
16-25 445 \[52.8\] 1.96 \[1.41-2.73\] 0.661
26-35 337 \[44.8\] 1.08 \[0.75-1.56\] 0.393
36+ 637 \[39.7\] 0.87 \[0.63-1.20\]
**AMA** -**1 seropositivity(baseline survey)** 0-4 688 \[21.7\] 1 \<0.001
5-9 517 \[53.0\] 5.13 \[3.84-6.86\] \<0.001
10-15 321 \[64.2\] 8.87 \[6.29-12.50\] \<0.001
16-25 354 \[60.2\] 7.60 \[5.47-10.56\] \<0.001
26-35 294 \[51.0\] 4.60 \[3.29-6.42\] \<0.001
36+ 416 \[50.5\] 4.39 \[3.24-5.96\]
**MSP**-**1**~**19**~**seropositivity(baseline survey)** 0-4 698 \[14.5\] 1 0.111
5-9 568 \[16.9\] 1.31 \[0.94-1.84\] \<0.001
10-15 346 \[30.6\] 3.21 \[2.24-4.59\] \<0.001
16-25 361 \[34.9\] 3.90 \[2.75-5.51\] \<0.001
26-35 291 \[38.5\] 4.90 \[3.39-7.07\] \<0.001
36+ 447 \[40.3\] 5.10 \[3.66-7.10\]
\*age was missing for one individual.
To establish the effect of radius size on results obtained with the kernel and weighted local prevalence methods, models using different radii were built. In addition to the initial 1 km radius, radii of 500 m, 100 m and 0 m (i e, household) were explored. Models assuming individual level infection and serological status were also compared. Similarly, for the SaTScan analysis, maximum population sizes of 20 and 10% were explored. To compare the predictive performance of using different methods and radii, the area under the receiver operating curve (AUC) was calculated for each model. AUC values were compared using DeLong's test for paired ROC curves \[[@B30]\]. Statistical analysis was performed using STATA (version 12, College Station, TX, USA) and R (version 3.0.1) \[[@B31]\].
Results
=======
Study subjects
--------------
In 2010, 668 households from randomly selected sub-villages participated in the first year survey, comprising a total of 3,801 individuals, 3,057 (80.4%) of whom were seen, consented to participate and provided a blood specimen. Approximately half of the participants (n = 1,612, 52.7%) were male. The median age of the study population was 13 years (IQR = 5-30 years; range 1-99 years). The overall prevalence of *P. falciparum* by nPCR was 34.3%. In the second year survey, 697 households participated in the survey with 3,246 (85.4%) of eligible individuals providing a blood specimen, 51.6% of whom were male. Distribution of age was similar to that of the first year survey. *P. falciparum* prevalence by nPCR was significantly higher at 51.9% than during the baseline survey (OR 1.95; 95% CI, 1.76-2.17; p \<0.001).
Association of age and other individual factors with PCR positivity and seropositivity
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Individuals aged 10 to 15 years had the highest nPCR prevalence of *P. falciparum* at baseline and at follow-up (Table [1](#T1){ref-type="table"}). Seropositivity to AMA-1 similarly peaked in the age group ten to 15 years. This age group had more than eight times the odds of being seropositive to AMA-1 compared to individuals aged zero to four years (OR 8.87, 95% CI 6.29-12.5; P \< 0.001). Seropositivity to MSP-1~19~ showed a different relationship with age, displaying a steady increase with age, with those aged \>36 years having roughly five times the odds of being seropositive compared to those aged zero to four years (OR 5.10 95%, CI 3.66-7.10) (Table [1](#T1){ref-type="table"}).
Prediction of infection in the second year survey
-------------------------------------------------
### nPCR prevalence in the baseline survey
Fifty-seven per cent of individuals who were nPCR positive in the first year were also nPCR positive in the second year whilst 47% who were negative in the first year were also negative in the second year (χ^2^ = 27.2; P \<0.001). Guided by AUC values, clustering estimated using kernel analysis appeared to predict infection by nPCR in the second year more accurately than the weighted local prevalence method (p = 0.016) (Table [2](#T2){ref-type="table"}). While clustering estimated by SaTScan gave a higher AUC value than clustering by the weighted local prevalence method, there was no evidence for a difference in AUC (p = 0.12).
######
**Odds of testing positive for*P. falciparum*infection during the follow**-**up survey**: **results from three geospatial models defined by baseline infection**, **anti**-**AMA**-**1 antibody prevalence**, **and anti MSP**-**1**~**19**~**antibody prevalence adjusted for age**
**Risk factor** **Number tested** **Malaria in second year n. %** **OR 95%CI** **Wald test P-value** **Area under the ROC curve**
----------------------------------------------------------- ------------------- --------------------------------- ---------------------- ----------------------- ------------------------------
**PCR individual infection in baseline survey**\*
Neg 1,763 827 \[46.9\] 1 \<0.001 0.560
Pos 905 521 \[57.6\] 1.58 \[1.31-1.83\]
**PCR prevalence**
*Satscan exposure category* 792 319 \[40.3\] 1 0.181 0.620
coldspot 1,728 864 \[50.0\] 1.35 \[0.87-2.09\] \<0.001 0.628
neither 726 500 \[68.9\] 4.54 \[2.68-7.72\] 0.966 0.597
hotspot 804 390 \[48.5\] 1 0.013
*Kernel exposure quartiles* 819 387 \[47.2\] 0.99 \[0.60-1.64\] \<0.001
\<14.9 818 331 \[40.5\] 0.53 \[0.32-0.88\] 0.165
15-21.3 805 575 \[71.4\] 3.45 \[2.06-5.75\] 0.042
21.4-27.1 816 420 \[51.5\] 1 0.003
\>27.1 794 344 \[43.3\] 0.69 \[0.41-1.16\]
*Weighted exposure quartiles* 807 372 \[46.1\] 0.58 \[0.35-0.98\]
\<18.9 799 520 \[65.1\] 2.21 \[1.31-3.73\]
19-23.2
23.3-26.5
\>26.5
**AMA**-**1 individual prevalence**
No 1,262 594 \[47.1\] 1 \<0.001 0.554
Yes 1,071 593 \[55.4\] 1.45 \[1.21-1.72\]
**AMA**-**1 prevalence**
*Satscan exposure category* 904 310 \[34.3\] 1 \<0.001 0.647
coldspot 1,092 554 \[50.7\] 2.65 \[1.69-4.15\] \<0.001 0.618
neither 1,250 819 \[65.5\] 5.84 \[3.75-9.10\] 0.002 0.609
hotspot 814 308 \[37.8\] 1 \<0.001
*Kernel exposure quartiles* 813 414 \[50.9\] 2.26 \[1.35-3.79\] \<0.001
\<27.9 812 425 \[52.3\] 2.62 \[1.57-4.39\] 0.154
28-38.9 807 536 \[66.4\] 5.16 \[3.06-8.69\] \<0.001
39-53.0 804 325 \[40.4\] 1 \<0.001
\>53.0 809 357 \[44.1\] 1.45 \[0.86-2.44\]
*Weighted exposure quartiles* 800 476 \[59.5\] 3.50 \[2.07-5.91\]
\<18.9 803 498 \[62.0\] 3.33 \[1.97-5.62\]
19-23.9
24 -26.9
\>26.9
**MSP**-**1**~**19**~**individual prevalence**
No 1,730 924 \[53.4\] 1 0.196 0.541
Yes 681 341 \[50.1\] 0.88 \[0.73-1.06\]
**MSP prevalence**
*Satscan exposure category* 1,703 992 \[58.2\] 1 0.040 0.591
coldspot 967 493 \[51.0\] 0.64 \[0.41-0.98\] \<0.001 0.622
neither 576 198 \[34.0\] 0.21 \[0.13-0.34\] 0.773 0.625
hotspot 806 418 \[51.9\] 1 0.008 0.631
*Kernel exposure quartiles* 835 440 \[52.7\] 1.08 \[0.65-1.78\] \<0.001
\<12.9 808 538 \[66.6\] 2.02 \[1.21-3.38\] 0.715
13-17.3 797 287 \[36.0\] 0.34 \[0.20-0.55\] 0.006
17.4-25.4 805 415 \[51.6\] 1 \<0.001
\>25.4 813 430 \[52.9\] 1.10 \[0.66-1.81\]
*Weighted exposure quartiles* 802 533 \[66.5\] 2.08 \[1.23-3.51\]
\<16.5 796 278 \[34.9\] 0.35 \[0.21-0.57\]
16.6-18.3
18.4-22.7
\>22.7
**MSP**-**1**~**19**~**&/or AMA-1 individual prevalence**
No 986 253 \[25.6\] 1 0.986 0.530
Yes 1,237 466 \[37.7\] 1.00 \[0.78-1.29\]
**MSP**-**1**~**19**~**&/or AMA**-**1 prevalence**
*Satscan exposure category* \- 400 \[48.4\] \- \- \-
coldspot \- 357 \[44.6\] \- \- 0.604
neither \- 386 \[47.0\] \- \- 0.530
hotspot 827 540 \[67.8\] 1 0.082
*Kernel exposure quartiles* 800 402 \[49.3\] 0.63 \[0.37 - 1.07\] 0.310
\<44.5 822 380 \[47.4\] 0.77 \[0.46-1.28\] 0.001
44.6-51.4 797 372 \[45.6\] 2.44 \[1.44-4.14\] 0.507
51.5-59.3 816 502 \[64.0\] 1 0.063
\>59.4 801 0.84 \[0.49-1.42\] 0.023
*Weighted exposure quartiles* 815 0.60 \[0.36-1.03\]
\<16.5 784 1.86 \[1.09-3.18\]
16.6-18.3
18.4-22.7
\>22.7
\*Only individuals who were tested at both baseline and year 1.
Using SaTScan analysis to detect nPCR hotspots, one large cluster was identified with a radius of 2.88 km, covering 141 households and one small cluster was identified with a radius of 0.1 km covering five households (Figure [1](#F1){ref-type="fig"}A). SaTScan analysis showed that individuals who were residing in a nPCR hotspot cluster in the first year had four times the odds of testing positive for malaria by nPCR in the second year than those residing in nPCR coldspots (OR 4.54 95% CI 2.68-7.72). The kernel and weighted local prevalence analyses showed a more complex distribution of hotspots (Figure [1](#F1){ref-type="fig"}B and C). Both clearly show the central hotspot detected by SaTScan, but also show numerous other high transmission areas, more consistent with the micro-epidemiology of malaria. The kernel analysis also showed that individuals who were residing in the top quartile (areas with a high prevalence of infection by nPCR) had three times the odds of testing positive for malaria by nPCR in the second year compared to those living in the lowest quartile (OR 3.45, 95% CI 2.06-5.75).
### Seropositivity to AMA-1 and MSP-1~19~ antibodies
Defining clusters of seroprevalence using AMA-1 and MSP-1~19~ antibodies separately improved prediction of nPCR positivity in the second year compared to using combined seroprevalence. SaTScan analysis revealed that individuals living in areas of high AMA-1 seroprevalence (hotspots) in the first year had five times the odds of being nPCR positive in the second year compared to those who lived in AMA-1 coldspots (OR 5.84 95% CI 3.75-9.10), adjusting for age (Table [2](#T2){ref-type="table"}). SaTScan could not identify any significant clusters using combined seroprevalence.
When clusters were identified by kernel analysis, those individuals living in households with the highest quartile of AMA-1 seroprevalence (hotspots) had a more than five times the odds of being nPCR positive in the second year than those in the lowest quintile (OR 5.16 95% CI 3.06-8.69), adjusting for age (Table [2](#T2){ref-type="table"}). Using weighted local prevalence scores to distinguish clusters showed a similar pattern, those residing in the households in the top quartile of AMA-1 seroprevalence (hotspots) had more than three times the odds of being nPCR positive than those residing in lowest quartile (OR 3.33 95% CI 1.97-5.62) (Table [2](#T2){ref-type="table"}). Likewise the kernel analyses showed a more complex distribution of AMA-1 hotspots than SaTScan analysis (Figure [2](#F2){ref-type="fig"}). A comparison of the predictive ability of different clustering methods showed that both SaTScan and kernel analysis yielded higher AUC values than the weighted prevalence method, however, only the SaTScan method produced a significantly different result (p = 0.002 and p = 0.27 respectively).
{#F2}
Antibody responses to MSP-1~19~ showed a less clear association with infection in the second year, with individual age-adjusted seroprevalence at baseline showing no relationship with infection status in the second year. SaTScan analysis suggested that individuals living in MSP-1~19~ hotspots were at lower risk of infection in the second year. Both kernel and distance weighted prevalence analysis also suggested individuals living in areas of highest MSP-1 seroprevalence were at lower risk of infection, however those living in areas of intermediate seroprevalence (third quartile) were at higher risk of subsequent infection.
Individual seropositivity at baseline to the combined seroprevalence of AMA-1 and/ or MSP-1~19~ antibodies showed no relationship with infection in the second year. Similar to results using just AMA-1, kernel analysis of combined seroprevalence showed that those individuals living in the highest quartile had more than two times the odds of being nPCR positive in the second year than those residing in the lowest quintile (OR 2.44 95% CI 1.44-4.14). While a similar relationship was seen if hotspots were determined by weighted local prevalence, overall predictive ability using this method was worse than when using kernels with an AUC value of 0.530 (Table [2](#T2){ref-type="table"}). SaTScan was not able to find any hotspots or coldspots using combined seroprevalence.
### Sensitivity analysis of kernel and SaTScan methods for determining the best radius to predict malaria in the second year of follow-up
Based on AUC values, the weighted local prevalence method to identify clusters was generally less predictive of infection in the second year than the SaTScan and kernel methods. Sensitivity analyses of these two methods were therefore conducted to determine the radius size that best predicted infection in the second year. For the kernel method, using larger radii to identify clusters of nPCR tended to produced similar AUC values than smaller radii (Table [3](#T3){ref-type="table"}). Using larger radii of 500 m and 1 km to identify clusters of AMA-1 seroprevalence, MSP-1~19~ or the antigens combined, generally produced higher AUC values. Similar sensitivity analyses were done for SaTScan, whereby the maximum population size allowable was set to 20 and 10%. As for the kernel analysis, there was a general trend to suggest that a larger maximum population size of 50%, which allows for larger geographic clusters, was more predictive of subsequent infection than smaller maximum population sizes (Table [3](#T3){ref-type="table"}).
######
Sensitivity analysis of kernel and SaTScan analysis of PCR and serology prevalence for prediction of infection in the second year
**KERNEL** **SaTScan**
------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------ ------------- ------- ------- ------- ------- -------
***PCR prevalence quartiles*** 0.612 0.622 0.611 0.628 0.593 0.616 0.620
*Area under ROC*
*Proportion of total nPCR positive in the highest quartile in second year*~΅~ 30.1% 30.2% 33.1% 34.2% 27.1% 29.7% 29.7%
*Proportion of the total study population included highest quartile* 23.4% 22.7% 25.2% 24.8% 20.3% 22.4% 22.4%
***AMA***-***1 prevalence quartiles*** 0.583 0.587 0.619 0.618 0.602 0.615 0.647
*Area under ROC*
*Proportion of total nPCR positive in the highest quartile in second year*~΅~ 26.6% 29.0% 31.8% 31.9 9.7% 28.9% 48.3%
*Proportion of the total study population included highest quartile* 22.6% 24.9% 24.8 24.9 6.72% 22.6% 38.0%
***MSP***-**1**~**19**~***prevalence quartiles*** 0.559 0.533 0.602 0.622 0.595 0.612 0.591
*Area under ROC*
*Proportion of total nPCR positive in the highest quartile I second year* 22.7% 22.8% 19.6% 17.1% 9.4% 11.8% 12.0%
*Proportion of the total study population included in the highest quartile* 24.9% 24.6% 24.5% 24.5% 13.7% 17.7% 17.8%
***MSP***-**1**~**19**~**&/or AMA**-***1 prevalence quartiles*** 0.575 0.580 0.585 0.604 \- \- \-
*Area under ROC*
*Proportion of total nPCR positive in the highest quartile in second year* 28.7% 30.8% 31.1% 32.6%
*Proportion of the total study population included highest quartile* 24.6% 24.7% 24.9% 24.5%
΅ Proportion of total nPCR positives in the second year that are found in the highest quartile.
Discussion
==========
It has been suggested that if malaria transmission hotspots can be identified, targeting interventions can have a improved impact on transmission \[[@B7]\]. A number of previous studies have explored the use of geospatial techniques to identify clusters of transmission markers such as infection or seropositivity to selected antigens \[[@B13],[@B14],[@B18],[@B28],[@B32],[@B33]\]. These studies show that households with active and historic exposure tend to cluster together geographically. It is less clear however, whether these clusters predict future infection and if so, which geospatial techniques and transmission indicators should be used for their detection. Using two consecutive years' data, this study shows that clusters of infection and seropositivity to AMA-1 are predictive of future infection and that kernel analysis and SaTScan are superior to the weighted local prevalence method of cluster detection.
Several authors have identified the existence of hotspots at single time points, using a variety of different measures of transmission \[[@B13],[@B18],[@B28]\]. Fewer studies have shown that hotspots are stable over time. Using data from multiple years in Kenya, Bejon *et al*. applied spatial scan statistics to identify infection hotspots that were predictive of future hotspots up to seven years later \[[@B14]\]. Another study done in a highland of Kenya by Ernst et al. identified stable spatial clusters of malaria cases by SaTScan statistics over a period of four years \[[@B33]\]. Again using spatial scan statistics, Bousema *et al*. showed that over the period of two years, clinical episodes of malaria cluster into hotspots \[[@B13]\]. This study is consistent with these findings, showing that hotspots of infection are predictive of future infection. The study also shows that being seropositive to AMA-1 or being in a hotspot of AMA-1 seroprevalence is predictive of future infection. As seropositivity to AMA-1 is indicative of recent exposure to *P. falciparum*, this finding adds further evidence that hotspots of transmission are stable over several years. The relatively low AUC values do, however, suggest the importance of other factors related to risk of infection that were not accounted for. In addition, the higher prevalence of infection seen in the second year, likely due to higher rainfall observed that year, led to some infections in non-hotspot households, which negatively impacts the AUC.
The relationship between hotspots of seropositivity to MSP-1~19~ and future infection was less clear. Clusters with high MSP-1 seroprevalence were found to be at lower risk of infection suggesting some protection at the neighbourhood level. However, whilst some studies have demonstrated a protective effect of antibodies to MSP-1~19,~\[[@B34]-[@B37]\] at the individual level, this was not observed in this study. The reasons for these observations and the differences in the patterns seen with AMA-1 require further investigation but they may relate to the differing immunogenicity and half-life of the antibody response to these two antigens \[[@B38]\].
In terms of methods to detect clusters, this study suggests that using spatial scan statistics or kernel analysis allows better characterization of hotspots than the weighted local prevalence method. This may be due to the fact that estimates of weighted local prevalence for each household are made using infection status of neighbours only. This likely leads to an inferior indication of hotspot location as individual or household level factors play an important role in risk of subsequent infection in that household. Sensitivity analyses, varying both the window size and maximum population size for kernel and SaTScan analysis respectively, suggests that generally hotspots form over larger (1-3 km) scales. While this likely varies by setting, similarly sized hotspots have been detected by previous studies in similar transmission settings \[[@B13],[@B14],[@B20]\]. In lower transmission settings, transmission appears to cluster over increasingly small scales. A recent study by Searle *et al*. in Zambia, where infection prevalence was estimated to be 23% by rapid diagnostic test (RDT), showed that active case detection within a 500-m radius could identify 76% of all RDT-positive individuals \[[@B39]\]. A study in Swaziland, where transmission is extremely low (PCR-derived parasite prevalence \<1%), suggested that infections tend to cluster within households of passively detected cases \[[@B9]\].
This study has several potential operational implications for malaria control. Firstly, given the apparent stability of hotspots, targeting clusters of infection and seropositivity to AMA-1 (and/or antigens with similar properties) with complete cure treatment and vector control could have a dramatic impact on transmission \[[@B7]\]. Secondly, kernel analysis and SaTScan appear to be optimal methods to detect hotspots. Currently, establishment of seropositivity to AMA-1 can only be done using assays that require samples to be processed in the laboratory. Equally, while RDTs exist for determining infection status, these miss a large fraction of infections, most of which are likely to be subpatent \[[@B40]-[@B42]\]. Previous work has shown that these subpatent infections tend to cluster in hotspots, making RDTs inappropriate methods to detect hotspots \[[@B43]\]. In order to target interventions at hotspots, therefore, the development of sensitive rapid diagnostics for infection and seropositivity to AMA-1 (or similar) is required. Alternatively, it may be possible to identify hotspots in the field by clustering of particular risk factors or passively detected cases. This is the focus of further research. In the meantime, in the setting of moderate malaria transmission around Lake Victoria, mass drug administration of entire villages may be required to interrupt transmission \[[@B43]\].
Limitations
-----------
This study used indirect measures to define household malaria exposure. Using more direct measures, such as entomological inoculation rate (EIR) and other vector measures, may have led to different results. However, EIR can be challenging to measure in low-endemic settings. Thus, individual parasite prevalence was chosen as the measure of subsequent transmission for this study. In addition, indoor residual spraying (IRS) was applied between survey periods throughout the study area. While there is no supporting data, it is likely that households that did not receive IRS were randomly distributed and therefore unlikely to introduce bias into the results. Lastly, the study continued for only two years, thus stability of malaria hotspots could only be predicted for that time period. However, as stated, the fact that hotspots of AMA-1 seroprevalence were predictive of future infection suggests transmission hotspots are stable over a longer time frame.
Conclusions
===========
This study supports previous work showing that hotspots can be defined using geospatial methods and are stable over a period of at least one year. Hotspots can be detected either by using parasite prevalence or seroprevalence of AMA-1 antibodies. It was also found that spatial scan statistics and kernel analysis were better at characterizing hotspots of transmission than the weighted local prevalence method. Given the lack of highly sensitive rapid diagnostic tests for infection and AMA-1 seropositivity, routine detection of hotspots is challenging. Further work exploring simple methods to identify hotspots with existing tools is therefore required. Furthermore, while theorized, it has yet to be shown in the field that targeting interventions does indeed lead to greater reductions in transmission over an untargeted approach. Studies linking methods of hotspot detection with assessments of the subsequent impact of targeted interventions would be extremely valuable.
Competing interests
===================
The authors declare that they have no competing interests.
Authors' contribution
=====================
JFM was involved in the study design, supervised the implementation of the study and data collection, analysed data, drafted and revised the manuscript. HJWS was involved in data analysis, interpretation of the data, drafted and revised the manuscript. DC and RDG were involved in overall study design and supervision, interpretation of the data and revisions of the manuscript. TB, CJS and CD were involved in supervision of laboratory work, interpretation of the data and revision of the manuscript. BG, JMB and KG were involved in interpretation of the data and revisions of the manuscript. NG, SA and SH performed the real time PCR testing, serology testing and revised the manuscript. All authors have read and approved the final version of the manuscript.
Acknowledgements
================
This study was supported by Malaria Capacity development consortium (MCDC), which is funded by Welcome Trust (Grant number WT084289MA) and Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, Grand Challenge for Exploration no: 01916000035 supported the field work and OPP1013170 supported the analysis. We thank Ramadhani Hashim for excellent technical assistance in data management. We acknowledge support of John Changalucha and the management team of NIMR Mwanza Centre.
| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | PubMed Central |
effectively, people need to know when and why it is appropriate to apply the maxim “too many cooks spoil the broth” versus “many hands make light work” or “he who hesitates is lost” versus “haste makes waste” (see Bransford and Stein, 1993).
FLUENT RETRIEVAL
People’s abilities to retrieve relevant knowledge can vary from being “effortful” to “relatively effortless” (fluent) to “automatic” (Schneider and Shiffrin, 1977). Automatic and fluent retrieval are important characteristics of expertise.
Fluent retrieval does not mean that experts always perform a task faster than novices. Because experts attempt to understand problems rather than to jump immediately to solution strategies, they sometimes take more time than novices (e.g., Getzels and Csikszentmihalyi, 1976). But within the overall process of problem solving there are a number of subprocesses that, for experts, vary from fluent to automatic. Fluency is important because effortless processing places fewer demands on conscious attention. Since the amount of information a person can attend to at any one time is limited (Miller, 1956), ease of processing some aspects of a task gives a person more capacity to attend to other aspects of the task (LaBerge and Samuels, 1974; Schneider and Shiffrin, 1985; Anderson, 1981, 1982; Lesgold et al., 1988).
Learning to drive a car provides a good example of fluency and automaticity. When first learning, novices cannot drive and simultaneously carry on a conversation. With experience, it becomes easy to do so. Similarly, novice readers whose ability to decode words is not yet fluent are unable to devote attention to the task of understanding what they are reading (LaBerge and Samuels, 1974). Issues of fluency are very important for understanding learning and instruction. Many instructional environments stop short of helping all students develop the fluency needed to successfully perform cognitive tasks (Beck et al., 1989; Case, 1978; Hasselbring et al., 1987; LaBerge and Samuels, 1974).
An important aspect of learning is to become fluent at recognizing problem types in particular domains—such as problems involving Newton’s second law or concepts of rate and functions—so that appropriate solutions can be easily retrieved from memory. The use of instructional procedures that speed pattern recognition are promising in this regard (e.g., Simon, 1980).
EXPERTS AND TEACHING
Expertise in a particular domain does not guarantee that one is good at helping others learn it. In fact, expertise can sometimes hurt teaching because many experts forget what is easy and what is difficult for students. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
For an organization devoted to exposing the secrets of others, WikiLeaks, under the leadership of Julian Assange, has been aggressively protective of its own secrets. Now Daniel Domscheit-Berg has pulled back the curtain with a memoir about his three years as Assange’s spokesman. Although he began as an idealistic supporter of WikiLeaks’s whistle-blowing mission, Domscheit-Berg left the organization because he was dismayed by Assange’s paranoid resistance to transparency, lack of political neutrality, and addiction to concentrating power in his own hands — anti-democratic vices that WikiLeaks was founded to oppose.
A German open-source activist and network security designer, Domscheit-Berg met Assange in Berlin in 2007 and soon became his closest colleague in the small organization. He writes enthusiastically about WikiLeaks’s early whistle-blowing successes, such as its publication in 2008 of hundreds of documents from the Swiss banking house Julius Bar, exposing the tax shelters of the rich. But from the beginning, Assange and his tiny staff were unwilling or unable to review carefully the digital document dumps they received from anonymous sources and to separate genuine whistle-blowing material from private information whose disclosure had no clear public benefits. This led to privacy invasions that Domscheit-Berg laments, including the mistaken identification of a German citizen as a tax evader. Domscheit-Berg also regrets that WikiLeaks published the hacked e-mails of Sarah Palin, even though they contained private photos of her children but nothing scandalous or newsworthy. “I thought the leak of Palin’s hacked email was weak and of questionable relevance,” he writes. “We became increasingly brazen.”
Domscheit-Berg attributes WikiLeaks's increasing brazenness to Assange, who was more interested in attracting publicity (and women) than in making careful determinations about newsworthiness. Although he praises Assange for being “imaginative” and “energetic,” he ultimately finds him “so paranoid, so power-hungry, so megalomaniac” that he adopted the cultish secrecy, financial opacity and self-promoting marketing strategies of the people he fought against. A nomad and eccentric who wore two pairs of dirty pants and worked off a laptop while sleeping on borrowed couches, Assange was constantly fleeing from real and imagined enemies, objecting to Domscheit-Berg’s basement apartment because he feared his critics could peer through the windows. At the same time, Assange was contemptuous of his American supporters, such as the feminist Naomi Wolf and the filmmaker Michael Moore, who donated the bail money that secured his release from prison on rape charges. He ran WikiLeaks as a cult of personality, one that reminded Domscheit-Berg of the Church of Scientology, whose rituals they exposed. Although an anarchist who believed that those in power should be brought low, Assange refused to tolerate any criticism from his subordinates. Once Domscheit-Berg began to challenge him, their friendship fell apart. “Do not challenge leadership in times of crisis” became Assange’s favorite slogan.
“It was almost funny,” writes Domscheit-Berg, that Assange “had adopted the language of the powermongers he claimed to be combating.” Later, when Assange tried to kick him out of WikiLeaks, he gave as a reason “Disloyalty, Insubordination and Destabilization in Times of Crisis.” These concepts were taken from the Espionage Act of 1917 — the same law that the Obama administration is considering invoking to charge Assange with betraying military secrets.
Domscheit-Berg argues convincingly that Assange should not be charged under the Espionage Act he was so fond of quoting. “I am fundamentally opposed to anyone facing legal sanction for making information public,” he writes. Nevertheless, he became increasingly troubled by the hypocrisy and recklessness of WikiLeaks under Assange’s leadership. He worried that WikiLeaks and its media partners published the Afghan War diaries in 2010 without sufficient time or resources to engage in the “harm-minimization” procedures that Assange misleadingly promised — namely, blacking out names to protect innocent Afghans. Domscheit-Berg was concerned about growing criticism that all of WikiLeaks’s major publications in 2010 were aimed at its “only enemy,” the United States — mostly because focusing on a less visible adversary “wouldn’t have gotten [Assange] on the nightly news.” He was appalled when Assange floated the idea of getting paid directly for leaked documents by auctioning off exclusive access to the highest bidder — “a kind of eBay for WikiLeaks”— and repeatedly refused to make WikiLeaks finances transparent. And Domscheit-Berg was disturbed when Assange alone decided which leaks would be published and which would languish in obscurity — and when he made decisions not on the basis of content or newsworthiness but as part of his personal campaign for global celebrity.
To maintain the benefits of WikiLeaks and avoid its many shortcomings, Domscheit-Berg and another disaffected colleague have started a new platform that they call OpenLeaks. Their goal is to create a genuinely neutral platform for whistle-blowers while avoiding the trap of becoming “political lobbyists or pop stars” like Assange. Unlike WikiLeaks, OpenLeaks is not a publishing platform: It allows whistle-blowers to deposit material anonymously in an encrypted drop-box, and then to specify the recipient of the leak — a news outlet, a trade union or an NGO — and how long the recipient should have exclusive access. By offering a series of digital mailboxes for each of its media and other partners, OpenLeaks doesn’t have to choose between large and small leaks, and it allows sources to chose the publishing platforms they think will treat the material most responsibly. By separating the receipt of documents from their publication, OpenLeaks solves the problem of centralization that allowed Assange to accumulate too much power and to exert political influence that was more focused on his personal aggrandizement than on the public interest.
Domscheit-Berg ends with a series of questions for Assange, pressing him on WikiLeaks’s financial situation (Does Assange profit from its media deals?) and current associates, who include a father and son with a record of public anti-Semitism. Ever the idealist, he ends his book expressing the hope that OpenLeaks will be seen as the kind of “sober, neutral infrastructure” that Assange failed to deliver. For citizens around the globe who are attracted to WikiLeaks’s promise of transparency but distressed by the illiberal excesses and reckless behavior of its founder, Domscheit-Berg provides an invaluable vision of a genuinely neutral technology for whistle-blowers. And he reminds us of the danger of concentrating power in the hands of one man, whose secretive organization became the mirror image of the powerful institutions he sought to expose.
Jeffrey Rosen is a law professor at George Washington University, the legal affairs editor of the New Republic, and a nonresident senior fellow at Brookings. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
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Containers for packaging food require a combination of physical properties which is not economically available with rigid and semi-rigid containers made from any single polymeric material. Among the properties required are low oxygen and moisture permeability, compatibility with the temperatures and pressures encountered in conventional food processing and sterilization, and the impact resistance and rigidity required to withstand shipping, warehousing, and abuse. Multi-layer constructions comprised of more than one plastic material can offer such a combination of properties.
Multi-layer containers have been made commercially by thermoforming and extrusion blow molding processes. These processes, however, suffer from major disadvantages. The chief disadvantage is that only a portion of the multi-layer material formed goes into the actual container. The remainder of the material can sometimes be recovered and used either in other applications or in one of the layers of future containers made by the same process. This "recycle" use, however, recovers only a part of the value of the original material because the scrap is a mixture of the materials. Other disadvantages of these processes include limited options in terminal end geometry or "finish," in shape, and in material distribution.
Injection molding and injection blow molding are often preferred for making single layer containers because they are scrapless and overcome many of the other limitations of thermoforming and extrusion blow molding. These processes have not been commercially adapted to multi-layer constructions because of difficulties in achieving the required control of the location and uniformity of the various layers, particularly on a multi-cavity basis. In fact, even on a single cavity basis, multi-layer injection molding has been limited to relatively thick parts in which a thin surface layer of plastic covers a relatively thick core layer of either foamed plastic or of some other aesthetically unattractive material such as scrap plastic.
To be successfully commercially adapted to food containers, multi-layer injection molding would require two major improvements over the processes which are now commercially practiced. Economical multi-layer food containers require very thin core layers comprised of relatively expensive barrier resin such as a copolymer comprised of vinyl alcohol and ethylene monomer units. The location and continuity of these thin core layers are important and must be precisely controlled. U.S. patent applications, Ser. No. 059,375, now abandoned in favor of continuation Ser. No. 324,824, and Ser. No. 059,374, each assigned to the assignee of this application and incorporated herein by reference, disclose multi-layer, injection molded and injection blow molded articles, parisons and containers having a thin continuous core layer substantially encapsulated within inner and outer structural layers, and methods and apparatus to make them. The disclosures in the aforementioned applications apply to both single and multi-cavity injection molding machines.
The second improvement over current commercial multi-layer injection molding processes is that the process must be capable of forming containers on a multi-cavity basis. Although the relatively large parts made by current commercial multi-layer processes can be economically practiced on a single cavity basis, food containers, which are relatively small, require a multi-cavity process to be economical. The extension from single cavity processes to an acceptable multi-cavity process presents many serious technical difficulties.
One way to extend from a single cavity to a multi-cavity process would be to replicate for each cavity the polymeric material melting and displacement and other flow distributing means used in a single cavity process. Such replication would realize some advantages over a unit cavity process. For example, a common clamp means could be used. However, it would not provide the maximum advantage because individual polymeric material melting and displacement means would still be necessary. Such a multiplicity of melting and pressurization means would not only be costly but would create severe geometrical and design problems of positioning a large number of separate flow streams in a balanced configuration, thereby increasing the required spacing between cavities, and limiting the number of cavities which would fit within the area of the clamped platens.
An alternate means of molding multi-layer articles on a multi-cavity basis would be to have a single multi-layer nozzle with its associated melting, displacement and distributing means communicate with a single channel or runner feeding multiple materials to multiple cavities. Such a runner system might be either of the cold runner type in which the plastic in the runner is cooled and removed with the injection molded article in each cycle, or of the hot runner type in which the plastic remaining in the runner after each shot is kept hot and is injected into the cavities during subsequent shots. The chief limitation of this single runner approach is that the single runner channel itself would contain multiple materials which would make it very difficult to control the flow of the individual materials into each cavity, particularly for a process having elements of both sequential and simultaneous flow such as that described in U.S. patent application Ser. No. 059,374. Controlling the flow of multiple materials in a single runner would be even more difficult in a case in which the runner is long, as in a multi-cavity system.
In the preferred embodiments of the apparatus and methods of this invention, a single displacement source is used for each material which is to form a layer of the article, but the materials are kept separate while each material is split into several streams each feeding a separate nozzle for each cavity. The individual materials are thereby combined into a multi-layer stream only at the individual nozzles, in their central channels, which feed directly into each cavity. Although this approach avoids many of the disadvantages of the previously described methods, it presents many problems which must be satisfactorily overcome for successful injection of articles in which thin core layers are properly distributed and located.
Several of these problems result from the length of the runner and the distribution system for a multi-coinjection nozzle machine. For economical reasons, it is desirable to have as many cavities as possible within the machine in order to provide as many articles as possible upon each injection cycle. It is possible to minimize the average runner length for a given number of cavities by having the channels run directly to the remotest nozzle, redirecting a part of the stream as it passes near each other nozzle. It has been found that such a channel geometry, while suitable for most single layer injection molding, has a major disadvantage for precise multi-layer injection in that a given impetus introduced at the displacement or pressurization source will have its effect more immediately in the more proximate nozzles than in the more remote ones. The time delay between the initiation of an impetus and its effect at a distance results from the compressibility of the plastic. Because of this compressibility, material must flow in the channel before a desired pressure change can be achieved at a remote location. It has been found that in order to achieve the same flow initiation and termination times and the same relative flow rates of various layers in each nozzle as well as to obtain articles from all cavities having substantially the same characteristics, the material entering each nozzle must have undergone essentially the same flow experience in its path to the nozzle.
It has further been found that in a system in which a given flow stream is split into several individual streams to feed each nozzle, the channel and device geometries which accomplish each of these flow splittings must be symmetrically designed so as to provide the same flow experience to the material in each of the resulting split streams. Such symmetry is difficult to achieve with viscoelastic materials such as polymer melts because the materials have a "memory" of their previous history. When a flow channel contains a sharp turn, for example, material which has passed near the inner radius of curvature of that turn will have a different flow experience from the material which has passed near the outer radius of curvature.
Even with a runner system which, by its design, minimizes the differences in flow history in the path to each nozzle, there will remain some differences as a result of remaining memory effects, temperature non-uniformities in the melt stream before it is split, temperature non-uniformities in the runner system, and machining tolerances. For this reason, it would be desirable to have independent control of the time of initiation and termination of each flow, a critical requirement for precise control of thin core multi-layer injection molding. Such independent control should be effected as near as possible to the point at which the individual flow streams are combined into a multi-layer flow stream. Although these control means should be located in each individual nozzle, they should be controlled in such a manner that they are actuated simultaneously in desired nozzles of a multi-coinjection nozzle machine.
It is not sufficient that the flow of each material be substantially identical in each nozzle. It is also necessary that the flow of the individual materials be uniformly distributed within each injection cavity and, hence, within the nozzle channel feeding the cavity. For axisymmetrical articles, such as most food containers, this is most readily achieved by shaping the various flow streams into concentric annular flows or by shaping one stream into a cylindrical flow and shaping the other flows into annular flows concentric with that cylinder before combining the flow streams.
In order to achieve the required uniformity in these concentric annular flows, it is necessary to redistribute a given flow stream from its shape as it leaves the runner system into a balanced annular flow. Achieving such a balanced annular flow is difficult in itself but is much more difficult to achieve with an intermittent flow process than it is, say, in conventional blown film dies where the flow is constant. Among the complexities of such an intermittent flow process are the difficulty of achieving flow balance when the rate of flow is deliberately varied during each cycle, and the additional problem of different time response behavior at various locations around the annulus.
An additional requirement for an acceptable multi-cavity, multi-layer runner system is that it accurately align and maintain an effective pressure contact seal between each nozzle with its respective cavity. This alignment is particularly critical for the injection of the internal layer of the multi-layer articles in that any misalignment will adversely affect the uniformity and location of the internal layer. The difficulty in achieving such alignment is that the metal for such a hot runner system is at a higher temperature than is the metal plate in which the cavities are mounted. Because of the thermal expansion of materials of construction normally used for such mold parts, the nozzle to nozzle distance will tend to grow with temperature more than will the cavity to cavity distance. In single layer, multi-cavity injection molding, there are two conventional ways of compensating for this difference in thermal expansion. The first is to prevent the relative expansion or contraction by physical restraint; that is, by physically interlocking the runner with the cavity plate. For a large runner system, such a physical constraint system will generate large often problematical opposing forces in the two parts. The second way is to size the runner system so that it will align with the cavity plate when it is at an elevated temperature within a narrow range, even though it will be misaligned beyond the range, e.g., at room temperature. In accordance with this invention, the runner system is not attached to the cavity plate, but rather is left free to grow radially. The nozzles and cavity faces are flat to provide a sliding interface. Given this feature, and that the cavity sprue orifices are provided with a larger diameter than that of the nozzle sprue orifices, the runner has a much greater opportunity to grow radially without the cavity and nozzle sprue orifices becoming misaligned. This provides a much broader temperature range within which to operate, and a wider range of possible polymer melt materials which can be used. However, in order for the nozzles mounted in the runner to transfer plastic at high pressure to the cavities without leakage, it is necessary to impose an opposing force to counteract the separation force generated by this high pressure. This is conventionally achieved by transmitting all or part of the force of the injection clamp through the runner system to the fixed platen. An alternative method is, to use the axial thermal expansion of the runner system to generate a compressive force on the runner between the fixed platen and the cavity plate. One difficulty with any of the above methods of compensating for this differential expansion is that they require close physical contact between the hot runner and the colder metal of the cavity plate and of the fixed platen. This close contact causes thermal variations in the runner. While such thermal gradients would be acceptable in a single layer runner system, the resulting differences in flow experience to each nozzle could for example result in a significant variation in the uniformity and location of a thin inner layer in multi-layer injection molding. This invention overcomes these problems by mounting the runner system with minimum contact between it and surrounding structure.
Other problems encountered in multi-cavity injection molding of articles relates to the formation of high-barrier multi-layer plastic containers. Such containers require that the leading edge of the internal barrier layer material be extended substantially uniformly into and about the marginal end portion of the side wall of the parison or container. This condition is difficult to obtain, because of the compressibility of polymeric melt materials and the long runners of multi-cavity machines which result in a delay in flow response which is accentuated the more remote the materials are from the sources of material displacement. In addition, there are the previously mentioned difficulties of achieving balanced annular flow and uniform time response due for example to variations in polymer and machine temperatures and in machining tolerances, and due to the intermittency of the flow process. These factors render it difficult to introduce a polymeric melt material uniformly and simultaneously over all points of its orifice in one co-injection nozzle, and likewise with respect to introducing the corresponding material through corresponding orifices in the plurality of co-injection nozzles. It has been found that such an introduction is important to extending the leading edge uniformly into the marginal end portion of a container side wall because the portion of the annulus of material first introduced into the central channel will first reach the marginal end portion of the parison or container side wall in the cavity, while the last introduced portion will trail and may not reach the marginal end portion. This condition, referred to as "time bias," has been found to be one cause of bias in the leading edge of the internal layer, which is unacceptable for, for example, quality, high oxygen barrier containers for highly oxygen sensitive food products.
Another problem is that even if the internal layer material is introduced without time bias into the central channel, there may still be bias in the leading edge of the internal layer material in the side wall of the injected article, if all portions of the annulus of the leading edge of the internal layer material are not introduced into or onto a flow stream in the central channel having a substantially uniform velocity about its circumference. This is difficult to achieve for one reason because the flow stream having a substantially uniform velocity about its circumference is not necessarily radially uniform. If this type of introduction occurs, there will be what is referred to as "velocity bias" in that the portions of the annulus in the central channel introduced onto a flow stream which has a high velocity will reach the marginal end portion of the side wall of the article in the cavity before those portions of the annulus introduced onto a flow stream having a lower velocity. Thus, in such case, other things being equal, even though there was no time bias in the introduction of the annulus of the internal layer material, a velocity bias in the central channel and cavity nevertheless resulted in a biased leading edge in the marginal end portion of the side wall of the injected article.
These and other problems associated with multi-layer unit and multi-coinjection nozzle injection molding and injection blow molding machines, processes and articles are overcome by the apparatus, methods and articles of this invention.
Accordingly, it is an object of this invention to provide methods and apparatus for commercially injection molding multi-layer, substantially rigid plastic parisons and containers, and for commercially injection blow molding multi-layer, substantially rigid plastic articles and containers by means of multi-cavity, co-injection nozzle machines.
It is another object of this invention to provide the above methods and apparatus for so molding said items by means of multi-cavity, multi-coinjection nozzle machines.
Another object of this invention is to provide and commercially manufacture, at high speeds, injection molded and injection blow molded, thin, substantially rigid, multi-layer, plastic articles, parisons, and containers.
Another object of this invention is to provide the above methods and apparatus for manufacturing the aforementioned articles, parisons and containers on a multi-cavity multi-coinjection nozzle basis, such that each item injected into and formed in each cavity has substantially identical characteristics.
Another object is to provide injection molding and blow molding methods and apparatus which overcome problems of long runners, variations in temperatures within structural components, variations in temperatures and characteristics of individual and corresponding polymer melts, and variations in machining tolerances which may occur with respect to multi-layer multi-cavity machines.
Another object of this invention is to provide methods and apparatus for providing a substantially equal flow path and experience for each corresponding polymer material flow stream displaced to each corresponding passageway of each co-injection nozzle for forming a corresponding layer of an aforementioned item to be injected.
Another object of this invention is to provide methods and apparatus for preventing bias in the leading edge of the internal layer in the marginal edge portions of the previously mentioned articles, and in the marginal end portion of the side walls of the above-mentioned articles, parisons and containers.
Another object of this invention is to provide methods and apparatus for forming such articles, parisons and containers wherein the leading edges of their internal layers are substantially uniformly extended into and about their marginal edge portions and the marginal end portions of their side walls.
Another object of this invention is to provide methods for positioning, controlling and for utilizing foldover of a portion of the marginal end portion of said internal layer or layers to reduce or eliminate bias and obtain said substantially uniformly extended leading edge of the internal layer or layers.
Another object is to provide methods of avoiding and overcoming time bias and velocity bias as causes of biased leading edges in articles formed by injection molding machines and processes.
Another object is to provide methods of pressurizing polymer melt materials in their passageways to improve their time responses, provide greater control over their flows, obtain substantially simultaneous and uniform onset flows of their melt streams substantially uniformly over all points of their respective nozzle orifices, and obtain substantially simultaneous and identical time responses and flows of corresponding melt streams of the materials in and through each of the multiplicity co-injection nozzles of multi-cavity injection molding and blow molding machines.
Another object is to provide separate valve means operative in the central channel of a co-injection nozzle to there block and unblock the nozzle orifices in various desired combinations and sequences, to control the flow and non-flow of the polymer melt materials through their orifices.
Another object is to provide the aforementioned valve means wherein they are commonly driven to be substantially simultaneously and substantially identically affected in each co-injection nozzle of a multi-coinjection nozzle injection molding machine.
Another object of this invention is to control the relative locations and thicknesses of the layers, particularly the internal layer(s) of the previously mentioned multi-layer injection molded or injection blow molded items.
Another object of this invention is to provide methods and apparatus for obtaining effective control of the polymer flow streams which are to form the respective layers of the injected items, in the passageways, orifices and combining areas of co-injection nozzles and in the injection cavities of multi-cavity injection molding and blow molding machines.
Another object of this invention is to provide co-injection nozzle means adapted to provide in co-injection nozzles, a controlled multi-layer melt material flow stream of thin, annular layers substantially uniformly radially distributed about a substantially radially uniform core flow stream.
Another object of this invention is to provide runner means for a multi-cavity, multi-coinjection nozzle injection molding machine, which splits each flow stream which is to form a layer of each injected item, into a plurality of branched flow streams, and directs each branched flow stream along substantially equal paths to each co-injection nozzle.
Yet another object of this invention is to provide the aforementioned runner means which includes a polymer flow stream redirecting and feeding device associated with each co-injection nozzle for redirecting the path of each branched flow stream for forming a layer of the item to be injected, and feeding them in a staggered pattern of streams to each co-injection nozzle.
Still another object is to provide apparatus for multi-layer, multi-coinjection nozzle injection molding machines, including floating runner means and a force compensation system, for compensating for injection back pressure and maintaining an on-line effective pressure contact seal between all co-injection nozzles and all cavities of the machines.
The foregoing and other objects, features and advantages of this invention will be further appreciated from the following description and the accompanying drawings | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | USPTO Backgrounds |
FADE IN:
EXT. DENIS MENOCHET'S FARM - FRANCE
CHRISTOPH WALTZ approaches DENIS MENOCHET on his farm.
CHRISTOPH WALTZ
I'd like to ask you some questions while you act as suspiciously as humanly possible.
DENIS MENOCHET
Very well. Would you like to pound a glass of milk for some reason?
CHRISTOPH WALTZ
I would! Now, rumor has it that you are hiding some Jews. Is that true?
DENIS MENOCHET
No.
(pause)
Uh, maybe.
(pause)
Yeah.
CHRISTOPH WALTZ
Thanks. Alright, Nazi soldiers, come and destroy this guy's house and kill the people he is hiding!
They DO. One GIRL runs away, and CHRISTOPH lets her live.
DENIS MENOCHET
Any particular reason we just spent 20 minutes strongly establishing a character that was weakened at minute 21?
CHRISTOPH WALTZ
DO NOT QUESTION THE CINEMATIC BRILLIANCE OF QUENTIN TARANTINO!
EXT. ROADSIDE - FRANCE
BRAD PITT and his team of ENGLAWREEYUS BASSTURDS interrogate some NAZI SOLDIERS, including NOT ED HARRIS.
BRAD PITT
Now, ya Nazi varmint, I'd like to introduce you to my team. Guy from The Office. Short kid from Freaks and Geeks. Gigolo from that Rob Schneider movie.
ELI ROTH
Eli Roth knocks it out of the park two hits I hit you you hit the ground!
NOT ED HARRIS
Eli Roth? Are you acting, is that what that was? You should just stick to directing, man.
(pause)
Actually, don't do that either. Just don't do anything. Do zero things.
BRAD PITT
Now, Eli here is gonna do some incredibly violent shit to create some footage we can use to make unbelievably misleading trailers for this movie. Unless a'course you want to tell us where the rest of the German extras are hiding.
NOT ED HARRIS
You don't frighten me. Not even Quentin Tarantino would shamelessly exploit World War II simply to create a group of one-dimensional villains simply to justify the glorification of torture and brutality.
ELI ROTH
Do you think anyone would tolerate a Quentin Tarantino gabfest unless it had a fuckton of comical violence?
NOT ED HARRIS
Oh shi--
(killed with baseball bat)
BRAD asks another NAZI for information and GETS IT.
BRAD PITT
Thank ya for yer cooperation, varmint. Now, we're a-gonna let ya go. But first, we're gonna carve a swastika into your forehead so everyone knows you're a Nazi.
NAZI SOLDIER
Oh no. Anything but that. I sure hope nobody invents plastic surgery a long time ago.
AUDIENCE
I'm impressed so far. This movie seems devoid of Tarantino's usual obsession with cinema.
The GIRL who escaped earlier grows up to become MELANIE LAURENT, and she owns a MOVIE THEATER.
AUDIENCE
God dammit. I hope that's just some irrelevant character detail.
DANIEL BRUEHL
Hey, I like your movie theater. You should show my new Nazi propaganda film and it can be the setpiece for the film's climax.
AUDIENCE
Arrrgghhhhhhh!
DANIEL continues flirting with MELANIE.
DANIEL BRUEHL
Hey baby. So, a Rabbi, a Rabbi, and a Rabbi walk into a bar...
MELANIE LAURENT
Don't bother, Daniel. I know who you are.
DANIEL BRUEHL
Man, you fuck one goat...
MELANIE LAURENT
Not that, I just won't be desperate enough to date a Nazi for at least 200 more pounds.
DANIEL BRUEHL
At least try and let me win you over by inviting a whole bunch of other Nazis, including Hitler, into your theater.
MELANIE LAURENT
Please don't find it in any way suspicious that I'm going along with your plan despite clearly hating Nazis.
MELANIE goes to see her boyfriend, JACKY IDO.
MELANIE LAURENT
Jacky, Hitler is going to watch a movie in our theater. Let's burn it to the ground!
JACKY IDO
Great idea! We can use all of the nitrate films in your collection!
MELANIE LAURENT
Because nitrate films are extremely flammable! Isn't that super fascinating to everyone who is Quentin Tarantino and absolutely nobody else?!
Meanwhile...
INT. ESTATE - ENGLAND
MICHAEL FASSBENDER enters to explain a recent military discovery to BRITISH OFFICERS.
MICHAEL FASSBENDER
Sir, it seems that Hitler will be attending the premiere of a movie in France. This would be a perfect opportunity for an oh my God you're Mike Myers, aren't you? Are you trying to be taken seriously again?
MIKE MYERS
(Austin Powers accent)
MICHAEL FASSBENDER
Guess not. Let's just move on to the assassination plot and never see you again.
INT. BAR - FRANCE
DIANE KRUGER meets with some INNGLOWRIAZ BAZTOWARDS.
DIANE KRUGER
So your plan is to kill Hitler while he watches the movie? This is a great idea, it's a good thing nobody else is planning to assassinate him on that night or this entire subplot would be completely pointless.
MICHAEL FASSBENDER
Yep. You'll use your fame to get me and my friend into the premiere where we can totally shoot Hitler in the face like a bazillion times.
DIANE KRUGER
Er, isn't your friend the guy that the movie went out of its way to show as being infamous among Germans for killing Nazis? Your plan sucks.
Suddenly, NAZI MAJOR AUGUST DIEHL sits down with them.
AUGUST DIEHL
It's been a while since one of Tarantino's obnoxious trademarks. How about a Mexican Standoff, everyone?
DIANE KRUGER
Das klingt gut!
There's a SHOOTOUT and ALMOST EVERYONE DIES.
BRAD PITT
Alright Diane. Our plan is clearly fucked now, but let's go ahead with it anyway. We're going to totally kill the shit out of Hitler!
DIANE KRUGER
So this movie is basically just like Valkyrie except that instead of being an exaggerated tribute to real-life heroics, it's just a bunch of comic book fantasy bullshit, right?
ELI ROTH
All I know is, if Hitler shows up to the premiere in a robotic mech suit, it wouldn't surprise me all that much.
INT. MOVIE THEATER - FRANCE
HITLER and GOEBBELS take their seats and watch DANIEL BRUEHL shoot a BUNCH OF AMERICANS.
HITLER
This movie is terrible. It's just a bunch of over the top violence with absolutely nothing to say.
GOEBBELS
Yeah. Add some pop culture references and you've got Tarantino's next movie!
HITLER
Hey-oooo!
CHRISTOPH WALTZ kidnaps BRAD PITT and BJ NOVAK while ELI ROTH stays behind to RUIN MORE OF THE MOVIE.
CHRISTOPH WALTZ
It looks like the tables have turned, gentlemen! I know all about your plot!
BRAD PITT
Holy Christ is this movie still going on? It's already been like two hours.
BJ NOVAK
I think the problem is that Tarantino's usual abundance of dialogue is now in German, so all of the words take like 40% longer to say.
CHRISTOPH WALTZ
In any case, I've decided to surrender.
BRAD PITT
Aww, what dirty trick do you have up your sleeve?
CHRISTOPH WALTZ
No trick. Giving up. That's how the movie ends.
BJ NOVAK
Until the surprise ending where you double-cross us and we have to fight you, right?
CHRISTOPH WALTZ
Nope. Done. Movie over. Have a safe drive home, everyone.
MELANIE and JACKY set the building on fire and HITLER is burned but also SHOT just to make sure he's SUPER-DUPER-DEAD.
BJ NOVAK
Huh. We won kind of. I guess the mission was a total success.
BRAD PITT
Because Hitler is dead?
BJ NOVAK
Hitler? Dude, Eli Roth is toast. No Cabin Fever 2. Score.
END | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
Spreading Depression in Primary and Secondary Headache Disorders.
Spreading depression (SD) is a wave of simultaneous and near-complete depolarization of virtually all cells in brain tissue associated with a transient "depression" of all spontaneous or evoked electrical activity in the brain. SD is widely accepted as the pathophysiological event underlying migraine aura and may play a role in headache pathogenesis in secondary headache disorders such as ischemic stroke, subarachnoid or intracerebral hemorrhage, traumatic brain injury, and epilepsy. Here, we provide an overview of the pathogenic mechanisms and propose plausible hypotheses on the involvement of SD in primary and secondary headache disorders. SD can activate downstream trigeminovascular nociceptive pathways to explain the cephalgia in migraine, and possibly in secondary headache disorders as well. In healthy, well-nourished tissue (such as migraine), the intense transmembrane ionic shifts, the cell swelling, and the metabolic and hemodynamic responses associated with SD do not cause tissue injury; however, when SD occurs in metabolically compromised tissue (e.g., in ischemic stroke, intracranial hemorrhage, or traumatic brain injury), it can lead to irreversible depolarization, injury, and neuronal death. Recent non-invasive technologies to detect SDs in human brain injury may aid in the investigation of SD in headache disorders in which invasive recordings are not possible. SD explains migraine aura and progression of neurological deficits associated with other neurological disorders. Studying the nature of SD in headache disorders might provide pathophysiological insights for disease and lead to targeted therapies in the era of precision medicine. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | PubMed Abstracts |
# ALSO BY DAN FESPERMAN
Unmanned
The Double Game
Layover in Dubai
The Arms Maker of Berlin
The Amateur Spy
The Prisoner of Guantánamo
The Warlord's Son
The Small Boat of Great Sorrows
Lie in the Dark
THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF
Copyright © 2016 by Dan Fesperman
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York, and distributed in Canada by Random House of Canada, a division of Penguin Random House Canada Limited, Toronto.
www.aaknopf.com
Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Fesperman, Dan, [date].
Title: The letter writer : a novel / Dan Fesperman.
Description: First edition. | New York : Alfred A. Knopf, 2016. | "This is a Borzoi book."
Identifiers: LCCN 2015037235
ISBN 978-1-101-87506-3 (hardcover) ISBN 978-1-101-87507-0 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Police—New York (State)—New York—Fiction. | Murder—Investigation—Fiction. | Conspiracies—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Mystery & Detective / General. | FICTION / Suspense. | GSAFD: Mystery fiction. | Suspense fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3556.E778 L48 2016 | DDC 813/.54—dc23 LC record available at https://protect-us.mimecast.com/s/NV8GB7CY7RpKTx.
eBook ISBN 9781101875070
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
_Cover design by Oliver Munday_
_Cover image: H. Armstrong Roberts/ClassicStock/Getty Images_
v4.1_r2
ep
# Contents
Cover
Also by Dan Fesperman
Title Page
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Afterword
Acknowledgments
A Note About the Author
# PROLOGUE
HIS WAS AN ARRIVAL of dark portents: Black smoke on the Manhattan skyline. Hushed crowds gazing toward a crosstown calamity. Whispers of a ruthless enemy, willing to do anything.
Clearly, something terrible had just happened. But what? Woodrow Cain, groggy from a long passage out of the South, eyed the worried faces outside of Penn Station and tried to come up with an answer.
It was just him now. Wife gone, daughter abandoned. He'd forsaken all he held dear for a fresh start, only to be greeted by symptoms of mass hysteria. Suitcase in hand, he turned to a man in a fedora.
"What is it?" he asked. "What's going on?"
"The _Normandie,_ " the man said. "She's on fire at Pier 88."
"The _Normandie_?"
"The big luxury liner, the one they're turning into a troop ship. Guy I talked to says the Germans did it. She's rolled over on her side, gonna sink any minute. Thousands of people down there, even the mayor."
"La Guardia?" Cain was still learning who was important up here.
"In a black raincoat, soaking wet from the hoses. Heard it on the radio. Walking the fire lines like he owns the joint."
"He better be ready for more of the same," another man said. "If they can do this, who says they can't fly a bunch of planes in? Bomb us to smithereens, just like the Japs at Pearl."
Others nodded, but the first guy shook his head.
"The waterfront. That's where they'll come for us, just like today. The longshoremen, the shipbuilders, even the goddamn fishermen—half of 'em's either kraut or dago, and who you think they're rooting for? You watch. This is only the beginning."
Cain looked up at the sky. The smoke was spreading, an inky smudge blowing east from the Hudson. He shook his head in angry disbelief. Ten lousy minutes in New York, and already his new life felt as full of loss and betrayal as the one he'd left behind.
—
A revealing account, don't you think? It came to me secondhand, but my source is trustworthy, and I will vouch for its accuracy as if I had witnessed it myself.
The day in question occurred two months ago, on the ninth of February in this tumultuous year of 1942. I wish I could report that conditions have improved in the interim, but if anything the city's fortunes have become even more unsettling. U-boats prowl the mouth of our harbor, sinking ships whenever they please. Residents of penthouse apartments—yes, I still know a few, despite my reduced circumstances—say the offshore glow of flames is visible in the night sky. My more numerous acquaintances from tenements and flophouses swear that fishing trawlers from our own docks are secretly refueling these underwater killers. If that sounds far-fetched, then what are we to make of the thirty-three German spies who were just sentenced to prison at the federal courthouse in Brooklyn? And if it was so easy to round up that many, how many more must yet lurk in our midst, relaying vital information by shortwave radio, or by handwritten messages in invisible ink?
In Yorkville, our very own Little Deutschland of the Upper East Side, the streets have gone eerily silent since war was declared, but only last summer its inhabitants were packing the movie houses for Nazi propaganda films. They marched by the thousands down 86th Street, the German Broadway, wearing brown shirts and swastikas and singing the Horst Wessel song. And who can forget how the Italians of East Harlem celebrated the conquest of Ethiopia, by raising tricolor flags from every window and cheering Mussolini's name? That fellow in the fedora, the one who spoke to Mr. Cain so direly of our future, may be an alarmist, but he was right about the abundance of enemy nationals. Three-quarters of the seven and a half million people of this city are first- or second-generation immigrants. Me included, I should add, and practically all of my neighbors, plus just about everyone I've ever known or met since I first arrived here so long ago, at the age of eleven.
Who are we to trust, then? And when events inevitably turn for the worse, who are we to blame? When you are born in one homeland, and then move to another, and the two become mortal enemies, who can say for sure where your loyalties will reside? Those are the questions which press upon our souls.
By day, New Yorkers go about their business in a sort of concealed dread, wondering when the worst of the war will reach our shores. Not long after sunset we begin dousing our lights as a precaution against air raids, even on the Great White Way, where the only illumination comes from a scatter of low-wattage bulbs beneath the marquees. A dim-out, they call it, so that the silhouettes of the merchant ships offshore will not be so easy to see against the bright backdrop of the skyline. Although, as with most calls for austerity, I have noticed that the wealthy do not always participate.
A few weeks ago, soldiers began entrenching anti-aircraft guns in the parks and along the rivers. One went off by accident at the foot of Grand Street, and the errant 37-millimeter shell blew a chunk out of the thirty-eighth floor of the Equitable Building, two miles away in the financial district. The stock market wavered, and moved on.
Yet, when the sirens wail for air raid drills most New Yorkers react slowly, if at all, especially now that spring has arrived. They mill and laugh on the street until the all-clear, as if refusing to accept that the revelry of our previous lives has ended. I sense a looming disaster.
As for Woodrow Cain, one can only imagine his bewilderment. Even at the best of times this city takes a smug pleasure in overwhelming new arrivals from the provinces, especially those who come by necessity. He came for a job, from the small town of Horton, North Carolina, where he was a senior detective on a small police force. As of late last week he is now a detective sergeant with the New York City Police Department, posted to district level in the 14th precinct house on West 30th Street, the building that looks like a bleak old castle, turrets and all. He is thirty-four years of age, and he has a young daughter, Olivia, who he left behind in the care of his sister. If he is able to make a home here, she will join him at the end of the school year.
I am told that he departed his previous employment under dubious circumstances, but if experience has taught me one thing, it is that everyone has a past. The trick is in learning to manage it. It is said that well-placed connections led to his hiring here. I suppose it also didn't hurt that the police department has lost so many men to the armed services. Due to wartime shortages, the newest officers—Mr. Cain among them—were rushed through their training in half the normal time, or else he would still be in a classroom.
Supposedly he is the sort of man whose demeanor warns you to keep your distance, although those who make an effort are sometimes rewarded with easy laughter and quick confidences. A hard shell with a soft center, if you will, unless he is one of those quiet men whose center lies even deeper within—a shell within a shell, impenetrable. Perhaps I say this because from my one glance at him I sensed an inner darkness, a tendency toward undue risk. Something in the eyes, I think.
Mr. Cain's life is in some ways a study in contradiction. He is well educated, holding a degree in the humanities from a respected state university. Not what you'd expect from a policeman, perhaps, but the Depression has pushed many a promising young man into careers they might once have sneered at. For all his bookish enlightenment, I am told he killed a man in cold blood. He is a lifelong Southerner, supposedly full of affection for the place, yet he speaks poorly of the region to almost all who ask. He is in fine health, but he sometimes walks with a limp. Its origins are the subject of rumor.
To this point, none of what I have revealed to you came to me in confidence. Indeed, if this were the extent of my knowledge about Mr. Cain, I would probably not give his affairs a further thought. But in the course of my daily duties I quite recently came across several disturbing items which made me fear for Mr. Cain's safety. That is why I have taken such a keen interest in learning more about him, although I will admit that I am also fascinated by the nature of his profession, partly because of its similarity to my own.
Both of us, you see, trade in secrets, even though we handle this commodity in radically different ways. Detective Cain's success often depends on making his findings public—airing them in a court of law, or leaking them to newspapers. I, on the other hand, am a steadfast practitioner of concealing and forgetting. Almost from the moment an item of confidential information comes into my possession, I begin working assiduously to set it aside, bury it, forget it—even as I begin dispensing its particulars with the greatest possible precision as instructed by my customers. It is a policy geared toward protecting not only the privacy of my clients, but my own peace of mind. For me there is never any "tracking of clues" or "adding up of the facts." When it comes to the secrets of others, I am a bit like a farmer who is forever plowing under his sprouting crops, lest they grow into something larger and more noticeable to the neighbors.
You may call me by my professional name, Danziger. Mention it in a certain sixteen-block area near Rivington Street and almost anyone will be able to direct you to my door. My product, as my business card plainly states, is information, although the duty I am best known for is the translation and writing of other people's letters. I handle written correspondence of all manifestations, from personal pleas and job queries to requests for help from municipal, state, or federal officials, or letters of explanation to bankers and creditors. My clientele comes mostly from the illiterate portion of the city's immigrants of four different tongues—German, Russian, Yiddish, and Italian (the latter, an obvious outlier, is explainable by an episode of youthful folly, the details of which are not relevant to our discussion).
My working methods are straightforward and simple: Customers come to my place of business, say what they wish to say, and then wait while I polish their words into more serviceable syntax, writing it down for them either in English or in their native tongue, depending on their needs. For those who have received mail, in whatever language, I read it back to them, translating when necessary.
I dispense these services from the ground floor of a tenement house, in a drafty sprawling room of pigeonholes and sagging bookshelves, a dim chamber which serves as both post office and nerve center for a needful clientele. I live in the same building, in a small room upstairs with a cookstove and a cold-water sink.
As you might guess, my line of work brings me into contact with a wide variety of people. My life fairly abounds with eccentrics. Abounds. What a fine word of your marvelous language, a tongue that borrows and then keeps, promiscuous in its adoptions. Not the English of the king, but of his subjects, his colonists, which is one of the things I have always liked best about your country. Your people, with all their different beginnings and backgrounds, have hammered and buttressed this language into an international emporium of wonders, a hall of mirrors in which I can roam happily for hours at a time, especially when I am accompanied by the massive two-volume collegiate dictionary which holds pride of place on my shelves.
My guilty secret is that as a _speaker_ of English I am not always quite so comfortable or confident. Orally, my tendency is to move a little slower, more deliberately. Now and then I grope for the correct grammar, a more precise meaning. As a result, when I speak it is often in a mannered fashion, like some upright fellow being served tea in her ladyship's parlor.
On paper it is a different story. I am as fluent as a Founding Father, at ease among various locutions and in almost all thickets of foreign influence. I am even comfortable bushwhacking my way through swamps of idiom and slang, although I confess that some coinages of the South and Midwest still elude me, Southerners and Midwesterners not exactly being common to the environs of Rivington Street.
And so, while writing I sometimes find myself thinking in many voices at once, a ventriloquist of the open page, neatly setting down locutions in varying tones to suit the needs of different tasks and personalities.
My rates are reasonable. Fifty cents to read a letter, fifty cents to write one, provided you keep things brief and to the point. The long-winded pay extra. On an average day I handle about ten correspondences, and whenever possible I avoid the drafting of love letters. Such material is too chancy, too wrapped up in a client's deepest hopes and anxieties. Only for a surcharge will I relent, and even then I accept no blame for any ensuing failure or recrimination. My own status as a confirmed bachelor with a narrow bed would seem to be advertisement enough to not entrust me with such correspondence. Yet, customers continue to ask, often in tones of deepest desperation.
Thus has my home become a place where clients often learn important news, for better and for worse. It is also where they frequently begin framing reactions and replies in the first flush of revelation. With my able assistance, they give joy of their good fortune, or regrets of their tragedies. At each important turn of their lives I am their mouthpiece, their amanuensis, the intermediary entrusted with relaying their most vitally important news to loved ones and enemies alike.
I doubt that I shall be lacking for business anytime soon. Despite a recent profusion of schools and academies offering instruction in English, my corner of Manhattan seems to hold an unlimited supply of clients, young and old. Indeed, my neighborhood teems with more life than I once could have imagined. Teems. Now there is another fine word, bringing to mind the sight of tiny organisms aswarm on the slide of a microscope, multiplying, dividing, jitterbugging their way toward the edges.
So often in this quarter of the city, life teems to the point of peril, with some specimens falling entirely from sight. Or perhaps I say that because, in recent months, I have become ever more conscious of the gathering peril that looms over so much of my clientele. Although I still write many letters for the domestic mails, much of my current work involves correspondences abroad—chiefly to and from Europe, more particularly those countries which for the past three years have been at war. As the months have passed, my clients' secrets have grown darker and more sorrowful, placing an ever greater weight upon their souls, and upon mine. More and more, letters to that benighted landscape go unanswered. Voices once full of life and whimsy fall silent. The tears of many stain my blotter.
All the more reason for me to work actively to scour these accumulated items from my conscious mind. As I said before, I do not hoard, I do not gather, I do not analyze. Almost from the moment I have committed a client's thoughts or wishes to the printed page, I begin rolling them into a ball, figuratively speaking, before tossing them onto the mental waste heap of the hazy and the forgotten, where they may no longer trouble my thoughts.
Or so I thought until a few days ago, when a small item in the pages of the _Daily News_ made me realize that some of those discarded secrets apparently remain adrift, just beneath the surface. They are, to use a disturbing modern analogy, like those U-boats which lurk offshore, awaiting their moment. As I scanned the newspaper story it felt as if a submerged memory had fired a torpedo, which then exploded to reveal other thoughts, many of them fearful. Alarming, even, because this has always been my greatest worry about the nature of my work—an anxious dread that, someday, some long-buried item would find its way back to the light and take on a life of its own, malignant, redoubled in strength, capable of harm.
A few hours ago that dread was realized in the most terrible of ways, and I was an eyewitness to its grisly aftermath. That event moved me to take action, or at least to contemplate the possibility. It is also why I quickly began learning as much as I could about Mr. Cain, because I have reached the crucial moment when I must decide what, if anything, to do next. It is now Friday, with the hands on the clock approaching midnight. By Monday morning I must either drop this matter or seek the assistance of Mr. Cain, the newly employed detective, the bringer of portents.
My only hesitation is that he, too, is likely to be threatened by the potency of what I know. Is this not often the nature of a dark secret, once illuminated? I am reminded of the advice of a wise and powerful man I once knew, who said, "If one man knows something, it's a secret. If two know it, eleven know it. When three know it, a hundred and eleven know it." He called this the mathematics of danger, may he rest in peace.
But here is my dilemma: Mr. Cain might also be at risk if I choose _not_ to act. Even from my remote vantage point I sense that he may have already slipped into currents of influence which he neither knows nor understands, dangerously adrift among hazards he cannot see. By seeking his assistance, I might also be able to save him.
It would be incorrect to leave you with the impression that my motives are entirely selfless. They are not. A name has surfaced in this affair which leads me to believe that, unless actions are soon taken, then I, too, may be vulnerable. So perhaps my decision is already made. If so, then on Monday I will journey to the precinct building on 30th Street, where I will tell Mr. Cain what I know, offer my help, and hope for the best.
Wish me well, then. Wish us all well.
# 1
FIRST DAY ON THE JOB, half an hour left on his shift, when the call came in. There was a body in the Hudson, down by the docks at the end of 30th. Captain Mulhearn wore a big crooked smile as he carried the sheet over to Woodrow Cain's desk, like he was delivering a housewarming gift to a neighbor he didn't particularly like.
"All yours, Southern Boy. Welcome to the third district, and enjoy your night on the town."
Twenty minutes later, his left thigh stiff after sitting all day, Cain limped carefully through the dark, crossing railroad ties and wet cobbles, and then stepping beneath the trestled gloom of Twelfth Avenue as he approached the muted shimmer of the waterfront.
Just ahead were two uniformed cops in silhouette, illuminated dimly by the twinkle of Hoboken on the far shore. They were talking, hands in motion, not yet aware of his presence.
Cain stopped to listen.
"I say we poke him."
"Poke him?"
"Toward downtown, with a stick. One of those things with a crook on it, like the swabbies use."
"A boat hook? Where we gonna find a boat hook?"
"Okay, so maybe we throw something. Make enough waves so he gets pushed back into the current at the end of the pier. Presto, he floats on down to the tenth. Then he's their problem."
"It don't work that way. Besides, what if the tide's coming in? Then he floats uptown a couple blocks and we've turned a one-hour job into a whole night's headache, and I'm freezing my ass off as it is."
"Whadda you mean, 'tide'? It's a fucking river. It's upstream or downstream, and the tenth is downstream."
"With a tide, numbnuts. Besides, he's bumping the wharf, so he's already ours. It's in the _Manual of Procedure._ 'Cases Occurring on Piers, Boats, and Navigable Waters.' Jurisdiction depends on which bulkhead or pier the body comes to rest on."
Cain stepped forward, looming up out of the shadows like a ghost. The cop advocating the boat hook strategy jumped like he'd been goosed, while the one on the right reached for his sidearm.
"At ease, gentlemen." Cain flashed his brand new shield. He recognized the patrolman on the right from the station house. "Officer Petrowski is correct. Article 7 from the manual. It was a question on the sergeant's exam."
"They made you take that? I heard you was a charity hire."
"Made me take all kinds of tests. So what have we got?"
"Floater. Have a look."
Cain peered down from the bulkhead. Bottles and trash formed an atoll around a man's body, facedown in the dark water. Fully clothed, but bloated tightly in a T-shirt and work pants, like a roasting sausage ready to burst its casing with a pop and a sizzle. The smell of dead fish, boat fuel, and putrefaction wafted up to him in the gloom. Something rippled the water from just beneath the surface, a carp or a swimming rodent, nosing around the body. Bile surged to the base of his throat. He swallowed to keep it down, leaving a sour burn. Then he stepped back, took a deep breath. Petrowski and the other cop were talking again.
"You gettin' that smell?" the first one asked.
"What'd you expect?"
"No. Like something burning. You smell that?"
"It's the _Normandie._ "
"Can't be. That was, what, two months ago?"
"But she's still there, laying on her side. Burnt stuff really holds its stink, and it's less than twenty blocks away. So when the wind's right..."
"See? It's blowing south. If we'd just pushed him out far enough—"
Cain interrupted. "Did y'all call the morgue?"
"Fifteen minutes ago," Petrowski said. "Said they were on their way."
"Then I need y'all to secure the area."
"Nothing down here this time of night but bums and railroad bulls."
"Then keep the bums and bulls away. Split up, one to either side."
"Yes, sir."
They headed off in the same direction, Cain shaking his head at the insolence. He began counting to ten under his breath while they resumed their conversation in lowered tones.
" 'Y'all.' You get that? Said it twice, like he's from Dogpatch in the funny papers. So what did the krauts put in it to make it burn like that?"
"The _Normandie_? That wasn't the krauts. It was a dumb fuck welder with an acetylene torch. Threw a spark on some packing straw."
"Likely story."
"It was in the papers."
"Like I said. If—"
_"Hey!"_ Cain shouted.
The cops froze.
"You guys forget how to secure a scene? One to either side. Now split up and get moving!"
"Yes, sir," Petrowski answered.
"New guy who don't know shit," the other one grumbled. "Already throwing his weight around."
"He's got a rabbi."
"Figures."
"His father-in-law is what I hear. Some white-shoe asshole on Wall Street."
Second time today he'd overheard a cop muttering about his rabbi. Cain was Baptist, and his father-in-law was Episcopal, but the meaning was obvious enough. A ward heeler, a political hack. A guy who called in favors from the powers that be. Obviously his new colleagues had found out that Cain's father-in-law, Harris Euston, a partner with a patrician law firm on Wall Street, had put in a word for him.
True enough, but it rankled all the same. Probably explained why everyone at the station house had been so standoffish. A few nods and hellos, not a whole lot more. He supposed he understood. Half the cops on the force seemed to be studying for the sergeant's exam, trying to climb the next rung on the ladder, to the level he'd already reached. He'd heard them firing questions back and forth in the break room while he ate his lunch alone, a ham sandwich with a Lucky for dessert, everyone acting like he was invisible. Although later Captain Mulhearn had said something about going out for beers next week, first round on him, like it was a rite of passage. So there was that to look forward to, he supposed.
The dimmed headlights of the meat wagon crept toward Cain down 30th, past the high brick walls of the Stanley Soap Works. Two men hopped out, equipped with netting and what looked like a pair of giant tongs. They got to work like it was no big deal, an everyday occurrence. Maybe it was.
For Cain it was a milestone—his first corpse in New York. He'd come across only one other floater, years ago, similarly bloated. A poor soul who'd snagged on a fallen tree in the Neuse River. Presumed drowned, until they rolled him over and saw the damage from a shotgun blast. Pellets of lead had remained lodged in his skin even as his chest wheezed out the sump of the river like a broken accordion. It took a week to make an ID, but Cain never solved it, and so far this one looked equally promising.
Cain had never grown accustomed to the gore and grief of homicides, but he was passionate about working them. Unsolved cases never faded over time. Like debts, they accrued interest and weighed on his mind. He was not particularly religious, but whenever he contemplated an afterlife he imagined being accosted from the moment he arrived by everyone whose murder he'd never closed, and who wanted to begin eternity like that?
Within minutes the guys from the morgue had maneuvered the body onto the dock next to a giant pile of coal. They flipped him onto his back, which made a slapping noise like a landed fish. The eye sockets were empty. Foul gases erupted from the open mouth along with a gray stream of water that rolled down his cheeks like spilled gravy.
Cain swallowed fast and breathed through his mouth. He stepped forward for a closer look.
A pink scar ran diagonally across the man's forehead toward a big dent in the cranium. Someone had bashed him hard enough to either kill him or knock him cold. Cain wondered if the man had still been alive when he hit the water. He imagined a body falling from way up on the George Washington Bridge, miles north of here, an impact which surely would've finished the job. But that seemed like a dumb place to dispose of a body—too showy, nothing that a professional would do. They'd use a boat, although a thorough practitioner would've also weighted the body to make it sink. Unless he was in too much of a hurry. Perhaps he—or they—had been interrupted, or were new to the business. Not that Cain knew much about how the murder business worked up here.
He reached into an overcoat pocket and withdrew a dog-eared steno pad, the latest in a series dating to his first days on the job back in Horton. The NYPD had given him an official one—a memo book, Mulhearn called it—but Cain preferred his old one, maybe because he used them for more than just work. Scribbled on pages between the case notes were grocery lists, nature sketches, birthday reminders, a bad poem or two. Having all those things in the same place made his life feel more stitched together, which seemed more important than ever now that almost everything else had fallen apart. Although he'd always wondered what the consequences would be if his notebook ever got entered into evidence—all those private musings and observations, laid out for judge and jury. His life in miniature, scarred by bullet points, cross-outs, and erasures. Cain on the page was a mess, barely legible.
"Anything in his back pockets?"
They shrugged.
"Heave him back over."
They looked at each other for a second, then did as he asked, uncorking more gases, a cold smell of mud, the sediment of centuries from the bottom of the Hudson. Cain crouched and slid his hand into the man's front right trouser pocket, wet and tight.
"Hey," one of the morgue guys said. "You shouldn't be doin' that."
Cain pried loose a stick of gum, still in its wrapper. Stuck to it was a sodden ticket stub from a movie theater, the print faintly legible. Nothing else. He stood and wrote down the details.
"Pull up his shirt."
They hesitated, gave him a look.
"C'mon. The sleeves, too."
On the man's chest there was a scatter of a dozen or so small black circles—cigarette burns? Cain had once seen them on the body of a child, a memory that made him pause in his writing. On the man's right shoulder was a small, crude tattoo of a woman's name in cursive, "Sabine." Otherwise, there was nothing that might identify him. Someone at the morgue would take his fingerprints, but without a name to go on there would be no way to make a match with the thousands upon thousands that were on file.
"Not carrying any ID, huh?" one of the morgue guys asked.
Cain shook his head.
"Another John Doe, then."
"You get a lot of those?"
"Ninth this week. Maybe seven hundred a year."
_"Seven hundred?"_ Cain shifted his weight to keep his bad leg from stiffening. "What happens to them?"
"With most of 'em, some friend or relative comes by in a week or two, stakes a claim, gives 'em a decent burial. If not, we keep 'em three months. Then it's off to City Island, up in the Bronx."
"A potter's field?"
The guy nodded. "Big damn place. More than a hundred thousand. Stinks to high heaven."
Cain shook his head in amazement. That was more populous than any city in his home state. He took out a handkerchief and blew his nose, the gases lingering in his nostrils. He knew from experience that his overcoat would smell this way in the morning. To him, at least.
"We'll take it from here unless you need to see more. Our pencil pusher will be around with some papers to sign."
Cain nodded and stepped toward the bulkhead, where he cleared his throat and spit into the water, which again rippled from below, some creature rising to inspect the latest contribution. He pulled out his pack of Luckies, the flare of the match flashing on the river as he inhaled deeply, a small moment of tribute to his home state. Bright leaf tobacco, like his dad used to grow. Cain had once helped hang it, leaf by leaf, in big barns in the fields east of Horton, where the smell of curing fires had been as much a part of fall as carved pumpkins and college football.
A guy walked up out of the darkness, notebook in hand.
"You handling this?"
Cain nodded.
"Got an ID yet?"
"No. Nothing in his pockets but a gum wrapper and a ticket stub."
"Beemans?"
"Huh?"
"The gum wrapper."
He consulted his notebook. "Blackjack."
"Anything else?"
"Big blow to the head, looked like. A bunch of small marks on his chest, you'll see 'em. Cigarette burns, if I had to guess. A small tattoo on his right shoulder with a name, Sabine."
He asked Cain to spell it, so he did.
"Cause of death?"
"Thought that was your department?"
The guy smiled, kept scribbling.
"What about the stub? Ballgame?"
"Some movie theater on 96th."
"The one up in Yorkville?"
"Don't know. Maybe."
"Then he's either been in the drink a while, or never did his laundry. That joint's been closed since December. Kraut hangout. Shut down right after Pearl. The whole neighborhood's kraut."
The guy scribbled for a few seconds more, then asked another question.
"And your name is?"
"Woodrow Cain. Detective sergeant, third division."
"Kane with a K, like the movie?"
"With a C."
"Like Cain and Abel?"
"In name only. Woodrow as in Wilson."
Officer Petrowski ambled up.
"Hey, Cain. The morgue guy is here."
"I got it covered."
"No, dunce, back over by the body. You ain't talking to this jackal, I hope?" He scowled and drifted back into the night.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Sam Willett, _Daily News._ "
"Fuck."
"Is that official?"
Cain frowned and gave him a pleading look that said _Go easy._ In return he got a look that said _Fat chance._
"New, huh? And not from around here."
"Scram, will you? Before I get in any deeper."
"Okay by me. Got all I need." Willett shut his notebook. "Good stuff on the cigarette burns. Sounds like somebody really worked him over. Decent bet he's German, which should get me a few column inches. Be seeing you."
Cain tossed his cigarette toward the water and went off to find the morgue guy, a tall fellow as pale as a cadaver with a personality to match. He looked up from a clipboard and gave Cain a fisheye, head to toe.
"Word to the wise, Bud. Never, repeat _never,_ have my people rearrange clothing or go fishing around in pockets."
"My name's Cain, _Bud._ And I did the pockets myself."
"Even worse."
"Duly noted. Will you be doing the autopsy?"
"I'm not a cutter. This'll be Doc Bolton's."
"How 'bout a favor, then? Tell Bolton that in addition to the usual items I'd like an estimate on how old the tattoo is. The one on the right shoulder that says Sabine."
" _Duly noted._ But put it in writing, then sign these. Plus your initials on that box down at the bottom that says you disturbed the corpse. Bud."
Cain wrote his request and signed what he had to. He sent Petrowski and the other cop home, and lit another smoke as the meat wagon pulled away. By then the reporter was gone, and things got quiet in a hurry. Nothing but the slap of the river against the bulkheads, the low roar of passing traffic up on the viaduct. Further down the waterfront you could hear hammering, a twinkle of industry, the war effort still lumbering to its feet. He stared into the murk. If his name ended up in the papers they'd probably think he was grandstanding, already playing to the crowd. Too late now.
For all his zeal in murder cases, they'd never been a big part of the job in Horton—three or four per year, six at the most. Maybe that's why they stayed with him. Back in February, during his train ride north, Cain had taken out the same notebook he was using tonight. It was three a.m., with a half-moon rising over a tidewater landscape, bare trees wild against the sky as the train clattered through the night. The other five passengers in the compartment were asleep, including, mercifully, a nosy old woman to his left who'd already asked a zillion questions. _Where's your family? Where do you go to church? How old's your daughter? Why isn't she traveling with you? Where'd you say your wife went?_
The only wakeful company was his reflection on the window. He began writing in the notebook, and before long he'd filled an entire page with names, forty in all, a list of victims from every homicide he'd ever worked—in flawless chronological order, no less, complete with race, age, and cause of death.
Now, standing by the Hudson, he flipped back a few pages, and there was the list. Number eleven was his unsolved floater: _Eldridge Warren, Negro, 53, shotgun._ The other two unsolved cases were at numbers nineteen and twenty-two. _Jake Tarn, White, 37, stabbing; Janelle Ellerbe, White, 24, strangled._ Cain scanned the page. Shootings, stabbings, a drowning in a bathtub that had splashed blood and water all over the floor tiles. Three beatings—one with a crowbar, one with a shovel, one with a stone pried loose from the wall of a cemetery. A single poisoning—rat powder baked into a damson pie, the victim's favorite.
So vivid, all of them. Gaze long enough at any one name and other faces swam into view—grieving mothers and children, a father whose loud sobs had sounded like the shrieks of an elephant, right there in the middle of the police station, everyone giving him a wide berth.
Cain remembered that the nosy old woman on the train had awakened without him noticing.
"What are all the names?" she'd asked. "Friends of yours?"
"Work stuff," he'd said irritably. _None of your damn business._
Now he wondered exactly what he'd been up to. Taking a final inventory, perhaps, like a shopkeeper listing all his merchandise before he sold the store. Did these names represent items he'd hoped to leave behind, entrusted to others? If so, did that apply even to the most memorable one?
_Rob Vance, White, 34, gunshot._
Rob's name was last on the list, as if the others had been part of a process, a mechanism, that inevitably led to his death. Cain didn't even need to close his eyes to see Rob's face the way it had looked at the end, pale and drained, or the huge bloodstain soaking wet across Rob's chest, like someone had just hit him with a water balloon—a campus prank, maybe, from their days in Chapel Hill, or from their first years as cops, young detectives learning together in a job they hadn't really wanted but had taken anyway because in 1930 no one else seemed to be hiring college graduates in that part of the state. He couldn't shake that final image of his friend, dead on the floor, the shots still ringing in his ears and Rob's mouth thrown open in surprise, his eyes already too glazed to be accusing.
No problem solving that one. Cain had witnessed it from start to finish. But questions had remained, for him and for everyone else in Horton: Could Cain have done more to stop it? Had he been complicit in some way? And what about the role played by Cain's wife, Clovis? In that sense, at least, it _was_ unsolved. Number four on his list. And here he was now, same notebook in hand, with a new and nameless body to go at the top of a clean page.
Cain edged closer to the water. Looming just down the Hudson were the tall, spectral silhouettes of docked ships from the cruise lines he had read about but had never sailed on—Cunard, Panama, and Munson. They'd been a part of Clovis's world, or at least the world she'd grown up in. Clovis, the Manhattan girl who traveled south for college, exiled by an overprotective father. Harris Euston's intent had been to sever her ties to the fast crowd—swank boys who plied her with drink, social-climbing girls who egged her on. Let her settle down in the provinces for a few years, he reasoned, while everyone else headed for the Ivies and the Seven Sisters. Break free from the glut of easy money, and return home with a fresh outlook.
Her father got more than he'd bargained for when she also found a husband and a whole new way of life—culturally barren, to Euston's way of thinking, since it was an existence in which she almost never set foot in New York. Since his arrival Cain had hardly been able to turn a corner without feeling her presence. He was confronted daily by all the places she used to talk about—Macy's, Fifth Avenue, Central Park, Carnegie Hall, and now the cruise lines from her long ago vacations, lush trips to Europe and the Caribbean. Everything marked by energy and glamor, her trademarks, the very things that had first caught his eye. Rob's too, probably.
He tossed his cigarette, lit a new one and turned away from the water, crossing a rail line and then pausing. The tracks down here were from all across the country—the Lackawanna, the Erie, and the B&O—all roads leading to Gotham, city of voyagers, with Cain still feeling very much like he had just landed. Then he realized something. Try as he might, all forty of those victims from Horton had somehow made it here with him. Crafty stowaways, forever his companions. Clovis, too, a spirit whispering his name from over his shoulder. The past wasn't something you left behind. It was a parasite in the bloodstream, a congenital disorder. You could only hope that others wouldn't spot the symptoms.
The only way to respond, then, was to work this case, and work it hard. Cain inspected the glowing end of his cigarette and wondered how long you'd have to press it against human skin to produce those angry black dots. Five seconds? Twenty? A full minute, perhaps? Another question for Doc Bolton at the morgue.
He was about to leave when a bright wash of headlights caught him in profile, a big car coming straight toward him as it bumped across the cobbles. No cloaking at all on the headlights. Didn't they know there was a war on?
The car stopped twenty yards out, idling, as if whoever was inside was deciding what to do next. Cain slowly reached inside his overcoat for the .32 caliber Colt revolver holstered beneath his shoulder. The cross-hatched walnut stock felt rough and chilly. Way too soon for this, no stomach for it. As he slid the gun free from the holster he felt its life-taking power, coursing up his arm like an electrical impulse.
A car door opened. A big body emerged and moved in front of the headlights. Wide-brimmed hat, bulky overcoat. No face visible, but certainly an easy target if it came to that.
"Detective Cain?"
"Who's asking?"
"Headquarters."
"The fourteenth?"
"Downtown."
_The_ headquarters, in other words, the one for the whole department down on Centre Street. A place Cain had seen, but hadn't yet visited. He'd been sworn in a week ago during an outdoor ceremony while standing in formation with more than a hundred new recruits on a windblown park square.
"Your attendance is required tomorrow at twelve thirty. Room 114-B."
"Says who?"
"Come on your lunch break, and keep it to yourself. Not a word to Captain Mulhearn or any of your asshole buddies in the station house."
"Says _who_?"
"Twelve thirty sharp. 114-B. You'll be expected."
The engine revved as the guy stepped out of the beams and climbed back in. The car made a slow U-turn, leaving Cain in darkness as he watched the tail lights wink around the corner at Tenth.
What the hell could they want with him at headquarters? And why all the secrecy? Was he already in trouble? Fired, even? Then a mud-smelling breeze off the water reminded him of what they'd just fished out of the river. He shivered, and set out for the station house.
He moved slowly at first, his leg stiff from all the standing around. The cold wind made him crave a warm bed, which in turn made him think again of Clovis, his wife, on silken sheets in some posh uptown hotel, the Plaza or the Astor, waiting for him in some other life where he'd never been a cop and she'd never traveled south. Plenty of blame for both sides, he supposed. Then the image was gone, and with each step afterward he felt the pressure of a hidden presence to his rear. Something creeping toward him from the river, building like a wave. He stopped, pivoting to face the shadows.
Nothing.
He resumed his journey. Muscles loosening, he quickened his pace, and did not look back.
No choice now but to keep moving forward.
# 2
IN THE MORNING CAIN DECIDED it was time to stop living like a vagabond hermit. Two months in the city and he was still taking his clothes from a suitcase and keeping to himself.
He looked around the apartment, a modest one-bedroom flat in Chelsea, where he lived among garment workers, furriers, and butchers. The building was stout and modern, wedged between tenement houses with their clotheslines and chaos, the black zigzags of the fire escapes. Best address in the neighborhood, according to his father-in-law, although Harris Euston had made it clear he was providing it on behalf of his granddaughter Olivia, who'd be arriving later.
By Manhattan standards it was about as clean and roomy as you could get for $60 a month. The building had an elevator, hot water, a doorman. But the way Cain had been using it so far was more befitting of a flophouse. The dresser drawers remained empty. His mattress lay on the floor, which was as bare as the walls. In the icebox was a bottle of milk, nothing more. The tiny eat-in kitchen, hardly used, was as spotless as the day he moved in. He ate instead in cheap diners and luncheonettes, some of them barely wide enough for a counter.
Once he'd splurged on dinner at a Horn & Hardart automat. Now there was a place perfectly designed to make you feel alone. No one to take your order or bring your food. All you needed was a few nickels to open the tiny windows—a bowl of stew from this one, a slice of pie from that one, with the empty slots refilled before you took your first bite. You came and went without speaking to a soul. If this was the future of American dining, he wanted no part of it.
The only visible sign that Cain was still part of polite society was the pile of letters on the kitchen table. He corresponded daily with Olivia, reading her letters the moment he got home and scribbling replies until well after midnight. She kept him apprised of the doings at his sister's house in Raleigh in a tone that was newsy, chirpy, although he sensed she was not all that happy. Sue, Cain's sister, wasn't known for a light touch, and Olivia's stories implied that an unaccustomed strictness prevailed. No more freewheeling mom who mixed a nightcap—or two or three—after the dinner dishes were put away. No more flashlight searches with Dad for owls hooting in the longleaf pines out front. No more reading in bed once the call for lights-out was issued promptly at nine.
But it wasn't so easy to read his daughter's moods anymore, even between the lines of a five-page letter. She was now twelve going on thirteen—the beginning of the age of concealment, as Cain knew from his own youth. Considering all the upheaval that had preceded his departure, he supposed he should be happy she was writing him at all. So, rather than press her for more details, Cain tried to prepare her for New York's wonders without hinting at its terrors and indignities, or its noises, or the exhausting way so many faces came at you on the street and in the subway. On his first few nights in the apartment he'd barely been able to sleep because he'd been so overwhelmed by the sense of so many people living above, below, and to every side of him—people who spoke other languages, dressed differently, and were neither still nor silent. He'd felt hemmed in by their calls and cries, the scrape of their chairs, the slam of their doors, the groan of their windows in the sash. For a day or two it had almost been difficult to breathe.
But, now, with a fresh case, new colleagues, a daily routine, a desk to call his own and even a shitty new boss to complain about, maybe he should work a little harder to settle in.
It also didn't hurt that spring had arrived. Until recently his outlook had remained frozen in the images of February—curbside banks of gray slush, towering aisles of dirty wet buildings, looming like megaliths. Then, almost overnight, sprigs of green had burst from every urban fissure like a long-held breath. In the parks, blossoms fluttered to the ground. Kids raced down his street at all hours in games of tag and stickball while, from open windows, radios blared the first games of the baseball season—Red Barber calling it for the Dodgers, Mel Allen for the home-standing Yankees and Giants.
So that morning Cain moved his clothes into the dresser drawers. He set up the cheap bed frame he'd gotten at a secondhand shop. He bought fruit from a street vendor's horse-drawn wagon. He picked up three newspapers, a loaf of bread, a carton of eggs, a slab of bacon, and a pound of coffee. Then, with coffee perking and bacon popping in the skillet, he unfolded his map of the city to begin plotting the day's movements: first stop, Yorkville, the neighborhood supposedly filled with krauts.
A car would've made the trip even more of an expedition. But between his junior status and the department's wartime rationing, cars were now exclusively for big bosses and radio patrol officers. Even Mulhearn had lost his eight-cylinder Hudson, and Cain was only authorized to hail a cab on the city's dime in an emergency. That meant he was truly a flatfoot, a gumshoe. He traced his finger along a map, following the colorful spaghetti threads for the subways and omnibus lines. A crosstown walk would take him from the station house to the IRT stop for the Lexington line at 33rd. From there, six stops north to 86th, the so-called German Broadway, where he'd poke around until it was time for his appointment at headquarters.
He threw open a window. Cold and gray this morning, but he could live with that now. He stuffed his notebook in his overcoat pocket and headed for the streets.
—
After what the reporter had said, Cain half expected Yorkville to feel more like Berlin than Manhattan. The reality was more complicated. Initially it didn't look all that different from the rest of the city. There was even an Automat and a Woolworth's, plus a Thom McAn shoe store just like the one he'd taken Olivia to in downtown Raleigh.
It was the sounds that first told Cain the place was different. After he climbed the stairs from the subway the first conversation he heard was in German—two older men arguing, gesturing theatrically, cigarettes bobbing on their lips. The only other times he'd heard German spoken recently were in newsreels of Hitler and Goebbels. Back home a cop's first instinct would have been to lock these fellows up, or at least ask what they were up to. If there had been even a single German family in Horton, everyone would have watched their every move. Here there seemed to be thousands, stretched out for blocks in tenements beneath the Third Avenue El.
Cain headed east on 86th. He passed a travel agency that called itself a Reiseburo, with gold lettering on the storefront touting the availability of "Schiffskarten und Reisechecks." There were so many beer halls, or _brauhausen,_ that Cain soon lost count—Platzl, Rudi & Maxl's, Geiger's, Willy's Weindiele, Café Hindenberg, Kaiser's, Martin's Rathskeller, Kreutzer Hall, and more. Yet, in the middle of everything there was also an Irish pub called the Shamrock Bar, and other places, like the Eatmore Delicatessen Deutsche, that seemed to straddle several cultures at once. A joint called the Lorelei was already doing a rollicking trade at eleven a.m., and Cain's stomach grumbled as he smelled the smoky sizzle of wurst, the yeasty tang of beer. But even there he saw signs of change to accommodate anti-German sentiment. A sign in one window with a drawing of sauerkraut billed it instead as "Liberty Cabbage."
A colleague at the station house had told him that before Pearl Harbor quite a few businesses here had displayed swastikas in their windows, or portraits of Hitler. Yorkville had been a hotbed for the Nazi organization known as the American Bund, and as recently as a few months ago beefy fellows had brazenly gone door to door collecting money for the Reich. One bunch claimed to be taking donations for the Fatherland's wounded soldiers. Another supposedly peddled Reichsmarks for dollars, a shady currency scheme designed to pump cash into Hitler's war machine. Both groups pressured potential donors by tracking down names and addresses of their relatives back in Germany: _Please give unless you want things to go badly for Uncle Hans in Dusseldorf!_ Nice fellows. No swastikas or roaming bands of thugs now, of course, but Cain doubted everyone's political views had changed overnight.
Then again, some of the Germans here—maybe even a lot of them—had come to Yorkville to escape Hitler. So had other newcomers from Hungary and Czechoslovakia. As if that dynamic wasn't volatile enough, Cain noticed several storefronts with Hebrew lettering. If any had been previously defaced by Bundist thugs, the damage had long since been repaired. Maybe for now they'd earned some peace.
Cain breezed by Herrlich's Funeral Home and the Vaterland Café and Restaurant as he finally reached the upper end of Yorkville. He made his way over to Third Avenue and 96th, where he found the movie theater, a two-story building that had seen better days. It was closed, just as the reporter had said, with a big padlock on the front door. Posters in the display cases were already fading. A set of double windows on the second floor had been covered from the inside with bed sheets. It looked like the place was empty. He nonetheless rattled the big lock, then pounded on the whitewashed glass door. No response.
He stepped over to a display case for a closer look at a poster for a propaganda film, _Sieg im Westen,_ which touted Germany's conquest of Belgium and the Netherlands. Someone had painted anti-Nazi graffiti on the glass.
A tapping noise startled him from behind. He turned to see a young woman in the ticket booth. She had apparently just entered from the theater, yet was already enshrouded by cigarette smoke. More astonishing was the way she was dressed, or not dressed. Temperatures were in the forties on this chilly spring morning, yet she wore a gauzy black negligee, open in the front, with only a lacy black bra underneath. Her face was striking for its lack of color, all whites and blacks like in a publicity still, except for her lips, lacquered a deep red. Her dark eyes were heavily lined, lashes full. Pale pancake makeup coated her face, or maybe that was her natural complexion, practically drained of blood. Her hair, as glossy as the feathers of a raven, was bobbed in a pageboy that left her long white neck exposed.
She tapped again on the glass and spoke in a voice muffled by the compartment.
"Alles geschlossen. Acht uhr."
"What?"
"We are all closed. Until eight. Then showtime."
"Eight? This place is still open?" She nodded. He opened his overcoat to show his detective's shield, feeling like a flasher—probably because of how he was reacting to all that bare flesh. The oddest part was that her skin didn't show a single goose bump.
She frowned.
"So you are not come for the show?"
"I have a few questions about one of your customers."
She considered this a moment, then nodded wearily. "Um die ecke. Around the corner, then to the back. There is a door in the alley."
Cain made his way around to a black steel door in a rear alley where the cobbles reeked of stale beer, with broken bottles underfoot. He hammered at the door, which groaned on rusted hinges to reveal a dark hallway. She began walking away before he was even inside. High heels and black hose, with a ladder-back run down the left thigh. Still no sign that she was the least bit cold. She led him behind what looked like the back of a movie screen before turning left at the end. They emerged into a vast theater, cold and dim, at least fifty rows leading up into complete darkness. Pigeons fluttered above, cooing and resettling. The dusty air was nearly as chilly as outside. The soles of Cain's shoes stuck to the floor with every step, with a sound like he was tearing pages out of a magazine.
A skittering noise from behind made him jump.
"Rat," she said blandly. "Not to worry. You will find many here. Even among the ownership."
"And who does own this place now?"
She took a seat in the front row, her stockings making a zipping noise as she crossed her legs. Looking as comfortable as if she were settling in for a double feature, she poked out her lower lip and exhaled smoke toward the ceiling.
"Albie Schreiber and Joel Feinman. Two Jewish boys."
Cain was too surprised to answer.
"Yes. No one expects that. Especially the Bundists, who become outraged to learn they have paid money to a Jew."
"But the place is still running?"
"Not for kino, or cinema. Distributor of German films, he is kaput. So a floor show now. Live act."
"You?"
"And other girls. A revue, I think it is called. With piano." She pointed toward the corner. "Plinky plink. Sometimes a singer. And still with popcorn."
So maybe the dead man had been here recently, after all, to watch a floor show instead of a movie. Just the sort of seedy place you'd expect to be frequented by someone who ended up with cigarette burns on his chest.
"What's your name?"
"Angela." She pronounced it with a hard _g,_ the German way. Her breath vapored as she spoke. "Tell me, is it warm in here to you?"
"Not especially. Not at all, in fact."
"No. I suspected not."
He wondered what she was on. Pills? A needle?
"Are there other girls in the revue?"
"Three. Sometimes four."
"Any of them named Sabine?"
She stared at him a moment, then slowly shook her head. A quicker no would've been more convincing.
"Is that why you are here? Looking for this Sabine?"
"I'm here about a man with a Sabine tattoo. He had a ticket stub from this theater in his pocket."
"His name?"
Cain shrugged.
"So he is dead man, then?"
"How'd you know?"
"How else would you take ticket from his pocket and not know his name?"
"And you don't know who he might be, this customer with a thing for a Sabine?"
"Many men come. Many have 'a thing,' as you say, for all kinds of girls."
Angela included, no doubt, especially if these were the only clothes she ever wore. Did she live here? His mind flashed on the image of some hidden room with a bare bulb, a cot, a table, a hypodermic syringe. Maybe a few scraps of food, a grimy towel. He felt a stab of weary pity. He got out his notebook.
"Tell me your last name, Angela."
"For your report, or for your black book? That is not official Polizei book, I know that for fact."
"You sound experienced in these things."
"You sound inexperienced. In everything."
He smiled. "Maybe so. I'm new here."
"Feinman," she said, and then spelled it. "That is my last name."
He raised his eyebrows, and she volunteered the answer.
"The owner, he is my brother."
"So how did this place stay open, then, once the Bundists found out who owned it?"
"My brother, he pays a man, Lutz, to make change in his dokumenten, the papers. To show it is now owned by another. This Lutz, he picks out a name from the air, something solid to show it is German and from the goyim. Gerd Schultz, I think."
"What if they ever found out about you?"
She waved her cigarette dismissively.
"Flesh is flesh. Of no matter the origin. It is only my soul that has no worth for them, but one does not fuck a soul. Besides, it is this that really makes them wild for us." She snapped the garter on her thigh. It was banded in red, black, and gold. "The colors of the kaiser's Germany. The new code for them, now that they can no longer fly the flag with the black pretzel."
"And you're okay with this kind of work? Whipping Hitlerites into a frenzy?"
"I do not have to like the customers, so long as they pay at the door." She stood—she was tall, at least five foot ten. "This Sabine you speak of."
"Yes?"
Angela looked him over and exhaled slowly. "You will not find her."
"You say that like you know her."
"I say it as one who knows the way human people act. She is, how you say, a needle of the haystack."
"In. A needle _in_ a haystack."
She waved it away.
Cain wrote his name and the phone number for the station house on a blank page in his notebook and tore it out.
"Here. In case you hear anything more about Sabine. Or about any guy gone missing who was carrying a torch for her."
"A torch?"
"In love with." He eyed her legs for a second too long. "Or lust."
She glanced at the paper.
"Cain. The one from the Bible who killed his brother."
He wished people would quit bringing that up. In Horton, where everyone had a Bible, they'd been too embarrassed to mention it, there at the end anyway. She folded the page. For a moment he thought she would toss it onto the floor with the spilled popcorn and rat droppings. Instead she tucked it into the top band of her stocking, next to the garter on her right leg.
"And from your very own not-a-Polizei notebook," she said. "How exciting for me."
She turned and headed up the aisle, speaking over her shoulder as she ascended into darkness.
"The show begins at eight. If you are interested."
Interested in what? he wondered. Under other circumstances, he supposed he might have been _too_ interested, given her languid manner, her lack of clothing. But as his eyes adjusted to the dimness Cain had seen the vacancy and despair deep within her eyes. He found himself wishing glumly that she'd put on some clean, sensible clothes and go sleep it off. If he was interested in anything where Angela was concerned, it would be buying her a cup of coffee and a hot meal.
Cain shut his notebook and sighed, his breath clouding the dim air. He supposed Angela was right about one thing. Up here he was inexperienced in just about everything, especially insular little expat communities like Yorkville, where you'd need a local guide to make your way below the surface. Even then you'd probably never penetrate to the deeper workings. But at least now he felt pretty sure that the Sabine on the dead man's tattoo wasn't some girl back in Germany. A new lead, then, however thin.
He checked his watch. Time to get moving if he was going to make that appointment. He let himself out and walked west to the IRT at Lexington, where he took a last glance at Manhattan's Little Deutschland before heading downstairs.
# 3
AN EXPRESS TRAIN SPIT HIM OUT several blocks south of his destination. The short walk uptown turned out to be a primer in the local geography of power.
At the lower end was La Guardia's fiefdom, City Hall, as ornately pretty as a Southern state capitol with its white columns and domed clock tower facing onto a park. From there the buildings got bigger and more imposing. The hulking office tower for the Borough of Manhattan gave way to the federal courthouse, so tall that he stopped to count the floors—twenty-seven? twenty-eight? Then came the colonnaded fortress housing the New York State Supreme Court, followed by a massive, multi-wing criminal justice center where the new DA, Frank Hogan, ruled the roost.
Finally, as Centre Street neared its terminus, there on the right was police headquarters, four stories of classical grandeur with six Corinthian columns across the front. Seated above them on a peaked roof was some sort of Lady Justice on a throne. Stone lions stood guard to either side of the front steps—appropriate, since Cain felt like a gladiator about to enter the coliseum. But he smiled when he noticed a gun shop across the street, Frank Lava's, with a sign in the shape of a giant revolver hanging out front. The six-foot barrel appeared to be aimed right at the space between the lions.
The lobby was more befitting of a grand hotel than a cop shop—marble floors, a lofty ceiling of gilded florets. Unlike the station house, where you could almost feel the bustle through the soles of your shoes, this place was hushed, giving him the idea that people arrived early and seldom left their desks until quitting time.
A uniform manned the reception desk. He eyed Cain suspiciously.
"You have an appointment?"
"So I'm told." He showed his shield. "Detective Sergeant Cain."
The uniform glanced down at a ledger and shook his head.
"Who you here to see?"
"All they gave me was a number, room 114-B. Is that in the basement?"
The deskman raised his eyebrows at the mention of the number, and he reappraised Cain from head to toe.
"You wait right where you are."
He picked up a black Bakelite phone, dialed a number, and turned away as he spoke: "He's here...Yes...Of course, sir."
He hung up, looking a little edgy, then spoke sternly.
"He's on his way."
"Who?"
The guy said nothing. But his grave expression said that it must be someone important. Thirty seconds passed in silence while the uniform kept a close watch, as if Cain might try to bolt for the exit. Brisk footsteps echoed off the marble, and Cain turned to see a slim man in a dark suit, no uniform, come to a halt twenty yards out and place his hands on his hips. Cain waited a second, then decided he was supposed to speak first.
"Hi. I'm—"
"I know who you are. This way."
The suit pivoted smartly and headed toward a bank of elevators in the far corner. Cain had to hustle to catch up, stepping aboard just as the doors slid shut. He'd been expecting a trip to the basement, but the button for the second floor was already pushed.
"Room 114-B is upstairs?"
No answer. Maybe the number was part of some code, special appointments only. The attendant out front hadn't even asked him to sign in, which told him no one wanted any record of his visit. The elevator moaned to a halt, and the man stepped off without a word. Cain followed him down a wide hallway to an oak door with gilded lettering: "Commissioner Lewis J. Valentine." Inside, a secretary sat at a desk guarding another door.
"Go right in," she said, without even glancing at him. Cain did as she said.
It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the office. In the middle of the room was a huge walnut desk on a dark Oriental rug, so he headed that way. A few papers were stacked atop the desk next to an open file folder with Cain's name on it. There were two telephones. Behind the desk, a wide leather swivel chair, empty. Across the room, a tall, bulky man in a gray double-breasted suit stood in profile by a high window with the curtains pulled back. He was staring down at Centre Street, and he spoke without turning.
"Be seated."
Two ladder-back chairs faced the desk. Cain took the one on the right and sat uncomfortably while keeping an eye on Valentine, who was still gazing out the window. After an awkward pause the commissioner finally made his way toward the desk, moving with the swagger of a beat cop, needing only a night stick to complete the effect. He bypassed the desk and came straight at Cain, leaning low and getting down in his face.
Lewis Valentine had narrow eyes and a small mouth which hinted at sternness, perhaps cruelty. His large ears leaned outward at the top, like they were bearing extra weight. Cain wanted to back away, but was already pressed flat against the chair.
"Before you even open your mouth, let's make one thing crystal clear." Valentine spoke slowly, deliberately. "No matter what you might hear, or what you might think, you didn't get this job due to some political connection. You're not here because some high-hatting buff made a phone call. The day of the rabbi is over. There is no longer any room in this department for parasites and drones. Understood?"
"Understood."
Rabbi. There it was again. Valentine straightened, but didn't back away.
"This father-in-law of yours, Harris what's-his-name."
"Euston."
"He's nothing to me, and nothing to this department. A two-bit Tammany hack in the legal trade, a police buff of the worst order. Throws us a few worthless tips. Kicks in a donation or two to the benevolent fund, then acts like we owe him a favor and thinks he can do whatever he damn well pleases, him and his white-shoe clients. Says 'Jump' and some flunky for the DA says 'How high?' so he probably thinks this department still operates the same way. Hell, he even sent you a copy of the police exam so you could cheat your way in. The sergeant's exam, too."
_"Sir?"_
Valentine closed in again with alarming quickness and pressed a forefinger to Cain's chest.
"Don't act like you don't understand! I saw your test scores. You even knew to miss a few on purpose!"
Cain would have protested, except everything Valentine said was true—right down to the way Euston had advised him to answer a few questions incorrectly in order to avoid raising suspicion. It was a damned hard test, they both were, so Euston had mailed him "study copies" in advance with the correct answers marked. They'd arrived in Horton in a thick manila envelope with the letterhead of Euston's law firm, only a week before Cain moved north. A day later the train ticket and the lease to his apartment had appeared in another large corporate envelope, along with a 475-page blue clothbound volume entitled _Rules and Regulations and Manual of Procedure of the Police Department of the City of New York._ Euston had then telephoned on a scratchy connection to describe the job Cain would be filling, provided he completed the six weeks of instruction and passed the tests. Euston told him not to lose the manual because it would cost a dollar to replace it. His father-in-law had also discussed a few other topics, none of which Cain would dare mention now.
Valentine removed his finger and eased back a step, but remained standing.
"At least you couldn't fake the marksmanship test. At ninety-six you rated out as expert, which was impressive until I reviewed your recent history with firearms."
The remark hit home, and Cain could tell Valentine knew it. He felt the color rising in his cheeks as they stared at each other in silence. The commissioner seemed to be daring him to answer, so Cain waited him out.
"All of this is my way of telling you that you are currently employed on my sufferance alone. I could fire you at any moment."
"Then do it."
_"What?"_ Valentine's body went rigid.
"Fire me, then. Get it over with."
Valentine again closed the gap between them.
"If you don't want this job, then that's exactly what I'll do!"
Cain stood, his anger getting the best of him. They were face to face now, inches apart, and he could tell that Valentine could hardly believe it. The commissioner didn't budge, but Cain thought he saw a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, so he seized the advantage and spoke first.
"I haven't worked this job long enough to know if I want it. I _need_ it, that's for sure. Without it I don't eat. But frankly, the way I'm feeling I can take it or leave it when it comes to food, drink, and sleep. If I didn't have a bad leg I'd be in the Army by now, someplace where I could forget all about my 'history with firearms,' as you put it. So maybe you should just skip the bullshit and say what it is you want from me. Sir."
Valentine eyed him carefully, the two of them breathing heavily. Cain could smell his aftershave, bringing to mind a barber with a straight razor and the need to stay perfectly still.
"For starters, I want you to back off and sit down."
Cain nodded, their foreheads practically bumping. Then he sat. This time Valentine didn't close the gap.
"Let me tell you something about this department that you, in your towering ignorance and sense of privilege, probably had no idea about. We're an educated force now. The new officers, anyway, and that's the one damn thing you have going for you, your college degree. But don't believe for even a second that you're any smarter than anyone else you came aboard with, understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"This job you took so cavalierly. Do you have any idea how many men took the police exam last time we offered it?"
"No, sir."
"Thirty thousand. Know how many slots those thirty thousand were competing for?"
"No, sir."
"Twelve hundred. And now, even with a war on, these jobs are in such demand that St. John's, Fordham, NYU, and City College— _all_ of them!—are offering courses in police procedure. You can be damn sure that every goddamn patrolman in that station house of yours knows one thing about you, and it's that you're a sergeant and they're not, which means you're making six hundred a year more than them. And until they pass the next sergeant's exam they'll hold that over your head like a noose, and unless you demonstrate to me that you can do the job, then I'm all for letting them hang you by that noose for as long as they like. You got that?"
"Loud and clear."
"Then let's get down to business, which starts with the real reason you were hired. _My_ reason, not some political parasite's. For one thing, I'm losing men to every goddamn branch of the Armed Forces. I'm more than a thousand officers down from what I'm budgeted for, at a time when order and security matter more than ever. So when a chance arose to hire someone outside the usual channels, I took it. So there's that."
"Okay."
"But mostly I hired you for one assignment. A job for an outsider, someone with no ties to this city or, more to the point, no history of working for the parasitic sons of bitches of the old machine. Which is why any interests of your goddamn father-in-law had better be cleared from your mind from this point forward. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"If he ever asks you for a favor—for himself or for any of his goddamn Tammany friends—you're to tell him no and notify me straightaway. Better still, don't speak with him at all. And, by the way, next time one of those bed bugs from the newspapers asks you about a case, you're to refer him to regulation one sixty-one, which you damn well should've known but probably didn't because it wasn't on your copy of the exam. It's _my_ rule, and it forbids police officers from speaking in any official capacity to the press."
Cain blushed. Sam Willett must have printed his name in this morning's _Daily News._ Cain hadn't yet had the nerve to check.
"Yes, sir."
"All right, then. Listen up. This assignment is confidential, and you'll be carrying it out in addition to your regular duties."
Cain nodded. Longer hours coming. And by the sound of it, perhaps some danger and aggravation. So be it.
"When Mayor La Guardia put me in charge, my first mission as head of this department was reform. An end to the old ways. No more rabbis, no more bullshit influence from the Tammany rabble or anyone else. No more getting busted down to uniform because you wouldn't do favors for the ward bosses—which happened to me twice, goddamn it! When I took over, the biggest dens of loafers and hacks were the detective division and the goddamn plainclothesmen in vice. I busted more than a hundred of them down or out of the ranks. I also brought back the DD-64, to hold all those bastards accountable for every working hour of every working day."
Cain was already well acquainted with the DD-64—a hated bit of paperwork in which every detective had to keep an account of his daily activities and turn it in at the end of every quarter. It was a pain in the ass, and, for some, an exercise in creative writing. Not that he was about to tell Valentine. Not that he would have been able to. The man was on a roll, pacing back and forth behind his desk and moving his hands like a Baptist in the pulpit.
"In my first six years alone I dismissed three hundred policemen, rebuked four thousand, and otherwise disciplined more than eight thousand. And a goddamn great many of those were either detectives or part of the plainclothes bureau, caught up in all that gambling and vice. But the work of reform is never done. And, right now, whenever I sniff the air around Manhattan the biggest stench always seems to be coming out of the fourteenth precinct. The Tenderloin's part of the problem, of course, or what's left of it. Not to mention the floating crap games. Hell, there's a bookie named Ericson who's been running his racket there for years, completely unimpeded no matter how many times I put out the word to get his ass. Far as I can tell, up in the fourteenth favors are still getting done for all the wrong people, and for all the wrong reasons."
Valentine came back out from behind his desk and again stalked over to Cain, pointing at his chest.
"Arrests are being made, I do know that, and the magistrates are pushing the charges forward like they're supposed to. That end has been cleaned up. But afterward?" He threw up his hands. "Things are falling off the table. Cases are disappearing. I hear of an arrest, or a raid, and then I don't hear a thing more. It started in January, the month after the Japs hit us. Ever since then, nothing. Not from the fourteenth. No results in either vice or gambling, and your job is to find out why."
"So you want me to be your eyes and ears?"
"Hell, if that's all I needed I'd hire a stool pigeon, or a whole roomful. You're a _detective,_ goddamn it! Build a case! Hard facts. Real evidence. Something that can stand up before a board of inquiry, or even a grand jury for this new DA, Hogan. Not that all of his people are necessarily on the straight and narrow. Follow any lead, wherever it takes you. But it started in January, so the first thing you should probably do is have a look at the paperwork."
The arrest reports, he meant, plus the reams of other dockets and blotter items and disposition reports that cops had to fill out. All of those items ended up in the Record Room, which for reasons unknown to Cain was referred to as the "95 Room" by everyone at the station house. It was the domain of a handful of officers, the so-called 95 men, who kept the place under lock and key. Meaning that for Cain to "have a look at the paperwork" would be easier said than done.
"I just started," Cain said. "I barely know a soul. And when I do get to know them, I might even like them."
"I didn't say it would be easy. That's why I'm giving you three months."
_"Three months?"_
"As for the question of who you like and don't like, I'm counting on the abilities and talents you exhibited in your previous employment to overcome those sorts of emotions." He tapped the papers on his desk. "If your recent past shows anything, it's that your instinct for self-preservation far exceeds any regard for the health and well-being of your colleagues. While I normally see that as detestable, in this kind of case it's an absolute necessity."
Cain flushed again, this time in anger.
"You've misread the facts of that incident."
"Your file has already spoken for you, and was far more convincing."
Cain stood, furious, but the words backed up in his throat. What could he do, anyway? Complain to headquarters? Valentine continued.
"Your contact here will be Lieutenant Edward Meyer, of my confidential squad. Spring seven, three-one-two-four. Memorize that number. Never try to contact me. Meyer only. If I need to see you, you'll know it."
"You're misreading me, sir, and if you'd let me explain—"
"Just do the job. And if I've misread you, then you'd better start saving your money, because without results you'll be out on your ass three months from now. Archer!"
The door opened. The suit who'd escorted Cain upstairs reappeared. Valentine shut the file on his desk and slid it into a drawer. He didn't say good luck, didn't say goodbye, and didn't look up as Cain left the room.
Cain followed Archer to the elevators. A uniform with all sorts of stripes started to board with them, but Archer shook his head and the guy backed off. As they were reaching the ground floor, Archer pulled a handle and the car shuddered to a stop. He turned to Cain.
"Word to the wise?"
His voice was calm, but with a chilly undertone, like someone you'd hear on the radio at three in the morning and know by his tone that he sat alone in an empty, darkened studio.
"Okay."
"And this stays here. Understood?"
Cain nodded.
"You're not the first mug to draw one of these details, and you won't be the last. But maybe you should know how _not_ to do the job. Last September the commish called in a 'tec from up in the two-three. Good sleuth, clean as a whistle. But lazy, so Valentine figures he needs a kick in the ass. He sends him over to Brooklyn with the same marching orders."
"And?"
Archer shook his head.
"Sat on his ass, mostly. Figured that if the brethren ever found out what he was up to that he'd end up facedown in the East River, or tied up in butcher paper, a piece at a time. And let me tell you, ace, if there's one thing Valentine hates more than a fuckup, it's a do-nothing."
"He lost his job?"
"That's what the commish would tell you. It's probably even what he believes. He never gets involved in the details of the severance arrangements."
"That's your department?"
Archer smiled. "Hey, I figured why just cut a guy loose when he's got those kinds of secrets to spill? So I slipped a word to the brethren about what he'd been up to. Last I heard, he'd retired. To three different boroughs, all at the same time. In butcher paper, you know?"
Archer seemed to get a thrill out of Cain's queasy reaction. Archer threw back the handle, and the jolting elevator resumed its descent. The doors slid open onto the marble lobby, empty as before. Cain stepped off, then turned so they were face to face across the opening.
"Your name's Archer, right?"
"Linwood Archer. You'll be hearing from me."
"Valentine said my contact is supposed to be Lieutenant Meyer."
"Officially, yes. I'm more on the efficiency side of things."
"Efficiency," Cain repeated, pondering the implications.
"You got something to report, you give it to me. Let me worry about Meyer."
"What's your rank and title?"
Archer smiled. The doors slid shut.
When Cain got back to the station house, he opened the departmental phone directory and flipped the pages to the first letter of the alphabet.
There was no listing for Linwood Archer.
# 4
ON THE FOLLOWING MONDAY, Cain managed to arouse the suspicion of his colleagues and get pulled off his one and only murder investigation, all before he'd poured his first cup of coffee. He set those events in motion when Captain Mulhearn caught him rummaging through a tray of arrest reports in the 95 Room, while the two duty officers obliviously compared snapshots from a recent fishing trip.
"Looking for something, Citizen Cain?"
The duty officers looked up abruptly, as if noticing Cain's presence for the first time.
"They, uh, seem to have misfiled my paperwork from the other day," Cain said.
"We did?" one of the 95 men answered, an officer named Steele.
"Well, it won't be in the overnight basket, as you well know," Mulhearn said. "Maybe next time one of you two nimrods will take notice when this fox enters the henhouse."
"Sure, Cap'n." Steele held up one of the snapshots. "Hey, did you get a load of these cods Rose hooked off Long Island? Ten pounders!"
Mulhearn shook his head.
"Sorry," Cain mumbled. "I'm still learning where everything goes around here."
A feeble excuse, although it would have been more convincing if he hadn't blushed a deep red. Mulhearn steered him toward the door. When they were out in the hallway he backed Cain against the wall.
"Listen, Citizen Cain." Cain already disliked the nickname, which Mulhearn had presumably taken from the overblown movie that had come out the previous fall. "Just 'cause you're a detective sergeant with some juice don't mean that I can't assign you to switchboard duty for a month. But maybe that would be right down your alley, answering everybody's calls for them."
Cain tried not to look away. Maybe this was how the doomed cop in Brooklyn got started toward his dismembered "retirement."
"I don't know what you were really looking for in there, Cain, but since you already seem interested in branching out your duties, how 'bout we go make some adjustments to your schedule? Upstairs."
When they reached the second floor, Mulhearn steered Cain by the arm across the floor of the squad room—the wide, shallow chamber where all the detectives worked. He tugged Cain to the board along one side where the duty rosters were posted. By now, every man in the room was watching.
"Here we go," he said, talking loudly enough for all to hear. "This floater of yours, the homicide from the other night." The room was silent as Mulhearn jabbed a finger on the blackboard just beneath Cain's name. Cain hadn't felt this belittled since mean old Miss Vernon had pulled him by his ear up to the blackboard in third grade.
"From what I've seen, you got no leads at all. Hell, you haven't even made an ID. So we're moving it to inactive. Here." He handed Cain an eraser. "You whiffed on that one, Citizen Cain. Strike one."
"But I—"
"If you want it back, give me an ID by the end of the day. Otherwise, I'll be shipping it over to the Borough Homicide Bureau at the close of business. So I don't want to see it showing up on any more of your goddamn DD-64s for even ten minutes' worth of your time. Got it?"
"Yes, sir." Cain sheepishly erased it from the board. Never mind how he was supposed to ID the victim in the next eight hours if he couldn't work the case.
"And remember, tomorrow night you're coming out for choir practice with the rest of us."
"Choir practice?"
"Drinks," someone behind him offered, setting off a few giggles.
"At Caruso's on Eighth, just above 44th," Mulhearn continued. "Right after quitting time." He turned to face the rest of the room. "Everyone else on board for that?"
"Yes, sir," came the replies—some shouted, others mumbled. Mulhearn lowered his voice, as if to pretend the words were meant for him alone, even though he was still loud enough to overhear.
"If I or anyone else ever catches you lurking around the 95 Room again without a good reason, then you'll be busted down to radio patrol faster than water off a duck's ass. Now get the fuck to work, nimrod."
Cain turned toward his desk. His colleagues had their heads down, trying to look busy. There were a few muffled laughs, but this was no time for challenges. The damage was done. And tomorrow night he'd be drinking with all of them. He could hardly wait.
Even on a good day, the squad room could be oppressive. Ten detectives shared floor space in two long rows of battered gray desks, with a row of windows along the back. Hovering above the room was a fog bank of cigarette smoke that rolled and tumbled like it might eventually produce rain. Mulhearn presided from a glass cubicle up front. Six of the detectives formed the squad for the 14th precinct, with their own lieutenant. The four desks closest to Mulhearn's office were posted to district level—Cain, Wat Foley, Bert Simmons, and Yuri Zharkov, which meant technically they were supposed to handle the bigger cases for an area covering four precincts—the 14th, plus the 10th, 18th, and 20th.
Zharkov, a bulky hawk-nosed Russian in his late forties who spoke six languages, was the only one who'd yet made an effort to make Cain feel at home. The previous Friday they'd shared lunch on a park bench, swapping stories and eating from a greasy brown bag of piroshki—fried Slavic treats that Zharkov had picked up from a street vendor. Sort of like hushpuppies, except filled with ground meat and cabbage. Zharkov had come to New York as a boy in 1919 after his family migrated halfway across Russia, fleeing first the tsar and then the Bolsheviks. In his uniform days he had walked a beat in the rough-and-tumble 7th on the Lower East Side, strolling the waterfront from Clinton to Delancey with a Cossack's zeal for the well-thumped cranium.
With their four adjacent precincts, the gumshoes of the third district covered about a sixth of Manhattan, from 14th Street up to 86th, bordered to the west by the Hudson, and to the east by Central Park and, below 59th, by Fifth Avenue. Plenty of interesting territory lay within—the meatpacking and garment districts of Chelsea; the glitz joints of Times Square; the workaday Midtown glories of Herald Square and the Empire State Building; the huge new complex of Rockefeller Center, with its sleek art deco towers that now dominated the Midtown skyline; and, above Columbus Circle, the high rent district along Central Park West over toward the lower end of Riverside Park. Almost as a throw-in you had the fleshpot holdovers of the Tenderloin, which Valentine had griped about even though it was a shadow of its old self, with a few vestiges scattered near Times Square, kept alive by mob money and the remnants of Tammany influence.
Mulhearn began most mornings by standing in his office doorway, browsing a stack of newspapers that were so fresh you could smell the ink. He offered dramatic readings of stories that struck his fancy. Like having their very own Walter Winchell, although the detectives often rolled their eyes when he wasn't looking.
"Hey, here's one for you guys," Mulhearn announced, as Cain settled in. "Says here that some mug got thirty days for mouthing off about the war. Told a sailor he was fighting for a bunch of rich capitalists, and that FDR's no better than Hitler."
"Thirty days for that?" Zharkov sounded shocked.
"Some bum turned him in, and the judge threw the book at him. Said, 'The right of free speech is limited by considerations of public welfare.' "
"Whose public welfare was he endangering?" Wat Foley asked.
"His own, I guess. Judge said if he'd ticked off the sailor enough, 'Violence might easily have ensued.' "
"So this clown got thirty days to save him from getting his ass kicked? Jiminy fucking Christmas."
"Judges, huh?"
Mulhearn put down his _Herald-Tribune_ and picked up the _Times._ Cain looked around at his colleagues, wondering who was clean, who was dirty. It was a no-win assignment. At best, he'd end up as the house stool pigeon. At worst, well, why even think about it?
"Hey, Simmons, here's one for you," Mulhearn announced. "Some air ace in the Pacific who bagged six Japs on his last mission? The guys who built his plane out at the Grumman plant on Long Island got together a collection and bought him, get this, _one thousand, one hundred and fifty_ cartons of smokes. Shit, that would keep you going at least a month."
"Maybe two," Simmons said. "I been cuttin' back."
Cain, meanwhile, was still so frazzled that he'd forgotten to check his own messages, which he'd scooped up just before Mulhearn had caught him poking around.
The switchboard had taken one call for him, from Harris Euston. That made four calls in the past three days from his father-in-law, none of which Cain had returned. After the meeting with Valentine he felt less inclined than ever, although he supposed he owed Euston big-time. He stared at his phone, glanced at the number, then tossed it in the trash. Less than a week on the job, and he already felt obligated to way too many people.
Cain got so lost in that thought that he didn't notice anyone approaching until Desk Sergeant Romo was practically on top of him. Romo was out of breath, like he'd run upstairs.
"Was going to collar you on your way upstairs," Romo said. "But with Mulhearn right on your ass it didn't look like a good time."
"You got that right. What's up?"
"There's this guy." He gestured over his shoulder. "Been bugging the shit out of everybody at the front desk. Claims he has to see you."
"Me?"
"And nobody else. Been here for three hours."
_"Three hours?"_
"Showed up before sunrise, while the night squad was still on. Won't say what it's about, and won't take no for an answer. Looks too old to hit over the head, so I figured I'd bring him on up, let you sort it out."
"Send him over."
"He's the guy over by Mulhearn. Guess I better grab him before he gets dragged into the show."
Cain took a look, and his spirits sank. Pale thin face, the color of oatmeal, with uncombed white hair sprouting from beneath the sides of a ratty wool cap. Unshaven, with white stubble. The man had supposedly been waiting indoors for hours, yet he was still bundled up against the elements in a scarf and a long mud-spattered overcoat that might have seen duty in the trenches of the First World War. Cain felt a chill just looking at him, as if the old guy had managed to keep winter alive an extra month and carried the remnants around with him. His blinking eyes emanated an air of frailty. Only the stitching of his clothing seemed to be holding him together. Unbutton the coat and he might collapse into a pile of bones.
"Good God. Is he even alive?"
"Like I said. We didn't exactly want to shove him out the door. If he's a crackpot, call downstairs and I'll send Maloney up."
Maloney. Now there was a fate Cain wouldn't wish on anyone. A big, bluff patrolman with scabbed knuckles and a face the color of corned beef.
"I'll handle it."
Romo gently pointed the man toward Cain's desk. The fellow sprang into motion with surprising agility, and with each successive step seemed to shed another year, so that by the time he reached the desk Cain was almost wondering if he was an actor, practicing for a role.
"Have a seat." Cain motioned toward a chair.
The man pulled off his cap, unleashing a gust of boiled cabbage and wet wool. Up close his eyes were cloudless and blue, not frail at all. If his clothing said December, his irises spoke of mid-June, one of those mornings in early summer with bees buzzing and the sense that the day might last forever. He looked alert, intelligent, and, best of all, lucid. Whatever had brought him, he probably wasn't a crank.
"My thanks to you, Detective Cain, for agreeing to see me. I am here to do my duty as a citizen. In fact, I believe that I can assist you in one of your current inquiries."
Cain, just beginning to decipher local accents, couldn't place this one. The man's sentences had started somewhere in Russia, doubled back toward Germany, and had even seemed to detour briefly through Rome before coming to rest in what sounded like Brooklyn, a shout from a clerk in a deli.
"First, tell me your name."
"Ah, yes."
He withdrew a white business card from his overcoat. It was curiously uninformative—raised black lettering on a blank background, with the name DANZIGER on top, all in caps, and the word "Information" underneath. That was all. No address. No phone number.
Cain turned it over. Blank. He took out his notebook.
"I need a _full_ name. And your place of residence."
The man frowned, as if this was more than he'd bargained for.
"Maximilian Danziger."
"Do people call you Max?"
"They call me Danziger."
"Of course. And your address?"
"Rivington Street. Number one seventy-four."
The Lower East Side. He'd come a long way, especially for such an early arrival.
"You live in the seventh precinct. What business brings you up here?"
Danziger leaned forward, blue eyes glittering as he turned his cap in his hands.
"I am here to offer my assistance in the case of the corpse found on the sixth of April, at the docks along the Hudson. It was your first day on duty, if I am not mistaken?"
There was no hint of smugness, humor, or triumph in the man's eyes. Just the same solid resolve as before. Cain glanced again at the business card.
"What's your line of work, Mr. Danziger? Are you some kind of private dick?"
"Dick?" Furrowed brow, followed by dawning comprehension. "I see. You mean like in the pictures. A private eye. As with W. C. Fields, _The Bank Dick._ " He smiled appreciatively. "No. Not a dick. But I have a name for you, the name of the man you found in the river. I believe I may also have a few ideas as to why he was killed. Leads, as a dick might say."
Cain tried to not get his hopes up. Maybe the fellow was a nut, after all. But for the moment he was Cain's only chance to put his one murder case back on the duty board before Mulhearn shipped it out at the end of the day.
"Let's start with the name."
"Werner Hansch." Danziger spelled it.
Cain flipped open his notebook. Seeing that he had turned to a letter he'd begun writing to Olivia the night before, he flipped to the next page even as he saw Danziger notice.
"What makes you think that the body is Mr. Hansch?"
Danziger again turned his hat in his hand. As before, he spoke slowly, deliberately, picking his way forward through the sentence as if each word was a stepping stone.
"Some of the details published in the newspaper story."
"Such as?"
"The tattoo, with the name Sabine."
"You've seen him when he wasn't wearing a shirt?"
Danziger shook his head.
"He mentioned it once. The girl. Sabine worked in that theater, the one on the ticket stub you found."
Confirming that Angela Feinman had lied to him, Cain thought. To protect Sabine, perhaps.
"Also, Blackjack was his brand of gum, the same as you found in his pocket. He used to leave gobs of it stuck to the bricks outside my door."
"Interesting. But not exactly definitive proof."
"I have other reasons. More definitive, as you say. But I am not yet willing to discuss them."
"May I ask why?"
"I am not yet certain you can be trusted with this information."
Cain put down his notebook.
"Mr. Danziger, I'm a police officer."
"Exactly."
It was an answer Valentine would have enjoyed, given his mistrust of the 14th precinct. Cain decided to overlook it for now.
"If you've got information material to a homicide investigation then it's your duty as a citizen to offer it. But for the moment we'll work around that. This Mr. Hansch, is he a frequent visitor to your home?"
"He was a customer of mine. Of my business."
"Which is what, exactly? I'm afraid that the word 'Information' isn't very, well, informative."
"It suffices for my customers. Mostly what I do is write letters. For those who are unable to write for themselves. It is a common need where I live."
"So Mr. Hansch is illiterate?"
"Illiterate, and he speaks—begging your pardon, _spoke_ —very little English. His mother tongue was German. He began employing my services several weeks ago, and I have his letters. All of his correspondence, for the entire period."
Cain picked up his notebook again, pen poised in the air.
"You have Mr. Hansch's letters? His personal mail?"
"As I said."
Cain leaned forward. Now he was hooked.
"I'd very much like to see those letters. Provided, of course, that the body in question is that of Mr. Hansch."
Cain was a bit surprised by his own syntax. He wondered if Danziger's somewhat formal cadences often had this effect on others.
"Of course. Although I do not have them with me at the moment. I presumed that an identification of the body might first be in order, so for the time being I have secreted them in a safe location, outside of my home."
"Perhaps you could take me there."
"Perhaps."
"In the meantime, would you be prepared to accompany me to the morgue?"
"It is the course of action that I expected. It is why I came."
"Glad to hear it, sir."
Danziger reached across the desk and gently placed a bony hand upon Cain's sleeve. Then, with a look of deepest concern, he said, "But first, sir, please tell me something. How much longer before your daughter arrives in the city?"
Cain, usually a master of the poker face when dealing with witnesses and suspects, couldn't prevent his mouth from dropping open in surprise. A second or two passed before he spoke.
"How do you know about my daughter?"
"Olivia, is it not? Named by her mother. Did she choose it from Shakespeare?"
Cain nodded, transfixed. Had the old man seen the page in his notebook? Even then, how would he have known how Olivia got her name? Impressive, but possibly a trick, like the way fortune-tellers fleeced your wallet and guessed at your life story from the contents. Or, worse, maybe this was all a joke, a nasty prank engineered by his new colleagues. He glanced around him, half expecting to be greeted by a host of smiles and winks, the whole thing a ruse. But no one seemed the slightest bit interested in either him or the old man.
"Good guess," he answered. "It's from _Twelfth Night._ "
"An educated guess, of course. Otherwise I would not have ventured it. Perhaps I was only trying to impress you."
"You succeeded."
"I did not ask about your daughter in order to be intrusive, or threatening. I asked because I am hoping her arrival will come as late as possible, preferably after the matter before us has been concluded."
"And why is that?"
"It is one thing for you or me to risk life and limb, quite another to involve a child. So, while we must work carefully, we must also work quickly."
" 'We,' Mr. Danziger?"
"Of course. I have rearranged my schedule to make myself available to assist in your inquiries. Provided we come to an understanding, of course. As you said, it is my duty as a citizen, especially considering the dangerous element we are likely to be dealing with."
"That's quite a statement. What makes you so sure about this 'dangerous element'? Apart from a dead body, of course."
"As I said, there are matters I would prefer to discuss only after ensuring that the body is that of Herr Hansch."
"And after being assured that you can trust me."
"Yes, there is also that."
Cain nodded, not sure whether to smile or frown. So he just stared, gaping at Danziger as if he were a spirit that had descended from the cloud of smoke near the ceiling. He shook his head, as if to clear it. Part of him now almost hoped the body _wasn't_ Hansch. Better to have an unsolved case, perhaps, than to get entangled with this strange old mystic who seemed to know more than he should. Cain glanced again at the calling card. Information, indeed. He cleared his throat and stood.
"In that case," he said, "we'd better go have a look at the body."
# 5
IT WAS CAIN'S FIRST TRIP to the city morgue. He told Danziger they'd have to travel by bus, which would require some walking.
"I'd drive you, but, well—"
"Rationing, yes?"
Cain nodded.
"Just as well. I am not accustomed to luxuries. The last time I took a taxi was 1928."
Fourteen years ago. Must have been a grand occasion, or maybe the man had money then. Another casualty of the Depression, perhaps. It stirred Cain's curiosity, but Danziger didn't seem like the type to readily talk about himself. He'd be too busy finding out more about you.
Cain's hopes for morgues were always minimal: freshly mopped floors and strong refrigeration. Some of the ones back in his home state had failed on both counts, and his nose remembered. At least this time there would be no grieving relatives to deal with. Danziger didn't seem the least bit bereaved by the man's demise. Cain wondered if he was that detached from all his customers.
The entrance to the city mortuary, as it was officially known, was on 29th, just off First Avenue in one of the hulking brick buildings at Bellevue Hospital, which was better known for housing nuts and drunks. The dead resided in a building on the south side of the complex, and their quarters were like a lot of the city's housing—cramped and overcrowded, with low ceilings and multiple floors, a tenement of corpses. It was surprisingly noisy, with gurgling pipes, creaking floorboards, and tile walls that echoed every footstep as attendants came and went.
They approached the duty clerk at the front desk. Someone had just parked a gurney off to the side carrying the body of a boy with a livid bruise on his forehead. He was about Olivia's age. His clothes were torn and there was still a touch of color in his cheeks, as if he'd been whisked here straight from a game of stickball. Cain felt a catch in his throat as he announced his name and his business.
"So you're here for one of the John Does, then?" The clerk opened a big clothbound ledger.
"From last Monday night. Fished out of the Hudson. My name should be on the paperwork."
"Here we go. Third floor. Murphy here will take you." He nodded toward a stooped man in white scrubs who'd materialized next to the dead child. "Doc Bolton's report is in, too, if you want to see it."
Cain signed for a copy, which the clerk hammered with a rubber stamp.
"Looks like he didn't get around to the autopsy until Saturday," Cain said.
The clerk shrugged.
"Busy place. And your guy wasn't exactly a Vanderbilt. Who's your guest?" He nodded toward Danziger.
"Possible acquaintance of the deceased. I'm hoping to make an ID."
"You'll have to sign him in."
Paperwork completed, they followed the silent Murphy to the elevator, then trooped past rows of meat locker doorways to the end of the third floor corridor, where Murphy unlatched the door and opened it to a gust of sour, chilly air, smelling muddily of the Hudson. Murphy slid out a stretcher-like tray into the corridor. Cain recognized the body from the scene, except now it was naked, with a row of black stitches down the middle of his chest. Pinkish-blue lips gaped toward the ceiling. Filmy eyes were open to the bright lights.
"That is him," Danziger said calmly. "It is Werner Hansch."
"You're sure?"
"Positive."
Cain nodded to Murphy, who finally spoke. "Everybody got what they need, then?" He gripped the railings, ready to shove it back into cold storage, then flinched as Danziger placed a hand on his arm.
"I would like to inspect him a few seconds more, if it is permitted."
"Hey, he ain't in no rush."
Danziger leaned closer, peering down at Hansch's chest with the concentration of a surgeon.
"The burn marks are from cigarettes, in case you're wondering," Cain offered. "All those black dots. The autopsy confirmed it."
"Except for this one," Danziger said, pointing at Hansch's right breast. "This is what I was looking for. Do you see?"
It was a black semicircle, and at first Cain thought it was another burn. On closer inspection he saw that it was a tiny _L_ in black ink.
"Another tattoo?" Cain asked.
"The mark of the Silver Shirts. A group of fascists, or Nazis if you will."
"Like the American Bund?"
"Lesser known. Hansch was with a group of German laborers who went west when they reached this country. Seeking jobs, adventure. I suspect they were all familiar with the tales of Karl May. From the movies probably, since none of them could read. Perhaps they fancied they would become cowboys. Hansch was uneducated and poor, but willing to do hard labor. The Silver Shirts employed them in building a compound in the California hills. Then the war came, and the authorities shut them down. So Hansch and a few others wandered for a while, until they came east, to Yorkville, where I feel quite sure that any Bundists would have welcomed them with open arms."
"How do you know all this?"
"How do you think?"
"His letters?"
"And from things he told me, plus what I already knew, and then putting two and two together. In my part of the city, people talk about these groups quite a lot—the Silver Shirts, the Bundists. Even America First, led by the hero, Lindbergh. When you are a Jew, it is useful to know what sort of person might next come looking for you and your family."
"Then why would Hansch come to you, if, well...?"
"If he knew I was a Jew?"
"Yes."
"I asked myself this same question."
"And?"
"First, allow me to boast that my services are well known among speakers of certain languages, even beyond Rivington Street. I have a reputation for accuracy, and for complete discretion, a vow of privacy which I adhere to as strictly as a priest in a confessional. So there is that. Second, my occupation is not so common anymore. In Yorkville it has practically vanished, meaning it is not unheard of for me to receive, how do you call it...?"
He searched the air above him for the right word.
"Referrals?"
"Precisely. Yet, I suspect the greater reason Herr Hansch sought me out is that, Jew or not, he wanted someone who did not move in the same circles as he. Someone who was not at all likely to know his employers or his associates. He assumed it would be safer that way."
"Lot of good that did him."
Murphy, who by now was leaning on the rails of the tray, cleared his throat.
"We stand here much longer and the merchandise starts to stink."
Cain turned to Danziger.
"All done?"
"With him, yes. But there is another body to attend to before we depart."
" _Another_ one?"
"The one that made me so certain that this first one would be Herr Hansch." He turned toward Murphy. "So, if you please..."
Murphy shook his head. "Unh-uh. It don't work that way. If you gotta second name, you gotta get back in line, down at the desk. I can't be going door to door on your say-so, like you're the mayor or something."
"First, how 'bout an explanation," Cain said, still reeling. "A second body? How long have you known about this?"
"Since late last night, when I went to keep an appointment with another client, and instead came upon his remains."
"You were a witness?"
"Only to the aftermath. Police were present by the time I arrived. There should be paperwork in the appropriate precinct if you would like to check, but I will not be mentioned in it. The body, however...Well, if it is here then there is something I need to check while we have the chance."
"I'm going to need more information than that."
"Of course. When the time is right." He glanced at Murphy, then whispered to Cain. "Two men are dead, sir. Information travels quickly, and often by unlikely channels, and I do not wish for either of us to become the third due to a possible indiscretion."
Strangely worded, but Cain supposed it never hurt to be careful. "Then let's go back downstairs. It's your show from here."
Cain expected the duty clerk to raise an eyebrow at Danziger's request. He instead flipped open his ledger with a world-weary sigh, as if requests to view additional bodies happened all the time.
"Going for the daily double, huh? Got a name for this one, or is it another John Doe?"
"Klaus Schaller," Danziger said. "He would have arrived either last night or early this morning."
"Bingo. Just after two a.m. Third floor again, couple doors down from where you just were. Murphy?"
The attendant frowned and took them back upstairs. Cain eyed Danziger the whole way, trying to figure out this strange old fellow—or not so old, who could say for sure? He might be an oracle, might be an accomplice, or even a psychopath who got his jollies by killing people and then viewing the bodies later with a cop. Or maybe, as he claimed, he was simply the guy who opened everyone's mail, and wrote their replies. Although at the rate he seemed to be losing clients, he'd soon be out of a job.
Murphy slid out another tray from the cold. No smell from the river this time. The victim's chest had been blown open by some sort of blast, but once again there was a tiny black _L_ tattooed on his right breast.
"Another Silver Shirt?" Cain said.
"It would appear to be so."
"You didn't already know?"
"I was not positive for either man. Certain things they said led me to believe it would be the case. And I know they were friends. Or acquaintances, rather. Traveling companions, from Hansch's time out west." He lowered his voice again. "The rest I will tell you later."
Not that Murphy looked particularly interested. Cain nodded. The attendant slid the body back into the darkness and relatched the door with the same sound the door of Cain's icebox made when he put back the milk.
After they reached the street, he waited for Danziger to speak.
"Well?" he prompted.
"Not here."
"All right, then. We'll go back to the station house."
"Not there, either. In a police station there are too many ways in which your words can reach the wrong ears. Besides, as I told you, I do not have Herr Hansch's letters with me. But now I am willing to show them to you."
"So I passed the test?"
"For the most part."
Cain laughed. "What an honor. But how do I know _you're_ reliable?"
"What more do you need to know about me? I am a man of simple means, with nothing to gain from this situation but my honor. Is it my origins that trouble you?"
"Your origins?"
"As a _Mischling._ That is what Herr Hitler would call me. Descended from both Jews and Prussians. The blue of my eyes owes to the latter. West Prussia, city of Danzig. Thus my family name, from my father's side. My mother's people were Jews, a White Russian on one side, Bessarabians on the other, thrown together by pogroms and long rides in ox carts and, later, by transatlantic crossings in leaky, verminous ships. I arrived on these shores when I was eleven. By the time I was fourteen, both my parents were dead. I am fifty-two years old."
Cain was astounded by his age, having pegged him for well over sixty. Then, looking closer, he wasn't. Danziger was a shape-shifter, an apparition in progress—ancient one moment, deceptively youthful the next. The ratty clothes, the pale skin, and the silver hair all made him look ancient. But the moment he moved, or spoke, or squinted in thought, activating the wheels inside his head, the years melted away, and Cain could imagine him as a young man with big ambitions and a full head of lustrous black hair, a glamorous woman on his arm. Something seemed to have aged him prematurely, and something else kept him young, and safe with his secrets. He lived alone. Cain sensed that much already, and he wondered if it was by choice.
People as exotic as Danziger were new to Cain. In Horton you were pretty much either black or white, Baptist or not, rich or poor or of middling income. Go back far enough among your white neighbors and you might find German Lutherans on one side, Scots-Irish on the other. But no one in Horton ever paid much attention to that. The first things anyone ever wanted to know were where you went to church and whether you owned land. In all his years in Horton he'd met only one Jew, Mr. Goodman, who ran a general store. The only New Yorkers he'd come across in recent memory were his wife and his father-in-law, a starchy Episcopalian who fancied himself a "true Knickerbocker," whatever that meant, although it was probably safe to say Harris Euston had never rubbed elbows with the likes of Maximilian Danziger. Not if he could help it.
"You know, the way we're doing this isn't exactly proper procedure. If I wanted, I could run you in right now based on what you've already told me. You're a material witness in two homicides."
"I suggest we meet tomorrow evening," Danziger responded evenly, ignoring Cain's challenge. "By then I may have been able to gather more information. Let us say Caruso's, a saloon on Eighth, just above 44th. There is some drinking ritual you are supposed to attend there, yes?"
"So you know about that, too."
"It was the topic of much discussion in your station house. I could join it in progress."
"By that time I might be too drunk to care."
"You do not strike me as that sort of drinker. Besides, these police events, these rites of..." He searched for the word. "...of _initiation._ From what I know of them, you may be eager for a pretext to allow for an early exit."
"That bad, huh? As you wish, then. Caruso's it is."
Cain couldn't help but smile. Danziger was running this show, yet somehow he didn't mind. With any luck he might learn something. An old hand from one of the oldest parts of the city. There was probably a lot of knowledge to be tapped from that noggin of his.
"Tell me something. That last time you took a taxi, in 1928. What was the occasion?"
"A funeral."
"Oh." It stopped him for a second. "Family?"
"An employer."
"He must have been a big deal."
"He was."
Cain waited for more, but Danziger nodded in farewell and turned to go. Cain watched until he reached the corner and melted into a crowd that was babbling three languages at once. Everyone crossed the intersection together. Then a bus lumbered by, and they all disappeared.
By the time Cain boarded the subway, the events of the past hour had begun to take on the qualities of a dream, barely believable. But one thing seemed real enough. Now he had a name for the body from the Hudson, plus a second homicide that might be related. The case would go back up on the duty roster, whether that asshole Mulhearn liked it or not.
Cain smiled, already looking forward to his next meeting with this strange old fellow.
# 6
# DANZIGER
IN THOSE LONG AGO DAYS when I still rode in taxis and dined in restaurants, a valued associate of mine once invited me along to a prize fight at Madison Square Garden. The only pugilist whose name I recall from that night was Kid Lewis, the welterweight champion. My associate had decided that Lewis might interest me because he was a Jew from the tenements of London's East End. He lost in twelve rounds.
While I have since developed a fondness for the so-called "sweet science of bruising," and now follow it closely in the newspapers, at the time I was far more interested in the doings of the spectators. They were a ravening mob of prosperous men, spittle flying with every shout. Most wore straw boaters, with cigars clenched between their teeth. Their eyes gleamed and their blood was up. I have never witnessed a more elemental outpouring of collective heat, before or since, although recent newsreels from Herr Hitler's rallies in Nuremberg come close.
I mention this because of what I observed only a few hours ago at Caruso's, on this night of my second appointment with Mr. Cain. The barroom tableau included another series of body blows—verbal, this time—and I beheld yet another overheated mob, eager for the kill. No one wore straw boaters, although many in attendance were fitted with the standard-issue hats of the New York City Police Department.
The first punches, so to speak, were thrown shortly after the pouring of the third round of drinks, just when Mr. Cain began picking up the tab.
"So your old lady, I hear she didn't make the move, huh?" This came from a portly man in uniform named Maloney—"as Irish as Paddy's pig," as a former landlady of mine would have said. His mustache was flecked with foam. Laughter was barely hiding behind his eyes. "Something to do with your old partner, wuddn't it? Like how he couldn't keep it in his pants?"
An Officer Petrowski chimed in, followed in short order by cops named Kleinschmidt and Dolan:
"But you took care of it, is what we hear. How many slugs you put in his gut?"
"No, man, wuddn't the gut. Was a head shot. And some lowlife done it for him. Ain't that right, Cain?"
"So is that how the flatfoots do it down on Tobacco Road, laddie? Same way as the mob?"
I watched this unfold from a table in the back, where I was hiding behind the pages of a newspaper. I had arrived earlier rather than later in order to complete my vetting of Mr. Cain. Trust was no longer my primary concern. He seemed genuine enough, and as truthful as any policeman is ever likely to be. What remained was the question of his resilience, his fortitude, and what still troubled me were the rumors I had heard of a possible failure under pressure—the very rumors to which these officers seemed to be alluding. If he had failed then, he would likely fail now, here in this saloon, and I would know he was not sturdy enough for the task at hand. I would have no choice but to limit my part in our collaboration. I'd show him Hansch's letters, as I'd already promised, and then bow out of the matter. So, I watched him closely.
Mr. Cain shook his head, as if dazed by the fury of these first blows. He opened his mouth to reply, but they shouted him down, and aimed for the same tender spots as before. The wife. The partner. The thug. The gunfight.
By then reinforcements were pouring in from the 18th precinct, up on 54th—plainclothesmen and radio patrolmen, a 95 man, a desk sergeant. They took up positions all around him, a semicircle that pinned him to the bar. The hungry looks on their faces said they'd been told to expect a rousing bout with plenty of action, and by the time Mr. Cain slid another row of nickels into place for the next round, fresh jabs were coming at him from every angle. Like Joe Louis going after Schmeling. Not that Mr. Cain would ever be confused for a heavyweight among these slab-faced Irishmen, Italians, Poles, and Germans. They were large men with large voices, some of them barely a step removed from the Old World that I well remembered, yet they were New Yorkers to the core.
Mr. Cain, unsteady on his barstool, swiveled back around just in time to take a figurative shot to the jaw from Dolan.
"So this guy you knew, he was fucking your wife?"
"Which guy's that?" Maloney again. "The partner or the guy he plugged?"
"Thought he plugged 'em both?"
"Then maybe they was both fucking her."
A direct hit, acknowledged by a jubilant roar from the crowd. Mr. Cain wobbled on the barstool, and for a moment I feared he would topple to the floor and be crushed underfoot with the sawdust and the peanut shells. Then he regained his balance and slid off the seat, as if he'd decided to fend them off on foot. He landed stiffly, grimacing as he grabbed at his left thigh. He gripped the bar to steady himself. Careful, I thought. Go to the canvas now and you'll never get up.
"That limp of yours," Kleinschmidt asked. "That for real?"
"Or just a way to duck out on the Army?" Maloney, yet again, joining in another combination. The other cops surged closer, grinning, mugs in motion, hanging on every punch. The door was still swinging open with new arrivals. The noise was at its highest pitch.
"Able-bodied young man like you would be perfect for the infantry if you wuddn't fakin' it."
"But he's got a kid. Can't draft a lone wolf with a kid, can you?"
"A girl, iddn't it?"
"Yeah, but she ain't even here, is she?"
"Her name's Olivia," said Maloney, who was close up in Mr. Cain's face now, leering, almost nose to nose. "Oh-Livia, as in _'Oh, my.'_ Saw it in his file. Does she take after her mom, Citizen Cain? A little fast and loose? Guess you'll find out when the boys start sniffing round, huh?"
Mr. Cain grabbed Maloney's collar with stunning quickness, and before anyone could react he was twisting and pulling it with both hands, as if breaking bones. He lifted Maloney off his feet, something I wouldn't have guessed was possible for a man so wiry. A button popped loose, then another as Maloney's pink face darkened from medium to rare. Barstools scraped and shoes scuffled in a great rush of movement. A mug shattered, and every voice was in full throat. Maloney spluttered a mouthful of beer onto his chin and uniform, as if he was beginning to choke. Now Mr. Cain was doing all the talking, and at top volume.
"She's twelve years old, asshole! She's my _daughter,_ you fucking ignorant mick!"
"Easy man, easy!" It was Detective Yuri Zharkov, materializing from the crowd to grab Mr. Cain from behind, as if to protect him from his own rashness. Others joined in to separate the two brawlers. Mr. Cain bristled, then let go of Maloney's shirt. The officers holding on to Mr. Cain exhibited a certain gentleness, taking their cue from Officer Zharkov. The ones grabbing Maloney were rougher, the first suggestion that maybe some people thought matters had gone too far.
"Who showed you my file?" Mr. Cain shouted. "Who told you all this bullshit?"
Maloney grinned, beer dripping from his chin, while a few men behind him shook their heads and looked away. Maybe the file comment had crossed the line, an admission of official misconduct, something that might get them all in trouble. Maloney threw one last punch.
"You guys heard about his snooping around, didn't you? Down in the 95 Room, like some rat looking for cheese? He's a regular house mouse, our Citizen Cain. Never seen him once out on the streets. Always hiding behind his desk, or some piece of paper."
There were a few grumbles, but they lacked heat or passion. As if sensing that he'd lost his momentum, Maloney raised his hands in a gesture of truce. Mr. Cain went limp, and the men released him, more in the attitude of allies than aggressors. Officer Zharkov acknowledged my presence with a sidelong wink, the only cop who'd yet taken note of me. The gesture reminded me of the way he used to offer a passing hello while walking his old beat, years earlier. We have always shared a certain understanding, especially in tight spots like this one.
But the main focus of my attention was Mr. Cain. And if I sat in admiration of his strength under duress, I approved of his next action even more. He turned toward the bartender and nodded at the taps. Then he lined up a greenback along with a new row of coins and announced to one and all, in a voice steady and clear, "My round, gentlemen."
The bartender began filling the foaming mugs as the men stepped forward, eager to accept his generosity, and I saw Mr. Cain glimpse his own image in a tilted mirror high on the wall behind the bar. I wondered if, at that moment, he saw himself as the rest of us did: thin face, a trifle callow, a tall twig of a man who even after a long winter still had some sun in his cheeks, probably from hours spent in the open fields and country lanes of his home territory. A rube's haircut that marked him indelibly as an arrival from the sticks. In a roomful of people from so many different origins, he was the one true outsider.
But he was learning fast, and he no longer looked spooked, or overwhelmed. They had cornered him. They had given him all they had, but they had never knocked him down. I was satisfied with what I'd seen. Nagging questions remained about what must have really happened down at his old job, but I decided I was ready to move forward, double or nothing, for the task ahead.
# 7
ZHARKOV TOOK CAIN by the shoulder and steered him toward the back of the saloon. Cain thought he was about to be subjected to a lecture—he still couldn't believe he'd been stupid enough to call Maloney a mick. Instead the burly old Cossack whispered into his ear. "You have company, there in the back."
The first thing Cain spotted was the gnomish wool cap. Next the shabby overcoat. Then Danziger's enigmatic face peeped above the top of a newspaper.
"Y'all know each other?"
"From my old beat down in the seventh," Zharkov said. "We go back a ways."
Cain made a quick calculation.
"So I take it he's been asking about me. And you've been talking."
"Danziger is a very thorough man." Zharkov smiled and turned back toward the bar, where the mobbing cops were still happily enjoying the bounty of Cain's latest contribution. Cain himself was still nursing his second beer. He approached the table.
"My assessment was correct," Danziger said, nodding at the half-empty mug. "You are not that kind of drinker. Sober or not, I admire your ability to stay on your feet."
"It was a near thing."
"Yes. I saw. The one named Maloney was particularly troublesome."
"He's a bitter old fuck, pardon my French. I guess that's what happens when they put you back in the bag."
"In the bag?"
"Heard he got demoted from plainclothes, just last year. Pushing forty and he's still a patrolman. How long have you been here?"
"A while."
"How much did you hear?"
"Enough."
Cain pulled up a chair with his back to the policemen. He was still trying to calm down, and he wondered how much he needed to explain. So much had been said—wild accusations, most of them untrue. A terrible event, yes, but they'd twisted it into something far worse. Most disturbing of all was the idea that Maloney had seen his personnel file, perhaps the very one that had been sitting on Commissioner Valentine's desk. Danziger reached across the table and patted his shoulder.
"Everyone has episodes from their past that they would rather forget."
"The _past_? This was six months ago. And what would _you_ know about it." His frustration came pouring out. "Your idea of a big foul-up is probably the time you misspelled 'schnitzel' in some hausfrau's letter. I'm talking about death—two casualties, three if you count my marriage."
Danziger's hand reached up with stunning speed and dexterity to clutch Cain's shirt front, much in the way Cain had grabbed Maloney's. The man's fingers were bent and bony, smelling of onions, the nails ink-stained, but their strength was undeniable. He spoke in a lowered voice, his eyes flaring.
"You know _nothing_ of me. Those kinds of assumptions make you a fool in my eyes, yes?"
Cain, floored, could only nod. Danziger let go. He then frowned and bowed his head, seeming to already regret his actions.
"My apologies, Mr. Cain. An overreaction on my part. But do not presume ever again to speak for me or my interests, for I do not wish to work with a fool."
"Same here."
Danziger watched him for a second, and then nodded.
"So be it. If you wish, we may go now."
"Where?"
"To the place of safekeeping, where the letters await. On Third Avenue, just below 85th."
"That's in Yorkville. Maybe a block from where Klaus Schaller was killed. I pulled the report today."
"Two blocks, in fact. I will take you there as well, if you would like. And then..." He spread his arms wide, like an impresario about to announce the featured act. "We will seek out the man who, I believe, will know how and why these deaths are connected. He may even know the names of the next ones."
_"Next ones?"_
"Surely, in these kinds of cases are there not always more? I personally know of at least two likely additional targets. Come." He stood with some difficulty. "Let us go before you are again drawn into the fray."
Cain led Danziger through the mob, and opened the door just as a parting shot flew his way.
"Don't wind up in the gutter, country boy, or you'll land on the shit list in the Commissioner's 'drunk drawer.' "
"Like that asshole Valentine ever turned down a drink!" another cop shouted.
Laughter from one and all.
The door slammed shut behind them. No more voices and clanking mugs. Just the tooting of horns, the hiss of tires on wet pavement, the leather scuffle of the walking hordes. A rain shower had come and gone while Cain was taking his beating, and the April air was invigorating. He could have sworn he even smelled daffodils—from a window box maybe, or on a breeze from Central Park. Or maybe just from yearning.
Soldiers and sailors of all nations were everywhere, roaming the sidewalks on shore leave, or in transit between railcars and troop ships. Most were headed for Times Square, seeking one last fling before the maelstrom. Three limeys, linked arm and arm, bumped past them smelling of beer while singing "The White Cliffs of Dover."
Further down Eighth a big crowd poured out of a movie theater. Some Jimmy Durante film, a man of no discernable talent, just a big schnozz and a rough voice, yet everybody looked happy enough. He wished Olivia was here, so he could take her to the pictures. The stuff playing in Manhattan wouldn't make it to Horton for ages, if at all. Cain picked up the pace, working the stiffness out of his gimpy thigh.
"Your limp," Danziger said. "I suppose now I know how you acquired it. A bullet in the line of duty, yes?"
"You only heard part of the story, plus a lot of bullshit."
"Granted. As I said, perhaps someday you will wish to tell me all of it."
"Perhaps someday I'll _know_ all of it."
"Truly? Is it still so confusing for you? Due to trauma, perhaps?"
Cain glanced over at him for a few steps, then faced straight ahead.
"I don't know you well enough yet."
"Of course. And now I am making presumptions about you. Forgive me."
They passed two Dutch marines, chattering in a tongue that sounded almost German.
"You said you saw the report from the Schaller case," Danziger said. "Have there been arrests?"
"No. They don't even have any leads. The guys up in the one-nine weren't too happy about me nosing around in their territory, so I kept the Hansch connection quiet. Figured that would just give Mulhearn an excuse to take it away from me again. We need to lay low up there."
"Always good advice in Yorkville. For me, anyway."
Cain thought of Angela Feinman and her version of laying low—living in the back room of a shuttered theater, locked in by day and performing by night. Or maybe she was just an addict, and would be living that way anywhere.
He deferred to Danziger to choose the quickest route, and the older man steered them onto a crosstown bus to the East Side, where they climbed a covered stairway to the Third Avenue El. The train rattled uptown through the night while Cain peeped into the upstairs windows of passing tenements. He saw a man in his undershirt reading the paper, a tired woman ironing, kids in shorts running from room to room, a girl curled on a bed with a cat, a stooped butcher untying his bloody smock.
_Never take the subway._ That had been one of Clovis's lines whenever she reminisced about life in Manhattan. As a girl of privilege she'd always traveled in cabs and limousines. Cain couldn't afford the luxury. But he had grown oddly attached to the subway, despite its crowds and smells and inconveniences. The rattling old trains offered a fresh human tableau every day, a new performance on almost every ride. His wife, he decided, had never known what she was missing.
They got off at 84th and walked a block north beneath the gloomy steel latticework of the overhead tracks. It was like being in a tunnel, with the noises of the neighborhood echoing around them.
"It is just ahead," Danziger said. "You will not be welcome, not until I have spoken. So remain quiet until I say so."
Cain reached inside his overcoat, checking his holster. Danziger shook his head.
"Unwelcome, not endangered. It would probably be best for you to keep your hands out in the open. I do not even plan to mention that you are a policeman."
"Then who am I supposed to be?"
"An interested party. No name necessary. It is not your concern."
They approached a doorway wedged between the Berlin Bar, with bold gothic lettering and a noisy clientele, and a greengrocer with signs in English, German, and Hebrew, where a clerk was covering wooden trays of fruit with canvas while the proprietor cranked up the awning. The entrance was unlocked, and they climbed a narrow stairway to the third floor, where he followed Danziger to a door at the end of the corridor with no name or number. The only identifying mark was a thin block of bronze, no bigger than a pack of gum, which had been screwed into place on the right side of the door frame at a slight angle. Cain reached up to touch Hebrew lettering carved into tarnished bronze. Gouge marks in the wood made it look as if someone had recently tried to pry it out.
"What is it?" he asked.
"A mezuzah. Inside is a tiny roll of parchment, containing a verse from the Torah. When you are a part of the diaspora, it is your duty under Jewish law to post one at your door the moment you move in."
"Did you?"
Danziger shook his head.
"I stopped living by Jewish law quite some time ago, when I became a member of my own diaspora." He grimaced, as if he wished he could take the words back. Then he knocked gently on the door. "The man we are about to meet is Mordecai Lederer. He is a scholar, a very learned man, and I trust him. That is all you need know of him."
The knob rattled, and the door opened to reveal a bearded man dressed in a white shirt and worn black pants. He looked a few years younger than Danziger, and the two men clasped hands in greeting. The man noticed Cain and frowned. An exchange followed in a language which Cain guessed was Yiddish. At one point Lederer raised his voice and shook his head, but Danziger persisted. Finally Lederer sighed and impatiently waved them across the threshold.
"If you happen to see his wife, or any of the womenfolk, do not speak. Do not even look."
"He's the jealous type?"
"He is religious. And you are not of the faith."
"Why here? Why this house?"
"I was carrying the letters with me when I went to meet Schaller. When I saw what had become of him, I decided to get rid of them with the greatest possible dispatch. But I did not deem it wise to destroy them, so I brought them here, the nearest location where I knew they would remain safe."
The apartment was cramped, the air heavy with the smell of a simmering chicken. A radio blared from behind a closed door, broadcasting in a Slavic language. Lederer took them to the only other room, a square windowless chamber with wall-to-wall bookshelves and a bright threadbare rug covered with tiny angular animals, stitched in red. A small writing table and a cushioned chair were pushed into a corner. Lederer departed, shutting the door behind him without a further word. The room smelled of curling old paper, of ink and glue and leather bindings.
"His study," Danziger said, eyeing the shelf on the opposite wall. "Not even his wife is allowed in here, so consider yourself lucky."
"They only have one other room?"
"That and a shared kitchen, which tells you of the value he places on knowledge."
Some titles were in Hebrew, some in a language Cain didn't know. None seemed to be in English. Just from a glance, Cain doubted that any of the books had been printed during the past fifty years.
"Most of them are written in Yiddish or Hebrew," Danziger said.
"Those aren't the same?"
"They use the same lettering. The rest are in Czech. Lederer was born in Prague. He speaks no English, so we needn't worry about being overheard."
"What about everybody else?"
"His wife wouldn't care. His mother is quite nosy, but she is illiterate, despite all of this." He waved toward the books. "She grew up in an educated household, but not one in which learning was thought to be suitable for young ladies."
"Do you write letters for her?"
"And read them as well. Or used to. None of her letters have been answered for more than a year now. Their relations in Prague have fallen silent. It has been that way across the whole of the east of Europe for some time now. Candles flickering to darkness."
Their surroundings made his remarks seem all the more grave and ominous.
Danziger stepped over to the shelves, stood on his tiptoes, and pulled down a leather-bound red volume with gilded Hebrew lettering on the spine. He set it on the small table and opened it to the middle, revealing a sheaf of onionskin paper, neatly folded, four pages in all. Typewritten carbon copies, Cain saw. The text was in German.
"I keep these on behalf of my clients, in the event they wish to consult what they have written previously, or in case some legal question arises later, in correspondences with creditors, or public officials. I wrote three letters for Herr Hansch. Shall I read them to you in full, or just tell you what's important?"
"How 'bout the headlines for now, then a full text later."
Danziger nodded.
"This first one is from the twenty-first of January. Hansch had only just arrived from California with three friends. One, I learned later, was Schaller. From the markings we have already seen on the bodies, I think it is safe to assume that all four of them were Silver Shirts, and that they would have been readily accepted by the local contingent of Bundists. Hansch wished to write his wife in Germany. We spoke for a while about the news he wanted to convey, and how I should phrase it. I think he was uncomfortable with me, for obvious reasons, so I reassured him that I had no interest in politics, no quarrel with anything he stood for. A lie, of course, but this is part of my service, putting the client at ease. The fee is the same regardless. Still, I sensed he was less than candid in his first letter. Not much news. All he really told his wife was that he was safely in New York after a long journey, and that he was among friends and hoped to find work soon. Nothing of importance for our purposes."
"Okay."
He set aside the first page.
"This letter was from a week later, the twenty-eighth of January. Two pages. As you will see, he began to open up. I will read from the most pertinent paragraph, translating as I go:
" 'I have fresh tidings on the job front. I will soon be making a good sum of money in a new employment. It is manual labor, but I am to be paid a great amount above the standard wage, thanks to fortunate circumstances in which my skills and commitment have been noticed by people of high standing. It will be a boost for our family and for our Fatherland. With luck I may soon even have the means and wherewithal to return home."
"People of high standing," Cain said, repeating the phrase. "Interesting."
"I thought so as well. Then I immediately put it from my mind. It is not always a good thing to know so much about such people."
Cain thought it was a curious statement, but nodded for Danziger to continue.
"Four days later he wrote to cousins in Switzerland and sent them money, along with instructions on how to forward the amount to his wife. He was too afraid that any envelope addressed to Germany might be searched."
"How much did he send?"
"Three hundred dollars, all of it in twenty-dollar bills."
" _Wow._ That's five months' rent."
"In my neighborhood, fifteen. For Hansch, who knows? In the same letter he promised that he would soon be sending more."
"Did he say where he was living?"
"He gave no address. But from other things he said I gathered it was a flophouse, probably not so far from here."
"How would a guy like that come up with three hundred bucks? Dirty work for the Bundists? Distributing propaganda? Spying, even?"
Danziger frowned. "I suspect whatever it was came under the auspices of a more legitimate occupation. Probably a trade union position, based on his earlier reference to wage standards."
"Like in a factory, maybe. Something to do with the war effort. He could've been hired to gather information, or for sabotage."
"It could be many things, at many locations. Factories for aircraft, munitions, or almost anything on the waterfront. But, as I said, it is likely to have involved a union occupation. I base this partly as well on a connection he mentioned, the man who had assisted him in finding work."
"He mentioned the name?"
"A forename only. Lutz. From somewhere in Yorkville."
The name jogged a memory which Cain was unable to pin down, or at least not before Danziger continued.
"If it is the Lutz of Yorkville with which I am familiar—a man of considerable influence, or even 'high standing,' if you will—then we might be able to quickly narrow his employment possibilities."
"You know this Lutz character?"
"Please. We must proceed in the proper order. He wrote one more letter."
"Okay."
"It was a longer time in coming, nearly two months. By then I had concluded that I had seen the last of Herr Hansch. Then he again knocked at my door, very late on the last night in March, a Tuesday. I was in my nightshirt, and had damped the coals for the night. The house was very cold, but he demanded entry. He wanted to write to his wife, then and there, without delay. He was so angry and agitated that it took a while for him to organize his thoughts into coherent form, and even then he did not have so much to say, although his message was somewhat alarming to me."
"How so?"
"Here, I will read it."
Danziger took the final page of onionskin and held it to the light.
" 'The hand of fortune has turned against me. The job I was to do was given to others, or perhaps even to fate.' "
"To fate?"
"Yes."
"Strange wording."
"I thought so as well. I asked him to elaborate. I told him that such vagueness might cause his wife to worry, but he would not be more specific. When I pressed him further, he lashed out, accusing me of working for 'one of them,' as he put it."
"Them?"
Danziger nodded.
"The letter closed with this: 'The present uneasiness of my status has put me on an undesirable footing with my employer, so I may be moving soon. Do not be frightened if you do not hear from me for a while.' "
Danziger put down the page.
"One week later I read the story in the _Daily News_ with your name in it. I considered contacting you then, but was too uncertain. Maybe it was some other German laborer, with some other Sabine."
"You said earlier you knew about the tattoo."
"He had mentioned it in one of our conversations before his second letter. He made a boast of it, talking about a girl he had here that his wife would never know about. I think he thought it would raise his stature in my eyes. As if he cared at all what a Jew would think. It was my education that impressed him. A man of letters, he called me."
"What finally made you sure the body was Hansch?"
"Two days later, last Thursday, Klaus Schaller came calling. He demanded all copies of Herr Hansch's letters. I refused, of course. I told him they were the private property of Herr Hansch, and protected by United States federal law."
"Even the copies?"
"No. But he did not know this. So he offered to bribe me. Five dollars, then ten, while never once mentioning that anything had happened to Herr Hansch. I told him it was quite impossible unless he could show me some sort of authorization from Herr Hansch. He brightened somewhat at this prospect, and told me he would acquire proof of authorization the following day. Proof that would be provided by their mutual contact, this man Lutz."
Now Cain remembered where he'd heard the name. Angela Feinman. Someone named Lutz had fixed her brother's ownership papers.
"I told him to return when he had acquired this proof, but he insisted that we meet at another location. He said it would not be safe for him to come to my house a second time. He offered double the money if I would come to Yorkville. Twenty dollars. We agreed to meet at an empty apartment two blocks from here, at the address you saw in the report. A tenement much like this one. When I arrived at the appointed hour, with these letters in hand, the place was in an uproar. Children and policemen coming and going. Neighbors on their doorsteps, gossiping in a frenzy. I should have simply left, but I had to know. So I elbowed my way upstairs through the crowds and came to an open doorway. In the room I saw three policemen and some sort of doctor, who was kneeling by a body stretched on the floor, with its mouth open. From the eyes I saw that it was Herr Schaller. There was blood, quite a lot of it. It was readily apparent that he was dead. So there you are. That was last Friday night. And on the next Monday morning, promptly at six, I arrived at the station house of the fourteenth precinct, to wait for you."
"And you think both men died because of something in these letters."
"Yes."
"And now you think there will be others. Why?"
"Herr Hansch mentioned that all three of his friends had found work together. And if he and one of his friends are already dead, well...?"
Cain nodded. Logical enough, he supposed.
"Did he mention their names?"
"Forenames only. Dieter and Gerhard."
"I'm guessing those names are pretty common among Germans."
"But if those forenames are logged in any trade union registry for the last several months, in close proximity with the names for Hansch and Schaller, then, well..."
"Good idea. Tell me more about Lutz. The girl at the theater on 96th mentioned a Lutz. Said he'd fixed her brother's ownership papers to make it look like a gentile was in charge."
Danziger nodded knowingly.
"That sounds like something he would arrange. Lutz Lorenz is his full name. A man of valuable connections."
"You know him?"
"Mostly I know _of_ him. I knew his father, a man of similar skills who is now deceased. Many people know about men like Lutz. And when it is your business to gather information on your clients' behalf—knowing who to influence, for this matter or for that one—then you inevitably cross their paths."
"Have you met him?"
Danziger paused, then nodded. "Long ago. In a different time."
"Would he remember you?"
"He was a only a boy. But, well..."
"What?"
"I suspect that Lutz Lorenz was the person who referred Werner Hansch to me. So he certainly remembers my name."
"Which means you might not be safe, depending on how many other people know it."
"That has occurred to me. But people such as Lutz Lorenz operate with discretion. He is not likely to have kept records of any of his dealings with Hansch and Schaller."
"Which would be good for you, but maybe bad for what we need to find out. Unless we happen to catch him in a talkative mood."
"My sentiments exactly. Shall we go, then, to his place of business?"
"Lead the way."
They went back into the hallway, where Lederer was waiting impatiently, arms folded. He still seemed upset that Danziger had brought an outsider into his home, and he briskly ushered them out of the apartment without saying goodbye.
# 8
THEY WALKED SOUTH TO 74TH beneath the gloom of the overhead railway as trains clattered above. The sidewalks were crowded, but they made good time.
Lutz Lorenz was proprietor of the German-American All Trades Employment Agency, which, as Danziger explained, gave him influence as a broker of well-paying jobs. It also connected him to the city's powerful unions, which in turn were tied to racketeers and crime bosses—a network that went well beyond the so-called Mafia and extended into the realms of Irish gangs, Jewish gangs, Slavic gangs, and the rival gangs of Chinatown. Interwoven through them all were the remnants of the once-mighty Tammany political machine.
"So he's got a lot of pull," Cain said. "Great. But won't his office be closed this time of night?"
"He lives upstairs, with his family."
Cain was expecting humble digs. Instead it was a five-story building, the block's newest and most prosperous-looking address. The organization's name was stenciled in gold leaf in English and German across a plate-glass storefront, but the door was padlocked. Someone had taped up a red-and-white placard that said CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. There was no further explanation.
"Most disturbing," Danziger said. He backed away from the building and craned his neck toward the upper floors. "The apartments are dark as well."
"He owns _all_ of this?"
"He lives with his wife and children on the third and fourth floors. His mother lives on the fifth."
"How do you know this?"
"As I said, it is in the interest of my clients for me to know such things. Come. There is one other place to check. Quickly." Danziger was already on the move down 74th. "His assistant lives in the next block."
They reached another newer building, where Danziger pressed a buzzer by an unmarked glass door. A light went on two stories up. Footsteps pounded down the stairwell. A man in a silken robe, hair in disarray, appeared on the other side of the door, peering outward. When he saw Danziger he nodded in recognition and selected a key from a jangly ring of at least a dozen before throwing open the door.
"Reinhard!" Danziger said. "What has become of Herr Lorenz?"
Reinhard shook his head, and looked up and down the street.
"Not out here." He motioned them inside.
They stepped into the corridor, which was lit only by the streetlamp out front. Reinhard's words echoed up an empty stairwell.
"They came for him."
"Who did, Reinhard? When?"
"Five men, last night. He phoned me as it was beginning. I saw only the end. But there were five."
Cain got out his notebook. Reinhard noticed, and asked Danziger something in German. The two of them argued for a few seconds in lowered voices, Cain not understanding a word. Reinhard resumed in a more subdued tone.
"It was over very fast," he said.
"Over how?" Cain asked. "They killed him?"
"No, no. Took him. Took all of them."
"Everyone?"
"Lorenz and his family. There were two cars. Big Fords by the curb. They put his wife, his children, even his mother, into the first one and drove away. Then they put Lorenz in the other and headed in the other direction, toward the river."
"But why all of them, Reinhard?" Danziger asked.
"These men," Cain interrupted. "Were they armed?"
"Of course! Not the important one, the one who did the talking. But the others, yes. It was all very businesslike."
"Businesslike?"
"Very organized. Professional. No shouting, no shooting."
"Do you know who they were?"
Reinhard shook his head.
"But I think Lorenz must have. He saw me, just before they put him in the car, and all that he did was nod. He did not cry out, did not ask me to call anyone, or do anything. It was enough, I think, that I was able to witness his departure."
"Did you take any tag numbers from the cars?"
Reinhard sighed loudly and lowered his head.
"I did not. I realized later that I should have done this. But I was called from my bed. I was still half asleep. I...Well, I suppose that I failed. Because I have not yet heard from him, or from any lawyer, and I have not been able to enter the building. They put that lock there, the sign as well, and told me to stay out."
"Were they policemen, maybe?"
"No, no. I would have known. I also do not think they were, well...any of his _business associates._ From the unions or from any of those other groups." He looked at Danziger, who nodded, as if understanding exactly what Reinhard meant by "those other groups."
"If any of those people had wanted him, well, you can guess for yourself. They would have handled things...far differently."
Violently, he meant. Or at least that was Cain's interpretation.
"Describe him," Danziger said. "The important fellow, the one who was running the show. Did anyone speak his name?"
"No. But he was fat. Or not so much fat. More like..."
"Stocky?" Cain offered.
"Stocky, yes. And his eyes, they were..." He paused, then said something in German.
"Hooded," Danziger said to Cain. "He had hooded eyes."
"And a mustache," Reinhard said. "Kleine. A small one."
"Like Herr Hitler's?" Danziger offered.
"No, no!" Reinhard seemed offended. "Not small in that way."
"Thin?" Cain asked.
"Yes. Thin. And he was _Jude._ A Jew. I am sure of this. So, _not_ like Herr Hitler."
"Stocky Jew," Cain repeated as he wrote in his notebook, "with hooded eyes and a pencil-thin mustache. And he was the guy in charge."
Danziger remained silent, as if lost in thought.
"Sound like anyone you know?" Cain asked.
Danziger shook his head.
"Okay. Then I guess for now we've got a dead end. On Lorenz, anyway."
"Yes," Danziger said darkly. "Dead end, as you say."
Reinhard ushered them outside and locked up. They caught a downtown subway. Cain slumped exhausted on the bench. He still stank of beer and sweat and sawdust. Danziger remained silent most of the way. He looked worried.
"What are you thinking?" Cain asked.
"Lutz Lorenz. If he had been shot or snatched by thugs, yes, that would be alarming. But this? It does not follow any of the usual patterns."
"And what patterns are those?"
Danziger shrugged. He looked as if he were already regretting the statement.
"You seem to know a lot about the way these kinds of abductions work."
Danziger shrugged again. "I have read about them in the papers."
"Sure. From the papers. Something's bothering you."
"Yes. Discreet or not, Lutz may have talked, especially if they threatened his family. And if he spoke freely about his recent connections, well...Surely you see the problem?"
"I could arrange for some protection, if you like. Or try to. No guarantees."
Danziger shook his head vigorously, seeming alarmed by the idea.
"Let _me_ handle any such precautions."
"But—"
"Please! There are people in my neighborhood who will be far more helpful than your colleagues. If I involve the police, those people will want nothing further to do with me."
"But you're working with me."
"You are new. You are not yet a part of all that."
"All what?"
"Ask Yuri Zharkov. Or better still, _don't_ ask him. I have said too much. I have said too little. There are stories he knows which he would never share with you anyway. Suffice it to say that most of the time police do not keep secrets well. Present company excepted, of course. You must let me take care of things on my end. Besides, it is the two associates of Hansch and Schaller who are in the most immediate danger. Dieter and Gerhard."
"Union rolls," Cain said. "I'll start checking for recent signups with some of the locals. Maybe we can track them down in time. You sure you'll be okay?"
"Save your worries for yourself. I have survived for a long time, and will continue to do so. In the meantime, I, too, will make inquiries with a few old sources. People who might be helpful."
"More guys you only vaguely know?"
The joke didn't register on Danziger, who just nodded, lost in thought. And at that moment, in the unflattering glare of the subway car, he again looked very much like the broken old man Cain had first spotted across the squad room floor.
# 9
CAPTAIN MULHEARN GRUDGINGLY chalked Cain's murder case back onto the duty board. He then dropped a thick case file on Cain's desk.
"For your sins. I want it cleared by the weekend."
"Sins?"
"The boys up in the one-nine say you're poaching their goods. Said you were up there looking at one of their reports the other day."
The Schaller case, he meant. Cain said nothing. If he made a fuss and claimed it was linked to Hansch, Mulhearn might give both cases to the 19th, or to the Borough Homicide Bureau, just to spite him. He sighed and opened the file.
Before he could read a single page, Simmons was at his shoulder, seeking his monthly contribution to the squad room coffee fund. Cain dug into his pocket for what was left of his cash after the bar tab at Caruso's.
"A nickel, right?"
"Unless you're feeling generous."
Just as Simmons departed, Patrolman Dolan arrived.
"Hey, Cain, I heard about your marksmanship score. Top notch."
"You been reading my file with Maloney?"
"Huh?" Dolan looked wounded. "No, nothing like that. But word gets around, and the house has a pistol team. We shoot once a week against the other precincts, and—"
"Not interested."
"How 'bout bowling, then? You bowl?"
"No."
"What's your game, then? Gotta be something."
"Basketball. That's my game."
Dolan frowned.
"Zeke in the radio room, that's his department. I'll pass it on."
For a few seconds Cain felt pretty good about the idea of getting back into a gym—sweating, running, the echo of the bouncing ball, the burn in his lungs as he sprinted end to end, chasing down a pass for an open set shot. Then it hit him, yet again, that he couldn't run that way anymore, not since the shooting. He reached down and squeezed his knotted thigh, wondering how much of his youth was gone for good.
He returned to the file. It took only seconds to realize it was the sort of hopeless case his new colleagues would call a bag of shit. It involved a con man, Albert Kannerman, who'd been impersonating everyone from Bing Crosby's brother to the grandson of former President Taft, although lately he'd gotten into the spirit of the war effort by posing as men in uniform—a wounded air ace who fleeced adoring matrons, a naval officer selling tickets to a bogus USO show. Three detectives in other districts had already taken a crack at him. None had even tracked down a reliable address, and theories on Kannerman's whereabouts ranged from Midtown to Staten Island.
"Fuck."
He shut the file. Then, worried that Mulhearn might have yanked the Hansch case anyway, he walked over to check the duty board. Still up there, just below his name.
Posted next to the assignments, as always, was a lineup of wanted posters which never failed to intrigue him. New York criminals were cast from a different mold. Down in Horton, violent crimes were usually gut level and personal, and even the so-called professionals had tended to know the same people Cain knew. Most mug shots were of peckerwood whites or poor blacks, men who looked cornered and underfed, with forlorn expressions that said they'd just as soon shoot themselves as you. They tended to live in bleak shotgun shacks with varmints loose in the crawlspace.
Up here, every face dared you to come and get him, and in general they were a bunch of sharp-dressed fellows. Among the current offerings was a murder suspect, Emanuel Weiss, age thirty-five, in a flashy suit and a silk tie, expertly knotted. He was smirking, like he was trying not to laugh. He had three aliases—Mendy, Hoffman, and Kline—and his known associates sounded just as colorful: Louis "Lepke" Buchalter, Abe "Kid Twist" Reles, Clarence "The Jazz" Cohen, plus a murderous name that Cain vaguely recalled even from the newspapers down in Horton: Albert Anastasia, a mob killer.
Posted next to Weiss was Michael Romano, a twenty-eight-year-old robbery suspect with a winning smile and the kind of stylish haircut you saw in movie magazines. Dashing, handsome, but with a small bandage on his chin. The description said he was a "natty dresser, uses narcotics," and his aliases took up two lines: Joe Bruno, Scooter Joe, Mickey Mouse, Pickles, Pick.
The only other bunch that Cain knew of with so many nicknames was the NYPD. Colleagues were already calling him "Citizen," whether he liked it or not. Mulhearn was the Mule, Zharkov the Cossack, Maloney the Mooch. And both cops and criminals lived by their own codes, their own rules of engagement. When viewed that way, he supposed it was hardly surprising that some cops crossed to the other side, just as Valentine suspected.
"Nice look with the bandage, huh?" It was Yuri Zharkov, drinking a bottle of Orange Crush as he pointed to the Romano poster. "And you can bet he didn't get the cut from shaving."
"Sharp dresser, though."
"Mob thug. The ones with more than two aliases usually are. He's a horse player. They'll trip over him at Aqueduct before he ever turns up around here."
"So the rackets are still a problem, even after Prohibition?"
Zharkov waggled his left hand, as if to say not so much.
"Dewey, the old DA, put away most of the big ones. Waxey Gordon, Lucky Luciano—sent 'em both up the river. A lot of the others killed each other fighting over the scraps. Dutch Schultz got shot over at a chop house in Jersey. The last of the rum runners was Owen Madden, and we ran him outta town. Tried to come back for the Baer-Nathan fight, but Commissioner Valentine threw him out on his ass. They're like the last of the Comanches. Fat and drunk, and living on the reservation."
"Even him?"
Cain nodded toward the poster for Weiss, the one with ties to Albert Anastasia.
"Mendy's been back behind bars for months. Mulhearn won't take it down, though. He's still pissed off we didn't get credit for the collar. Simmons got a tip on his whereabouts, but we weren't there when they nabbed him so the papers didn't give us any ink."
"Who's left, then?"
"Well, there's Mendy's boss, Anastasia. Chief executive of Murder, Incorporated."
"I knew he was a killer, but that makes it sound more like a business."
"That's exactly what it is. Or was. Hard to say if they're even still in action. But he's over in Brooklyn, officially none of our business. Here in Manhattan?" Zharkov stroked his chin. "Socks Lanza, he's still a going concern, but he's down in the first."
"Socks?"
"Guess that wasn't on the sergeant's exam, huh? Joseph 'Socks' Lanza. Mob king of the Fulton Fish Market. He's why a fillet of flounder costs so much when you eat out, even though they get it right off the docks. Socks gets a cut from the boats, the trucks, the gutters and cutters."
"Why don't we stop him?"
"Well, he _is_ under indictment. Big racketeering case by the DA. Still, you don't stop that kind of shit by nabbing just one man."
"Why not?"
Zharkov shook his head as if Cain had asked the world's stupidest question. "You sound like you been reading the shit Valentine says in the papers. It's not that easy. What's left of the mob is kind of like a fungus between your toes. The more you scratch it, the more it bothers you. Sometimes the best thing to do is leave it alone, so it don't itch so much."
Until they started knocking people off, like maybe his two dead Germans, given their connection with an operator like Lutz Lorenz.
"What about in a place like Yorkville?" Cain asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Who'd be in charge of the rackets there?"
"You'd have to ask the guys in the one-nine. Besides, in this city there are always mugs big enough to not worry about territory. Guys who operate wherever they like."
"Well, at least they'll be easy to spot."
"How you figure that?"
"Can't be too many fat Comanches with athlete's foot."
Zharkov smiled and tipped his bottle in tribute.
Cain spent the next two hours going through the tangled mess of the Albert Kannerman file. The con man was working so fast that three victims still needed to be interviewed. But the big problem would be finding him, and in a city of seven and a half million how did you track down one guy who didn't wish to be found, especially when he employed a wide variety of disguises and accents, and was an expert at fooling people?
His phone rang. Cain eyed it, wondering if it might be Harris Euston. He picked it up anyway.
"Danziger here. Where to next? I remain at your service, Mr. Cain."
"The better question is when. I've been sidetracked. A punishment detail that could take days."
"Then I shall proceed without you."
"Whoa, now. Not a good idea."
"Discreetly, of course. What is the nature of this new assignment?"
"Some con man."
"His name?"
"Probably not a good idea for me to tell you."
"Why? I could make inquiries on your behalf."
"Thanks all the same, but—"
"As you wish."
He hung up before Cain could say goodbye. Cain, miffed, stared at the receiver a few seconds before dropping it in the cradle. Maybe if he left the station house to interview Kannerman's latest victims, he could also squeeze in an hour or two on the Hansch case. Better still, pay a surprise visit to Danziger, catch him in his lair. He was eager to see where the old fellow lived and worked, maybe get a glimpse of his clientele. For all he knew, the whole business about writing and translating letters was just a cover story.
Then there was Valentine's assignment, nagging at him like a toothache. It was stalled for the moment due to his lack of access to the 95 Room. He'd either have to come up with a sneakier approach or lay low until Mulhearn was no longer watching his every move. But his hasty reconnaissance the other day hadn't been totally fruitless. Just when he'd begun to wonder how he'd ever make sense of all the files and folders, he'd spotted an index posted on the back of the doorway. Next time at least he'd know where to start looking, although he had better do it soon. Linwood Archer wasn't likely to be patient.
Kannerman's most recent victim lived only a few blocks away, which probably explained why the case had bounced into the third district. If Cain was going to clear this by Saturday, then he'd better get moving. Banking on warmer weather, he left the building with his overcoat unbuttoned, only to be greeted by gray skies and one of those blustery mid-April cold snaps that reminds you that spring is fickle.
Cain shoved his hands deeper in his pockets just as a young couple rounded the corner toward him from Sixth Avenue, chatting breezily about a Broadway play they'd seen the night before. College age, and in love. You could tell by the lilt of their voices, the spark in their eyes, their animated movements. He was reminded of Clovis, who always spoke with nostalgia of her evenings on Broadway as a girl, taking in a show and, afterward, waiting outside the stage door in hopes of glimpsing the stars on their way to Sardi's for a late bite to eat.
They'd talked about it on the night they met, in the fall of his junior year in Chapel Hill. She and three friends had come down for the weekend from Sweet Briar College, and were staying at the home of a classmate. On Saturday they'd ended up at a smoker at some frat house on Cameron Avenue, a party he'd crashed along with Rob after hearing lots of females would be in attendance. Campus women were in short supply in 1928.
Cain spotted Clovis the moment he walked through the door, standing with her friends by a bowl of punch that someone had already spiked with bathtub gin. It was hard to say what was drawing more attention—the Prohibition liquor, or the four girls from Sweet Briar. But he saw immediately that, alone among her friends, she was already a step ahead of every would-be male pursuer, looking calm and sophisticated, in no hurry to choose from among the many possibilities in the baying rabble.
He caught her eye just as she took a pack of Luckies from her purse—the only woman in the room with cigarettes. She put one to her lips, an act which so disarmed the surrounding males that Cain was easily able to beat them to the punch in offering her a light.
"Well, aren't you the Southern gentleman."
"You had us all figured out the moment you got here, didn't you?"
Already her friends were making room for them, easing away while observing closely, as if watching a performance. He felt color rising in his cheeks with the excitement of the moment, and saw to his delight that she was having the same reaction.
"Well, I _am_ from New York," she said, smiling. "Used to a faster pace and all that. Or so everyone always insists whenever they meet me. Clovis Euston."
"Woodrow Cain."
She offered her hand in almost regal style, which he accepted in the exaggerated manner of a prince. He was no longer aware of anyone else in the room.
"I'm guessing you've pretty much seen it all when it comes to guys trying to make time," he said.
"And is that what you're doing, making time?"
"I'll stop right now if it's not to your liking."
"Why don't we take a walk instead, out on the lawn where those roses smelled so nice on the way in."
"Camellias, actually. Late bloomers around here."
"Well, there you go, another reason you're just the man to show me around town. I suspect you're also something of a late bloomer."
It was true. He was. She offered her arm and he took it, both of them hamming it up yet also sensing the chemistry. The crowd seemed to part for their exit. The air outside was warm, not unusual for a Chapel Hill night in early October, and, yes, there was a scent of camellias as they crossed the verandah. To Cain the air felt languidly heavy with promise.
That was the night when she first told him of her father's master plan in sending her south to Virginia, sealing her off from all those guys and gals who'd once lured her into so much trouble. Bad grades and wrecked curfews. A paternal call on an old connection had secured her a spot at Sweet Briar, an oasis of learning where her natural brightness could flourish in sobriety and calm.
"And has it?" Cain asked.
"Third in my class." She smiled, knowing he was the type who'd be impressed. "Best of all, I don't really miss any of that silly old crowd of mine in the least. And, of course, no one ever told dear old Dad about weekend trips to Charlottesville and Chapel Hill."
"Still, it's not exactly Manhattan." He tried to say it in a knowing way, so she would think he'd actually been there. "Don't you miss it?"
"Sometimes. The bustle, the crackle. I always woke up with my eyes wide open, ready to go, no matter how much I'd had to drink the night before. Here sometimes I even slumber. I luxuriate. But look around you. Is it really so terrible? Practically everyone is our age, and, well, I don't think it's a boast to say that my female competition is rather thin on the ground."
They laughed, knowing the truth of it. Then she looked deeper into his eyes.
"Besides, at times like these I feel right at home."
They wandered hand in hand to every shadowy corner of the leafy campus. Even then he could sense she was plotting to overstay her father's terms of exile. But there was more to it than rebellion.
"I think places like this are good for me," she said. "Or good for what I need. Manhattan gets me far too revved up, like one of those racing cars that overheats."
She genuinely _did_ like it there, partly for the gentler pleasures of its warmer climate, its easy company, its green canopies that weren't just confined to parks.
"And how can I argue with all those camellias?" she said. "Or with your eyes."
That was the moment when they first kissed.
They stayed out until three in the morning. Cain dropped her off at the front porch of her friend's home, where the classmate's scandalized father appeared at the door in his nightshirt, tut-tutting about those ill-mannered Tar Heel boys.
From that weekend forward he borrowed Rob's car, a noisy '26 Chevy, as often as he could, bouncing and grinding his way up the rutted highways every Friday to Sweet Briar, a trip of more than a hundred and thirty miles. During the holidays, when she spurned home and hearth to stay with her classmate in Chapel Hill, they were almost inseparable.
In retrospect he realized she was already displaying small warnings which he would refuse to heed, those of a young woman who would never be quite satisfied with the slow and early nights of a small town in the South, especially once her husband started spending more of his time on the job, or with his daughter; a restlessness that would inevitably seek stimulation elsewhere. But such niggling distractions on the periphery matter little once you've set your sights so squarely on what you want most.
By March they were engaged. Harris Euston spent the better part of the spring and summer trying to subvert the arrangement until Clovis sealed the deal, so to speak, by telling him in September that she was pregnant.
A month later, the stock market crashed. A month after that, she and Cain were married.
He spent his senior year wandering in the haze of two clouds—one of marital bliss, the other of growing dismay as he watched all the job opportunities he had once counted on dissolve in a widening pool of economic panic. Olivia was born in May, only weeks before his graduation. Under other circumstances he might have felt pressured. Instead, as a scholarship student, he mostly felt blessed. By then, a fair number of classmates had already been forced to withdraw after their daddies' fortunes had fallen into ruin.
The scent of camellias—that would be a nice sensory treat about now, on this shivery spring day in New York. Honeysuckle, better still. Those were Cain's thoughts as a gust of wind blew a cloud of white petals toward him from a nearby vacant lot along 30th. The temperature made them look more like snowflakes.
His reverie came to an abrupt end with a shout by Patrolman Maloney.
"Hey, Citizen Cain, wake the fuck up!" He abruptly looked up to see a leering Maloney only six feet ahead of him on the sidewalk, hands on hips, blocking his way. "What's the matter, daydreaming about that hot and bothered daughter of yours again?"
Cain lunged forward and then snapped to a halt like a snarling dog at the end of its chain. Huge hands had latched on to him from behind. A pair of muscular arms squeezed his chest until he was short of breath. Maloney, who hadn't budged, grinned and shook his head.
"You drunken mick!" Cain gasped, barely able to squeeze out the words.
Maloney's smile disappeared. He stepped forward and, working quickly, reached under Cain's jacket to unbuckle the shoulder holster and pull it free along with the Colt revolver. Then he aggressively patted him down—arms, chest, legs, ankles—growing more frustrated by the second.
"Where is it?" Maloney snapped. "Where's your throwaway?"
"My what?"
"Your extra gun, nimrod! Ain't you got one?"
"No."
Maloney chuckled darkly and shook his head.
"Another goddamn college boy who don't know shit from Shinola. Your throwaway. The gun you use in a tight spot. Plug a skell and throw it away. Then when the lab checks your Colt, presto, clean as a whistle. No need to call in the Rat Squad while they figure out where the bullet came from. Guy with your reputation, I figured that would be the first thing you'd learn. Not that you'll be needing it today, of course."
Maloney stepped to the curb and opened the rear door of a long black Lincoln Zephyr with four doors and white sidewalls. Whoever was holding Cain pressed down the top of his head and shoved him onto the back seat. Cain tried scrambling out, but the door slammed in his face. Then a second guy inside the car grabbed him from behind and cuffed his wrists.
Maloney climbed in up front on the passenger side.
"Shut the fuck up, unless you want a lump on your head." Maloney showed his billy and thumped the seat back.
"What do you want? Maybe we should settle this on the street!"
"Believe me, Cain, I'd like nothing better. Pound those skinny lips of yours right down your throat, then stuff you in a mailbox straight back to Shit Creek. But we've got a ride to take, so shut your yap unless you want some splinters up your ass." He thumped the billy harder.
The driver started the engine. Cain saw now that it was Steele, one of the officers from the 95 Room, so there was a second name for his shit list. Out on the sidewalk, a few passersby craned their necks to see what all the fuss was about. None seemed particularly concerned. To them it must have looked like New York's finest had just collared another lowlife. Cain tried the door handle with his elbow, but it was locked tight, which only made the cop beside him laugh. A four-man job then, counting whoever had grabbed him from behind on the street. Four bad apples, minimum.
"Don't even think about taking names, asshole." This from Steele, who'd glanced in the mirror and must have noticed the calculating anger in Cain's eyes. "We're doing you a favor."
"Man's been here two months," Maloney said, "and can't even hold on to his sidearm." He held up the Colt like a taunt. "Bad training, you ask me. But don't worry, Cain, where we're going you won't need it."
"Where are you taking me?"
"Pipe down, you'll see soon enough. Get this heap moving."
Cain was still breathing deeply, although his fury was now sliding toward fear. It would be easy enough to dispose of him, and for all he knew Mulhearn was also in on it. The captain must have known that the Kannerman assignment would get Cain out of the building by lunchtime, and the latest victim's address had told him which direction Cain would head. All of them would be on Valentine's shit list soon enough, provided he was still in one piece to put them there.
"What's this about?" he asked, trying to steady himself.
"I said shut it." Maloney whipped the billy across the seat back toward his forehead. Cain reeled out of the way just in time.
"It would be bad form if you was to arrive scuffed up, so keep it quiet."
Did that mean they intended to keep him alive? If so, maybe somebody else was waiting to do all the dirty work. Cain had visions of a long, grim ride to the furthest reaches of the city, up through a tunnel beneath the Hudson, or maybe across a bridge to Queens, out to the remote wasteland near the new airport. Or over to the lonely sawgrass marshes of Jersey, where it was so quiet you could hear the wind blow. He might never get a chance to make a move, not with these cuffs on.
Steele surprised him by heading deeper into Midtown and turning north on Park Avenue, where the sidewalk was filled with serious looking men in suits, glamorous women out shopping. Bankers and secretaries, prosperous housewives walking pampered dogs on jeweled leashes. Grand Central Station loomed far ahead. Maloney rested an arm across the seat back and turned to face him.
"Heard you were seen coming out of headquarters the other day. What was the occasion?"
Had Linwood Archer ratted on him? Cain offered the first explanation that popped into his head.
"Paperwork."
"What the hell's that mean?"
"Forms to sign. Payroll, you name it. They're running people through the Academy so fast that the pencil pushers can't keep up, and I'd kind of like to get paid."
"Forty-day wonders." Maloney said, shaking his head. "No wonder you can't do shit."
Maybe he bought it. Maybe they didn't know a thing. Or maybe none of that mattered because they were about to kill him simply because he'd been snooping around the other day, or just on general principle. Cain was surprised at how little emotion he felt at the prospect. A pang of loss on Olivia's behalf, but not a whole lot more. Fear at some level, but less than he would've expected. Was this the toll of the last six months? Numb at the core? Or maybe not. His anger was stirring again. If it came to it, he'd go down fighting, graceless or not. Butting his head and running like a coward. He clenched his fists behind his back, the cuffs biting into his wrists while he stared out the window at all of the lives in progress, all of the people who still had a future.
No one said anything more until the car turned left onto 37th, where it pulled up in front of a red brick building with a marble foyer and a green awning. A doorman stood guard in a uniform worthy of a pasha.
"This is your stop," Maloney said. "Take off the cuffs, Mabry."
Mabry. Another name for the list.
"Now get out."
Whatever had been squeezing Cain's heart eased its grip. He surveyed the landscape. A flag over the door identified the place as the Union League Club. Cain had never heard of it.
"Here?" He was beginning to think he might survive the afternoon.
"I said _get out!_ Go straight upstairs, second floor. You'll see a guy with a big book. You're expected. Oh, and before you go." He tossed a necktie across the seat. "Put this on, you fucking slob. That one you're wearing looks like you been washing cars with it."
# 10
SUDDENLY IT FELT LIKE SPRING AGAIN. A reprieve. Rebirth. Cain stood on the sidewalk, breathing deeply in the harmless cold breeze as the Zephyr pulled away. He knotted the new tie while whistling an ad jingle he'd heard that morning on the radio. The doorman smiled as if he approved, and nodded as Cain entered the foyer of the Union League Club, where he was greeted by varnished wooden columns supporting a grand marble double staircase that curved upward from both sides of a central landing.
With its classic design and wrought-iron banisters, it looked like a set from a Busby Berkeley musical. All that was missing was the lineup of high-stepping showgirls, doffing top hats as they tap-danced down the stairs toward him from either side. It made him feel like he'd arrived, which he supposed was the whole point.
For a fleeting moment he considered leaving—why should he do as Maloney asked, especially now that the car was gone? But curiosity got the better of him, and he climbed to the second floor, where a man in a dinner jacket was indeed posted with a big reservation book outside a dining room.
"Your name, sir?"
"Woodrow Cain."
The man frowned and ran his finger down the page.
"Yes," he said, as if he could hardly believe it. "You're expected. Mr. Euston is waiting."
His father-in-law. Cain should've guessed.
A maître d' materialized and escorted Cain across the carpet to a corner table where Harris Euston sat, reading _The Wall Street Journal._ It was a venerable old room with dark paneling and a molded plaster ceiling. Gilt-framed portraits of dour old men stared from every wall. There were starched tablecloths, and each place had a full setting of silver, most of which would never be needed. A bit stuffy, in other words, which is probably why Euston looked right at home as he folded his paper and rose in greeting.
Up to now, Cain had only met his father-in-law while in the company of his wife, and even those occasions had been few and far between. A widower, Euston had always struck him as a bit of a prig, smoking thin cigars and wearing clothes from another era. Starched shirts with detachable collars. Black suits with an outdated cut. He sometimes wore a cravat instead of a tie. He was trim, except for the paunch of his belly, which poked out as if it were a strap-on fashion accessory, a symbol of prosperity ordered from some high-end haberdasher.
Cain's knowledge of Euston's habits as a New Yorker were sketchy at best. The man had a roomy apartment further up Park, where he lived alone. His wife had been dead for fifteen years, yet he still regularly attended the church she had chosen for them, St. Thomas Episcopal, on Fifth Avenue in Midtown, where he always sat in the same pew up front on the right. Over the years he'd contributed enough to merit a brass plate under a stained glass window. Cain had never warmed to his company, and, odder still, he had always sensed that Clovis hadn't, either. Yet, she had often turned quickly to her father whenever they were in need, and without fail Euston had responded promptly, and usually generously.
Euston had never showed much regard for Cain's profession. In his circles, being a cop was something that Irishmen and Italians did, and Cain's status as a university man only seemed to make his employment more ludicrous. He was also a bit of a snob about the South. On his one visit to Horton—arriving in a glossy green Packard with white sidewalls—Euston had always frowned and kept his mouth shut whenever they'd encountered some quaint regional custom or local personality.
He was a partner at Willett & Reed, whose clients were mostly bankers, investment houses, and large corporations. Cain had the impression it was the kind of outfit capable of accomplishing more with a few well-placed phone calls than most law firms could manage with a pile of legal motions. The firm's name stood for money and influence with a patrician gloss, but it now occurred to Cain that in at least one way it bore a striking resemblance to the one-man information shop of Max Danziger: It valued discretion above all, especially for clients who were quietly up to no good.
Euston checked a pocket watch and shook his hand in greeting, probably more out of deference to club decorum than to Cain.
"Woodrow. Right on time. Cocktail?" A waiter stood at the ready.
"I'm working."
"Bring him a double Scotch. No, make it a bourbon. Neat. And bring me another of these." He held up a beaded crystal glass, nothing left but ice. The waiter glided away. They sat.
"I've been wondering what a man has to do to get his phone calls returned by his cop son-in-law."
"And you settled on kidnapping. I take it you're a friend of that blunt instrument, Maloney. Mulhearn, too."
"I'm a friend of a lot of people in the third district, and the fourteenth precinct in particular. Friendships that don't always come cheaply, I have to say." He smirked. "How do you think you got this job, from your test scores?"
Cain bit his tongue. He wished Valentine could be here. It would be enjoyable watching the two self-important blowhards clash in such polite surroundings, their egos as overinflated as those big balloons in the Macy's parade—Felix the Cat versus Mickey Mouse, bumping their way through the crystal and china while Cain sipped his bourbon. It was almost a relief to have the hostility out in the open. He wondered how long Euston had been holding it back. Probably since his daughter's wedding day. And it wasn't as if the man's daughter had been blameless in what had happened in Horton last fall. Far from it. A few months ago Euston had even appeared to be shamed by events, but obviously not anymore.
His drink arrived along with the menus. Cain thought about pushing it aside, then reconsidered and downed half the bourbon in one go, shuddering at the amber pleasure of it. He needed it. His nerves were still shaky from the car ride.
"I thought I might at least warrant a courtesy visit, but as I suspected you're not well schooled in courtesy."
"You know how it is with Southern provincials. It's all we can do to keep our shoes tied and our napkins in our laps. What's the agenda here, sir? Other than showing me which cops are in your pocket."
"Mostly I wanted an update on your situation. I do feel _some_ sense of responsibility now that you're living in my town. Although I'll confess that my primary concern is for Olivia's welfare. She'll be arriving fairly soon, and I wanted to inquire as to what your plans are for extra help once she's present. Who will take care of her while you're at work?"
"I'll manage something."
Euston shook his head.
"Just the sort of half-baked answer I expected, which is why I've taken the liberty of arranging for a housekeeper. Someone with hours as flexible as yours, and she'll be ready to go at a moment's notice. An Irishwoman. They're especially good at that sort of thing. You certainly wouldn't want a Negro, not in Chelsea. I'll pay her wages, of course, so don't bother to protest. You might even say thank you if the thought ever crosses your mind."
"I'm still trying to figure out how to say thanks for that deluxe ride that brought me here. Top of the line, sir."
"Her name's Eileen. A bit partial to popery, but I suppose that comes with her kind. She doesn't drink, so you needn't worry about locking away the whiskey. She's a firm hand, and I think Olivia will need that. She'll be, what, thirteen in a few months?"
Cain nodded, sobered by the thought.
"I've seen perfectly well-behaved children arrive here and run completely wild."
_Like your daughter?_ Cain thought it, but didn't say it. Besides, he shared Euston's concerns, and knew he couldn't afford anything comparable.
"What do you hear from her?" Euston asked.
"She's doing about as well as expected. I'll let you know if she ever asks about you."
"I do worry a bit about that location where I've put you, down there in the garment district. For her sake."
"The building's fine."
"Not the building. The neighbors." He glanced around and lowered his voice. "A trifle too Hebrew for my granddaughter, I should think."
"Or maybe just for you."
"Me?" He laughed dismissively. "I wouldn't last very long in my profession, or even in this club, if that was my attitude. Although there _are_ parts of town where it's beyond belief. Go down to Hester Street one morning and we'll see how long it takes before your broad-minded superiority begins to crumble. The men with their side curls, the women covered head to toe, every sign a nightmare of Semitic squiggles. You do know, don't you, that pretty much every Leninist and Trotskyite in this town is a Jew? Just read the names on the handbills. Goldman, Steinberg, Cohen."
"Greenberg."
"Of course."
"I meant Hank. Fifty-eight homers for the Tigers last year."
"No one's saying they're _all_ up to no good. It's a matter of proportion. In New York they've engineered a striking degree of control over the newspapers, the investment houses, you name it. Although soon that will matter less. The city's boom has peaked. There was a piece on it in _The New Republic._ Not my kind of magazine, but this time they got it right. New York's heyday is over. Were you aware that one fifth of this country's unemployed live right here in the city?"
"I wasn't. I doubt our reading habits have a lot in common."
"We'll get a boost from the shipyards, of course. In wartime everyone booms, it's the only thing that makes them worth fighting. But all the new production is going to places like Bridgeport, Hartford, Detroit. Now there's your city of the future, Woodrow. Detroit." He leaned closer and again lowered his voice. "So, while the reign of the Jews may continue here, the realm itself will inevitably fade in power and influence. And no one will ever again buy stocks the way they used to, not after what happened in '29."
"Then maybe you should move to Detroit."
"Maybe I will. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
The waiter returned. Euston ordered for them. Sweetbreads, roast duck, spring vegetables and red potatoes, thick slices from a juicy rib roast. All arrived promptly, and with an impressive clatter of china and silver plate. It was easily the best meal Cain had eaten since he'd come to New York, and it cooled the simmer of his anger. He decided to be civil for a while, if only for Olivia's sake. He imagined Clovis at the seat to his right, squeezing his hand beneath the table to keep him from picking a fight.
"How is the war affecting the legal business?" he asked. "Hard to imagine it would be much of a help."
"You'd be surprised. Chase Bank is worried about the legal exposure of its interests abroad, so there's that." Chase Bank. Quite a client. Cain was impressed, but that was probably why Euston had brought it up. "Then there's General Motors, a few of the other industrials. You can't imagine the litigation they're facing."
"Even now?"
"Especially now, given who their enemies are. Do you think the unions have called a truce just because everybody's supposed to be pulling together? No more than the criminal element has, I'm guessing. Speaking of which, I seem to have read in the papers that you've already gotten involved in a murder investigation."
"I've never thought of you as a _Daily News_ man."
"When your son-in-law turns up in the coverage, word tends to get around."
"I didn't plan on that, believe me."
"Interesting case, though."
"Not really."
"Sounds like you haven't made any headway."
"I haven't closed it, if that's what you're asking."
"But definitely some sort of German connection, I gather."
"I probably shouldn't discuss it, in case it ever goes to trial. As a lawyer I'm sure you understand."
"Certainly. Of course, there's also the concept—in both our professions—that by sharing information you can sometimes acquire some. Quid pro quo. My firm and, more to the point, our clients have contacts all over this city. They often know things that a brand-new detective, or even his more experienced colleagues, might not."
"Even in a low-rent place like Yorkville?"
"There's more prosperity up there than you'd think. Plenty of Americans with Germanic backgrounds have done quite well for themselves, and those are the very people who tend to keep their ears to the ground."
"Seemed like a bit of a Nazi enclave, far as I could tell."
"See? Only an unsophisticated newcomer would paint it with such a broad brush."
"Like with life down on Hester Street?"
"I've heard you finally came up with a name for the victim. Hansch, is it?"
"Mulhearn tell you that?"
"As I said, lots of friends in the one-four."
"Well compensated, you said that, too. Which of your clients pays their tab? Chase? GM?"
"Same fellow who's paying yours. Think of me as a patron, Woodrow. Like one of those philanthropists who gets the best seats at the Philharmonic."
"I doubt I'll forget your role in my life anytime soon. But as a long as you're offering contacts, maybe I'll bounce a name off you. Lutz Lorenz, sort of a jack-of-all-trades. Runs a little labor agency up that way. Ring any bells?"
Euston frowned, then shook his head. "Can't say that it does. How's he mixed up in all this?"
"Sorry. Like you said, quid pro quo. You want more, you'll have to help me first. Don't say I never asked."
The waiter materialized to Euston's left.
"A telephone call for you, sir. He insists that it's urgent. Shall I bring the phone to table?"
"I'll take it in the reading room." Euston frowned, put down his napkin, and rose from the table. Then, turning to Cain: "This should only be a minute."
Cain sat in silence while watching Euston cross the room. One of his bigshot clients, perhaps. Or Mulhearn, checking to see if Maloney had delivered the parcel as promised.
The irony of this meeting was that, under other circumstances, Cain might easily have been dining with Euston as a colleague of sorts. After two years on the job in Horton, when Olivia was a toddler and he and Clovis were still scraping together a down payment on a small house, Euston had cruised into town on his one visit south to offer him a job at Willett & Reed. Not a lawyer's position, of course, although Euston made vague intimations that the firm would help pay Cain's way through law school on the side.
He had refused the offer outright during a long and testy evening. It was the one time Clovis took her father's side in an argument, but Cain refused to budge. Too prideful, or maybe he just hadn't liked the idea of making New York his home. To Clovis's credit, she had never again raised the subject.
Cain had never second-guessed the decision, but looking around him now he wondered. He might yet be married, not to mention more handsomely employed, their daughter in a stable home, safe from all that had happened. Or maybe things still would have ended in disaster, but in a different way—Clovis's passions burning even more dangerously brighter in this city of motion, Cain driven to drink or depression by homesickness and dissatisfaction. Although one thing was inescapable: Rob Vance would be alive. Cain had to wash down that thought with another swallow of bourbon.
Whatever the case, here he was in Manhattan all the same, with Euston still trying to run his life. He felt the roast going cold in his belly, and then saw Euston returning to the table, looking a bit disconcerted.
"Bad news?"
"Nothing that you need to know."
"Words to live by."
Euston ignored the barb and began picking at the margins of his lunch.
"So how are things going for you otherwise, Woodrow? Personally, I mean. Are all of your needs being addressed?"
His needs? The question made him flash unbidden on an image of Clovis, a moment from their honeymoon in Florida. She stood naked in bands of slatted sunlight through a jalousie window, both of them sunburned. They touched each other, lightly at first, and then with passion, no longer caring if it stung as they climbed into bed.
Euston was staring at him, as if reading his mind. Cain impaled a green bean on his fork and replied: "Sure. Mostly. I did have a question for you. Partly because I'm guessing Olivia will want to know."
"Then by all means."
"Where's Clovis?"
Euston frowned. He dabbed his mouth with a napkin as if someone had struck him across the jaw. "That's not your concern."
"As I said, Olivia will want to know. Believe me, she'll ask."
Euston looked him in the eye. "She's someplace where she's being well cared for."
"A place for drying out?"
"You never did understand her properly, you know, or maybe she wouldn't have developed such a thirst."
"Her thirst predated me, as you might recall. You might also remember that toward the end of things she developed a certain hunger."
"Which you could have deterred by paying her the proper sort of attention, instead of leaving it to others. But I'm not here to judge you, or to make her out to be a saint. It's why I've agreed to help provide for your needs. Olivia's, too, of course. That's my main concern. It's Clovis's concern as well."
"She knows I'm here?"
"I keep her apprised of _some_ things about you. Not all of them, of course. Not until she's ready for it."
"And when will that be?"
"That will be my decision. And hers."
"I'm a little surprised she cares at all."
"Proving once again how poorly you know my daughter." He leaned forward, eyes narrowing and his skin turning red. All that other business—the big shot clients, his ready supply of cops—was behind him for the moment. Now it was deeply personal, and his voice took on an edge. "Tell me, Woodrow. Once you put my daughter down there in that quiet old backwater, this beautiful cosmopolitan girl who used to be so vibrant and alive, did you really believe that your bashful Southern charm alone would be enough to keep her satisfied and entertained? And on a cop's salary, no less?"
Cain opened his mouth, but no words emerged, and Euston jumped right back into the breach.
"Yes, I thought so. And now that everything's gone, here you are, still eating on her daddy's tab."
Neither of them had much to say after that. When the waiter asked about dessert or coffee, Cain declined and Euston signed for the bill. Paid by Willett & Reed, or even Chase National Bank, for all he knew.
Cain dropped his napkin on the table and stood to leave. Euston kept his seat. His face was no longer red, and his voice was calm.
"Remember, Woodrow. Keep me abreast of things. In my business it's always useful to have information from a wide range of sources. And while I do have friends in the station house, family is always a more reliable conduit."
"I don't recall making any promises to that effect."
"Who said anything about promises? It's an implicit part of our arrangement, presuming you wish to stay housed and employed. The fine print, if you will, and you know how lawyers are about fine print."
"Then I guess you should have gotten it in writing."
Euston smiled. "If I didn't know better, Woodrow, I'd say you didn't learn a thing from today's chauffeured ride. I can always arrange for other destinations, you know. Bear that in mind next time you're debating whether to return one of my phone calls."
Cain felt the blood rise in his cheeks. He squeezed the back of the chair, then turned to leave before he said something foolish.
He walked the entire way despite the throbbing in his leg, and he needed all eleven blocks to cool down. Not that it did him much good once he reached his desk, where he saw that Maloney had placed his gun and holster right on top of his paperwork, perched where everyone could see them, for maximum embarrassment. There was a note on top, scribbled on a page from a memo book. Maloney had signed it with a flourish, so that everyone who looked would know who was pulling Cain's chain.
"Better brush up on your gun security, Citizen Cain. Never know when you'll need one of these."
He angrily crumpled the note and was about to toss it in the trash when his more practical side prevailed. He smoothed it out, put it in the top drawer of his desk, and locked it away. Maloney, Steele, and Mabry. Names worth remembering. He vowed to make it into the 95 Room as soon as possible, even if Mulhearn again caught him in the act.
No one in the squad room said a word as he strapped his Colt back on. He looked from desk to desk, wondering how many more of them were on his father-in-law's payroll.
# 11
CAIN CAME UP FROM the subway onto Delancey, entering Danziger's world for the first time. He couldn't help but smile. It was the very sort of place Euston had been railing about the day before in the sterile sanctity of the Union League Club. The "Semitic squiggles" of Hebrew were on plenty of signs, and many women were indeed covered head to toe. But here, too, the wider world had infiltrated deeply. There was even another Thom McAn.
The sidewalks were bustling on a sunny market day as vendors called out their wares and prices. The air smelled of freshly butchered meat and of washed fruit and vegetables. Plucked chickens hung by their necks all in a row in a shop window. Cain supposed he might just as easily be in some urban corner of Europe as Manhattan, and he found himself liking it, buoyed by the vibrancy, the intensity, the enveloping noise.
A newsboy in shorts and a flat hat bumped past on his right, carrying a sack of fresh copies of the afternoon edition, which smelled of ink. The boy held aloft a copy and began shouting the day's headlines even as the heavy bag banged against his knobby knees. A fishmonger, white apron smeared with blood, poured a bucket of ice onto a gleaming row of the day's catch.
"Haddock fresh from the docks, sir. You won't find a better price."
Cain nodded in passing but didn't dare open his mouth, knowing his accent would immediately mark him as an outsider. He was having too much fun pretending he belonged, a feeling that carried him all the way to the narrow tenement house at 174 Rivington Street, where there were two front doors. The one on the right opened onto a narrow hallway with a stairwell. The door on the left was painted black, with one of Danziger's business cards tacked above a mail slot. Cain knocked loudly until Danziger opened. The man's look of surprise quickly gave way to an irritated frown.
"You should have given me warning."
"Warning? I'm a policeman."
"I am with a client."
Another voice, a man's, shouted from somewhere behind him:
"A client? Is that how you refer to me behind my back, Sascha? A _client_?"
"Sascha?" Cain asked.
"A term of endearment. He is an old friend."
The man shouted again: "Ha! Friend! Now that's more like it!"
"We are discussing deeply private matters for his correspondence. So if you could please return later. Half an hour, perhaps."
"Nonsense!" the man shouted. "I have no secrets from anyone. You know this, Sascha. Besides, I doubt that any man sounding as he does will understand a word of Russian. Invite him in at once!"
Danziger sighed and stepped back from the doorway. "Wait here at the front while I conclude with his letter. I will be with you in a moment."
"Greetings, sir!" An older man stood from a chair in the back of the room and nodded toward Cain, smiling broadly. He wore a black waistcoat and pants, and a starched white shirt. His silver hair was long and uncombed. He looked at least sixty, possibly older, but the shimmer of his watery brown eyes was visible even through the dusky gloom of the long, ill-lighted room.
Cain looked around him with a growing sense of wonder. Danziger's office appeared to take up the entire floor. There was no bed or lavatory, so presumably he slept and bathed elsewhere. Up front where Cain stood the room was furnished as a sort of narrow parlor, with a ratty brown love seat and an emerald wing chair with stuffing poking from its cushions. The walls were covered floor to ceiling with bookshelves. The titles were in many languages, and included thick volumes that appeared to be dictionaries and reference works. It smelled like a library, a mustier and more raffish version of the study they'd visited the other night in Yorkville.
In the rear, where the old man stood next to a ladder-back chair, the space was anchored by a massive rolltop desk of varnished walnut, cluttered with books and papers. But the real wonder was on the wall above it—row upon row of cubbyhole mail slots—at least a hundred, maybe even two hundred, and every last slot had something in it, including some that bulged with a dozen or more envelopes. Cain marveled at the magnitude. All those lives, past and present, and this was their nerve center, possibly their only connection to the wider world beyond these crowded blocks.
Beside the rolltop desk was a broad writing table with a row of four aging typewriters, side by side, presumably one for each of the different alphabets Danziger employed—Cyrillic for Russian, Hebrew for Yiddish, a German model to handle the umlauts of that language, and then the last one for English. The writing desk sat beneath a high frosted window that loomed above the cubbyholes. It was louvered open at the top to let in fresh air, along with a slanting shaft of sunlight which illuminated tumbling motes of dust.
Over to the right was a large woodstove. The floor, which creaked and moaned with every step, was covered by an overlapping series of Oriental runners and rugs of varying shapes, designs, colors, and thicknesses. This patchwork nature gave the room a palpable sense of topography, as if you might have to negotiate your way to the rear via a series of footpaths and valleys. All in all, the room was a bit of a firetrap, a bit of a museum, a bit of a riddle. But above all it felt like an embodiment of Danziger, a man with so many of his own nooks and crannies.
Danziger briskly made his way across the undulating floor to the back, where he settled into the office chair with a deep groan of its universal joint. The old man sat down as well, in the chair facing Danziger.
"Now," Danziger said, continuing as if Cain weren't there. "Where were we?"
"Come now," the man said. "First you must introduce me to your guest."
Danziger stood slowly, looking somewhat put out. The other man stood again, so Cain followed suit, feeling a bit mannered, as if they were gathered in a sitting room in Bohemia.
"Mr. Cain, this is Fyodor Alexandroff, an old and trusted friend who has been using my services for years. Fedya, this is Woodrow Cain, a detective sergeant in good standing with the New York Police Department. We are assisting one another on a private matter of some import."
"Are you now? Well, then, greetings to you, sir."
"Pleasure to meet you, sir," Cain said.
"My niece may be arriving shortly to join you. She always enters without knocking, and is often nosy to the point of rudeness. Please feel at complete liberty to ignore her."
"I shall."
Shall? Cain never talked like this. He felt as if he'd walked into a different century, and was adapting on the fly. He pictured Alexandroff's niece as a weathered old crone, smelling of cabbage and dressed in a black wool skirt that would brush against the floor with every step.
"He is exaggerating, of course," Danziger said. "She is quite harmless. A do-gooder of the first order. So, once again, Fedya. Where were we?"
The two men sat back down. Cain did as well.
Alexandroff answered in Russian, and the two men were soon deep in conversation, leaning closer until their foreheads were only inches apart, while Danziger took notes in a thick ledger, nodding occasionally. They continued in this way for another ten minutes while Cain watched, fascinated by their body language. At times they seemed to slip into a trance as they stared into each other's eyes, exchanging words in Russian.
The door opened. The two men looked up, the spell broken. Cain turned and squinted into the sudden glare. He beheld the silhouette of a young woman in a thin coat. Her face slowly came into focus as his eyes adjusted to the light.
He swallowed hard, momentarily speechless. It wasn't beauty that struck him with such force. If anything she was a bit plain, and quite unadorned. It was more a case of her presence, or perhaps of her movements—a sense of sureness and energy that radiated from her like a force field, as if it were part of the nimbus of sunlight, although the effect didn't diminish in the least even after the door shut and she was enveloped by the gloom. Her eyes, that was part of it. Brown and welcoming, carrying their own light. Full of empathy, wit and—to Cain's eyes—allure.
"Who are you?" she asked, not rudely, but with little warmth.
"Woodrow Cain. I'm waiting on Danziger."
"Not as a customer, surely?"
"No. I'm...we're..." He could hardly get the words out. He felt like an imbecile, and a thirteen-year-old imbecile at that. "We're working together."
Fyodor Alexandroff shouted to her from across the room.
"He is a police detective, Beryl dear, so you must be on your best behavior!"
Alexandroff said it as a joke, but Beryl—at least he knew her name now—didn't seem amused or impressed.
"So, Sascha is collaborating with the authorities now?" Then, to both of the older men. "Don't rush on my behalf. I brought a book."
She settled into the ratty wing chair, pulled a book from her shoulder bag, and immediately began to read. The signal couldn't have been clearer: Leave me in peace. Cain chose to ignore it.
_"China Sky,"_ he said, reading the cover. "How does it compare to _The Good Earth_?"
"Policemen are reading Pearl S. Buck now?" She spoke without looking up.
"I was an English major."
"Where?" This time she at least peeped above the pages.
"Chapel Hill."
"Ah. Where Thomas Wolfe learned to overwrite. I met him once, at a party in the Village. He was being swarmed by girls who didn't know better. He was quite vulnerable and charming, exactly the way you'd expect for a rough-hewn mountain boy. He was huge."
"Does he still live up here?"
"He's dead."
"Oh, right. I knew that. Only a few years ago, wasn't it?"
"Yes. Tuberculosis."
She looked back down at her book. Cain knew he'd blown it, but he couldn't stop now. He wondered if he could find some way to finagle an address, or a phone number. It occurred to him that it was no sure thing that her last name was Alexandroff, or even that she was single, although he had already checked her hand and seen there was no wedding ring. If he had to guess, he would've said she was twenty-nine or thirty. Nearly his age, or close enough. He groped for something to say that wouldn't sound ridiculous.
"He does interesting work."
"Wolfe?"
"Danziger."
"Oh. Yes. I suppose he does." She put her book facedown in her lap and glanced toward the two older men, who had resumed their trance and were muttering in Russian.
"My uncle has been coming here for years. He's not illiterate like most of the customers. But one of his cousins from Minsk reads only in Yiddish. My uncle lost that years ago, as an act of rebellion against his parents, I suspect. So Sascha translates for him, into Russian. Reads the incoming letters and types up the outgoing ones, from his notes of their conversations. Although that's never the reason they're talking for this long. Uncle Fedya comes as much for the fellowship and the neighborhood gossip. They go way back. And they met while speaking Russian, so that's how they often prefer to converse. The letters themselves, well, they're nothing to write home about."
"Good one."
She smiled for the first time. For a moment the room was a hundred watts brighter.
"I've watched him working with women, though. Sascha, I mean, and that's where he really earns his keep. With the men like my uncle it's usually just 'I am fine, I hope you are well,' plus one or two events of the day. Boring. Skeletal. Nothing of real substance or energy. But these women, you should see them, you should _hear_ them! Old World to the core, and Sascha is their town crier, their daily newspaper. He draws it all out of them—he is quite gentle, when he wishes to be, very courtly and respectful—and once they get going, goodness, they spill everything. Truly everything, until they have drained the deepest well of their souls. I've seen some leave in tears. Catharsis, I suppose. And from what I'm told, Sascha really makes their words sing."
"But how would they know, if they're illiterate?"
"Good one," she said, smiling again. "I asked that very question. It seems that oftentimes the replies, often as not written by _other_ paid letter writers, include effusive compliments for the style of his prose."
"Or maybe he just says that."
"Now you're thinking like a policeman."
This time Cain smiled.
"You and your uncle call him Sascha."
"Yes. The diminutive for Alexander." She reopened her book.
"But his name is Maximilian."
"The name on his business card, you mean."
"Yes. Well, no. That just says Danziger."
"Obviously you don't know him very well."
"Not for very long, anyway."
"I see."
She went back to her reading, but now Cain was too curious—about Danziger, and about her—to stop. And he still didn't have an address, or even her last name.
"He told me the other day that he tries to forget everything people tell him, all of their secrets."
She looked back up, a little wearily this time. "You sound skeptical."
"Well, for a man whose business is supposedly information, it didn't sound very likely."
"I think it's quite plausible, especially considering what his customers are often hearing from their friends and family lately, from all over Europe. Who'd want those dark stories shunting around in your head all night, like boxcars in a switching yard? I know they'd keep me awake. Besides, to hear my uncle Fedya tell it, Sascha has had quite a lot of practice at forgetting."
"Meaning what?"
"Ask Sascha. Or Max. Whichever name you prefer."
She went back to her book. This time Cain did not interrupt. He was too busy thinking about all she'd said. A few minutes later, Danziger and Alexandroff concluded their business. Alexandroff shook Cain's hand in parting. Cain was hoping to speak more to Beryl, but she ducked out the door to wait on the stoop for her uncle. Then the door shut behind Fedya, and she was gone. Cain sighed and decided he might as well get down to business. But that aspect of his visit was also destined to end poorly.
"You should have let me know you were coming," Danziger said, a little irritably. "When you told me yesterday of your nuisance assignment, I went ahead and booked myself fully for the rest of this week, and these are not appointments that can be cancelled upon a whim."
"Sorry."
"Perhaps we can meet on Monday."
"Okay."
"At your office?"
Cain was about to assent, until it occurred to him that if he returned here he might at least have a remote chance of bumping into Beryl.
"I'll come here instead," he said. "Ten a.m.?"
Danziger frowned, then nodded. "As you wish. Oh, and before I forget. I made a few inquiries in the matter of Mr. Albert Kannerman."
"Who?"
"Your con man at large. Your punishment detail."
"Who told you his name?"
"Here. Try this."
He handed Cain a folded scrap of paper which contained an address on Grand Street. Nothing more.
"My understanding is that your best chance of finding him at home is between the hours of two and three a.m. I am also told he is a heavy sleeper."
Cain was about to ask how Danziger had learned this when the door opened. For a moment his spirits leaped, but it was an older woman with a baby in her arms and two toddlers in tow, their faces smeared with bread crumbs.
"Ah, Mrs. Stern," Danziger said, his voice rising an octave. "What a pleasure to see you. My visitor here was just departing. Come right in and I will retrieve your latest correspondence. One from each of your sisters!"
Cain slipped out the door as they entered. He headed back toward the maelstrom of Delancey Street, where he forded the crowds until reaching the stairway down to the subway. When he reached the platform he dug into his pocket for the address Danziger had given him for Kannerman. He chuckled to himself, wondering once again at the old man's resources. Maybe the info was worthless, although he doubted it. Another act of sorcery by Max Danziger. Or was it Sascha instead?
Information, indeed.
The Kannerman address wasn't far from here. Perhaps he should try it now, or at least scout out the best ways of entry and exit. He was on the verge of heading back up the stairs when he spotted Beryl, leaning against a support pylon maybe thirty yards down the platform, again reading her book.
Cain carefully worked his way toward her, weaving through the crowd while hoping she didn't look up and spot him. He stopped about ten yards short, wondering awkwardly what he could say to break the ice, when the train pulled in. He watched her board before he entered the same car at the opposite end. Peering between the heads and bodies he saw her take a seat just beneath an ad for Old Gold cigarettes, printed with the words of the jingle he'd heard that morning on his neighbor's radio— _Not a cough in a carload!_ —which somehow made the moment feel fated. Then he picked his way forward through the standers and strap-hangers until he stood just in front of her bench.
She looked up, noticing him right away. He feigned surprise.
"Oh, hi! What an unexpected pleasure."
She looked annoyed, as if she'd instantly figured out his entire maneuver. Not a frown, but something close. "Hello," she said curtly.
She looked back down at her book. Cain was beginning to feel quite resentful of Pearl S. Buck.
The train lurched into motion, lights flickering. At the first stop it took some effort to hold his position as more people boarded. He wondered if he should try to speak to her. Twice she glanced up at him. The first time he looked away, embarrassed. The second time she frowned and spoke up.
_"Do you mind?"_
She said it sharply enough that half the car must have heard. Heat rose in his cheeks, and when Cain glanced left an older woman was scowling at him. Public enemy number one, at least on this car. Suitably shamed, he worked his way back toward the other end of the car, where he spent the next few minutes staring at an advertising placard for the March of Dimes China Relief Fund, which only reminded him of Pearl S. Buck.
So, then. Was this what the city inevitably did to the lonely? Turned them into furtive stalkers in futile pursuit of companionship? In the course of a day he saw so many passing faces that he supposed he was bound to run across one now and then that would light something inside of him, a face that would inexplicably hit him just the right way—or just the _wrong_ way, considering how idiotic he now felt. He was behaving like a lecherous old man on a park bench with a runny nose and a bottle of hooch in a paper bag.
Between the next two stops the lights again went out for several seconds at a time. When they came back on Cain saw that an older Japanese man—mid-fifties, dressed head to toe in British tweeds—had taken a seat on the opposite side. The seats to either side of him were empty, even though at least a dozen people were standing. People near him were frowning with even more hostility than they'd exhibited toward Cain. Germans and Italians could blend in, Cain supposed, but not Japs, and the assumption of course was that none could be trusted, not since Pearl Harbor. He had been mildly surprised to see this theme turn up even in a recent _Times_ review of Gilbert and Sullivan's _Mikado,_ in which the critic praised the libretto for "depicting the Japanese in the light that history now records—sly, witty and deceitful, unconsciously corrupt, and treacherous." But did that also go for this poor fellow? He looked like nothing more than a weary businessman, briefcase in his lap.
The man stood to get off at the next station, which was also Cain's stop. Cain paused to let him exit first, only to have a glowering young tough shoulder past him along with a friend and then several other people.
The moment Cain stepped onto the platform he knew something was wrong. From just ahead he heard the sound of grunting, a loud gasp, a tumble of bodies. When the crowd cleared Cain saw the Japanese man on his knees at the edge of the platform next to his open briefcase, which was spilling papers into the breeze created by the departing train. Passersby moved briskly on their way, ignoring him, although one or two bumped his shoulder as if determined to add to his misery. One such bump caused him to teeter alarmingly at the edge of the platform before he steadied himself.
"Fucking spy," someone muttered.
"Why isn't he locked up?" said another.
Cain stepped forward and began picking up loose papers. Then he knelt by the man, who, recoiling instinctively, held up a hand to protect himself.
"It's okay," Cain said. "I'm here to help. Speak English?"
"Of course!" the man hissed, no trace of an accent. "I'm an American. I've lived in this country for thirty-nine years!"
"Hey, pal!" It was the young thug from the subway car, with his buddy. "Let the rest of us take care of this."
Cain turned to see both boys grinning, hands in pockets. The first one cocked a leg, as if preparing to kick a football. Cain sprang from his crouch, grabbed the foot as it came forward, and then twisted the leg to tumble the boy onto his back.
"Whose side are you on, asshole!" the second one shouted, already in motion.
Cain released the boy's foot and pulled out his shield, flashing it in their faces.
"I'm a cop," he said. "Get a move on." Then, to the gathering crowd. "Everybody move it. This man's an American citizen on his way to work. Nothing more to see here."
The last part was a New York cop's line if Cain had ever heard one. All that was missing was the local accent. As it was, the two young thugs seemed as shocked by Cain's drawl as by his actions. But the badge did the trick, and they eased slowly toward the exit.
When Cain turned back around a young woman was helping the Japanese man to his feet. It was Beryl. This time she didn't frown or look away.
"Thanks for doing something," she said. "I've seen far too much of this kind of thing. No one ever raises a finger to stop it."
The man clasped the briefcase to his chest. It was scuffed but intact, and so was he.
"Thank you," he said to Cain.
"Don't mention it. Take care of yourself."
Bystanders, already back on the move toward their destinations, frowned in disapproval, but none seemed perturbed enough to intervene. The man brushed himself off and was on his way, which left Cain and Beryl standing side by side. He glanced at her, and caught her glancing back. He still didn't even know her last name.
"Sorry about being, well, so rude," he said. "It's just that..." He ran out of words. He was going to blow it again.
"Well." She brushed a lock of hair from her face. "I should get to work."
"Me, too."
She turned and strolled away, the opportunity gone. He was an idiot, a fool.
Then she abruptly wheeled around, and almost before he knew what was happening she blurted out the most vital information he'd heard in days.
"Beryl Blum," she said. "No _e_ on the end. Cadman six, two-four-three-seven. The phone's shared by the whole building, so ask for Beryl in 2C."
Before he could answer she turned toward the stairs and was swallowed by the crowd.
For several blocks Cain repeated the phone number over and over to himself so he wouldn't forget. Finally he stopped just outside the station house and took out his notebook to scribble it onto a blank page, along with her name.
Seeing it in black and white reassured him. Yes, he would see her again, and possibly soon.
He breezed into the building and climbed the stairs two at a time.
# 12
# DANZIGER
EARLY ON THE THIRD SATURDAY of every month, unbeknownst to neighbors and friends, I treat myself to a personal metamorphosis, briefly shedding the drab trappings of my current existence in order to spread the bright butterfly wings of my distant past. It is a sort of therapy, I suppose, a means of reminding myself of a time when life was not quite so fraught with need.
I begin this transformation shortly after rising, by packing a small leather suitcase. Then, at around eight a.m., bag in hand, I set out from my doorstep dressed in my usual shabby clothes. I nod politely to passersby. Many of them are already walking to synagogue, to devote themselves to higher pursuits on this morning of the Sabbath, and I am happy to let them believe that I am doing the same.
Instead, I proceed west on Delancey until I reach the Bowery, with its rogues' gallery of gin mills and flophouses, deathly quiet at this early hour. I then head uptown, walking all the way to Astor Place. I prefer to be well north of my usual environs before boarding a subway, lest some believer catch me in the act.
Deceiving neighbors and clients is not my only motive. My precautions also protect them from knowledge which might only bring them harm. Their lives have become important to me, and to visit calamity upon their houses through some careless disclosure or unwanted entanglement from my own fading history would be unforgivable.
Upon arrival at Grand Central Terminal, I visit two fine establishments owned by the recently retired James P. Carey, a master entrepreneur of an earlier era. The first of these, located in the men's waiting room, is a once grand barber shop with an adjoining public bath. There, for the rather steep sum of fifty cents, I luxuriate in the heat and fog of a Russian steam bath, letting the cares and labors of the previous month rise like a vapor from my sweating pores.
Suitably refreshed, I unpack my suitcase and change into the laundered clothes folded neatly within—charcoal gray suit, with wide lapels and pleated pants, smelling faintly of mothballs; a starched white shirt; striped silk tie; black wool socks; and a polished pair of lace-up wingtips in black and white Italian leather, even though in recent years they have begun to pinch my toes.
I adjourn to the spacious barber shop with its sixteen chairs, tile walls, and marble basins, where my regular barber, Sandro, trims my graying locks with scissors, and then shaves a week's worth of stubble with a straight razor. He finishes by applying a layer of steaming towels. I remain silent throughout, content to eavesdrop on the political gossip of neighboring patrons. Before continuing on my way, I visit Mr. Carey's baggage check service, where I drop off the suitcase with my old clothes packed inside.
From there I catch an uptown subway, emerging into the part of Midtown which always reminds me of the music of Gershwin—bouncy, optimistic, and brashly American, with a human pulse beating deep within its many layers of noise. After the crowded lanes around Rivington Street these boulevards feel as spacious as the canyons of the American West, and I exult in the vista of skyscrapers with their clean and rigid lines stretching all the way to an open sky, with nary a clothesline in sight. If any of my current contemporaries were to pass me on the sidewalk during this final leg, I doubt they would recognize me. Even my posture is different. Shoulders back, chest forward, a longer and more confident stride.
My footsteps carry me deeper into Midtown, to the Longchamps restaurant on 57th, between Fifth and Sixth Avenues, where I take a seat, order breakfast, and, with a flourish worthy of a banker, shake open my broadsheet newspaper.
I confess that Longchamps is a fallback destination. My first choice would be Lindy's, on Seventh, where my old employer used to hold court almost every night at his regular table, with his usual entourage. But even after all these years, an appearance there would feel too risky, too foolish, for someone who has become as careful as I. And it is not as if I set out on this monthly excursion in order to re-create history. I am engaging in harmless nostalgia, if only to remind myself of a time in which I believed in a future without war and without want, a more enlightened age in which the concerns of the Old World would no longer matter in this brash new country of ours. Such is the foolish optimism of youth and easy power—a foolishness that seems especially acute when I also recall the manner of people I worked and played with at the time.
So, I settle instead for my secondary location, the 57th Street Longchamps, with its art deco air of elegance, from its murals to its menus. It, too, was once popular with my old crowd, particularly with one fair friend who has long since passed from my life, her face a mere memory. From time to time the place still attracts a few holdovers from those days, so I suppose that even my fallback choice comes with an element of calculated risk. That may even be part of its charm.
The current waitresses, however, know me only as a quiet, uncelebrated man who wishes to be left in peace as he reads his paper and enjoys his poached eggs on toast, with plenty of refills of coffee.
Usually I take a table in the back. Today it was occupied. Business has been picking up. During the first months of the war the place was practically empty. Now people are spending money again—those who have it, anyway. Or maybe Longchamps is succeeding with its new ad campaign, which I recently spotted in the _Times,_ a crass appeal to patriotism that proclaims sit-down dining to be a key element of overseas military success: "Don't be a 'sandwich grabber.' Make every meal a VICTORY meal at Longchamps." Ludicrous puffery, of course, but what could possibly be more American?
I was just tucking into my eggs when three customers walked in whose presence made me pause with the fork halfway to my mouth. One I recognized from the newspapers as a prosecutor from the district attorney's office. His face jarred loose a recollection from the recent past, but I was unable to identify its nature before the second gentleman commanded all of my attention. I had last seen him when I was much younger, and the sight of his face prompted me to drop my fork to the plate and duck behind the pages of my newspaper. One reason is that he is the sort of fellow who never forgets a face, no matter how much that face may have been altered by the passage of time. The other is that he is one of those people "who you see, but you do not watch," as a wise man once said of my former employer. I knew him best by an old nickname, the Little Man, and the sight of him immediately reminded me of why I have always taken such scrupulous precautions in these monthly transits between one era and another.
For a few perilous moments I dared not even move the protective curtain of my newspaper. Only when I finally mustered the nerve to take another glance did I clearly see the third member of the party. His face was not familiar to me, and when the others spoke his name I did not recognize it, although I soon gathered from the way he was dressed and the words he favored that he was a lawyer for a client of dubious reputation.
They took seats at a nearby table, and although they endeavored to keep their voices low I was able to make out a fair amount of their conversation. Had I not done so, I would not even be relating this incident to you.
After a few minutes of small talk, in which they discussed General MacArthur, Herr Hitler, and the pitching staff of the New York Yankees, I began to lose interest. One of them then mentioned the name of someone in the same line of work as the Little Man, a name which would have been recognized by almost anyone in the restaurant. I snapped to attention and raised my newspaper into a position of even greater privacy.
Even then, it was not until several minutes later that I became convinced of the meeting's importance with regard to my own circumstances. Because that is when I heard them discuss, albeit briefly, the current status of Lutz Lorenz. Astonished, I strained my ears for more. When the waitress approached with the coffee pot, I waved her away with uncharacteristic rudeness. It then occurred to me why the fellow from the DA's office seemed so familiar, even beyond the fact of having seen him in the papers. The realization left me feeling quite troubled.
At that point I knew that this day would not proceed like any other third Saturday of the month. Usually I conclude these meals with a full stomach and warm memories. On this Saturday I was already thinking ahead to Monday, when I would be obligated to report my findings to Detective Cain, and in doing so would risk revealing a side of myself that I had hoped to conceal from him—from practically everyone—for the remainder of my days. Mr. Cain is a man of abiding curiosity, and I was certain he would ask many unwelcome questions. I would have to tiptoe through my answers, while avoiding any stumbles. My immediate concern, however, was to gather as much intelligence as possible.
I watched and listened closely, hoping for more. More is what I soon got, although not without some extra effort requiring the use of skills I have not employed in ages. And so, for the second time in as many weeks, I contemplated the inexplicable ways of old and submerged secrets, while wondering how many more of them would soon be rising from the deep.
The war was here. It had come right to my table. And on Monday I would be carrying a fresh dispatch from the front to Woodrow Cain. Further casualties now seemed inevitable.
# 13
CAIN WALKED INTO THE STATION HOUSE to see a crowd forming by the notice board, where Desk Sergeant Romo had just put up a memo from the commissioner. Simmons, a colleague from the detectives' squad room, complained loudly.
"Fifty-five cents? And we gotta pay it ourselves? That's eleven months of house coffee!"
"But you get your very own halo, Simmons," Romo said. "Pretty cheap for getting to look like an angel."
The uniformed patrolmen who were reading the notice didn't seem at all upset, and Cain realized why when he saw that it was headlined "To All Detectives."
"You seen this?" Simmons asked. "Downtown says we gotta buy some blue cap with a ring around it that glows in the dark, to wear during blackouts."
"It's so we can spot you in the dark," a patrolman said. "So we'll know you're not up to no good."
Cain read the fine print. The caps would be available next Monday at the equipment room down at headquarters. Every detective had to buy one by the end of the week. Yet another waste of his time, yet another irritating expense.
"Hey, Sergeant Romo," a patrolman said, "speaking of equipment, I need the key for the stationery closet. My memo book's full."
"What, you think I'm turning you loose with the keys to every room in the house? Not on your life. Give me a minute and I'll walk you down there."
Romo reached beneath his high desk, emerged with a large jangling key ring, and stepped down from his perch. It gave Cain an idea. He'd checked the 95 Room several times the day before. On two occasions, Steele and another officer were on duty, so he kept going. The third time, the door was shut and locked up tight. Presumably, Romo had one of the keys.
Cain looked up to see the desk sergeant eyeing him closely. Expecting a rebuke, he turned quickly toward the stairs, but Romo called out before he could duck out of sight.
"Citizen Cain, just the man I wanted to see. Your crazy old coot is back!"
"Who?" Cain turned around.
"The weird old guy in the big coat. The one who smells like soup." Danziger, he meant. Had to be. "Showed up at seven again, badgering the overnight squad. Told him you wouldn't be in till nine and he just about blew a gasket. Then he left, said he'd wait for you at the Royal."
Romo twirled a forefinger by his head. _Crazy._
"Thanks, Sarge. I'll keep him out of your hair."
The Royal was a greasy spoon just up the street, wedged between a shoe repair and Schonfeld's Men's Shop. Big signs on the front window touted triple-decker sandwiches for a dime, a nice deal as long as you could put up with the rude counter man, Freddie.
Cain walked in to see Freddie in a white smock, snapping a small towel like a bullwhip at a lumbering horsefly. The place was empty except for a table in the back, where Danziger was hiding behind a _Daily News._ Cain slapped a quarter on the chrome countertop.
"That's for a cup of coffee, and so you'll leave us alone. I'm doing business here."
"Yes, your honor." Freddie bowed theatrically, but didn't argue the point.
Cain took the steaming cup to the table, where Danziger sat before his own half-empty cup. His eyes were bloodshot, his face haggard.
"Thought we were meeting at your place," Cain said. "Ten o'clock, wasn't it?"
Danziger leaned forward and whispered urgently. "This couldn't wait. This entire matter has become more complicated than we thought."
"Complicated comes with the job."
"All right, then, if a euphemism will not suffice. _Bigger_ than we thought. More _dangerous._ There are people involved who are..." He searched for the words. "...beyond our capabilities."
"Whoa now. Let me be the judge of that." Cain glanced around to make sure Freddie wasn't listening. He was at the griddle now, scraping it down with a metal spatula. "You look terrible, by the way."
"I have been working nonstop throughout the weekend, calling upon contacts I have not utilized in years. I have scarcely slept, not since what I witnessed Saturday morning, during my breakfast at Longchamps."
"Longchamps?" Cain raised an eyebrow. "That's a few cuts above the Royal. You'd have to write a lot of letters to swing that."
"Breakfast is their least expensive meal. It is a monthly ritual." He sounded defensive, like he'd just admitted to visiting a prostitute. And, frankly, he was a wreck, looking like he hadn't slept for days, although for a change his hair was neatly trimmed, and it looked like he'd even shaved.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to make a big deal of it. So you were at Longchamps. Tell me what you saw that's got you so keyed up."
"Three men came in. Men whose names you read in the papers. They took a table near my own, close enough for me to listen. It was a business meeting, and one of their topics for discussion was the whereabouts of Lutz Lorenz."
"Okay. I guess that's pretty unusual, depending on who we're talking about here. But all it really tells us is that word must be getting around about his disappearance. You said yourself he was well connected. So who were these guys?"
"No. You don't understand. They _knew_ his whereabouts. One of them assured the others that Lorenz was 'in safekeeping.' Although, regrettably, he did not otherwise share details of the location."
"Whoa now. Back up. I need names. You said you knew them from the papers?"
"Murray Gurfein. He was the first one."
"From the DA's office?"
"Yes."
"He's the head of their rackets bureau."
"And on Saturday morning he was breaking bread with a hoodlum, and a hoodlum's lawyer."
"A rackets investigator can't very well do his job without rubbing elbows with a lot of dirty customers."
"This is what I told myself as well. But you will see. The second man was the hoodlum's lawyer. I believe the proper slang is 'a mouthpiece.' Moses Polakoff."
"Never heard of him. And the other guy was his client?"
"No. Mr. Polakoff's client currently resides in upstate New York."
"Albany? Buffalo?"
"Clinton State Prison, in Dannemora. He is an inmate, Charles Luciano, the man the papers refer to as 'Lucky.' "
" _He's_ tied in to Lorenz?"
"Along with the third man at breakfast, Meyer Lansky."
"That sounds vaguely familiar."
"Vaguely is how he prefers it. He is very successful at avoiding publicity. He lives well, steers clear of the police, and tells everyone who will listen that his business interests are legitimate, that he is a gambling concessionaire and nothing more."
"Sounds like you know all about him."
"I told you, I have been working."
"If he keeps his face out of the papers, how'd you recognize him?"
"Do you wish to interrogate me, or shall I tell you what transpired?"
"Go ahead."
"I could not hear everything, but from the snatches of conversation that I _was_ able to understand it became clear that the affairs of Mr. Luciano and of Lutz Lorenz have somehow become intertwined, and as a result the whereabouts for both of them are currently subject to change."
"Luciano's getting out?"
"No, but they discussed moving him. The Dannemora prison apparently has a nickname. It is known as 'Siberia' because it is far from everything. There is snow still on the ground. And apparently all parties to this meeting wished for him to be closer, so they agreed that efforts will be made to move him to another venue. Sing Sing, perhaps."
"Why closer?"
"For the greater convenience of regular visits."
"By who?"
"By all of them."
"For what purpose? Because of _Lorenz_?"
"I do not know, but they mentioned Lorenz's name directly afterward. It was the next item they discussed, so I could only presume the subjects were related. Mr. Lansky was the first to mention Lorenz by name. He inquired after his well-being of Mr. Gurfein, and Mr. Gurfein is the one who said, 'It has been taken care of. He is in safekeeping.' "
"Gurfein? An assistant district attorney said that?"
"His exact words. At this point, perhaps it would help if I described to you what Mr. Gurfein looks like. Stocky, to use your own word from the other night. Stocky, with hooded eyes and a pencil-thin mustache. Familiar?"
"The guy who led the raid. Has to be."
"Precisely."
"Then maybe Lorenz is some kind of witness in a big case we don't even know about. You said yourself he has shady contacts, a lot of varied interests. This might have nothing at all to do with Hansch and Schaller."
"Then please explain the timing. Hansch dies and is fished from the Hudson. Four nights later, Schaller is killed. Not long after that Lorenz is rounded up by the DA's rackets investigator, who happens to be in league with two of the city's biggest mobsters, one of whom is incarcerated."
"Well, when you put it like that...But who says Gurfein's 'in league' with these creeps, just because they had breakfast? He might be cutting a plea deal. A better prison for Luciano and some dropped charges for Lansky, maybe, in exchange for their help in putting away Lorenz."
"A deal with two kings to bring down a pawn?" Danziger shook his head. "Where is the utility of that? And on what charges?"
"It could be for anything, up to and possibly including the deaths of Hansch and Schaller."
"Gurfein and his boss, Frank Hogan—would they make such an arrangement without telling the police? In your experience as a policeman, is that the way business is done?"
"Well, no. Not in most places. But I don't know how things work up here, especially in the DA's office. Did any of them mention Hansch or Schaller by name? Or any of those Bundist groups like the Silver Shirts?"
Danziger shook his head.
"Lorenz was the only name I heard besides Luciano's. Soon afterward they paid their bill and adjourned to a more private location, presumably to resume their discussions in greater detail."
"And how do you know that?"
"I followed them."
"Are you crazy? You don't exactly blend in with the crowd."
"I was dressed very differently on Saturday. I do not believe that they noticed me. Besides, there are ways of doing these things to prevent your intentions from becoming readily apparent."
It was a loaded answer, and Cain already had so many questions about Danziger that he couldn't help but smile. He was excited and curious, but still a bit wary. He well knew the way a few snatches of overheard conversation could seem to add up to something far more nefarious, although he was deeply intrigued by the possible involvement of such a strange collection of well-known characters. He was also more than a little interested in this side of Danziger that the old man was finally revealing.
"So tell me what you saw, then."
"They went out onto the street. I watched through the window while I paid my bill. I expected them to go their separate ways, but when a taxi pulled up all three of them climbed in. So I hailed a taxi as well. Traffic was heavy and it was easy to keep pace. I saw them turn onto Sixth Avenue. Then they traveled downtown, sixteen blocks, and got out near Times Square, at the Hotel Astor, where they went inside."
"All three of them?"
"All three. So I stepped into the lobby, trying to act like I belonged in such a swank place as the Astor. I spotted them by the elevators, on the other side of the lobby. Fortunately it was a busy lobby. Bellhops, people of leisure. They boarded an elevator. I waited for the doors to close, and then I walked over and pushed the button for the same elevator. I looked above the doors to watch the progress of the arrow, which stopped right away on M, for mezzanine. The elevator then returned and the doors opened. Empty, thank God, except for the operator, who asked me what floor I wanted. I acted as if I had forgotten something and begged his pardon.
"An hour later I returned, and even then I was at first too nervous to venture to the mezzanine. I took a walk around the lobby, waited another twenty minutes, and finally went upstairs. There were no guest rooms on that level. I checked every doorway. There was an empty meeting room. There was a banquet room, lushly appointed, where a bride-to-be and her bridesmaids were preparing for a luncheon. There was a hotel catering office. There was a meeting in progress of rather sleepy-looking old bankers from the Midwest. And there were two more offices, unmarked, with locked doors. And finally, in the middle of the corridor, there was a suite of three offices, rooms number one ninety-six, one ninety-eight, and two hundred, with a nameplate for the suite on the doorway of two hundred, stating that these were the premises for the Executives Association of Greater New York. It was the only office other than the hotel caterer's that was open for business."
"The only one?"
"Yes."
"But this was more than an hour later. Maybe they used one of the other offices and locked up before you came back."
"I thought of that as well. Still, this association is a possibility. And the name does make it sound like the sort of organization that might, well..."
"Be a front?"
"Yes."
"Certainly worth checking."
"Or..."
"Or?"
"It could be legitimate," Danziger said, "representing the very heart of wealthy, establishment New York. Which, in its own way, would be equally disturbing."
Cain let that sink in. He eyed Danziger carefully. "You seem to know a lot about mobsters and mouthpieces, about front groups and how to follow shady characters. I also find your choice of restaurants interesting."
"As I told you, it is a monthly extravagance."
"Right. But Longchamps must have, what, a dozen locations? And you just happened to pick the one where these three guys showed up to conduct a little business?"
"If you must know, I am told that it is a location where such people are commonly known to gather. Their presence, in and of itself, should not come as a surprise."
"Exactly my point. And how'd you happen to come by this knowledge?"
"In the course of serving my clients, of course, as I told you the other night."
Cain smiled and leaned across the table so that Danziger had to look him in the eye. "You know, at some point you're going to have to level with me about your past if you expect to maintain my trust and confidence."
"I could make the same demand of you."
"And if we're ever working a case in Horton, you'll have every right. But we're in your old haunts, chasing your old ghosts. Or avoiding them, I'm not sure which, and that uncertainty is a little troubling."
Danziger looked down at his coffee cup. Cain waited through several seconds of silence before Danziger spoke. "When I was young, I moved in different circles from the ones I move in now. Somewhat recklessly so, as the young are inclined to do. A fast crowd. That is how my mother would have described it, had she lived to see it."
"Was this back when you used to ride to big-shot funerals in taxis? In '28 you wouldn't have exactly been a callow young buck."
"I have had experiences of which I am not proud, but I have most assuredly put them behind me. I serve a different calling now, as you have seen for yourself at my place of business. A different clientele, one that depends upon my good offices for vital information. And, as I said, that other life..."
"It's behind you now?"
"Yes." His eyes flashed. "Besides, you are hardly one to be talking about withholding information. It is said that you are already pursuing an interest in my friend Fedya's niece, Miss Beryl Blum."
Cain, caught off guard, couldn't help but laugh, if only because Beryl's name immediately put him in a cheerful frame of mind. He was impressed that Danziger already knew that he had telephoned her, having finally gotten up his nerve late Sunday afternoon. In his experience, most women would've expected him to follow convention by asking her out for the following weekend. Beryl had instead insisted that they meet on Monday, today, after work.
"Why wait all week?" she'd said, her frankness as thrilling as it was jarring. "We're both interested in each other, and we're no longer seventeen. How about tomorrow?"
Maybe that was the way of all New York women, although Cain doubted it. She seemed to broadcast an air of independence, as if daring others to object. If he were still living in Horton it might have put him off. But after everything he'd endured over the past several months it felt bracing, refreshing. So they'd arranged to meet, and this morning he'd dressed in his newest shirt and cleanest suit, and he'd walked to work in a fine mood indeed.
"You don't sound too happy about it," he told Danziger.
"Fedya has already come calling to berate me for unleashing the ravening goy on his favorite niece. And a policeman, no less. He is an inveterate snob in these matters. He would prefer a surgeon, or a university dean. Some nice boy whose mother was still close at hand."
By now Danziger was smiling. Cain figured it was partly out of mischief, partly because he'd managed to so deftly change the subject. Feeling magnanimous, Cain decided he didn't mind. "Tell your friend I'll be on my best behavior."
"Yes, but will she? That is his real worry. She is a young woman of modern ideas and immodest habits. But that is your life, your concern. Not mine, yes? So perhaps we should refrain from discussing these kinds of private affairs, especially when there is still so much work to be done."
Cain got the message well enough: Stay out of my private affairs and I'll stay out of yours. He decided to play along for now. Their working arrangement was beginning to feel dangerous enough without adding further complications.
They left the Royal just as Freddie snapped his towel at another horsefly. To Cain it sounded for all the world like a gunshot.
# 14
SHE WANTED TO KNOW everything there was to know about him, and for the first time in ages Cain was inclined to tell it. A year's worth of sexual deprivation certainly explained part of his eagerness. But something more was at work, too—a deeper need to start unpinning the tight wrapping he had pulled up around himself beginning with the sad events of the previous fall.
Spring had started the process, and now Beryl Blum was accelerating it with each and every question. He felt himself opening like the petals of a flower, breathing in light and energy in rejuvenating gulps with each revelation. And so, fairly early in their dinner conversation, Cain found himself uttering these words, even though he was elbow to elbow with other diners at Guffanti's, an Italian place on Seventh:
"I have a daughter. You should know that about me. She's coming up to join me at the end of the school year."
"So you're...?"
"Still married, with a divorce in the works. It's not a question of if, but when. My wife's institutionalized somewhere, getting treatment for her drinking. For other things, too, I think, although my father-in-law won't say. Plenty of it was my fault, some of it wasn't. There's a long story behind it. I can tell it to you whenever you'd like to hear it."
She leaned forward and didn't frown, didn't look away. Already he believed she was extraordinary, and this seemed like further proof.
"I'll take you up on that offer when we're in more private surroundings. Thank you for leveling with me. I gather it's a painful story."
"Embarrassing, too, most of it." He took a sip of his drink, relieved to have that off his chest. Before the evening, he had worried that he would feel Clovis's presence hovering nearby. Instead, the opposite seemed to be happening, which was one reason he felt able to talk about her with Beryl, and about everything else that had happened.
"What about your life?" he said. "I haven't shut up since we sat down. I've hardly asked you a thing."
"My fault. I've been asking all the questions."
"Is that because I'm a cop? Trying to find out if I pass muster?"
She smiled. "I wish I could answer with an absolute no, but it wouldn't be honest."
"It's a common enough phenomenon among certain types of women."
"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow. "And what type would that be? Snobby?"
"That's part of it. Usually involving either a certain caliber of family name or a certain caliber of university."
"Well, you definitely won't find me in the Blue Book, but would Columbia qualify for the latter?"
"Absolutely."
"Chapel Hill is no slouch."
For a state school in the South, she thought, but was too polite to say. She lowered her head and laughed softly, an appealing gesture. Then she reached across the table and touched his hand.
"I hear you also thought about graduate school."
"Someone's been talking about me."
"My uncle Fedya was determined to vet you on my behalf. He blames himself for this entire evening, so he demanded an immediate audience with Danziger."
"So I heard."
"But Danziger didn't breathe a word about a wife and a child."
"Maybe he was protecting me," Cain said, warmed by the thought.
"I think he was. My uncle said Danziger seems quite attached to you."
"I like him, too. But, speaking of someone who needs vetting, well..."
"I take it he hasn't exactly clued you in on his wayward youth."
"He's told you?"
"No. But my uncle has a few stories."
"And?"
She lowered her head again, hiding her smile. Cain knew he was becoming far too enchanted, but saw no reason to fight it.
"I'd be talking out of school if I were to reveal them."
"You're probably right. And don't think I didn't notice that you've stopped calling him Sascha. You're looking out for him, aren't you?"
"You really don't know the first thing about his life, do you?"
"That's certainly what I'm beginning to suspect."
" 'Beginning to suspect.' He even has you talking like him. He has that effect on everyone. Tell me, when you're with Danziger do you ever start feeling like you're reading lines straight out of a nineteenth-century English novel?"
"At least half the time I'm with him."
They laughed. Then she turned serious.
"Not to overdo it, but if the two of you are truly pursuing anyone with, as Danziger might say, a dubious enough background that they might actually do you harm, then wouldn't it behoove you to learn a little more about him?"
Another touch of his hand, with a thrill reaching to his toes. A grown man of thirty-four, and Cain was reacting like a teen in a soda shop, enthralled by the idea of so much as a good-night kiss.
"What are you trying to tell me?"
She shrugged.
"I'm not sure. I probably don't know the half of it. Only a few legends, from Uncle Fedya. But there are bound to be records, aren't there? As long as you know his real name."
"Sascha?"
"For Alexander. Maximilian is actually his middle name."
"Is he really a Danziger?"
"He is now."
"He changed it?"
"So I'm told."
"Legally?"
"That seems to be a matter for debate. He chose Danziger because one side of his family was from Danzig, in West Prussia."
"His father's side."
"So he did tell you that much."
"Yes. But I don't know his old name. Do you?"
She smiled uncomfortably, saying nothing. He decided not to press the point, and was about to move on when she spoke again.
"There was a woman, once. I do know that."
"Was? How did he lose her?"
"I don't know. But I gather it's not something that he talks about anymore, even with Fedya."
"Maybe that explains why he's a bachelor. What else do you know?"
"Not all that much. Or nothing that I'd feel comfortable telling you, even though I'd like to help, because, well, I'd hate to think the two of you might be ambushed."
"Ambushed? By what? Or who?"
"I'm not sure. It's all sort of hazy, even from what little I know, and I'm probably making it sound far worse than it was. But, well, I'd feel terrible if I were to hurt him by saying something I shouldn't. And not just for his sake. Maybe you don't realize how important he's become in so many lives. People who are vulnerable and old, people whose way of life has almost vanished."
"Oh, I think I have an idea of that."
"Do you? For them he's the last link to everything they left behind. Their families, their pasts. If he disappears, so will all of that. Dust to dust. And if by telling you too much I somehow destroyed his work..." She shook her head.
"Who said anything about destroying him? Or even hurting him. I wouldn't dream of it. I happen to like him. A lot."
"I know. I can see that, and I believe it's genuine. But sometimes when you start poking around in someone else's shadows...Well, you're a policeman, you know how that can go. Things come out of hiding. Things that can't be put away twice. And then the whole edifice crumbles."
"Edifice. Exactly how Danziger would have put it."
She smiled, but still looked troubled. "Then I think of the two of you, walking into some situation for which you have no warning, partly because you know so little about him, and that worries me as well."
"How bad can it be? All he's told me was that he ran with a fast crowd."
She shook her head and rubbed her arms, as if she had taken a chill.
"Let me think about it some more," she said.
"Sure."
Their dinner arrived—two plates of spaghetti along with a chilled bottle of Orvieto. Cain broke off the end of a long breadstick. He twirled his fork through the noodles and the thick red sauce, the likes of which he'd never seen down south—rich with chopped onions, peppers, and chicken livers. He overheard the man at the next table ordering a cocktail called a Clover Club, and he marveled that he was here at all—in a Manhattan restaurant with an interesting woman, seated elbow to elbow with what felt like half the noisy city.
The waiter poured more wine, and their conversation drifted comfortably toward other topics—their childhoods, their neighborhoods, their jobs.
Beryl worked for the Red Cross, in programs aiding newly arrived immigrants, often from war zones. Sometimes her wards were from enemy nations, and many had already been tagged for deportation. She spoke German, Russian, and a smattering of Polish, which meant she often dealt with people who'd suffered quite a lot, and, in the case of the deportees, whose suffering was likely to continue.
"That Japanese man on the subway," she said. "What made you want to help him?"
"It's part of my job."
"I doubt many of your colleagues would see it that way."
He considered arguing the point. Then he thought of Maloney, and the other night at the bar.
"You didn't exactly back down, either."
"It's my job, too, working with people like him. People who are in a fix, even the ones from places that aren't very popular right now. My boss seems to think they're the ones I'm best suited to help."
"And you don't?"
"What I really want to do is go overseas. Europe, anywhere near the front. But I'm not a nurse, and they've got plenty of volunteers for the glamor jobs. My boss says I'm needed more here."
"Remind me to send him a thank-you note for keeping you ashore."
When the check arrived she again surprised him by insisting on paying her share. Although he was secretly relieved—the meal had set him back more than he expected—he was embarrassed, too.
"We should all do our part," she said. "It's the wartime spirit."
"Yeah, but..."
"You'll just have to get used to the way I do things."
He supposed that would be easy enough.
They went for a walk afterwards. It was a beautiful night, soft air blown free of grit by a spring breeze off the Hudson. The pale glow of twilight still lit the western sky as darkness fell on the dimmed skyline. The usual crowds were out, jostling and weaving. But with Beryl at his side Cain no longer felt hemmed in. Each passing face seemed filled with potential. Every stray voice told a story worth hearing.
"This place never stops amazing me," he said, invigorated by the energy around them. "You've got the whole world on one island. People from everywhere."
"Even from Horton."
"Yep." He smiled. "Even from there."
She took his right arm and returned his smile. He hadn't felt this content for longer than he cared to remember. She could've said good night at that very moment and there still would have been enough residual goodwill to coast him straight on through to dawn. Rounding a corner his leg stiffened, and he reflexively reached for his thigh, as if to stroke the long wrinkly scar where his muscles were knotted beneath the skin.
"Your limp," she said, the words making him flinch. "Is that part of what brought you here?"
"Yes."
"Don't be ashamed. It makes you a better cop."
"I doubt the department sees it that way."
"Well, the department's wrong. Pain, humility. They change you. I see so many cops—sorry, police officers—who've never experienced much of either, and it shows in their work, their attitude."
He shrugged. "I was never exactly a bust-'em-up kind of policeman, even beforehand."
"You weren't exactly living in a bust-'em-up town."
"You'd be surprised. Especially on a Saturday night, in some roadhouse or shotgun shack where a guy was beating his wife half to death. A drunk with a sawed-off and a belly full of corn liquor. Throw in a few rowdy friends and neighbors and that's as bust-'em-up as it gets. Makes the Bowery look tame."
"Maybe so."
"Definitely so. Where would you like to go?"
"Anywhere with a little peace and quiet."
He wanted to suggest his apartment, but felt like that would be moving too fast, although with Beryl maybe the usual rules didn't apply.
"There's a quiet little bar around the corner. In the old days I'm told it was a speakeasy."
"How about your apartment?"
He blushed in spite of himself. The sheltered boy, out on the town with the bold woman.
"Sure. Fair warning, though. All I have to drink is beer."
"My mother's side of the family is from Bavaria. They'd say you're well stocked."
Pete, the night doorman, greeted them with a smile and uncharacteristic courtesy. He seemed to approve of Cain's choice in women. Or maybe he was just relieved to finally witness a spark of happiness in the life of his loneliest tenant. No one wanted one of those depressed lodgers who ended up hanging himself from a ceiling pipe.
Cain fetched beer from the fridge and threw open a window. Kids squealed in the street below, playing kickball. From a radio came the voice of Red Barber, informing Dodger fans that pitcher Kirby Higbe was sitting in the catbird seat. That's how Cain felt as he settled onto the couch next to Beryl. He handed her a beaded bottle of Schlitz.
"Are you always so polite? Holding open doors, staying to my left on the sidewalk. Almost courtly."
"Way I was raised."
"A Southern gentleman." Clovis's old line, but the image didn't linger. "The shyness, though. I didn't expect that."
He looked down at his feet. "It's been a while. Dating, I mean."
"I suppose it has."
She touched his cheek. He set his beer on the floor. They searched each other's eyes for a moment, and then kissed, gently, lips barely brushing. Then again, easing closer on the couch as the springs groaned.
She wore no makeup. Not a drop of cologne, nor the slightest hint of powder, cream, or rouge. No eyeliner or mascara. He should have known this already just from looking at her, _staring_ at her the way he'd been doing all evening. But the moment of revelation came instead with these first kisses, his cheek against hers, and from her scent—soap and skin, nothing more. At that instant he realized that with Clovis and all other women he'd known back to high school this moment had always been accompanied by a smell of cologne or cosmetics, the very scent of arousal, and it was missing here, as if Beryl and he had skipped some step in an instruction manual. For the briefest of moments the absence almost threw him. Then she again stroked her fingertips across his cheek, and he pulled her closer, and just like that they were off and running. Soap and skin were plenty.
Afterward, in his bed, she was the first to break the silence, unless you counted Red Barber, who had provided play-by-play throughout. _Smash to third. Slow roller up the middle._
"He missed the big play at the plate," Beryl said, laughing.
"What was the call?"
"Safe by a mile. Game winner."
"I didn't expect this."
"If you had, it never would have happened. My uncle Fedya calls me a shameless libertine. Maybe that explains it. I do subscribe to the notion that consenting adults need not wait to satisfy their desires. Especially at our age."
"I haven't even asked how old you are."
"Like I said, a gentleman. Thirty-one."
"Thirty-four."
"I know. Danziger _did_ offer that."
They moved closer. A kiss, a caress. She reached down, fingertips stroking his thigh like a breeze through the window, while Red Barber chimed in.
_Well, now we've got a real rhubarb going down at third._
They smiled. Then someone switched off the radio and it was just them on the bed, serenaded by the distant tooting of car horns. She touched the scar on his leg and he didn't flinch, so she left her hand in place, warm, an assurance.
"Tell me what happened," she said.
Cain answered without hesitation, the words coming easier than he would have expected.
"My partner Rob and I, we went looking for a suspect, late afternoon. We'd heard he was holed up in some old bootlegger's shack, the edge of a tobacco field, broken-down place with vines all over the windows, a hole in the roof. We knew the guy. Mean old cuss, but not much of a threat. Tom Strayhorn. Loved to hunt squirrels, drink all weekend in his fishing skiff out on the Neuse. He'd never been much trouble up to then, but he'd roughed up his wife a few days before, and that Saturday he'd knocked over a general store, so it was time to haul him in.
"His car was there, stuck in the mud up against a line of trees. He'd put some branches over it, like a duck blind, but he must have been drunk because even that looked half-assed. We knocked first, announced our names. He knew us, so we didn't expect the worst. He said come on in. We drew our guns because it's procedure, the way you're trained. Then I opened the door, went in first."
Cain paused, remembering the way the room had looked in the November gloom. Water dripping from warped crossbeams. Weeds sprouting through gray floorboards. Cold air, smelling of corn liquor and spoiled meat, with Strayhorn grinning at them from a crouch in the corner, a big pistol curled in his hand like a mutation.
"And then?"
"Our training was to show restraint. Be ready to shoot but give him a chance to put his weapon down. Then he shot Rob. Just pointed and _bang._ Smiled and pulled the trigger. I let it happen. The shot killed him, just like that, straight through the heart. Then I shot back, and he shot back at me, hit my leg. Hard to say which happened first, or if it was all at the same time. It was so damn loud in that small room, and Rob broke the floorboards when he fell, his blood all over me, all over everything."
"Good God."
"Rob was more than just my partner. My oldest friend from the first week of college, and ever since. Best man at my wedding. One of those guys who always knew what I was thinking, and I was the same with him. Or that's what I'd always figured. That morning I'd just found out he'd slept with my wife. Clovis told me at breakfast. Said she was moving out."
"Oh my. I'm sorry."
"Yeah. Me too." Cain paused, took a deep breath. This part was still the hardest.
"Did he know you knew?"
Cain shook his head.
"I'd avoided him all day, then we got called out to get Strayhorn, and it wasn't the right time. I couldn't even look at him, we hardly spoke the whole way out there. Maybe that's why I waited. You know, waited to shoot. That's what the DA's people wondered, anyway, once they heard everything else."
"They questioned you?"
"My shot killed Strayhorn, so yeah. With me as the only surviving witness they pretty much had to. They broke it down, step by step, over and over. My boss invited them in on it. Didn't want the whole town thinking he was covering for me, not once he heard about Clovis and Rob, which, it turned out, everybody but me had already known about. Small towns, that's how it happens sometimes. You're always the last to know. So when the other two got killed and I didn't, well, you can imagine the kinds of things people would say. Three damn shots, maybe two seconds in all, and that's how long it took to lose my best friend, my wife, my career, my reputation. Every bit of it dripping away between those floorboards, with the blood of all three of us mixed in with it."
"But you said yourself, you played it by the book."
"I did. But now I wonder if I knew all along that the book wasn't the right way to play it. Not once I saw Strayhorn's face, the way he was grinning. And I was the first one through the door. I think part of me knew right away what he was going to do."
"Meaning he could have just as easily shot you."
"Maybe I wanted that, too. I'm not sure which is worse, a death wish for Rob or for me. I might have been figuring he would just take care of both of us."
"If that was true you wouldn't have fired back."
"By then I was operating on instinct."
"What about Rob? He didn't fire first, either."
"I think that's what saved me in the end, with the DA anyway. That and Strayhorn being a good-for-nothing sack of shit who deserved whatever he got. It's the one thing I keep going back to, to tell myself I couldn't have handled it any better."
"And?"
"The jury's still out. It always will be. But I know how Clovis would vote."
"She blamed you?"
"Blame doesn't describe it. She pretty much went round the bend. She'd always been a drinker. It was already a problem, but we managed. After that? She was a mess, dawn to dusk. Screaming one minute, sobbing the next. Or just staring off into space. Couldn't finish half her sentences. And poor Olivia. It was like she didn't exist anymore, not for her mother. It went on like that for days. Clovis's dad sent someone down, who drove her away, back up north. To someplace upstate, I think, but he's never told me where. Then he got me this apartment, this job. To help Olivia, he said. I think mostly he wanted to keep an eye on me. And on Olivia, too, once she gets here."
"You couldn't stay in Horton?"
He shook his head.
"Raleigh, maybe, that's where my family's from. But I'm not sure what I could've done for a living. And even there, well...Rob's family lives on the other side of town. I'd spent all kinds of time with them until this happened. Every summer during college it was practically a second home. But there was no going back now."
"They blamed you?"
"His younger brother, James, decided pretty early on that it was all my fault. He'd always idolized Rob, and he made a crusade out of it. Wrote eleven letters— _eleven_ —to the DA, trying to get me indicted. And when that didn't work he wrote the U.S. Attorney. Offering to testify against me, tell them all kinds of wild conspiracy shit that wasn't even close to true."
Cain had bunched a corner of the bedsheet in his right fist, which was shaking. Beryl pulled the fist to her face and kissed it. He let go and slowly flexed his fingers, the knuckles stiff.
"How did you hear about all that?"
"The guys in the DA's office told me."
She raised her eyebrows.
"I know. Not exactly by the book, but even they thought he'd gone off the rails. Another good reason to leave the state. I half expected him to be at the train station when I left, with a gun to finish me off. I don't think he'd ever do harm to Olivia, but, well, I'll feel better when she's up here, as tough as it's going to be for her."
"What's she like?"
Cain smiled, exhaled. It felt good to have everything out, but now he needed to push it away, back into the corner, and thinking of Olivia helped do that. He'd been lying on his side, facing Beryl, but now he rolled onto his back and breathed deeply.
"She's wonderful. Sweet and curious, smart as a whip. I miss her, and I think she misses me. We write pretty much every day."
"Does she know about...well, all of what happened?"
"We never told her about Rob and Clovis, but kids are smart. They hear things anyway, especially in a small town. They see the papers. And why else would her mother have gone crazy like that, when all I ended up with was a bad leg? She probably knows all about it. But I don't think she blames me. If she does, she's good at hiding it, 'cause if there's one thing kids her age don't hide well, it's resentment, mistrust."
"Probably because she knows you love her."
"I hope so. I say it every time I write. We'll find out, I guess."
Beryl put an arm across his waist. They lay in silence, savoring the peace and quiet, the remnants of the breeze. Then she propped herself up on an elbow and spoke again, whispering her words like a lover's secret.
"Dalitz. That was Danziger's name. Alexander Maximilian Dalitz. Only because I trust you to do no harm. And that's the last story you'll get out of me tonight about Sascha."
He nodded, grateful and solemn. Then he kissed her, quickly the first time, slowly the second, and the last thing Cain did before drifting off to sleep was to pull her closer, either for ballast as he fell, or so he knew she'd be there when he awakened.
# 15
A KNOCK AT THE DOOR woke them—faint at first, then loud and insistent. Cain sat up in bed, fumbling for his watch.
"Are we breaking one of the landlord's rules?" Beryl asked sleepily.
"Doubtful."
It was a few minutes after midnight. He threw on a robe and crossed the hall barefoot while the banging continued.
"Hold your horses! I'm coming!"
He opened the door to see his sister, Sue, looking tired and put out, a suitcase in her left hand. On her right, clinging to Sue's bedraggled white cotton dress, was an exhausted Olivia, whose eyes suddenly came to life at the sight of her father.
"Olivia! Sweetie!"
He knelt to welcome her. Had she grown an inch? Had her face really changed in the space of a few months, or was she just tired? She said nothing, but launched herself through the doorway and clung to him like she'd been waiting all her life to do it.
"We looked for you at the station," his sister said crossly. "Didn't you get my letter?"
"No." His voice was choked with emotion. "Train must've beat it here. I had no idea."
He wanted to sob, feeling Olivia's thin body pressed against his rib cage, against the robe that, he now realized with embarrassment, smelled very much like Beryl, like sex, the essence of their intimacy seeming to fill the air. Sue stepped past him, heels hammering the wood floor. Out of the corner of his eye Cain saw her appraise the room, face tilted upward, nostrils flared, as if already receiving every important signal.
"You should've telephoned," he said softly, not wanting to argue while Olivia was holding on. "Or sent a telegram. I could've had everything ready for you."
"Money doesn't grow on trees, Woodrow. We don't lead a profligate life the way you do."
Talking like a Baptist.
"Yeah, I'm just high on the hog up here, as you can see from all the furniture."
He wondered what Beryl could hear, and how he was going to handle this.
"Well, if Uncle Sam's postmen can't beat Southern Railway to New York City, then I don't see how he expects his soldiers to beat Hitler and Tojo."
Cain unclasped his arms and looked Olivia in the eye. She was already half asleep.
"Sweetie, I'm thrilled you're here, but what about school? You couldn't have finished the year, have you?"
Olivia yawned and buried her face in his chest while Sue supplied the answer.
"Her teacher said it was becoming too much for her, being without her daddy. Said she'd be better off finishing the year up here. I've got her permanent record in the suitcase. You ask me, the real reason was that this girl was becoming such a handful. Nobody could half control her anymore. Me, Don, her teacher. You know how stubborn she can be, once she's made up her mind. And she keeps secrets, this girl, all kinds of them."
All of this with Olivia standing right there, although by now she seemed too tired to care. Or maybe she'd heard it all before. Cain stood and took his daughter by the hand.
"Let's get you to bed, sweetheart."
But where? He had planned to give her his own room once she arrived, and then find a foldout bed for himself that he would store in the living room. But for the moment his bed was occupied, and he felt color rising in his cheeks. He glanced toward the hallway, but Beryl was staying out of sight. He believed now that he could smell all sorts of giveaways and guilty secrets, swirling in the night air. Then he turned toward Sue and saw that she knew.
His sister stepped into the corridor to retrieve a second suitcase and then shut the door.
"I'll put away your things for you, dear," she said, heels striking like a gavel as she headed straight for the bedroom with Cain in pursuit.
"Let me do that, Sue."
"I'm fine," she snapped, gaining velocity, a locomotive determined to smash through the crossing. "I'm a big girl. I'll handle whatever there is to handle."
Yes, she knew all right.
He gave up the chase and was still holding Olivia's hand as Sue rounded the corner. He braced for an outburst, a collision. Instead he heard a brief, muffled exchange of female voices, and then Beryl emerged from around the corner. She was fully dressed and, all things considered, remarkably poised.
"I told her I was just leaving, so I guess this is good night." She spoke in a half whisper. She was not angry, not flustered, and Cain realized he wasn't all that surprised. She was remarkable.
He smiled warmly, reaching toward her with his free hand and then letting it fall away as Sue appeared in Beryl's wake, her face a thunderhead of triumphant disapproval. Beryl touched his arm in passing, and then paused in the open doorway.
"I'm sure I'll be seeing both of you soon enough," she said, pointedly directing her words at Cain and Olivia.
"I'm sure you will," Cain said. "This is Beryl, sweetie. She's a friend of mine."
"Friend!" Sue chimed in from behind, punctuating it with a snort.
Olivia, unfazed, nodded and yawned. Her calmness probably had more to do with exhaustion than with any sense of solidarity, but it was nice to pretend they were showing a united front.
After the door shut he turned to see Sue pulling a fresh set of bedsheets from Olivia's suitcase. She began tucking them onto the couch.
"Daddy, can I go to bed now?"
"I don't think your daddy has a bed for you yet, dear, so I'm making you a place to sleep right here." Sue's strained cheeriness had forced her voice into falsetto.
Cain shouldered past her and pulled the sheet off the cushions.
"I'll do this. Olivia will stay in the bed. I'll just put her sheets on it. Sue, you can stay out here, and I'll take the floor."
Sue's mouth flew open in surprise. She shot him a glare of deep disgust, the implication clear. _You'd put your daughter to bed right where you were just lying with that woman?_
"C'mon, sweetie." He took Olivia by the hand.
Sue folded her arms as they left the room together.
He stripped off the sheets and tossed them into the corner while Olivia watched, wide-eyed. She stepped forward to help him put on the fresh one, and then looked up as he puffed the pillow.
"This is a big place, ain't it, Daddy. New York City, I mean."
"Sure is, sweetie. But you'll get used to it. This is your new home."
She nodded, kicked off her shoes, and slipped her plain wool dress over her head. Then he tucked her into bed. She was asleep almost the minute she laid her head down. He kissed her on the forehead. Yes, she definitely looked older, and she had grown an inch. Almost thirteen. Like a child for the moment, because she was worn out, but later? He switched off the light and returned to the living room to find Sue in the same pose as when he'd left—standing with arms crossed, lips in a tight seam.
"I see why you like it here so much. Some harlot in your bed whenever you want, without any family for miles."
"I don't recall saying I liked it, but it'll do for now."
"Why'd you even want to come to this horrible place? You know you would've always had a home with Don and me."
"Would've? Sounds like the offer has expired."
"You know what I mean. And listen to you, talking like a Yankee. You should be with your own people."
He was too tired to argue.
"Thank you for bringing her all the way up here," he said, trying to take things down a notch. "You look worn out. Are you hungry?"
"What do you have?" she said, making a beeline for the icebox.
He would've offered to fix her something, but knew better than to get in Sue's way once she'd decided to commandeer a kitchen. Within seconds she'd rounded up the essentials, and soon afterward she had eggs and bacon popping side by side in a cast-iron skillet. Slices of bread were toasting, and a fresh pot of coffee was bubbling up brown in the glass knob of the stove-top percolator.
Cain watched her eat while they exchanged small talk about people they both knew, keeping the field of play neutral to avoid further confrontations. After a few minutes, he decided to tempt fate.
"Have you been to Horton?" he asked.
She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. A glistening shred of egg white dangled like bait from a fisherman's hook.
"Once. To pick up some of Olivia's old things."
"Are they still talking about it?"
"Worse. No one would even say your name. I think they were afraid to even bring it up. When Olivia showed her face they had no idea what to do. Old Miss Lawing's mouth flew right open, and her hands were all aflutter. When I told her you'd gone to New York you'd have thought I'd just told her you'd enlisted in the Jap army. What time is it?"
He checked his watch.
"Almost two. When's your train?"
"Six. I didn't come here to linger, and there's work to be done back home. I'll freshen up, wash my face. But when that's done I'd just as soon wait at the station." She looked around the room with an air of renewed distaste. Keep talking much longer and they'd be right back on disputed ground, tooth and nail, so Cain let it go.
"Let me call you a cab, at least, when you're ready. I'll get the fare."
She nodded, then stood to clear away the dishes.
Later, after she'd gone, Cain was falling asleep on the couch when a voice called faintly from the bedroom.
"Daddy?"
He got up, made his way to the bed, and sat down beside her. Olivia's eyes were wide open.
"What's wrong, sweetie?"
"I forgot to say my prayers. Do you think it would be okay to say 'em now?"
"Sure. Go ahead."
She sat up straight, pushing her pillow back against the headboard. Then she placed her hands together and bowed her head, just like her mom taught her.
"Now I lay me down to sleep, pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Bless Daddy, my school, my teacher, Aunt Sue, Uncle Don, Grandma and Grandpa Cain, Grandpa Euston..."
She paused and looked up.
"Is it still okay to bless Mama?"
"Absolutely, honey. She'd like that."
"Aunt Sue never let me. She said it wouldn't be right to bless a wicked woman."
"Don't ever let anyone tell you who you can and can't bless, okay?"
"Okay."
"And your mama's not wicked."
"I know."
She bowed her head again.
"And bless Mama, too. Amen."
Olivia, eyes shut, nodded firmly as if to settle the issue once and for all. Then she opened her eyes, unclasped her hands, and eased back onto the pillow. Cain pulled up the covers.
"Do you think I'll ever see her again?"
"Your mama?"
She nodded solemnly.
"Probably, but maybe not for a while. I'll have to talk about that with Grandpa Euston."
"Will he come and see us?"
"I don't know if he'll come here, but I know he'll want to see you, one way or another."
Olivia nodded again, then closed her eyes. He stayed awhile, listening to her breathing. Then he thought of a question, but by then she was asleep, and that was okay, too. Her face looked free of worry, an innocence and simplicity he envied. He was relieved she could still ask him about her mom. But who knew how long that would last, once she started learning more of the story. He wondered what version Sue had told her, and what else had been said.
Keeping secrets, Sue had said. Well, that was natural at this age; within another year it would probably be second nature. A lot of big changes were right around the corner for Olivia. She'd get her period, start turning into a young woman, seeking boys and independence. Girls needed their moms for all that, as guides and as sparring partners. He would need advice to help sort it out. A big job, and he wasn't sure he'd be good at it.
He wondered about all the rough kids he'd seen in the neighborhood, holding court on street corners and running the stickball games. Then he remembered gentle Olivia and the way she'd always favored the underdog, sticking up for the boy with polio who walked in braces, releasing fireflies from her friend's mason jar when the friend wasn't looking. How could she possibly fit in here? What would this place do to her?
Cain sighed and stood. He walked back to the couch, but was too restless to sleep.
# 16
CAIN AWOKE TUESDAY MORNING to the realities of a rearranged life. He was a dad again. A dad with a lover, no less, unless Olivia's arrival had scared Beryl away for good. He hoped not, but for the moment he was still a bit bewildered by the events of the night before.
Everything with Beryl had moved so fast, almost headlong compared to what he was accustomed to in his dealings with women. He had enjoyed the seeming recklessness of it—how fine to again experience abandon, and with no one looking over his shoulder in disapproval. Now, with the light coming through the blinds and his daughter asleep, it all felt like a mirage, or maybe a deception. Yes, he was still a father, and happy to be one. But in coming to the city Olivia seemed to have brought Clovis right into the apartment with her.
He thought of Beryl, back in her own bed, the one person with whom he might be able to talk about some of these feelings. But would she really want to hear them? Only one way to find out.
He went to the phone, lifted the receiver, dialed her number. Some other tenant answered, her voice echoing in the apartment house hallway. He asked for Beryl. The receiver went down with a thud and he heard footsteps, followed by a shout. Then Olivia appeared in the doorway, barefoot and yawning. She had her mother's eyes, wide and watchful.
"I'm hungry, Daddy."
He put the phone back in its cradle just as someone was answering.
"Then let's fix breakfast. We've got a lot to do today."
"Can I have scrambled eggs?"
"Sure can. Bacon and toast?"
She nodded.
"Is that the newspaper?"
"Yep. Not much good news today."
She scanned the headlines. Before she only used to read the comics.
"Where's Corregidor?" she asked, pronouncing it slowly but getting it right.
"It's part of the Philippines, in the Pacific. Our army's having a rough time there."
"What about Leningrad?"
"Russia. It's where the Germans are. Hand me that."
No sense filling her head with thoughts of the war on her first morning, especially when almost all of the news was bad. Cain glanced at the front page. The new premier of occupied France had thrown in his lot with the Nazis. Hitler had celebrated his fifty-third birthday on the eastern front, while in New Jersey FBI agents raided sixty-two locations to see if any of the local celebrants were up to no good. The Navy's inquiry into the burning of the _Normandie_ had concluded that the fire was the result of "gross carelessness and utter violation of rules and common sense." Citing slow production, the Navy had also seized control of four aircraft factories, while also noting that in some parts of the plant every employee was an enemy alien. Cain wondered how Harris Euston would view that development: A blow against unionism, or undue government interference? Hidden little battlefronts, wherever you looked.
Hoping to find something cheerier for Olivia, he turned to the sports pages, where the results were mixed. Dodgers win. Giants lose. Yanks idle.
Cain had already called the station house to say he'd be late due to a family emergency, and after breakfast he and Olivia ventured into the streets on a few errands. Now he was the seasoned New Yorker with a novice to instruct, and he found himself hastily imparting lessons that suddenly felt like matters of life or death. Stay on the sidewalk. Don't talk to strangers. Memorize our address. Get to know the doormen. Pee before you leave the house. Don't stare on the subway. And so on, all the way to a secondhand furniture store on 14th Street, where he bought a fold-up bed and a thin mattress.
Olivia seemed overwhelmed, and who could blame her? Block after block, she kept her head down and held his hand tightly. Maybe he shouldn't have been so emphatic in his warnings about strangers. Just north of 20th she let go of his hand, and Cain took another two steps before he realized she wasn't keeping pace. He turned in a panic and saw her standing on the grating of an air shaft to the subway, looking straight down while crowds parted to either side of her.
"Sweetie, what is it?"
He saw that she was gazing at hundreds of discarded cigarette butts which had accumulated on a grimy ledge a few feet below.
"Look at that," she said. "You think anybody will ever pick them up?"
"I doubt anybody can reach them, sweetie."
"Then why does everybody keep throwing 'em down there?"
"I don't know."
She looked up. "This place is a mess."
"Big cities aren't easy to keep clean."
"Then this one must be _really_ big."
Cain was on the verge of a smile when he felt a cold spot in the middle of his back. He was immediately on his guard, sensing someone's eyes were on him. He wheeled around, and rapidly scanned one face after another, half expecting to see Maloney, or Linwood Archer from the commissioner's office. No one was familiar. Everyone seemed intent on his own business. Only a grocer stared from a doorway, probably drawn by Cain's pose of alertness. Yet the spot on his back still tingled, like a button that had been pressed to sound the alarm.
"What's wrong, Daddy?"
"Nothing, sweetie. Hold my hand."
It hit him anew that his girl was here in New York for the long haul—meaning double the responsibility, triple the stakes. Maybe that's what gave him the sudden case of the heebie-jeebies, but to make sure he took a last glance over his shoulder, and couldn't help but shudder slightly even though he saw nothing out of the ordinary.
"What are you looking for?"
"Just people."
"Well, there's plenty of them."
He smiled. "That's for sure. Let's go home."
When they arrived back on 25th Street, a frumpy woman in her forties was waiting just inside the entrance, seated on a folding chair provided by Tom, the day doorman. She rose uncertainly while Tom provided the explanation.
"Mr. Cain, this is Eileen. She was sent by Mr. Euston to work for you."
He handed over a folded piece of paper, a typewritten message from Euston on Willett & Reed stationery. Cain read it while Eileen nodded and blinked nervously:
> Woodrow,
>
> This is to introduce Eileen O'Casey, at your service. She comes highly recommended and ready for flexible hours, so I trust she is suitable. I would appreciate a visit from Olivia at your earliest convenience, although perhaps it would be better to have Eileen arrange it.
>
> Let it never be said that I am not a man of my word, or that I am a shirker of obligations. I hope the same will be true of you.
>
> Harris
Cain folded the letter and put it in his pocket. He cleared his throat, trying to bury his anger beneath his gratitude before addressing the woman who, from now on, would probably be spending more time with Olivia than he would. He wondered how Euston had even known Olivia had arrived. Tom, maybe, or the night doorman. A hazard of letting your father-in-law decide your living arrangements.
"I'm Woodrow Cain, Miss O'Casey. Pleasure to meet you. And this is my daughter, Olivia."
Eileen nodded, her lips sealed primly, although they broke into a smile as she turned her gaze to Olivia, who didn't shrink from it but didn't step forward, either. And why should she? She'd now been passed from Aunt Sue to Dad to Eileen in the space of a dozen hours.
"Mr. Euston said he'd be handling my salary, so you're not to worry yourself on my account," Eileen said.
So, then. Another spy in his midst, although he had to admit she was a godsend.
"Welcome," he said. Then, turning again to his daughter, "Olivia, you're to treat Miss Eileen with the same politeness and respect that you'd show to me." He hoped he was handling this correctly. He'd crossed onto foreign soil, and was desperately in need of a map, a translator. "Okay, sweetie?"
Olivia nodded solemnly. You could see in her eyes that, for her, the day had just taken a turn for the worse, and it stabbed him deeply. Fresh in town, and already left to the mercy of strangers. He knew the feeling.
"So, does that mean Aunt Sue ain't coming back?"
"Isn't, sweetie. Not ain't. And, no. I'm sure she's on the train to Raleigh by now."
Cain escorted them upstairs, no one saying a word as they climbed the steps single file. Once they were safely behind the closed door, he knotted his tie, grabbed his notebook, and prepared to depart for the precinct house. Then the telephone rang. Beryl, perhaps? Had she heard his voice on the earlier call?
It was Captain Mulhearn.
"I hear you're arranging your own shift changes now, Citizen Cain, completely on your say-so. If true, that's some brass balls, but it don't mean I still can't bust 'em."
"My daughter arrived late last night, sir. I've been making arrangements for her, but I was just leaving. Be there in half an hour, and I can double up tomorrow."
"Not so fast. I've got a detail for you to take care of on the way in, especially since you can't seem to get enough of punishment duty. Good thing you never enlisted or you'd be spending the whole time peeling potatoes and digging latrines. Now, you got that bogus notebook of yours handy?"
"Yes, sir."
"Got five names for you. I want you to run them down at the Bureau of Criminal Identification, right up the block from headquarters. We'll need their prints and their criminal index files. Those people down there can be a royal pain in the ass, so I figure you're just the man to deal with them. Ready?"
"Ready."
Mulhearn spelled out the five names while Cain wrote them down. This would kill the bulk of the afternoon, when what he'd hoped to do was to link up again with Danziger, preferably on the old man's turf, well beyond Mulhearn's reach. Although he brightened a bit when the fifth name turned out to be that of con man Albert Kannerman, who, true to Danziger's tip, had been rounded up by the overnight shift at the very address Cain had provided, which meant he'd at least get some credit for the collar.
"Got all that?" Mulhearn asked.
"Got it, sir."
He was about to hang up when Mulhearn said, "Oh, and speaking of headquarters, some pencil pusher named Archer was calling here looking for you. Said he had some payroll questions, but that you had his number. No rush, unless you actually expect to get paid for your brand of slack-ass policing." Mulhearn slammed the receiver in mid-laugh.
So Linwood Archer was after him. Did Mulhearn really believe Archer was from payroll, or would he now know that Cain was up to some sort of dirty work for the commissioner? Either way, it was unwelcome news. Probably Archer's way of expressing his disapproval of Cain's lack of progress. It made him think back to the moment on the street when he'd been so certain he was being watched. Archer, maybe? Or one of his goons? He had better find a way into the 95 Room as soon as possible.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, sweetie."
"Do you think it would be all right if Miss Eileen took me to a park?"
He looked at her face, needful and glum, and for a moment the thought of her being out in the open on a swing set, or climbing some jungle gym, scared him out of his wits. Then he searched her eyes and saw restlessness and boredom. A energetic young girl on a fine April day, about to be cooped up with a matronly stranger who smelled vaguely of rosewater and lye soap.
"Sure. Just be careful." He bent down, gave her a hug and kissed her forehead. Then he headed off to do his job.
# 17
THE BUREAU OF CRIMINAL IDENTIFICATION was a shrine to archival zeal; a multi-story vault of arrest records, rap sheets, summons reports, fingerprint files, ballistics reports, modus operandi files, and photographs. With its musty smell and hallowed silence it felt like a library, cataloging crimes and criminals going back for decades.
In Horton, tracking down old information on lowlifes could take days, even weeks, and there was little or no cross-referencing between jurisdictions. Up here they'd amassed almost everything you'd want to know in one place, and each year the department spit out voluminous statistical reports with a seemingly endless array of totals on the city's criminal misbehavior. How many people between the ages of thirty-one and thirty-five had been arrested the year before for felonious assault with a knife? Two hundred eighty-two. How about people between the ages of sixteen and twenty, and arrests for larceny from intoxicated or sleeping persons? Six.
Best of all, like an all-night diner the Bureau of Criminal Identification never closed.
Impressive.
Yet, as with his trip to the Automat, Cain found himself mildly disquieted by such efficiency. Keep it up and eventually you'd be able to find out almost anything about anybody, and by barely lifting a finger.
"Whatcha need?" the counter clerk asked.
Cain showed his shield and presented the list of names.
"Fill out a form." He handed one over. "Detective, huh, and from the third district?" He chuckled. "Mulhearn usually sends some rookie from radio patrol. You must really be in his doghouse."
"Woof, woof," Cain said glumly, drawing a smile.
"So, these five names and that's it?"
Cain was about to nod when an idea struck.
"One more," he said. "Almost forgot."
He added a sixth name. The clerk nodded and read it aloud. "Alexander Maximilian Dalitz. Got it. Should have everything within an hour or two. You gonna wait here or come back? Most guys like to step out for a bite to eat." He leaned across the counter and lowered his voice. "Joint around the corner called Clancy's has an all-day happy hour for any member of New York's finest."
"I'll wait here."
"Suit yourself."
An hour later, bored out of his mind, he headed out after all, opting for coffee instead of a drink. One nickel and one scalded palate later he was back, greeted by a stack of files on the counter with his request form sitting on top. The clerk was somewhere in the back.
He made a quick count. There were only five—one for each of the names Mulhearn wanted, and nothing for Dalitz. He sighed in relief, surprised at how good it made him feel. So maybe it was all a bunch of talk and legend, a couple of old guys spinning tales about their youth. Or maybe Danziger had been so good at his chosen line of misbehavior, whatever it might have been, that he'd never been caught. Whatever the case, Cain felt several pounds lighter than when he'd walked in. He began whistling as he signed the form to show he'd gotten what he asked for, and his tune brought the clerk through the door from the back.
"Thought that might be you," he said. "Just so you didn't think I was shorting you, wanted to let you know it'll be a few days on that Dalitz file."
Cain's smile faded. "There's a Dalitz file?"
"It's what you wanted, right?"
"Sure."
"It's just, well, it's been in cold storage quite a while now, given his circumstances."
"Circumstances?"
"He's deceased. Has been since twenty-eight. You knew that, right?"
"Sure."
The remnants of all those good feelings bottomed out in his stomach, stewing with the burned coffee.
"They keep those closed files down in some rat hole over at the Hall of Records, and getting those slugs to jump when you want something, well, you know how that can go. How 'bout I give you a ring when the corpse surfaces, so to speak?"
"Yeah, you do that."
Cain walked back into the sunlight. Dead since '28, the same year in which Danziger had last used a taxi, at least until this past weekend. To go to a funeral, he'd said. His own? The man _was_ a bit of a sorcerer, and that would certainly be the ultimate trick. Or maybe the whole thing was the result of some clerical blunder, a bit of misplaced paperwork in a city that at times seemed built on the stuff, offering another form to sign everywhere you turned. Besides, it was one thing to fake your own death. It was quite another to then return to the same neighborhood without anyone noticing. Fourteen years of living a new life right around the corner from where the old one had supposedly ended? Even Danziger wasn't that good.
But now that Cain had the name—Dalitz—and the fact of the death, he intended to confront Danziger about both items. And he vowed to do it before the day was out, even if that meant asking Miss Eileen to work overtime on Olivia's first full day in New York. His daughter was right. This place was a mess.
Cain sighed, snugged up the files in his arms, and pushed back into the crowds.
# 18
# DANZIGER
HE IS OUT THERE, LOOKING FOR ME. Or, rather, looking for the _old_ me. I know this intuitively, in the same way I was once able to detect menace approaching from around the corner before it even showed its face. It is an awareness which never leaves you once you've experienced the bruising consequences of lowering your guard, although this time I can take comfort that my pursuer is relatively benign. Mr. Cain, I am quite confident, does not intend to do me harm. He will be dogged, yes, annoyingly so, but he will pursue his course of inquiry out of curiosity and a misplaced sense of duty, not out of malice. It is his inexperience that worries me more; the prospect that, in his blithe efforts to learn all, he will unintentionally reveal far too much to the hungry eyes beyond my walls.
I suppose that Beryl Blum is to blame. Fedya told me as much earlier this afternoon, after the poor girl confessed to him that she had revealed my former name in a moment of weakness—carnal, probably. Proving once again that, with secrets, even the involvement of a single additional person is one too many. But I will make no recriminations. Beryl is a good girl. _Girl,_ I say, when she is thirty-one, well beyond a marriageable age, a status which probably makes her and Cain perfect companions. Lust and longing, truth serum of the lonely. No secret will be safe between them until the first flames of infatuation have been extinguished.
I cannot deny that this will require extra precautions of me. The next time I see Mr. Cain, he will doubtless be full of additional information, and thus, additional questions. For the moment, I will have no choice but to deflect, to parry, to misdirect; for his own good as much as for mine. Because the time has come for me to be his guide into the fringes of my former world.
You may justifiably ask why I would take such a risk for the sake of two dead Germans with Nazi inclinations. One motive is self-preservation. A shadowy cabal would appear to be at the center of these recent events, and if its fears and suspicions led its participants to silence Hansch and Schaller, then surely at some point will they not also reach out for me? Surely Lorenz, silenced in a different manner, must have revealed my name by now, since he was the one who directed those two Germans to my door.
But only with my help and guidance will Mr. Cain be able to reach the heart of these matters. I know the codes of these people. I speak their language, literally and figuratively. Without me, he would surely misread vital cues and messages, perhaps with disastrous consequences.
So, for his benefit and for mine, I must resume more of my previous ways of behaving. I must once again seek out dangerous company and, in doing so, beg the forgiveness of whatever deity has spared my life to this point. Because I confess that I again find myself beguiled by the prospect of tasting the voyeuristic pleasures and excitements which once guided my life, and once nearly ended it as well.
# 19
THAT AFTERNOON CAPTAIN MULHEARN made damn sure Cain had no time to even think about Danziger, much less sneak off to see him. He began by once again dropping a thick file folder on Cain's desk.
"Here you go, Citizen. You're on Civil Defense duty."
CD Duty, as the cops called it, was a wartime job that mostly involved dealing with civilians who'd volunteered as air raid wardens or as foot soldiers in civil defense patrols, which functioned as auxiliary policemen at a time when extra manpower was needed, like during parades, riots, or big demonstrations.
Cain's first order of business was to check out a rumor that a couple of ne'er-do-wells living on 37th Street had applied to become air raid wardens to make it easier for them to rob stores during blackouts. Five phone calls and a quick trip to the nearest Army recruiting station soon established that both men had left for boot camp weeks ago, and had never even applied to be air wardens. He nonetheless had to type up a detailed report, because the tip had come in a handwritten letter from some nosy New Yorker to FBI director J. Edgar Hoover, who had forwarded it to Mayor La Guardia, who had passed it down to Commissioner Valentine.
"Handle _carefully_ and _thoroughly_!" Valentine had scribbled on an attached note. So much for being immune to political influence, Cain thought ruefully. And nice irony that it had ended up on Cain's desk. He resisted the urge to scribble an aside to Linwood Archer.
His other CD duty for the day was far more pleasant: registering six new female air raid wardens, a task that became the object of station house levity when he marched them downstairs for fingerprinting in full view of officers coming in off the street from patrol duty.
_"Need some help rolling those fingers, Citizen Cain?"_
_"You're turning a little red there, Sergeant. They making your temperature rise?"_
_"Or is that something else rising?"_
Several of the young ladies blushed. Cain took it in stride. This was one reaction that would have been no different in Horton. Usually the only women you ever saw in the station house were either the rare female plainclothes officer, working upstairs, the hard cases from the Tenderloin who'd just been arrested, or the distraught victims of crime. Even most of the clerical work here got done by men, and the sight of six well-meaning young women in smart CD uniforms was therefore bound to be a distraction.
Twice Cain had to shoo away overly curious patrolmen, but all the extra attention eventually gave him an idea which he decided to put into action as soon as the fingerprinting was done. He marched the women up to Romo's high desk and whispered conspiratorially, "Got a second, Sarge?"
"Considering your present company, I got all day."
"These gals could use an escort upstairs while I go use the can. To keep 'em out of harm's way until I'm back, if you know what I mean."
"Absolutely, young man!"
Romo sprang to his feet with a bounce in his step and led the women toward the stairwell. Everyone watched their progress except Cain, who reached beneath the desk for the ring of keys. The one for the 95 Room was clearly marked. Cain worked it loose, dropped it in his pocket and returned the ring to its hook just as the last of the women disappeared up the stairs in a chorus of wolf whistles. He'd be fine as long as no one missed it between now and the shift change. That gave him an hour to get a copy made. He'd worry later about how to put the key back.
After completing the paperwork for the women he followed them out of the building and veered off toward the nearest hardware store. The clerk, not accustomed to cops asking for copies of official-looking keys, frowned doubtfully until Cain slipped him a dollar and said, "I screwed up. Lost the duplicate, and the less my lieutenant knows about it, the better."
"Got it."
By then Cain had come up with a plan for how to return the original. After leaving the hardware store he headed straight for Logan's, a tavern that was a mandatory after-hours stop for some of his colleagues. The bartender was accustomed to special requests from his law enforcement clients, and Cain had heard talk of some of the tactics. He eased up to the bar. Ten minutes from now, every stool would be filled by officers from the day squad. But for now the place was practically empty.
"Special order for the lou on the night squad," Cain said, using house slang for the squad lieutenant. "A flute would make his day."
"Coming right up."
The bartender pulled out an empty brown pop bottle from below—Orange Crush, which made Cain wonder what Zharkov had really been drinking in the station house the day before—and filled it with a few shots of Old Bushmill's.
Cain reached for his wallet, but the bartender waved him off.
"With my compliments to the lou."
Back at the station house, Cain followed established procedure. He approached the desk just as the night squad's desk sergeant, an agreeable rail-thin fellow named Walker, was settling in.
"Got a flute here to wet the lou's whistle," he said, keeping his voice down.
Walker's eyes lit up.
"You're a gentleman and a scholar. Sergeant Cain, is it not? The new detective?"
"Yes, sir."
He took the bottle in hand.
"Well, then. I'm sure the lou will remember you in his prayers. As will I."
He winked and poured a toot into his coffee mug.
"Carrying charge," he said, before heading off to complete the delivery. Cain checked his flanks, saw his chance, and grabbed the key ring. He slipped the key back on and headed upstairs to complete the last of the day's paperwork. Shortly afterward he left the station house with two errands to run. An hour after that he arrived at Danziger's doorstep on Rivington Street.
This time Cain entered without knocking. Danziger looked up in annoyance.
"I am with a client, my final one of the day," he said testily, before turning back toward a heavyset woman in black, seated in a chair facing his. "My apologies, Mrs. Hartstein. You may resume in full confidence of privacy, as I can assure you that the gentleman who does not act as a gentleman neither speaks nor understands German. Nonetheless, I will ask him to wait outside if that is your wish."
She eyed Cain, who smiled sheepishly, the way he used to whenever his grandmother caught him stealing icing from a freshly baked caramel cake.
"It is quite all right," she said in English. "I am nearly finished."
"Very well." Then, in a sterner tone to Cain. "Please wait quietly."
She may have been nearly finished, but, as Cain soon discovered, she still had important things to say. Danziger scribbled quickly while she spoke German in a low, urgent tone, gesturing with both hands. When she paused, he nodded solemnly and retrieved a folded page of onionskin paper from an open envelope. He then began reading from it in German while she listened closely, head bowed. At one point she stopped him with a hand on his arm. She reached into a large black handbag and dabbed at her eyes with a lacy handkerchief. Danziger continued reading in a lowered voice, and the silence afterward felt like a pronouncement of death. He gently refolded the paper, slipped it back into the envelope, stood, and slid it into one of the cubbyholes on the back wall, near the end of the top row. She rose with a mournful sigh, and he accompanied her to the door, neither of them glancing at Cain as they passed. Her eyes were off in some bleak world across the seas.
The door opened to the noise and dust of the neighborhood. Danziger guided her across the threshold. "I am walking her home," he said to Cain. "It is a few blocks only, the least I can do for her in such a difficult time. You will wait."
"Sure."
The door shut behind them.
It took only thirty seconds for Cain's curiosity to get the best of his sense of propriety. He rose stealthily from the wing chair, already feeling like he was up to no good. First he tried the drawers of Danziger's desk. The biggest one was locked. The smaller ones were stuffed with bills, invoices, torn scraps of paper with scribbled names and numbers, none of them familiar. On top of the desk was a well-thumbed old book, open to the middle. Cain checked the spine: _Harkavy's American Letter Writer and Speller, English and Yiddish,_ a reference work by some fellow named Alexander Harkavy, and printed forty years earlier by the Hebrew Publishing Co., New York.
He saw now there was also a small framed photograph, an oval barely bigger than a silver dollar that was walled off from the rest of the room by a pile of recent correspondence. It was a yellowed portrait of a young woman, beautiful but unsmiling, with black hair and a prim collar, buttoned to the neck. He turned it over but there was no date, only the name of a photographer's studio in New York. He was careful to place it in the exact spot as before.
Cain looked up at the two hundred or so cubbyholes. As before, every single one had something in it. Impressive, yes, but looking closer he now saw that for an alarming number the envelopes and papers were yellowed, or even curling at the edges. The ink was faded.
He gingerly pulled out a letter and unfolded it. It was dated October 1932. Ten years old. The onionskin stationery was brittle, almost to the point of crumbling. The other three envelopes in the slot were all postmarked before 1931.
Who were these people? What were their stories? And were some of them dead? If so, why had Danziger held on to their letters, especially since he seemed so keen on erasing their stories from his memory? Or so he'd said.
Cain slid everything back into place, taking care to do no harm. He felt like he had come across an ancient archive. The door creaked open behind him. He flushed in embarrassment, and took a moment to compose his expression before turning to face Danziger, who stood at the entrance with arms folded, staring. As the door slowly closed behind him, a band of sunlight lit his white hair and pale skin, making him look like an avenging angel. Yet he did not seem angry, or the least bit surprised.
"You will not find it there," he said, "or anywhere on these premises."
"Find what?"
"Any sign of my previous life."
Cain was tempted to ask about the photo of the woman, but something in Danziger's expression warned him off.
"That sounds like you're admitting to one."
"One? By my count there are at least three. We all have past lives, wouldn't you agree? There was my childhood, happy but impoverished, in a city now lost to memory. Lost to everything, if newsreels are to be believed. Then my passage to New York, which landed me far too soon upon the shores of orphanhood. Followed by a life on my own in an era of self-education and rising status. That is the one you seek evidence of, is it not? But, as I said, no trace of that life resides here."
"No trace of it seems to reside in the police records bureau, either." He decided not to mention the files he'd requested from the Hall of Records. "They say you're dead. Or that Alexander Maximilian Dalitz is dead, anyway. Has been since 1928."
Danziger flinched, and Cain could tell he hadn't wanted to.
"He died for a good reason. Several good reasons. But let us not speak ill of the dead. Instead, look up again at those letters where you were just poking around. Go ahead."
Cain obliged him.
"Now, tell me what you see."
"Mail, some of it pretty old."
"No, no. What you see are lives. Lives which depend upon me. And, yes, I have cultivated their dependence, perhaps out of a need to feel worthy and wanted. But it has occurred all the same. And now you would propose, with a little further meddling, to render me null, or perhaps damaged, and at the very least compromised in my standing here. So do it, then, if the only way you know how to behave is as a policeman, operating by his manual of procedure. But be prepared to live with the consequences for all of them." He spread his arms wide. "Mrs. Hartstein, who you just saw leaving, would you care to hear the news of hers which has just been revealed to me?"
"News revealed in confidence?"
"Don't be impudent. Just listen, for a change. Four months ago she received a letter from her sister in Hamburg. Their entire family was in hiding, but the police were going door to door, searching for Jews. There were reports that entire crowds of them were being escorted to the _Bahnhof_ and loaded onto rail cars. Cattle cars, Mr. Cain, not passenger compartments. These trains were seen leaving town, traveling east.
"During the next four months she heard nothing. Not a word. She feared the worst, but hoped that perhaps they were in a new location, someplace where even sending a letter through trusted intermediaries was too risky. Until today, when she came to me with a letter that had just arrived from an old neighbor, a sympathetic member of the _goyim_ who only the week before had come across all of her family's belongings in a secondhand shop. Their furniture, their jewelry and silver, their candelabras. Even their _clothing,_ Mr. Cain, right down to their laundered undergarments. Folded neatly on shelves and hanging from racks in this terrible little shop, every piece of their lives. As I sadly explained to her, this is not at all uncommon news, Mr. Cain, and its meaning can only be ominous."
"Maybe they sold everything, lock stock and barrel, to buy their way out of town?"
"To go where? Berlin? Where these cattle trains are said to be running with even greater frequency? It is very likely, Mr. Cain, that everyone in Mrs. Hartstein's family has disappeared forever. Meaning that all that remains of her past, the only traces, are those which you see in her mail slot, third from the end on the top row. The top row, because she is one of my oldest customers. And without me to curate and translate those relics, where would she be?
"Whereas you, Mr. Cain, need me only as a cop needs a source, a guide, a clue. I will be expendable the moment you have obtained what you want. Yes, I know that I speak too highly of myself, and perhaps also too lightly of your work. But if my vanity engenders doubt, then ask someone you trust. Ask Beryl Blum."
"Oh, I trust you. This version of you, anyway."
"Seeing as how that is the only one which currently exists, shouldn't that be enough?"
"Except that your connections from those earlier times—you said it yourself—they're still dangerous. For both of us. And you've already trespassed back into that part of your life, whether you intended to or not. You crossed back the moment you took on Werner Hansch as a client. Or that's what I'm guessing."
Danziger looked at him closely, as if reassessing.
"You guess well, Mr. Cain. Although even I was not aware of how seriously I had trespassed until I witnessed that formidable lineup of personalities at the breakfast table at Longchamps."
"Where does that leave us?"
"You're the detective. You tell me. What more have you learned?"
"For one thing, I stopped by the Hotel Astor on the way over."
"Was that wise?"
"It seemed like an obvious starting point."
"But if certain people hear that they have captured the interest of the police, well..."
"I was discreet. I also shelled out a little cash, to keep my source quiet."
"So, then. Even Mr. By-the-Book is not above the employment of certain unsavory methods. I am encouraged."
"She had a low price tag. It was the switchboard operator at the hotel."
"A wise choice. She handles virtually every call in and out of the building, does she not?"
"Except that the office for the Executives Association of Greater New York has its own direct line. It was installed back in December. She remembered because it was the week after Pearl Harbor."
"Then I suppose she knows little or nothing of their operations."
"Almost nothing. She knows the guy who runs the place, a fellow called Haffenden."
"Haffenden? Spell it, please."
Cain obliged him, then told him the rest. "Charles Haffenden, but everyone calls him Red."
"I daresay that anyone calling himself Red instead of Charles is likely to run in the same circles as Mr. Lansky and Mr. Polakoff."
"Not exactly."
"You know more?"
"Agnes, the gal on the switchboard, says he's a real peach. A gentleman, even."
"Gentlemanly behavior and the rackets are not mutually exclusive."
"She says he's a man in uniform."
"Military?"
"The U.S. Navy. An officer, to boot. Lieutenant commander. So I made a few calls. Discreetly, once again. And this is where it gets kind of interesting. Before the war he was in the reserves, just a businessman. Some big-shot glad-hander in advertising and marketing, which probably explains why he's running the Executives Association. When the Navy recalled him for active duty they made him chief officer of the district for Naval Intelligence."
"Intelligence? As in spies and secrets?"
"And his real office, or at least the one he runs for the Navy, is down near Wall Street, in the federal building on Church Street. As for why he hired his own private line at the Astor, that's anybody's guess. But Agnes says lately he's there two, three times a week, holed up for hours at a time."
"Where he meets with the likes of Meyer Lansky, Murray Gurfein, and the mouthpiece for Mr. Luciano."
"Yep. And she knew one other item. She says just the other day Haffenden rang her up and asked for a phone number for some place not too far from here, down on the East River." Cain took out his notebook and flipped to the page. "Meyer's Hotel, at one seventeen South Street. Not much, I guess, but..." Danziger was smiling broadly. "You've heard of it?"
"A foul and seedy establishment. Little better than a flophouse for seafarers and wharf rats. But it is also a place of business for a celebrated figure of whom you may have heard. Joseph Lanza."
"As in 'Socks' Lanza?"
"Of the Fulton Fish Market, which is right next door."
"Why would Lanza be mixed up in this?"
"Jobs, perhaps. The ones Lorenz brokered for Werner Hansch and his Bundist friends. Lanza could have provided them through the Seafood Workers Union, which he practically runs. No one gets aboard a trawler, or onto the weighing lines at the market, without his say-so."
"Makes sense."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not."
"Because he's under indictment, you mean?"
"Yes. Conspiracy and extortion, multiple counts, if the newspapers are to be believed. Which makes his involvement with these people all the more puzzling. When you're in his shoes, the last thing you want to do is start acting as if you're cooperating with anyone in authority. People who do can suddenly find it very hard to conduct business. Or to even live a life."
"Unless the authorities he's working with are crooked."
"There is also that possibility. Mr. Lanza was indicted by the previous DA, Mr. Dewey. Perhaps the new DA, Mr. Hogan, and his man Gurfein do not think so highly of the case against him. Either way, Mr. Lanza is keeping curious company. We will ask him why, provided he chooses to speak with us."
_"Us?"_
"My trespass that you spoke of, the one which led into my past. You are correct, of course. I have crossed a line. But there are other lines still ahead which I had hoped to avoid crossing. Yet now I believe I must do so if I am to be of any further value to you."
"You're sure?"
"Only if you are prepared to stop asking so many questions of me. You must also be willing to operate beyond your usual codes and strictures, if only out of loyalty to all of those people you see in this room." He gestured toward the cubbyholes. "So, do we have an agreement?"
Cain had no choice but to say yes, even as he wondered what sort of compromises lay ahead—and with Linwood Archer waiting right around the next corner, for all he knew.
"Okay," he said. "Count me in."
"Very well. Let us begin your education, and my next trespass."
"Where?"
"Meyer's Hotel, at the Fulton Fish Market. We shall go straight to the heart of things."
Cain sensed the momentous nature of this move, and for a second he wondered if it was worth the cost.
"You sure you're ready for this?"
Danziger nodded.
"But let us wait until morning. Far too soon it will be dark. Not the right time to breach their defenses."
"You make it sound like an armed assault."
"Reconnaissance only. But we should go as early as possible. Sunrise, no later."
"To catch them unawares?"
Danziger frowned.
"It is clear you have never been to the fish market. Sunrise is when the place is at its busiest. We will have safety in numbers. Perhaps their lookouts will even be too preoccupied to notice our approach. But if you wish to question my tactics, then, please, offer an alternative."
"You know an awful lot about this stuff."
"For which you should be grateful, not questioning."
Cain watched him closely, but Danziger remained poker-faced.
"Okay, then. I'll come by for you, bright and early."
Danziger nodded. Then he looked around the room, with the air of a man accounting for all his worldly possessions just before embarking on a lengthy and perhaps perilous journey. Without a further word, he escorted Cain to the door.
# 20
CAIN INHALED A GUST OF BRINE as he slipped on cobbles slimed with blood and fish guts. His aching leg was just beginning to loosen up. Beneath a tattered awning to his left, a shower of fish scales glittered like silver confetti in a band of low sunlight. In the next doorway down, a large man in heavy gloves slid a pink bundle of entrails from the belly of a huge swordfish.
They were enveloped by noise—the banging of cleavers on cutting boards, the splash and sluice of hosed water, the hungry cries of seagulls and, loudest of all, the call and echo of rough male voices shouting prices and poundage at the weighing stations of every storefront, where teetering metal baskets sagged and creaked. Tails of red snapper overlapped the edges of one like waving hands, stilled in a cold farewell.
Down here on Fulton Street, at ten minutes past dawn, not a single woman was in sight, although here and there Cain saw scrawny boys in shorts and smocks, darting between shadow and sun.
"Watch yourself, Oscar!" someone called loudly from behind, Oscar apparently being the preferred name for anyone who didn't belong. Cain stepped aside just in time for a handcart to rumble past toward the East River. From the opposite direction someone approached with wooden boxes of ice hefted on both shoulders.
For all the activity, Cain sensed an edge of weariness taking hold, which told him that everyone had been at their jobs for hours, having risen long before him.
"Is it like this every day?"
"A little slower on Sundays," Danziger said. "Slower still during storms, when the boats stay in harbor."
Cain took stock of his companion and noticed a change. A few blocks ago Danziger had led them into the mouth of Fulton Street almost warily, with careful steps that seemed to betray the frailty of advancing age. Now his stride was longer, bolder, as if with each step he was easing deeper into familiar territory. Cain settled in just off Danziger's right shoulder.
On their left they continued passing what seemed to be endless storefronts. All were open to the elements on the ground floor, and the name of each establishment was painted overhead in big black letters between the windows of the floors of these three-story brick buildings. Most of the brickwork was painted white, perhaps for better visibility during the pre-dawn hours when the market first stirred to life. Cain scanned the names: MARKET SHELL FOOD CO.—OYSTERS, FILLETS, CLAMS; JOHN DAIS CO. WHOLESALE FISH; FLAG FISH CO.; BEYER FISH CO., one after another, all the way to South Street and the water's edge, where the masts and pilot houses of trawlers cast long shadows across the wharves.
On the opposite side of Fulton, trucks were parked side by side in a long row, rear doors open to accept whatever the restaurateurs and grocers bought. Other trucks had arrived full, to unload the day's catch from elsewhere—crabs and oysters from the Chesapeake, cod and lobster from points north. No sooner did one truck leave than another took its place.
Elsewhere in the city, meat and fresh vegetables were in short supply. Sugar was already rationed, and meat and coffee were said to be next in line. But down here the sea was still issuing its bounty without limit. No wonder the mob loved the place and jealously clung to its power. It was a nonstop profit center, unhindered even by war, with every part of the supply chain gathered conveniently in one spot—trawler, trucker, gutter, seller, shipper, grocer, and chef—which no doubt made for easy, multi-level skimming. And, indicted or not, Socks Lanza was still lord over all.
Cain saw now that the last and biggest building on the block, rising five stories in red brick, was Meyer's Hotel. It announced itself with white letters mounted on its two fire escapes. Just below was a sign of equal importance for any thirsty fisherman: BAR.
"That's our destination?"
"Yes." Danziger stopped, and held out an arm to stay his progress. "Observe it for a moment. Tell me what you see."
Cain saw fishermen in overalls and rolled sleeves heading into the bar for breakfast, or perhaps for a morning pick-me-up. A newsboy laden heavily with a fresh edition slumped by an open window, smoking a cigarette although he was no older than twelve. Further to the left, two fellows flanked a narrow, unmarked doorway. Compared to the fishermen and merchants they were almost dandyish, dressed in wide-lapel suits and cocked fedoras, the brims shading their eyes from view. One chewed a toothpick, his jaw rolling slowly. The other smoked a cigar.
"Those two fine young specimens kind of stand out, don't they?"
"They are there to be noticed," Danziger said. "Move closer and you'll also observe the bulge beneath their jackets. Also intentional. Mr. Lanza posts them as a sign to be heeded by one and all."
"He's telling people to steer clear?"
"Heavens, no. He is telling the world that he is present and accounted for, and currently receiving petitioners. Not that you'd ever see _him_ in a suit. Mr. Lanza favors the uniform of his fellow tradesmen. Even when seated behind a desk he wears overalls begrimed by oil and offal. But his visiting hours will remain open for as long as those two well-dressed goons remain at their stations. Although not open to everyone, of course. That is our challenge."
"How do we get past them?"
"Your shield would no doubt suffice, but under their rules that would constitute an entry by force, and we would receive such a chilly reception as to make our visit worthless. Your presence would also be remarked upon, no doubt, to someone of high standing at the fourteenth precinct, whereupon your Captain Mulhearn would be duly notified."
"The last thing I need."
"Then I suggest you leave matters in my hands. I will speak for us both."
"They won't make me as a cop?"
Danziger shook his head, as if Cain still didn't get it.
"If they make you as anything, it will be as a bumpkin. Although they _will_ detect your sidearm, so please keep your hands at your sides."
Cain, who'd figured that by now he blended in like any other New Yorker, felt mildly affronted, but this was no time for hurt feelings.
"Lead the way."
They approached. Danziger walked briskly, with head held high. Cain followed his lead, trying to disguise his slight limp. Moving closer, he saw that both men were freshly shaven, unlike the fishermen and merchants, who were already sporting five o'clock shadows. He detected a whiff of aftershave. When they were almost upon them, the man chewing the toothpick spit it out to a point five feet in front of him, as if to signal they were to come no closer. Danziger spoke to that one.
"We have business with Mr. Lanza. I am Mr. Danziger." Cain was a little surprised he'd given his real name, but why offer yet another alias when he was already living under one? "My companion is Mr. Pierce. We're here on a delicate matter of some urgency. Union business."
"We wasn't told to expect anyone of your names, but Lester here will go see if he might squeeze you in."
Lester disappeared into the doorway and up a flight of stairs. The first guy produced a new toothpick from a lapel pocket and resumed chewing, eyeing them carefully all the while. A few minutes later Lester returned with another man in tow. Cain had checked a few photos the night before, so he knew this wasn't Lanza. But the fellow looked several cuts above the sentries, and he, too, wore office attire, although he had shed his jacket.
The man said nothing as he inspected them, slowly and carefully, as if assessing strengths and weaknesses. Then he nodded and turned back around.
"Okay," the first guard said. He turned to Cain. "But first you'll have to check your hat here at the door."
Cain, bare-headed, frowned in puzzlement until Danziger said, with a hint of impatience, "Your sidearm, he means."
Cain reluctantly handed it over. The guy reacted as if he'd been handed a dead skunk.
"So how come you're carrying a Colt .32, like one of Valentine's flatfoots? We got enough Lizzie Louses cruising through our waters as it is."
Danziger answered. "His choice of arms is a personal decision. I am the brains, he is the muscle. But I can assure you that he is quite harmless."
"And mute, too, huh?"
The guy smirked. Cain held his tongue and clenched his fists at his sides, while wondering what the hell a Lizzie Louse was.
"Upstairs, then. Go on up."
The man who'd come down to inspect them was waiting on the second floor landing, where he led them to a small office dominated by a battleship-gray desk with at least a half-dozen dents. A faded wall calendar advertised a local ship's chandler, but there was little else in the way of décor. The window was open, and the room smelled like fish and boat fuel. Venetian blinds banged and rattled in the breeze. The man settled in behind the desk, lit a cigarette, and then put away his pack without offering one.
"Which of you is Danziger?"
Danziger nodded.
"And you're Pierce?"
"Yes," Cain said. "And your name is...?"
The man ignored the question and turned back toward Danziger.
"So you're the guy in charge?"
"I am the one who has been appointed to speak for the interests of my clients."
"You a mouthpiece, then?"
"A personal representative."
"On a union matter?"
"Yes. Two members of your union, it seems, have come to rather unfortunate ends. We're here on their behalf, seeking to collect any pension or compensation due to their families."
The guy showed no visible reaction. He studied their faces for a few seconds longer.
"Names?" he asked, picking up a pencil.
"Werner Hansch and Klaus Schaller."
He wrote them on a pad without batting an eye.
"Never heard of 'em."
"They were German citizens, hired in the past month or two. They were referred by the German-American All Trades Employment Agency, operated by a Mr. Lutz Lorenz."
The man raised his eyebrows. Then he tilted his head and took a long, slow drag from his cigarette before rolling his chair backward without once taking his eyes off them. He stood.
"Back in a minute."
They heard him climbing the stairs to the next floor.
"Think he's gone to see Lanza?" Cain asked.
"Probably. He is the second in command. Or so it is said."
"You know who he is?"
"Benjamin Espy."
Danziger didn't volunteer how he knew, and there was no sense in asking. Espy returned within a minute or two and quickly settled in behind the desk.
"My boss ain't never heard of these people. So there you go."
"It is certainly plausible that the names would not be familiar to him," Danziger said. "But perhaps if we could peruse your membership records for any recently issued cards for your local? Number three fifty-nine of the Seafood Workers Union, is it not?"
Espy eyed them for a beat or two. He had just started to shake his head when Cain lost his patience. The opportunity to obtain any possible information was about to slip through their fingers, and Danziger seemed ready to acquiesce. Not him.
"Maybe your boss could also tell us what he knows about a fellow named Red Haffenden. And before both of you claim you've never heard of him, we know for a fact that Haffenden has been making calls to Mr. Lanza at this very office."
Cain looked over at Danziger, expecting a nod of gratitude. Instead, the older man sighed and lowered his head in an elaborate show of embarrassment, as if Cain had just used the wrong fork at a dinner party. Espy, meanwhile, had gone red in the face and had risen halfway out of his chair. He shouted in reply as he leaned across the desk.
"What is it with this one?" he said to Danziger. "He comes in here talking like a hayseed from the sticks and waving some cop's gun under our noses. Then he starts claiming to know our business better than we do?"
"My colleague is impulsive and inexperienced," Danziger said. "And, as you have surmised, he comes from elsewhere. Despite his regrettable display of impertinence, I personally assure you that he is a one-way guy."
The words seemed to momentarily appease Espy, while Cain was left to wonder whether he should be offended by the description. Danziger held out his hands in a gesture of forbearance and spoke again.
"Let us speak candidly for a moment, sir. As you and I are both aware, what your boss says is word, from the Brooklyn Bridge to the Battery, and in certain points beyond. If he gives the go-ahead, a man may join a waterfront union, whether it happens to be Mr. Lanza's local or one of the Longshoremen's."
"Hey," Espy shouted. "You want to speak candidly, and after that crack by your friend? Then try this on for size. What my boss is, first and foremost, is a patriot. So we ain't running nothing with no Germans, and if you've got some kind of idea that we are, then you're dead wrong. And he's a patriot for no pay, I might add. He's not getting one penny outta this deal. He's a seventy-five-a-week union man living in a three-room apartment, because that's all he and his old lady can afford. And now you're gonna question his patriotism?"
"We are doing nothing of the sort," Danziger said gently, although he looked thrown by the turn the conversation had taken. So was Cain. What sort of "deal" was Espy talking about? And why was he suddenly making such an issue out of Lanza's patriotism?
"Then you need to stop throwing around certain names and places like my boss has got something to do with it."
"Of course. We wish only to peruse the local's records. Which we can accomplish with minimal disruption, I assure you."
Espy eyed them both for a few beats more, then nodded.
"Then you do that. Two doors down. Ask Hal, he'll show you. There's nothing to see about any damn Germans. When you're done I want the both of you out of here. Don't be coming back, and don't be asking any more questions about Mr. Lanza. To nobody. Understand?"
"Of course."
"And that goes double for him." Espy jerked a thumb toward Cain without turning his head. Cain wasn't sure what was worse—feeling completely disrespected, or feeling so far out of his depth.
Espy escorted them to the room in question. The search, through a single file folder that held the membership rolls for Local 359 of the Seafood Workers Union, took all of ten minutes, and was fruitless. There was no record for a Hansch or a Schaller, either for the past month or for any month dating back as far as 1936. The man named Hal escorted them downstairs, where both sentries smirked as they handed back Cain's police-issue weapon.
"Nice pop gun, kid."
"What would you know about it?"
He was about to say more, but a glare from Danziger warned him off. They walked away, Cain barely containing his anger. The fish market was still in full swing, and now that the sun was higher the smells were more intense. Neither man spoke until they'd gone three blocks and turned onto Pearl, where Danziger stopped and tapped a bony forefinger against Cain's chest, as if to drive home every word.
"You are never to do that again."
" _Me_? What about you? And what the hell's a one-way guy? Some kind of crooked cop?"
"A straight shooter. An honest man. It was a compliment."
"Only if you believe in honor among thieves. And Lizzie Louses?"
"Police patrols. It is usually the best policy to address those sorts of people in their own tongue. And your sin, if I might continue with my previous point, was in revealing the information about Haffenden. It was not something we should have shared."
"Well, sometimes you've got to light a fire under people, and—"
"And sometimes when you light a fire the whole building goes up! With you inside of it!" Danziger's voice was raised, his eyes flaring. Cain had never seen him so angry. "You must let _me_ decide what is best in our dealings with these sorts of people, Mr. Cain. If only to help you live a longer life. Yes?"
"Okay." Cain waited a few seconds, letting him calm down. "But weren't you surprised by the way it set him off? I was."
"It was beyond strange."
"All that mumbo-jumbo about his patriotism, about some deal that he's not getting paid for."
"Useful material, perhaps. But only if we learn more. Mr. Haffenden would seem to be the key. Perhaps it is a Navy secret."
"If Haffenden was on official Navy business, I doubt he'd be doing it from that private office at the Astor."
"I agree. This arrangement, whatever it is, does not smell any better than those wharves we just inhabited."
"Where do we go next, then?"
"I need time to think. And perhaps a day or two for checking with a few contacts. In the meantime, you are to do nothing that might stir up these people further. Stay on the Erie, as Mr. Espy would say."
"Lay low?"
"Good. I may yet succeed in making you bilingual."
"Fluent in mugs, mopes, and mobs. That'll open doors."
"We should part ways here, in case someone is following. Two are harder to keep up with than one."
Cain, jarred by the idea, spun around to check behind them, realizing as he did so that he had no idea who or what he was looking for. What kind of tail would Espy employ? A mug in a suit? A fisherman on the take? A newsboy, even, earning an extra nickel? It might be anyone.
He turned back around to ask Danziger's advice, only to find an empty space and a view of a vast, milling crowd, placidly going about its business on a fine spring morning on Pearl Street.
# 21
# DANZIGER
I MADE HASTE TO DISENGAGE without Mr. Cain noticing, in no small part because I did not wish to field any further inquiries, lest he pry loose the truth of the matter, which was this: Mentioning Haffenden's name had been a stroke of blind genius. Without it, we might have departed Meyer's Hotel empty-handed. Instead, the intemperate Mr. Espy had clumsily let his anger master his words, and in doing so momentarily opened a doorway onto a deeper chamber of his thoughts.
The problem is that our knowledge is not yet sufficient to illuminate the room beyond that doorway. And I would certainly not encourage further such impulsive behavior on the part of Mr. Cain, or not until he has progressed in his education regarding the rough ways of these grubbier environs. I say this not out of vanity for my own expertise, but because I am certain he never realized how close he came to losing his life only moments ago.
He did notice, as I did, that as soon as Mr. Haffenden's name was mentioned, Mr. Espy's right hand reached stealthily toward an open drawer of his desk, just to the right of his knees. This grope into "the dynamite hole," as Lanza's minions supposedly call it, was for the purpose of procuring a fully loaded pistol, with which Mr. Espy has been known to dispatch without hesitation any particularly troublesome petitioners of his lord and master. Only my immediate verbal efforts at appeasement stayed his hand. An easily angered man, our Mr. Espy, even though his police record shows only small-time convictions for such crimes as robbery, rum running, and the thieving of automobiles.
What puzzles me most about his inadvertent revelation—the news that some sort of "deal" may have been struck between Messrs. Lanza and Haffenden—is that, for the moment, there are no financial considerations in play. Working for free, Mr. Espy said of his boss, even though the time-honored tradition of deals between men on the public payroll and mugs such as Mr. Lanza is one of lucrative payoffs, for one party or another, and often for both.
There is, however, another currency which sometimes enters into these agreements: human lives. The erasure of certain inconvenient individuals, for example. Is that what Mr. Lanza has bargained for? If so, it leaves me cold and worried. Werner Hansch and Klaus Schaller may have been unworthy individuals, but if I was to learn that our own Navy, in concert with the district attorney, had guaranteed their disposal—and perhaps Lutz Lorenz's as well—in exchange for considerations from the likes of Mr. Lanza (and, by logical extension, Messrs. Lansky and Luciano), then I would find it objectionable, even alarming, wartime or not.
But, as I said, the room beyond this newly open doorway remains dark. My guesses and postulations are exactly that. Meaning that Mr. Cain and I still have much work to do.
I should also use this moment to correct a wrongful impression you may have formed during an earlier conversation at my house between Mr. Cain and me, lest you accuse me later of having aggrandized my importance to my neighborhood.
When I look up to those mail slots above my desk, I do indeed see lives. But that is not all. I see tombstones as well, more of them every month. Because mine is an aging clientele, and my occupation itself is on its deathbed, despite my protestations to the contrary on the occasion of our first acquaintance. Language schools and public education are seeing to its demise, and within a generation there will no longer be enough need for my services to support a livelihood.
I should have foreseen this, perhaps. But I took up this profession at a moment in my life when I needed to feel useful, valid, helpful. And, considering recent events, it is probably a good thing that my declining business has freed me to attend to the task at hand.
I am now convinced that I must redouble my efforts, and become even more vigilant in my efforts to protect those who may come to harm. For the second time in my life, I must become a watchful presence in the lives of others, except this time in a role of benevolence. Or so I hope.
That is why I scurried away the moment I saw the opportunity, evading Mr. Cain's notice to proceed back to Rivington Street, where I shall lay the best possible plans for our progress, and for our survival.
# 22
AN EXHAUSTED CAIN made it back from the fish market to the station house in time for the beginning of the day shift. He needed three cups of java to steel himself for his next leap into the unknown. That was due to occur at eleven a.m., when, based on what he'd heard from gossipy colleagues, Officers Steele and Rose of the 95 Room would head out for their daily coffee break at the Royal.
Cain went downstairs at eleven. Sure enough, the room was locked. He looked both ways in the corridor and used his duplicate key to let himself into the darkened office. He quickly relocked the door behind him, switched on the light, and checked his watch: 11:02. The earliest Steele and Rose ever returned was 11:30, or so everyone said. He had less than half an hour to get down to business.
It was a bit disconcerting, seeing the many shelves and file drawers arrayed before him, all of them stuffed to their limits. So much documentation. In Horton, police paperwork was fairly rudimentary, and the filing was uneven at best. The NYPD, however, was in many ways an edifice built upon a bewildering array of paper. Cops had to deal with roughly two hundred and fifty different forms in their daily work, which varied from the basics, like the UF-7F, a fatal accident report, to the relative obscurity of the UF-17A, a report of a burned-out street lamp.
Fortunately, from his earlier reconnaissance he knew that the index to all the files was posted on the back of the door. In addition, the trail of police paperwork following an arrest was fairly straightforward. Every arrest was reported on a UF-9 form, each of which was noted in the precinct's arrest record, which listed cases in chronological order and by serial number. The UF-9 forms were then bound in monthly volumes. Summons reports, disposition records, and other papers were also stored in the 95 Room, but Cain figured that the arrest record was the best starting point.
Scanning the index, he quickly found the shelf and binder number for the precinct's arrest record ledger. He went to the shelf, took down the big ledger, and opened it atop a worktable next to the framed fishing photos that Steele and Rose had gushed about his last time here.
Cain flipped through the pages to January, which Valentine had cited as the month when things began to go awry. He scanned the dates and names, not sure what he was looking for until he saw "Ericson, Stanley," who'd been charged January 17 with illegal bookmaking. Recalling that Valentine had singled out "a bookie named Ericson" as someone who inexplicably remained at large, he looked closer. Curiously, the faint remnant of an erased check mark was in the left margin next to Ericson's name. Cain noted the serial number for the case, and then consulted the index on the door for the location of the January binder of arrest reports. He grabbed it off the shelf and flipped through the pages of reports, filed by serial number, until he reached the space where Ericson's arrest report should have been filed. There was nothing.
Cain logged the serial number of the missing report in his notebook and went back to the arrest record's pages for January, this time paying special attention to the left margin. He found eleven more cases with the ghostly remnants of erased check marks out in the margin. He wrote down the name and serial number for each one, and went back to the January binder of arrest reports. The report for the first of the eleven numbers was missing. So was the second. With time limited, he decided to assume that the same would be true for the other nine. He then went back to the arrest record to search for more erased check marks in subsequent months.
He glanced at his watch: 11:18. Twelve more minutes before he had to scram. A droplet of sweat fell onto the ledger, smudging a name. He flipped through the pages for February and found at least seven erased check marks, although he was moving so fast that he might have missed a few. He saw six more for March until a notation for an arrest on March 19 stopped him. The check mark was still there, not erased. There were two more on the next page. Did that mean those arrest reports would still be in the binder for March?
He took down the March binder, rifling through it so fast that he tore a page. The checkmarked arrest report for March 19 was present and accounted for. The subject was Clarence Cohen, charged with running an illegal crap game on 41st Street. Someone had paper-clipped a short note to the report, but just as Cain began trying to decipher the handwriting he was startled by the sound of voices from the hallway.
Shutting the binder, he froze, as good as dead if anyone entered. He watched the door knob for movement as the voices passed and then faded. Cain exhaled and checked his watch: 11:27. Time to finish and get the hell out of here. He slid the arrest report binders for March and January back onto the shelves, and then the arrest record.
He put his ear to the door. All quiet. He turned the lock, shut off the light, and then flipped it back on, remembering in the nick of time that he'd left his notebook on the worktable.
"Shit!"
He grabbed it, again shut off the light, and stepped into the hallway, where he quickly locked the door and headed toward the stairs. No sooner was he under way than he heard voices approaching from the end of the hall. He didn't wait to see if it was Steele and Rose.
There was still plenty of work to do, but at least now Cain knew he was on the right track. The system seemed simple enough. Someone was checkmarking cases for special handling, presumably in exchange for bribes. Once the arrest report was disposed of, the check mark was erased.
But why not just dispose of the reports right away, rather than risk leaving a trail with the check marks and erasures? Easy, he thought. You didn't make a report disappear until the client paid for special handling. It was a ham-fisted way of doing things, and easily spotted by anyone with half a brain who could get access to the 95 Room. Then again, no one got a job in the 95 Room by being the brightest bulb in the precinct. And it was pretty easy to see why Mulhearn, and perhaps other ranking officers in the precinct, would gladly look the other way in such a scheme. Even if they weren't sharing in the payoffs, they'd be enjoying the benefits of a lowered crime rate in the precinct every time yet another arrest report disappeared. Crude, but effective, and probably foolproof as long as the precinct followed its own rules of keeping all its records under lock and key. Copies of the arrest reports weren't sent to headquarters until the end of the month, and by then all the ones getting special handling in the 14th would have disappeared.
As Cain entered the squad room, the name from the March 19 arrest report snagged in his memory. Clarence Cohen. He opened his notebook and walked over to the lineup of wanted posters. There he was, Clarence Cohen, listed among the "known associates" of Mendy Weiss, the suspect from Murder, Inc. Whoever had engineered this scheme was helping an associate of one of the city's most notorious criminal enterprises.
That gave rise to another thought. Anyone willing to help murderers might also have a murderer's services at his disposal. Money wasn't the only means of bribery. Cain swallowed hard. He reached into his pocket and fingered the duplicate key as if it were a rabbit's foot, hoping its charm didn't wear off anytime soon. On his next trip to the 95 Room, he'd better not cut it so close.
Cain was so shaken by his findings that he could only eat one of the piroshki that Zharkov brought him an hour later in a greasy paper bag. Maybe this kind of scam was inevitable, he thought, especially once a department started putting so much reliance on record-keeping. Fortunately for him, these early practitioners seemed to be working at it with Stone Age tools. But that would change. Send the cavemen like Maloney off to jail and the next bunch would come at it with sharper tools that left fewer traces.
He spent the rest of his afternoon muddling through his own paperwork in an exhausted daze. Captain Mulhearn then rounded out his day by dispatching him to the furthest corner of the third district, way up on West 83rd Street, in search of a witness in one of Simmons's cases, a fellow who turned out to be out of town.
By then he was wrung out and hungry, and almost desperately in need of the humble comforts of home. He also felt like a lousy dad. Miss Eileen had been on the job for only a few days, and already he was asking her to care for Olivia for loads of extra hours. That morning she'd had to catch a bus well before dawn, and, as if that wasn't bad enough, Cain hadn't been around to see Olivia off for her first day at her new school. His daughter hadn't been at all thrilled about the idea of heading off to a strange classroom full of unfamiliar faces.
He made his way wearily through the crowds on the subway platform for the ride downtown. Finally reaching his stop, he rushed up from the tunnel only to end up with his face practically pressed against the backs of two women just in front, close enough to smell the damp wool of their skirts, the laundered cotton of their blouses. Behind him, two brisk men in suits pressed closer as the people in front of him made way for an onrush of people coming down the steps. For a moment everyone came to a halt. Cain, breathless and confined, flashed on Danziger's account from the day before, with its haunting tales of crowded boxcars, human cattle struggling to survive.
Finally the crowd surged upward again, and he spilled into the open air with a palpable sense of release before colliding with a newsboy who shouted in his face.
"Watch where you're going, mister!"
Other faces came at him too fast to process—an older woman with an elegant strand of pearls, a down-and-outer smelling of urine, a grocer in his smock, brow gleaming with perspiration as he swept the sidewalk in front of his store. Then, from out of the blue, he sensed eyes upon him, just as he'd done the day before while walking with Olivia. The eerie sensation triggered a rush of blood to the brain, a heightened awareness. Once again he felt a cold spot like a target in the middle of his back.
He stopped abruptly, causing two people to bump him from behind. He wheeled around almost drunkenly, looking in several directions at once, but saw nothing suspicious. No Archer. No Maloney or Steele or Rose. No thugs belonging to Espy and Lanza. The list of would-be stalkers was growing longer by the day. Maybe that in itself was enough to trigger these episodes.
Cain maintained his watchful pose a moment longer. A gust of steam from a hot dog wagon blew through him like a spirit, but no one seemed to be paying the slightest bit of attention to him, aside from the frowning pedestrians forced to weave around him on the sidewalk.
Nerves, then. Or exhaustion. Had to be. Yet, he still felt a deep sense of relief as he reached his building, where the big door swung open courtesy of Pete, the night doorman.
"Evening, Mr. Cain. I've been asked to inform you that your daughter and Miss Eileen are at the park, and will soon return."
"Thanks, Pete."
He took the steps two at a time, trying to outrun something he still couldn't identify. Closing the door behind him, he finally experienced the relief of solitude. Deep breath, with sweat cooling on his back. He went to the refrigerator, opened a bottle of beer, and swallowed greedily as he stood in the kitchen. Noises filtered in through the window—a police whistle, a car horn, the mumbling hubbub of the crowd. Not peace, really, but the best he could do under the circumstances. He would've gladly paid a few dollars to hear the lullaby of crickets, the fluted call of a wood thrush, with a whiff of honeysuckle for good measure.
Or maybe what he needed instead was a sympathetic ear, a warm body. He picked up the phone, dialed the number. A woman with a heavy accent answered, and it took a few tries to get her to understand who he was asking for on the communal phone. Moments later, Beryl answered.
"I've been meaning to get back in touch," he said. "I've been hoping you don't think my house is too crowded for a return visit."
"As long as Olivia doesn't mind."
"Oh, I think she'll like you. Although, well..."
"You're not so sure about the sleeping arrangements?"
He was glad she couldn't see him blush. He hadn't intended to cross into that territory, or not now, but he should have known Beryl would get right to the point.
"You can always visit me here, you know. I wouldn't be upset if you didn't stay for the night."
"Mostly I just wanted to talk about my day."
"The way you sound, it must have been pretty terrible."
"Pretty strange, that's for sure. And way too long."
"Would you like to meet for a drink?"
Behind him, the doorknob rattled. Olivia's footsteps clattered across the floor. He turned with an awkward smile, then melted when he saw her eager face. What was he doing, acting like a sneak on the phone? His daughter was home from her first day of school, no doubt with her own tales to tell. Olivia launched herself toward him, and he had to set the receiver on the kitchen table in order to catch her in his arms. She smelled like grass stains and playground sand, more of a little girl than an adolescent, at least for the moment.
_"Hello? Are you there?"_
Beryl's voice called faintly from the receiver. Olivia turned alertly toward the phone.
"Is that Mommy?"
"No, sweetie. A friend."
"Oh."
Her face fell.
Eileen, standing by the door, lowered her head. Cain picked up the receiver.
"Something's come up."
"So I heard. I should let you go."
He'd handled that poorly. "I guess that..." he began, trying to choose the right words until he realized the line was dead. He turned to see Eileen watching him closely, and wondered how long it would be before Harris Euston knew everything that had just happened.
"The girl's had a bite to eat, sir, begging your pardon. Wasn't sure when you'd be arriving, so I figured it was safer that way."
"Thanks, Eileen. And how was the park?"
"Oh, just fine, sir." Eileen looked down at the floor. Then she and Olivia exchanged glances like two people caught in the act. Cain guessed Eileen must have done something indulgent—let the girl eat too many sweets, maybe. No big deal, so he let it pass.
"Can I have dessert now?" Olivia asked. "Some bread with butter and sugar on it?"
"Only if you wash your hands first." So much for his initial theory about sweets. Olivia and Eileen again exchanged glances, and he was about to probe deeper when he noticed his daughter was wearing a round white disk on a lanyard, with her name and grade written in block letters.
"What's that you're wearing?"
"It's an ID tag, sir," Eileen said. "All the schoolchildren have them now, in case there's some sort of... _disturbance_ due to the war."
Olivia walked to the bread box in the kitchen. Eileen stepped closer and lowered her voice.
"They do air raid drills and make them hide under their desks, sir. I think it scared her half to death. But I'm sure you'll hear soon enough. Tomorrow then, sir? Bright and early again?"
"Not as bright and early as this morning, thank goodness. The regular time."
"Very well, sir."
And off she went, with at least an hour's worth of bus and subway rides before she made it home. Say what he would about Euston, Eileen was indispensible.
He and Olivia sat on the couch with her plate of sugary buttered bread and a glass of milk.
"Good?"
"Mmm-hmm," spoken through a mouthful.
"Tell me about your first day at school."
She shrugged.
"Not much to tell."
"What are the other kids like?"
She shrugged again. No words this time. For a few seconds she seemed lost in thought.
"I need to know something," she said.
"Okay. Ask away."
"Can U-boats shoot at us if they come ashore? Benny Stern said they could. He also said they could unload sabby tars, and send them all over the city."
"U-boats can't get close enough to shore to shoot at us here, honey. And I think he was talking about _saboteurs,_ but I wouldn't worry about them, either. It's from a French word. The first saboteur was some worker who threw his wooden shoe—his _sabot_ —into a machine at his factory, to make it break."
"So I could wreck a whole factory with my sandals?"
"Or even your tap shoes. Then they might think Shirley Temple did it."
He'd hoped for a laugh, but got a frown.
"I outgrew those shoes, and nobody talks about her anymore, Daddy. She's fourteen."
"Oh, I see. All grown up."
Olivia nodded, and maybe she was right. With a war on, fourteen was pretty old, for her and all her classmates. Make it to eighteen and you might even be bound for Europe or the Pacific, at least if you were a boy.
"I'm full," she said. The milk was gone, but half the bread remained. "You want the rest?"
"No, thanks. Not my kind of dessert."
"To each his own, said the lady as she kissed the cow."
Her words took him aback. It was an old expression of Clovis's.
"Haven't heard that one in a while," he said, hoping for a response. Instead, she averted her eyes like she'd been caught in a lie. Then she yawned and leaned against him, and soon was either asleep or pretending to be—a dodge he knew from his own childhood.
Let her rest. Maybe it would ease her mind before she climbed into bed. These worries of war could rob you of more than sleep. And now she was channeling favorite sayings of her mother, as if seeking refuge in happier times of the past. He nudged her gently.
"Time to put on your PJs, sweetie."
She opened her eyes and nodded. He went to the kitchen to put away her plate, then he tucked her in. After switching off the light he went to the refrigerator for a beer. He supposed he should scramble an egg for dinner, but he didn't have the energy. Mostly what he needed was companionship, and he again eyed the phone before dismissing the idea.
He took the beer to the living room, undressed, and sat at the foot of the unfolded bed with the windows open, listening to the sounds of a Chelsea night. Exhausted as he was, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep for hours.
# 23
"SERGEANT CAIN, IS THAT YOU?"
The man's voice, muddied by the sediment of sleep, seemed to reach Cain from the bottom of the Hudson.
"Wake up, sleepyhead."
It was first light. He was standing barefoot, and the Bakelite receiver of the telephone was somehow in his right hand. That told him that the phone must have been ringing, and that he must have walked to the kitchen to answer it.
"Come again?" Cain rasped.
"Time to get up, asshole." Spoken like a cop, cocksure and in charge. Cain heard laughter in the background, the toot of a boat.
"Who is this?" His head began to clear.
"Your girlfriend's in need, Sergeant Cain. Says she wants it bad. Up here in Harlem, no less. But not to worry, no brown sugar. Purely the white stuff, just the way you Southern boys like it."
He was about to hang up when the voice snapped back at him, all business this time. "It's Larsen from the two-five, asshole. Get up here before she scrams."
"Where? Who?"
Cain fumbled for his notebook from the pocket of his jacket, which was draped across a chair.
"Out at the end of a hundred thirty-seventh."
"Which end?"
"Harlem River, right off Madison Ave. Check your fucking map, farm boy. Nowhere near your jurisdiction, but since you're so in love with poaching why stop now?"
The line clicked.
"Shit."
He grabbed his pants, started looking for his shoes. Not a stitch of clothing that didn't need cleaning, but at this hour who the hell would notice? Olivia was still asleep, thank goodness. He phoned Eileen, waking her up and feeling bad about it. She promised to be there as soon as possible, but he couldn't just leave Olivia by herself, without even a doorman to guard the way for the next two hours.
Cain wondered what Larsen could have meant by referring to his "girlfriend." Surely not Beryl? He fought down a panicky feeling that something had gone wrong, and then he dialed her number. It took a dozen rings before anyone picked up, and then a few minutes more before Beryl came to the phone.
"Woodrow? Is everything all right?"
"I was worried about you. I'll explain later. In the meantime, do you think it would be at all possible for you to come by here, quick as you can? I've been called away to something, and Miss Eileen won't be here for at least an hour to look after Olivia, or even longer, and—"
"Give me fifteen minutes."
It took her closer to twenty, but in the meantime Cain shaved, got dressed, and made a cup of coffee. After Beryl arrived, he knelt by Olivia's bed and touched her shoulder.
"Sweetie?"
Her eyes opened.
"I have to go somewhere this morning. I've called Miss Eileen and she'll be here in a while. But in the meantime Miss Beryl, my friend you met the other night, will look after you, okay?"
"Okay." Her eyes were wide open now, her voice uncertain.
"You can go back to sleep if you want."
"What's happened?"
"I'm not sure. I'll find out when I get there."
"Is it the Germans?"
"No, no, sweetie. Just police business. Nothing for you to worry about."
"Okay."
She sat up, not looking so sure about things. He knew from her eyes that she wouldn't be going back to sleep. He probably shouldn't have disturbed her, but the thought of her waking up unexpectedly with only a stranger for company had been too troubling.
Beryl had poured a cup of coffee.
"Eileen should be here in less than an hour," he said. "Thanks for doing this."
She smiled.
"Happy to help. You surprise me. I would've thought that, well..."
"That I'd have been too embarrassed to ask you? Too much of a prude?"
"Well, yes."
"I'm a fast learner. Give me time."
She reached up, stroked his cheek.
"You look worn out."
"I'll nap on the subway."
"Is it serious?"
"Guess I'll find out when I get there."
He checked for his shield. Then for his notebook, and lastly for his gun.
—
Harlem was yet another new frontier for Cain, a place that until now he'd only read about in the papers or heard about from other cops, who never had much good to say. "Nothing but niggers," from Maloney, predictably enough, although the newspapers weren't a whole lot better.
_New York's city of Negroes!_
He'd spotted that line in the _Daily News,_ and descriptions in the _Times_ weren't much different. Both papers reported on the doings in Harlem as if it were a foreign country, and most dispatches told of exotic crimes or quaint local customs.
Coming up out of the subway, he saw that the sidewalks were already crowded with men and women on their way to work. The voices were unexpectedly pleasing to his ear, with Southern locutions here and there. Close his eyes and he'd almost feel at home. The door of a breakfast joint opened to his right, unleashing the smell of bacon and warm toast.
He boarded a crowded eastbound bus, finding a seat toward the middle. On board it was warm, people fanning themselves with newspapers. Half the windows were jammed brokenly in the shut position, as if the bus company had taken the worst of its fleet and sent it here. His was the only white face. No one seemed to mind his presence, but everyone had taken notice.
Horton was a town where whites tended to reveal their social standing, and at least some of their politics, by the words they used to describe dark-skinned people. "Nigger" rolled freely off the tongues of those at the bottom, like Tom Strayhorn, the drunk who'd killed Rob. But even among the would-be gentry, who generally preferred "colored" or the standard-issue "Negro," a host of far less salubrious terms, as Danziger might have said, often came into play. Cain's grandmother had always said "niggra," no doubt thinking it to be quite acceptable. A jolly uncle, one of his favorites, went back and forth between "nig nog" and "jigaboo," depending on his mood. Cain himself was one of those Southerners who figured that an educated white man would never stoop to such usages, partly out of respect, but partly as well to indicate his place among the enlightened, a university man. In New York he'd given it no thought at all until now, seated on this bus, where his own social standing was beside the point. And that's when the thought occurred to him that many of these passengers—or at least many of the ones with the South still in their vowels—had come here specifically to escape places like Horton, and people like him. It was humbling, a little shaming. He glanced behind him, caught a probing gaze from an older man, and then turned back toward the front.
At the next stop a white cop in uniform boarded, and there was a noticeable change in the atmosphere. A few men stared openly, almost defiantly. Others looked away—out the window, or down at the floor. The cop didn't take a seat, pointedly avoiding one that a woman up front had opened for him by moving aside. He stood near the door, gripping a rail with his left hand while keeping a hand firmly atop his billy. His face broadcast an attitude somewhere between "I dare you" and "Who gives a fuck?"
The cop caught Cain's eye and nodded. Cain nodded back before realizing what he was doing, complicit now in this weird dynamic. He reddened under the collar, feeling like he'd betrayed his fellow passengers. Someone nearby made a remark he couldn't quite hear, and there was muffled laughter, the nodding of a few heads.
"Yes, yes," an older man said, drawing a glare from the uniform, who, mercifully, got off at the next stop. Cain relaxed a bit, but spent the rest of the ride staring out the window, and when he exited he felt their eyes on him, the man who'd shown his true allegiance. Another small way in which this city had turned out to be a lot like home.
At the end of 137th, he spotted a circle of uniformed cops down by the wharves, gathered like mourners around something on the ground. One of them saw him approaching and nodded to the others, who parted to open up a view of a woman's bare legs, bent slightly at the knees. Her glossy black slip was ripped along the thigh. There was something familiar about the translucent whiteness of her skin. As he moved closer he swallowed a lump in his throat when he saw that it was Angela Feinman, her head twisted at such a terrible angle that he knew right away that her neck was broken. He stopped, exhaled deeply, and collected himself.
The other cops smirked. A plainclothesman approached on his right.
"Are you Cain?"
He nodded.
" 'Bout time, lover boy. She's been asking for you since sun-up."
The plainclothesman handed him a folded scrap of paper. Cain saw it was the page he'd torn from his notebook a few days ago at the theater, with his scribbled name and address.
"You must be Larsen."
" _Detective Sergeant_ Larsen."
Cain squatted by the body, not wanting to touch, but wishing he could comfort her. A desolate sense of loneliness loomed about the cold, white body, her eyes staring at nothing. There was a purple bruise on her forehead, another on her left arm. No bullet holes, as far as he could tell, and no cigarette burns. Just the terrible wrenching of her neck.
A few flecks of encrusted blood caught his eye on the skin above her right breast. There was a small, fresh cut, probably from a knife, in the shape of an _L,_ the mark of the Silver Shirts. Left as a calling card, perhaps. It looked as if one of their missing Germans was still alive and well, unless there were more of these fellows out there than he and Danziger had bargained for.
"Any idea who did this?" he asked Larsen.
"We were thinking you might know, seeing as how your name and number were stuffed in her garter, like it was her most valued possession." That got a few laughs from their audience. "What do you know about that cut mark? I'm thinking it's intentional."
"Probably. It's the sign of a Nazi group, the Silver Shirts. I'll give you some names."
"You could start by telling me hers."
"Angela Feinman. Worked at a theater at Third and 96th. Next of kin's a brother, Joel, who owns the place."
Larsen nodded to a uniform, who headed off to a radio patrol car to call it in.
They made him wait around until Joel arrived, which was fine with Cain because he had questions to ask. Larsen softened up after Cain gave him the names for Dieter and Gerhard, the two missing Germans, and the detective's mood improved further when Cain told him about the possible connection to the earlier murders of Werner Hansch and Klaus Schaller. If his disclosure meant that the cases would now be handed off to the Borough Homicide Bureau, then so be it. Obviously he hadn't been up to the job by himself, or even with Danziger's help, and Angela Feinman had paid for his inability to close it. He told Larsen the gist of his earlier conversation with Angela at the theater.
"And you've been working both those homicides?"
"Hansch, anyway. Schaller officially belongs to the one-nine."
"Surprised they haven't kicked it up to Borough."
"Probably will now. My captain will dance a jig."
"That bad, huh? Sounds just like mine. Here comes her brother. How 'bout I give you a few minutes alone with him?"
"That would be great. Thanks."
Joel Feinman, bald and unshaven and wearing a gray suit that was too tight around his massive shoulders, advanced up 137th like a man facing a firing squad. Cain intercepted him before he could reach the body.
"I've confirmed that it's your sister, in case you don't want to look."
"I want to see her," he said. "I'm her brother, for fuck's sake."
Feinman knelt next to Angela, covering his face with his right hand as his body sagged. He heaved out a sob and wiped his eyes, nearly losing his balance. Everyone gave him room, no more laughter, the uniforms turning their backs and lighting cigarettes. Their smoke caught on a breeze and blew toward the river. Joel stayed next to her a few minutes longer, touching Angela's shoulders and then her face. When he finally stood his lapels were wet with tears.
He walked straight over to Cain.
"Who found her?"
"You'll have to ask Detective Larsen. I spoke with her a few days ago, at the theater. That's why they called me here, she still had my number. Sounded like a pretty rough clientele you've got there. You think this had anything to do with her job?"
"Fucking Nazis. She loved making a buck off of 'em." He paused, shook his head. "Okay, so did I. But this..." He shook his head, took out a handkerchief and blew his nose. "Stupid fucks."
"Tell me something. Your English, well, it's a whole lot better than hers, if you don't mind me saying."
"She didn't come over until a few years ago. Barely got outta there, you wanna know the truth. I thought I'd saved her life." He shook his head. "Those _Dummkopfs_ in the cheap seats thought her name was Sabine. Sabine Heinz, like the fucking ketchup. Just Aryan enough to fool them."
That solved the little mystery of Werner Hansch and his crude tattoo. No wonder she hadn't wanted to talk about Sabine.
"Did you know a customer named Werner Hansch?"
Feinman shook his head. Impossible to say if he was telling the truth.
"What about Klaus Schaller?"
He looked up abruptly.
"The guy who got shot? Five blocks away?"
"Five blocks from where?"
"From my house. It was in the papers."
"Yeah, him. Hansch is dead, too. That also made the papers, but not with his name. He had 'Sabine' tattooed on his arm. They fished him out of the Hudson a few days before Schaller was shot. That's when I asked your sister about him, before we even knew his name. She probably figured out who it was when I mentioned the tattoo, but she didn't let on."
Feinman puffed out his cheeks and exhaled loudly. He wiped his eyes with his handkerchief and then stuffed it in his pocket.
"She might have mentioned him once, this Werner creep. But she never told me he was dead. I didn't like the way she led them on."
"Maybe she shouldn't have been working there at all."
He looked up, suddenly furious. "Between the needle and the booze, I was the only person who'd hire her! Without the theater she would've been on the goddamn street, and without me she would've still been stuck in Berlin!"
"Admirable, but beside the point. Tell me about Lutz Lorenz."
That backed him down right away. Feinman looked at the ground and shook his head.
"Don't know the name."
"Angela said he fixed your ownership papers. For you and some guy named..." Cain flipped back through his notebook. "Albie Schreiber. To make it look like the real owner was Gerd Schultz."
"She said a lot of stuff that didn't make sense."
"Yeah, well. Maybe the DA's fraud squad would like to have a look at those papers."
"Hey, man. Those Bundist assholes would rip me to shreds if that ever came out."
"Like they did your sister, you mean? Your kind of help doesn't exactly seem to be making the world safe for democracy." It was harsh, but provocation seemed to be the only way to get anything out of him.
Feinman backed down. He again blew his nose and shook his head.
"What do you want to know about Lorenz?"
"He's disappeared."
"So I heard, but that's all I know. I hear the Feds took him."
"Feds? What about maybe some guy from the DA's office, named Gurfein?"
"The rackets guy?" Feinman frowned. "Why would he be in it with a bunch of guys from Immigration?"
"Immigration?"
"That's what I hear. And Lorenz is a citizen, so go figure. People say they think he's some kind of enemy of the state, like a spy or something. They're even saying he might get, what do you call it? _Denaturalized._ Then deported. Last I heard, they'd moved his whole family right out into the harbor, to Ellis Island."
"Where all the immigrants come in?"
"Used to. Now it's where Uncle Sam runs 'em out of the country. And if that's where they took Lorenz, then he's probably been ticketed for deportation. They've been rounding up quite a few krauts up my way. Guys with too many pictures of Hitler on the wall, or maybe with a shortwave set in the basement. That kind of shit."
Cain wrote it down. Then he scribbled his name and number on a page, which he tore out and gave to Feinman, just like with Angela. He placed a hand on Feinman's shoulder.
"I'm sorry about your sister. I wish she'd leveled with me."
"And what, you would've helped her? You fucks have never lifted a finger for any of us. You just figure all us mugs up in Yorkville can fight it out among ourselves, like the Chinks down in Chinatown. Or all the poor fuckers in Harlem."
He tossed Cain's number aside and walked away. Larsen took off after him. A gust caught Cain's scrap of paper and blew it out onto the Harlem River, where it began floating away on the outgoing tide.
Cain lit a cigarette and watched until it was out of sight.
# 24
CAIN WAS IN A BLEAK MOOD for the rest of the day. He tried phoning Danziger, but couldn't reach him. Then he called Beryl and invited her to dinner, hoping it would lift his gloom. They took Olivia with them and walked to a diner, one with booths so they wouldn't have to sit all in a row at the counter.
Olivia's presence meant Cain couldn't go into much detail about the events of that morning, which was just as well. Every time he shut his eyes he saw the cold whiteness of Angela Feinman's corpse, bare to the salty breeze, the tiny _L_ gouged into her skin.
"Have you seen Danziger lately?" Beryl asked.
"We made kind of a house call together yesterday."
"Who's Danziger?" Olivia asked.
She was observing them closely, as if trying to determine how important Beryl was to her father. This dinner was becoming a more complicated enterprise than he'd bargained for.
"Olivia hasn't met him?" Beryl said.
"No. Although he seems to know all about her, even from the first time I met him. Including how she got her name."
"From that play, you mean?" Olivia said.
"Yes, sweetie." Then, in answer to Beryl's questioning gaze, "Shakespeare. _Twelfth Night._ Clovis liked it, because in the play Olivia is beautiful, of noble birth, and has plenty of suitors."
Olivia frowned, either because they were talking about her or because he had mentioned her mother's name in the presence of this other woman who hadn't yet earned the privilege. Or maybe, based on what she said next, it was because he still hadn't answered her question.
"I _said,_ 'Who's Danziger?' "
"A man I'm working with. He's very smart and very mysterious. Miss Beryl knows him, too, and sometimes she calls him Sascha. But she won't tell me all that much about him."
Cain smiled to show he was joking, but he wasn't sure Beryl took it that way.
"Why won't you tell my daddy about Mr. Danziger?"
"Because my uncle likes me to keep my mouth shut about his friends, and Mr. Danziger is his friend." She turned toward Cain and searched his eyes. He searched back. They held the pose long enough to annoy Olivia, who sighed and began slurping through her straw at the dregs of her milkshake.
"Sweetie, that's impolite."
"He still has you at a disadvantage, doesn't he?" Beryl asked. "By knowing more about you than you do about him."
Cain told her about the police file, yet to be exhumed from the Hall of Records. She didn't seem at all surprised to learn of the demise of Alexander Dalitz.
"Damon Runyon wrote about him once. I do know that, from Uncle Fedya."
" _The_ Damon Runyon? About Danziger?"
"About Alexander Dalitz. I've never seen it, but Uncle Fedya swears it was a whole column, not just a mention. He probably still has a copy somewhere, but I doubt he'd show me, now that I'm sleeping with the enemy." She blushed, and glanced at Olivia. "Figuratively speaking, of course."
"What does 'figuratively' mean?" Olivia asked.
"It means you shouldn't take what she just said literally."
"About what?"
"It's not important."
Olivia frowned, well aware that adults only said that when you'd missed something important.
"You mean about Damon Runyon?" she said. "Who is he?"
"A famous writer. He's got a column in the newspaper. Most of the people he writes about are really interesting, but not always in a good way."
"Like saboteurs?"
"No, not like that. And Mr. Danziger is a good man, and is helping Daddy. I'd just like to know more about what he used to do, a long time ago." He wondered how long it might take him to find the column at the public library.
"He sounds like one of those people who knows your business better than his own business," Olivia said.
"That's a very good way of putting it," Beryl said.
Cain was less impressed. The words were another favorite expression of Clovis's—the second time in as many days that Olivia had quoted her mother. He wondered if she was doing it to make a point. Letting him know that he was still a husband, for example, or that she still had a mom, absent or not. Or maybe, like him, his daughter was thinking about Clovis more now that she was living in her mother's old city.
"If he used to be bad, wouldn't he still be bad?"
Good question. Cain had no answer, so Beryl gave it a try.
"Unless he really wasn't so bad to begin with, but did bad things for good reasons."
Olivia frowned. "That sounds like something Benny would say in my class at school."
"I do know he worked as an interpreter for a while," Beryl said. "On Ellis Island, for the government."
"You're kidding," Cain said. "Did you hear that from your uncle?"
She nodded. "Some rabbi got him the job, when he was only sixteen."
He realized she meant a real rabbi, not a political hack.
"Who was the rabbi?"
"Rabbi Kaufman. Quite famous in his day. A do-gooder trying to keep all his promising young Hebrew scholars out of trouble, to hear Uncle Fedya tell it."
"I'm guessing he was unsuccessful."
"Not with Uncle Fedya. The rabbi got a storefront law firm on Delancey to take him on as a gofer. He stayed for thirty years. Sascha wasn't as lucky. Apparently he was fired his first week on the job."
"As an interpreter? You'd think he would've been great at it."
"I think it had something to do with lying on his application."
"About his age?"
"About being fluent in Turkish and Greek."
Cain laughed.
"Well, imagine that. Sascha Danziger, not being completely honest about himself. Ellis Island, though. Too bad he doesn't still work there."
"Why?"
"There's someone out there who both of us need to see. Detained, or so I've heard. Apparently they're using the place now for sending people _out_ of the country."
"Yes. Enemy aliens. Even though some of them have been living here harmlessly for years. People we work with have ended up there."
"Have you been there?"
"A few times. There's a charity boat that goes once a week. They deliver books and magazines, letters, clothing. You'd be surprised. There are probably six hundred people out there, living in a big barracks with nowhere to go."
"Could they take me? Could you?" She frowned, so he retreated a bit. "Not as a cop. Or not _officially_ as a cop. I'd be out of my jurisdiction anyway." The frown deepened. Her usual reflexive reaction against authority, he supposed. Olivia didn't seem to approve, either. She, too, could sense when one friend was attempting to use another. But this was important, and for a moment he considered employing Beryl's earlier line about doing bad things for good reasons. Then he looked at Beryl's face and decided against it.
"Forget it," he said. "What's for dessert?"
This coaxed a smile out of Olivia, and they moved on to a discussion of whether pie was better with or without ice cream. They opted for the former, and polished it off like pigeons attacking a crust of bread.
Coffee arrived. The waitress cleared their dishes and brought the check.
"My treat," Cain said. "You hardly ate a thing. Well, except for that slice of pie."
Beryl's expression turned solemn. She leaned across the table.
"This trip to Ellis Island—would Sascha be going with you?"
"Of course. I'd need him for language alone. German, in case you're wondering."
She sipped her coffee and thought it over.
"The next boat is tomorrow. It's short notice, but if I made a few calls I might be able to get us aboard. Do you think you can reach Sascha?"
"Yes."
"Because if he doesn't go, then you're not going."
"Scout's honor."
She held his gaze before nodding. Then she reached for the check. "In that case, I'll pay my own way. I won't be bought, you know. I'm not a police informer."
Cain would've smiled, except she was serious. With mixed emotions, he nodded and began totaling their shares.
# 25
# DANZIGER
I HAD EXPECTED A LARGER BOAT, something solid and seaworthy, but this so-called ferry more closely resembled a tugboat in shape and size, and as I stepped aboard it rocked slightly, which brought back a myriad of fears and hesitations.
"You okay?" Mr. Cain asked, sounding more like a New Yorker than he ever had. "You don't look okay."
"It has been a long while since I last put to sea."
"To sea? We're crossing the harbor. It'll take fifteen minutes, tops. Look, you can see where we're going, right over your shoulder."
I knew the view he was referring to. The long red rooftop of the Great Hall. The four domed towers with their spires and elaborate brickwork, looming above the island like minarets. Even from our point of departure at the Battery you could see all of it clearly in the morning sunlight, although it was already etched into my memory as solidly as the carvings upon a marble memorial. Less from the last time I'd gone there than from the first, forty years ago, when it had all been brand-new and I was a mere boy, flanked protectively by my parents, Solomon and Anna. We first cast our eyes upon this prospect as we stood upon the open deck of an oceangoing steamship, eagerly awaiting our arrival upon the shores of the United States.
The crew cast off the lines, and the diesel fumes blew toward us with a roar of the engines. The boat surged out into the harbor. I lurched toward the rail, holding on to steady myself.
"Maybe you should sit down," Mr. Cain said. Beryl had boarded ahead of us and was showing our Red Cross permission forms to the crew.
"No. Let us go forward. We will stand at the stern."
"The bow, I think you mean."
"Yes. The bow. I am not a nautical man."
And with good reason, although it was not a reason I wished to elucidate to Mr. Cain, or even to Beryl, now or ever.
I initiated our trip to the bow because I had decided to lay siege to my anxieties by confronting them head-on. We stood at the rail, where the spray heaved up at us from the bouncing hull. Hull—I do know that word. Then, in an act of defiance against my emotions, I turned my face toward our destination just as Mr. Cain addressed me again.
"Something I should tell you before Beryl joins us," he said.
"Yes?"
"Our two missing Germans might not be lying as low as we thought. I think one of them might have killed Hansch's Sabine. Except that wasn't her real name. It was Angela Feinman."
"The young lady from the movie house?"
Cain nodded.
"How horrifying. Perhaps they discovered she was a Jew."
"Or maybe they blamed her for what happened to Hansch, and then Schaller."
"Either would be sufficient grounds for their sort. But how do you know it was them?"
"I don't. But whoever did it marked her up with a knife. They carved one of those little _L_ s just above her right breast."
I shuddered at the thought of it, and then nodded.
"Another good reason to find them as soon as possible," I said. "Perhaps Lorenz will know their whereabouts."
I tried to turn my attention to the task at hand, although I certainly drew no comfort from the sight facing me from across the water.
As our benefactor for this excursion, Beryl was officially representing her employer, the American Red Cross. Also aboard were minions of the National Council of Jewish Women, the Daughters of the American Revolution, the Woman's Christian Temperance Union, and the YWCA. This cadre of charities had filled the cargo area with boxes of mail, books, and hand-me-down clothing for use by the marooned inhabitants of the island.
Beryl had already given us our marching orders for how to behave once we went ashore.
"Stick with me if you hope to succeed," she said. "They're pretty strict about access, but I know a few tricks that might help give you a little more freedom of movement."
I sensed in her demeanor an eagerness to tweak the noses of the federal authorities who ran the island. I suppose that is her way of rationalizing lending assistance to a police investigation. Having done so, she was now caught up in the spirit of our enterprise, and seemed intent on helping us locate and then interview Lutz Lorenz in as much privacy as possible.
She had suggested that once we arrived she should act as our intermediary. Her very sound reasoning was that a policeman asking for Mr. Lorenz might send him scurrying for the nearest bolthole. Mr. Cain thought that was a splendid idea, although it is clear to me that he would agree to almost any suggestion of Beryl's, such is his level of enchantment. It was fortunate that Fedya was not present to see the two of them exchanging admiring glances.
She soon joined us at the rail as the spray continued to blow into our faces.
"Are you all right, Sascha?" She could read the discomfort in my eyes.
"Fine," I said, nodding with what I hoped was a mien of steely resolve.
"I don't think he likes boats," Mr. Cain said.
"I'm guessing it's more than that," she said. "This must bring back a lot of memories. You first came here, when, around the turn of the century?"
I eyed them closely. There were some things I could comfortably reveal, and others I could not. Fortunately, the tale of my arrival was among the former.
"It was 1902. They had just reopened the Great Hall, after the old one burned to the ground. There were probably three hundred people out on the decks that day. Everyone was exhausted by our crossing, but exhilarated by our arrival. My father put me up on his shoulders while my mother held my right hand."
As I spoke, the Statue of Liberty loomed closer on our left. Not nearly as close as it had been on that day of my arrival, when our ship had approached from the open waters of the Atlantic, but close enough to stir some long-dormant emotions. Judging from what Mr. Cain said next, he'd seen me glancing at it.
"It must have been thrilling to see her for the first time. After coming all that way, I mean. Thrilling for everybody."
I saw in the glitter of his eyes his love for his country, and I was pleased for him. Still, I owed him the truth—on this matter, at least. So I offered it. "I found her to be terrifying."
"The Statue of Liberty?" He looked crestfallen. "I thought everyone was supposed to be overjoyed?"
"My parents were. My father lifted me as high as he could, to see above the crowd. That is when the fear began to grow inside of me. She was too stern, too forbidding. Look at her closely, Mr. Cain, and see her as a child might, standing guard with those blank, pitiless eyes. And her torch, raised like a weapon."
Mr. Cain did as I asked, but I knew he didn't see it. Even Beryl looked perplexed, although she nodded politely, as if to humor me.
"When we passed directly in front of her, I began to cry. I was sure she was about to reach out with her torch and set our ship aflame. I screamed for my father to put me down."
Mr. Cain laughed.
"My father laughed also. He was so happy that day that he wept tears of joy. But when my mother saw my face she became very quiet. Even then, I think she knew."
"Knew what?" Beryl asked.
"That my fear was an omen."
"An omen?"
A long pause. The hull boomed beneath our feet, sending a sheet of spray, higher than the others, into our faces like a slap from a barber after a shave. Beryl and Mr. Cain exchanged puzzled glances.
"That is a story for another day," I said, averting my eyes from Lady Liberty's, which were still as unfeeling as ever. "Look! On the island. You can see them coming out into the yard."
A line of bedraggled-looking people in dark clothing spilled out of a doorway onto the open ground between the front of the Great Hall and the harbor. There was no grass, only a barren tract of pounded gray soil. A high chain link fence blocked them from the water, but their view of Manhattan was unobstructed. A group of young men ran to one end and began kicking a ball between them. To the side, another cluster of people huddled in almost formal poses, and as we drew closer I saw that they were Japanese. Now I heard a smattering of Italian on the wind, lively and expressive, from a knot of three men gesturing with their hands. A language that will forever make my heart fill. There was German, too, low and bristling with its stout consonants.
"Do you see him?" Cain asked, from over my right shoulder.
I realized he was asking about Lorenz. I scanned the crowds, which were still trickling onto the grounds for their afternoon promenade.
"No. I suppose he might still be indoors."
"I asked about him among some of the others," Beryl said, nodding toward the representatives of the other charities. "Apparently he has a bit of a reputation. A cardsharp, an operator. And that's after only a few days on the island."
"Yes, that sounds like Lutz."
By then the boat had begun turning into the mouth of the long slip that bisects the island. My view of the building and grounds was almost exactly as it had been in 1902. A tremor coursed up my back. This was one reason I was never able to stomach working here in those later years when a kindly rabbi landed me a job. Three days was all I could bear. Then I stopped coming. I told the rabbi that I had argued with a supervisor. For my friends, I concocted a far more colorful version, saying I'd lied on my application, claiming fluency in Turkish.
Perhaps if the rabbi had found me employment elsewhere I might have stayed the course he had charted for me, thus avoiding all that happened later—the good as well as the bad. But once we have made our appointments with fate, I suppose it is impossible to weasel out of them. Maybe that is why I am returning now, to begin attending to unfinished business that has awaited me for far too long.
The boat eased toward its place at the wharf, and the crew stood ready to toss the lines ashore. My heart fluttered. I saw that Mr. Cain was again watching me carefully, in the manner of a scientist studying a specimen. He had enjoyed the boat ride, I could tell. He was relieved to be momentarily free of Manhattan, with its crowds and its close smells and its rising warmth which, all too soon, will gave way to the soft-tar furnace of summer. He may even have been wishing his daughter were here, to make an outing of our crossing.
But for me it was all memories, a ship of ghosts. Even now, silent hosts were filing past me, smelling of their weeks at sea, of the tattered world they'd left behind.
The boat bumped the wharf. We had arrived.
# 26
BERYL HERDED THEM TOWARD THE STERN.
"If we're to stick to our cover, first we'll have to earn our keep. Give me some help with these boxes."
"Sure," Cain said, eager to please. Danziger was slower to respond. To Cain he looked more ashen and worn than at any time since they'd met. At first he ascribed it to seasickness, but now he believed Beryl was right. Memories were to blame, and not just the specter of Lady Liberty. Cain wondered what must have happened here, but didn't feel it was his business to ask.
They hefted two boxes apiece and headed for the gangplank, where the other passengers were already going ashore.
"The crew will bring the rest," she said. "Set them down over there, where you see the other ones."
"It is the same spot where they unloaded our steamer trunks and carpet bags," Danziger said, his gaze a blank. He saw Cain watching him and looked away. From the dock they could see only part of the grounds at the front of the building, but there was still no sign of Lorenz.
"Follow me," Beryl said.
They moved toward a doorway on the left side of the main building, then up some marble steps through a double door. Inside, bored-looking men and women sat at desks with in-baskets, blotters, and rubber stamps—the very picture of officious obstruction. But they seemed to know Beryl, and waved her through. One of them even smiled.
"These two are with me," she said, smiling back.
They passed through a second set of doors and found themselves barricaded from the rest of the room by two long tables of stained pine that formed a giant L. Chairs on both sides faced each other across a low partition that ran down the length of the tables.
"This is the visiting area," Beryl said.
On the near side, several chairs were already occupied by waiting visitors. Cain noticed soldiers lurking here and there. He didn't like the idea of being overheard.
"If you want to play it safe, we could ask a guard to find Lorenz. But I'm allowed upstairs, and maybe they'll let you come with me. If so, you can try to pick him out from the crowd."
"I am not entirely sure I will recognize him," Danziger said. "I have not laid eyes upon him in many a year. But if he is already as notorious as you imply, we can always inquire of others."
"Then let's go," Beryl said.
She moved quickly. At the top of the stairs the doors opened onto a huge room with a soaring rooftop and a buzz of voices. By then, Danziger's breathing was labored, and he looked stunned.
"You need a rest?" Cain asked.
"How appropriate that you should ask. These steps were the first test of health for all new arrivals. My mother was feeling weak, but she made it without faltering. There was an inspector seated just there, off to the side, eyeing everyone for signs of illness. We learned this only later, of course. If he selected you, you were marched straight off to the doctors, perhaps never to return. I remember clearly what he said as we passed, because he spoke in very bad German: 'Get upstairs, cattle. You will soon have a nice little pen!' "
Beryl took him gently by the arm and led him forward. Cain wondered if her ancestors had also arrived here. He had no idea when his own family had come to America or where they'd landed, beyond a hazy knowledge that they'd settled in rural North Carolina in the late eighteenth century.
They moved deeper into the room, Cain expecting to be shouted down at any moment by one of the guards. Tables, chairs, and couches were clustered here and there. Perhaps thirty or forty people were scattered around the cavernous hall at this hour, since almost everyone else was outdoors. Six children, all of them younger than Olivia, shrieked with glee as they weaved through the tables at one end, playing tag. Older men sat smoking as they read newspapers and magazines. A few women were sewing, or talking in small groups. At the far end, two round tables were filled with men playing cards. Smoke rose from their cigarettes like the effluent of a small factory.
"I think that might be him," Danziger said. "At the card tables, the one on the left. See the fellow who looks like he's holding court?"
Cain saw right away who he meant. Lutz Lorenz had an air of command, or perhaps confidence was the better word. Even from here you couldn't miss his knowing expression, the deft movements as he dealt the cards. He struck Cain as one of those enviable men who could walk into a party, or a tavern, and within minutes look right at home, with a hostess or bartender already at his beck and call, and the respectful attention of his peers.
"They are hanging on his every word," Danziger said.
"He's also got the biggest pile of chips. Probably bluffing them right and left."
"His father's son." Danziger smiled.
"Would you like me to approach him for you?" Beryl asked. "He looks like the type who might easily become suspicious."
"We should approach him together," Danziger said. "But you speak first. If he is like his father, a feminine face will appeal to his greatest weakness."
As they drew nearer, Cain heard low voices in German and saw the men sliding chips toward a pile in the center. Lorenz said something that made the others laugh. When he saw the approaching trio he frowned, put down his cards, and spoke in perfect English.
"The lady is welcome to observe us. As for the two gentlemen, I am afraid that it is too late to deal anyone else into the game, and I don't wish you to stand there looking at our cards. So, if you please..."
Cain and Beryl hesitated, but Danziger continued past them until he was standing behind Lorenz's right shoulder. It left Lorenz little choice about what to do next, unless he wished to have Danziger looming over him like a bird of prey.
Lorenz scraped back his chair and stood. His look of easy congeniality was gone. The blue of his eyes turned colder. He gave no sign of recognizing Danziger, although their foreheads were only inches apart. No one said a word. The click of one chip against another was as jarring as if someone had cleared his throat.
"Look at me closely, Lutz," Danziger said calmly. Lorenz furrowed his brow. Something had registered, but his eyes said he wasn't quite ready to believe it.
"It is me, Lutz. Max Dalitz."
Lorenz's mouth opened and shut without any words emerging. Then it opened again.
"How...?"
"With your father's help. But that is for another time. What is important now is that I owe him a debt of gratitude, so I have come to assist you in matters that only I will know how to handle. Am I making myself clear?"
"Let's go somewhere with a little more privacy."
He turned toward the others, who had put down their cards and were staring. It was clear they weren't accustomed to seeing Lutz Lorenz in any situation in which he was uncomfortable.
"Gentlemen..." he said. Then he corrected himself: "Meine Herren..."
The rest of his words were a stream of German. Lorenz tossed his cards onto the table and left his chips. The men nodded but said little, seemingly in awe of the entire episode. Cain, Danziger, Beryl, and Lorenz crossed the room to a space where three folding chairs faced each other in a tight circle. The only neighbor was an older woman on a couch, working at an elaborate piece of embroidery in a shaft of filtered sunlight. She looked up, frowning when she saw Lorenz. She gathered up her sewing, tutted under her breath, and departed hastily. Danziger watched with interest.
Beryl touched Cain's arm.
"I will leave you to your business," she whispered. "I'll keep an eye out for anyone who takes too much of an interest."
"Thanks."
"Good luck."
The men took their seats. Danziger spoke first. "You seem to have acquired quite a reputation, Lutz, for someone who has been here for such a short time."
"In this place you either make an immediate impression or you're swallowed whole by blanket disregard." He surveyed the room, shaking his head. "It's that or turn into a monk. The wakeup bell at six twenty, breakfast fifty minutes later. Germans and Italians at one end, Japs at the other. Exercise at eight for those who want it. Lunch at noon, more exercise at three, supper at five fifteen, lights out at ten. And just when you're beginning to really sleep, the bell rings again."
"And poker all day long?"
He shrugged.
"What do your new neighbors make of your politics?"
Lorenz snorted, shrugging again. "Stooges for Hitler, all of them. Fools and blowhards. But I never speak of that, or even the Fatherland. I deal with them on more pragmatic terms. We live by a capitalist culture here, and I've been able to bring certain assets to the table."
"In order to comport yourself in this manner, I gather you must have been able to smuggle in quite a bit of cash?"
Lorenz smiled, but said nothing.
"Where is your family?"
Lorenz lowered his head, the first sign that his cocksure attitude was an act.
"I won't discuss them. They're back on the mainland, somewhere far from Yorkville. It was never them they wanted, anyway. Just me."
"Who, exactly, wanted you, Lutz?"
He looked away and shook his head.
"All right, then. We know it was Gurfein's doing, even if Immigration brought you here."
Lorenz narrowed his eyes.
"Who's this other fellow with you? What's his business here?"
Danziger and Cain exchanged glances. They'd discussed earlier whether to tell Lorenz that Cain was a cop, but they'd never reached a decision. Cain sensed that now might be the right time to come clean.
"I'm a cop," he said. "A detective, nothing to do with Gurfein. If anything, I've got him in my sights. Plus a few other mugs, in the matter of a couple murders of some people you knew. Werner Hansch and Klaus Schaller."
Lorenz lowered his head and placed his hands on his knees. He was close enough for Cain to smell, and the scent was familiar—that of a jailed man, as if confinement itself was something that got under your skin and emerged in your sweat. When Lorenz finally looked up, he was a shade paler.
"That could have been me, out there in the river. I'll at least give Gurfein that, that he didn't stoop to anything as low as burning me full of cigarette holes, or shooting me in the face. For that alone I suppose I owe him my silence."
"Was it Gurfein's people who knocked them off?"
Lorenz shook his head.
"Is that a no?"
"I cannot, _will_ not, say anything more."
He folded his arms. Cain looked to Danziger, who touched Lorenz's knee and leaned closer, speaking in the manner of an old confidant.
"Come, Lutz. You are acquainted with how these things work. I am sure that Mr. Gurfein, whatever his role in these affairs, intends to do well by you if at all possible. No doubt he was the one who arranged for the relocation of your family." Lorenz looked up, but didn't nod. "But we also know that he cannot possibly keep their whereabouts a secret forever. And if others wish you to do their bidding, that is how they will choose to apply leverage, no matter how long you remain here. Yes?"
"As if you could do anything about it."
"We could, in fact. Why else do you think we came? Why else would I be attempting to repay your father for all that he once did for me? And when that day comes, when those people go looking for your wife, your mother, your children, you will want to avail yourself of every asset at your disposal. As for Mr. Gurfein, yes, of course you will still want his allegiance. But we both know how short the memories of those kinds of people can be. It is his job to keep you and your loved ones safe, but not his avocation, not his solemn vow. And who is to say how long he will remain in his job? It is the government, Lutz. Men come and men go. Will his replacement have the same allegiance, the same sense of loyalty? Your friends, however—your oldest friends, in particular—those are forever, Lutz. As you know."
Lorenz uncrossed his arms. He picked at a piece of lint on his trousers and looked at Danziger.
"They first came to me four months ago. In December, a week or so after Pearl."
"Who did, Lutz?" Danziger asked. "Who came to you?"
"Please!" His eyes flared. "I have to tell this in my own way."
"Of course. As you wish."
Cain offered a Lucky. Lorenz nodded and took it, but waved away the offer of a match and pulled a gleaming Zippo from his pocket. Seeing Cain's impressed reaction, he said, "I won it yesterday, from those idiots at the table. Their poker is even worse than their politics."
He lit it, inhaled luxuriously, and flicked ashes onto the marble floor.
"They were Italian, to answer your question. And there was only one of them. He did not offer a name, but he fit the type. His suit, his hat, the bulge in his jacket, the way he talked. A goombah of the first order. And in case I was not already convinced, he made sure I knew by paying in cash, a big bag of it. In exchange, all I had to do was provide him with the names of four trustworthy German workers. And keep my mouth shut, of course."
"That's all?" Cain said.
"No. That's never all, is it, Sascha?"
Danziger showed no reaction. Lorenz continued: "They did not want just any Germans. They asked that these men be sympathetic to the current regime in Berlin. They said they only needed me as a procurer. They assured me that for any further involvement they would find a more prominent sponsor from the community in Yorkville. Someone a bit more prosperous, and who shared their backward politics."
"A Nazi, then," Danziger said. "Or perhaps a Bundist."
Lorenz nodded, took another drag.
"To assist with my recruitment, I was told to explain to these four men that they would be given union cards and provided with lucrative employment on a waterfront sector on the West Side."
"What union?" Cain asked.
Lorenz glared at him, and flicked ashes toward his knees. "The longshoremen. I don't know which local. I suggested that, to further insulate both of us, they use fake names on their union cards. The Italian liked that idea very much. He took it to his superiors, and when he came back they had even provided him with the names. Strange choices, but so be it."
"Strange how?" Danziger said.
"German poets and writers. I had the idea that someone was trying to show how smart he was. How educated. Or maybe it was just for a laugh. Heinrich Heine for Werner Hansch. Friedrich Schiller for Klaus Schaller. Wolfgang Goethe for the third one, Dieter Göllner. Thomas Mann for the fourth, Gerhard Muntz."
"Spell those last two," Cain said. "The real names—I've got the writers."
The question made Lorenz smile and turn toward Danziger.
"Nice to see you're working with a more educated class of people," he said. "No wonder you decided to—"
"Enough!" Danziger said. "There is no need to cover old ground."
Lorenz tilted his head and looked back and forth between Danziger and Cain. He smiled as the dynamics of the relationship dawned on him.
"You really have no idea about this man, do you?" he asked Cain.
"Some."
Lorenz chuckled, smoke puffing from his nostrils.
"It might behoove the both of you to know that the Feds have posted undercover men among the population here. Rats and snitches. Their German is excellent. They're not so hard to spot for someone like me, so I play it cool when I have to. But for you two? You can bet that by the end of the day their bosses will know you've been here, and who you came to see. One of them is watching even as we speak."
Cain decided not to rise to the bait by looking around; neither did Danziger. Even if true, there was nothing they could do about it now.
"You said they were going to find an official sponsor for these men," Danziger said. "Another German with Bundist leanings. Did you help them with that choice?"
Lorenz shook his head. "They didn't ask, and I didn't volunteer. I wanted as little to do with them as possible. I never even heard his name."
"Never heard it, or never knew it?" Cain asked.
Lorenz took another drag on his cigarette.
"And who was this Italian?" Danziger asked.
"I told you. He never offered his name."
"Not the errand boy. His boss. Who was he working for?"
"Do you think an errand boy would have been fool enough to tell me?"
"Of course not. But you would not have been fool enough to proceed without finding out."
Lorenz went a little pale. He shook his head and leaned down to stub out his cigarette on the floor. Danziger waited for more, but Lorenz again crossed his arms.
"Okay, then," Cain said. "What were these four Germans supposed to do?"
"No one told me, and I didn't ask. Supposedly their sponsor was going to be in on it, but I'm not even sure of that. That was the last I heard of it."
"Until Hansch and Schaller turned up dead."
"Yes."
"Why'd they round you up?"
"You don't know?" He looked truly puzzled. "Isn't that why you're here, with the same damn questions, the same damn accusations? As if I knew all along what they'd been hired for? It's like I said to that asshole Gurfein. All I knew about any of that business was what I read in the papers, like everybody else. Some dumb mick or whoever it was with a blowtorch. One spark and the whole damn ship goes up like a Roman candle."
"Ship?" Cain looked at Danziger, who wrinkled his brow.
"The _Normandie,_ you stupid fucks. At Pier 88."
Cain felt like he'd had the wind knocked out of him, and had to take a deep breath. He lowered his voice and leaned closer, elbows on his knees.
"You're saying these men of yours were hired for sabotage?"
"They were not _my_ men!" Lorenz said, almost hissing the answer to keep his voice down. "And I told you, I was not aware of why they were hired! I was the middleman, nothing more. I made a few calls, took care of some paperwork, and stepped out of the picture. I kept my head down and my mouth shut. And if one of those four lugs really did do it, then it's not on me, you can be damn sure of that. It's like I told Gurfein. Ask the Italian, if you can find him. Although if you've got any brains, you'll never want to."
"Luciano?" Danziger asked. "Is it Lucky?"
"He's in prison," Lorenz said, shaking his head. "He's miles from all this." Then, narrowing his eyes: "Unless you know something I don't."
"So if not Lucky, then who?"
"I told you, I _don't know_! So stop asking!"
Cain saw the fear in his eyes. The man knew the name, all right, but he'd never tell them, and maybe not even Gurfein. Which made Cain wonder if that was why Lorenz was here, being held in exile until he talked, until he gave up the names. If so, then Lorenz had decided that silence and confinement were safer options, at least for now.
The stakes were bigger than ever. The murders of a couple of small-bore Germans, important to almost no one, now felt like part of something important enough to draw the attention of all kinds of people, including the unlikely gathering that Danziger had seen around the breakfast table at Longchamps.
No one said a word. It was as if the gravity of the matter had silenced them all, a silence that was then broken by the sound of footsteps approaching briskly from behind. Lorenz looked up in surprise.
"Sascha! Woodrow!" Beryl had rejoined them from her outpost, and she nodded over her shoulder toward two men in uniform who were headed their way. One wore an officer's stripes.
"All right, you two," the officer said. "Time for you to leave the island. I'm not quite sure how you were able to take advantage of this young woman's trust, or exactly what you intended to accomplish here this afternoon, but I'm going to insist that both of you be thoroughly searched. You will then be escorted to the ferry dock for immediate departure."
Danziger and Cain stood. Beryl, head down, stood behind the soldiers with her hands behind her back. Lorenz wore a guilty smile. He lit another Lucky. Cain saw now that he had the pack.
After a vigorous frisk—and, thank goodness, they let Cain keep his notebook after he showed his shield—the two soldiers marched them toward the exit, with Beryl sheepishly bringing up the rear. People all over the Great Hall stared. A few of the card-playing Germans looked quite amused.
Cain was embarrassed. Danziger, however, seemed curiously unmoved. In fact, his most evident emotion seemed to be relief, as if he couldn't wait to get away from it all.
They boarded the boat and were escorted to seats in the cabin. A soldier remained on guard at the gangplank until the crew cast off. The engines roared, and within seconds they were easing back into the harbor.
"This is bigger than we thought," Cain said, staring straight ahead.
"Or as big as I feared," Danziger answered.
"But where's the FBI in all this? If this was a sabotage investigation, they'd be in this up to their elbows. Instead it's the rackets guy from the DA's office—on his own, for all we know—plus some Navy guy operating way out of bounds at the Astor, and a few hoods representing the worst of the worst, or what's left of it."
Danziger nodded. "It is wartime," he said. "I have seen it before, in 1918. People in high places stop paying attention to many things that interested them so keenly during peacetime. This, in turn, creates opportunities for those with fertile imaginations."
"Opportunities for mischief, you mean."
"The sort of mischief in which men end up facedown in the Hudson."
Cain looked out across the water, wondering who else might be bobbing just below the surface. The Manhattan skyline was straight ahead. Lady Liberty kept watch from their right. He glanced in her direction, wondering if he would ever again view her in quite the same way.
Then he looked at Danziger. The older man was gazing dead ahead, as if he didn't dare look back. His eyes shone. He hadn't put his hat on, and his white hair blew in all directions.
He looked terrified.
# 27
"YOU'RE AN HOUR LATE, CAIN."
Captain Mulhearn was on the warpath, and he hadn't even opened his morning papers. Everything that Lorenz had told them about the sabotage plot was still whirling in Cain's mind, but he could already sense he was about to be sidetracked.
"I was out checking a lead in the Hansch case."
"Yeah, well. Borough Homicide wants a look at that whole package, so don't get too comfortable. We had two break-ins last night up on 39th, and the precinct squad's already got its hands full at the scene. They'll be needing your help on the paperwork."
Another punishment detail, plain and simple.
"Oh, and speaking of paperwork, somebody fucked up the UF-9 on that bunco artist you busted, Kannerman."
"That wasn't even my collar."
"But it was your tip on the address, and now some prosecutor downtown has a bug up his ass about how it was handled. He wants you to come straighten it out. Here. You're meeting him at noon."
Mulhearn handed him a scribbled note. There was a name, Ben Revis, plus an address on Bleecker Street. Between that and the break-ins, he'd be lucky to get back to the Hansch case by late afternoon. He could only hope Danziger would make progress on the union side of things, checking for the literary aliases Lorenz gave them. He also had to hope the Borough Homicide detectives didn't come take the file while he was gone. If word got out about the _Normandie_ connection, he might even lose the case to the Feds. And given the nature of federal involvement so far—the detention of Lorenz on Ellis Island where he was practically unreachable, the peripheral and perhaps unauthorized role of some officer from Naval Intelligence—Cain suspected the Feds might be more preoccupied with sweeping the whole thing under a rug. Now if he only knew why.
The mention of the botched UF-9, however, did give him a pretext to go back down to the 95 Room, where he hoped to get another few minutes to poke around. Piled among his messages was yet another call from Linwood Archer, and the sooner he could get Archer off his back, the more time he'd have for the case of the Germans.
He rushed downstairs at a minute after eleven. Officers Steele and Rose had already left for their regular break. Cain looked both ways and was reaching into his pocket for the key when Maloney's voice called out from behind.
"Hey, asshole, What are you doing lurking around here like some kind of ghost?"
Cain, heart jumping, let go of the key and withdrew his hand from his pocket.
"I need a UF-9 from the other day, but these lazy fucks aren't here," he said.
"They're never here at this hour, nimrod, which you damn well ought to know." Maloney got right up in his face. "And maybe you ought to just stay the fuck away from here, unless you want to go for another ride, and this time it won't be to your rabbi's supper club."
Cain pushed past him and headed for the exit. He needed air and some time to think. The paperwork on the break-ins could wait, although he supposed the noon meeting with the prosecutor, Ben Revis, couldn't. He walked off his jitters by heading up 30th. Passing the Royal, he saw Officers Steele and Rose, sharing a laugh as they lazed over the day's _Racing Form_ and their usual coffee and Danish. Too much to do, and too many assholes in his way to get it done.
—
Cain had calmed down by the time he arrived at the address on Bleecker Street, which turned out to be a restaurant just off Sixth Avenue, a quiet place called Nino's with mahogany booths running down either side of a tiled center aisle. At least now he could grab a bite to eat.
He stood just inside the entrance, looking from table to table. He was a few minutes early, so maybe Revis hadn't arrived. A well-dressed man with a proprietorial air strolled briskly toward him, as if intent on protecting his regulars from this clueless newcomer.
"I'm here to meet Mr. Revis."
A frown of puzzlement, followed quickly by a smile of recognition.
"Ah, yes." He handed Cain a menu. "This way, sir."
He escorted Cain to a booth on the left in the back, next to the swinging doors for the kitchen. Two men were seated. The one facing the front, mostly hidden by a _New York Times,_ was visible only from the eyebrows up—a huge, bulging forehead with dark hair, flecked with gray. A column of cigarette smoke rose above his newspaper. The fellow on the opposite side was also smoking, elbows on the table. On his plate were a few scraps of pasta. Cain didn't recognize him, but he perked up as soon as he saw Cain, and knocked sharply on the table.
"He's here, boss."
The other man calmly folded his _Times_ and stood in greeting, hand extended. The face was vaguely familiar. He was about five-nine, with a little extra weight around the middle. High arching eyebrows gave him an aspect of surprise, and he wore a crisp, professional-looking suit, nothing flashy.
"Ben Revis?" Cain asked as they shook hands.
The man smiled congenially.
"Frank Hogan, actually, the district attorney. Ben, how 'bout making some room for our guest."
The other man, presumably Revis, got up and stepped aside. Cain reluctantly slid into the booth, already feeling duped.
"Sorry about using Ben's name," Hogan said. "Whenever I use my own in setting up these little meetings, the captains get ants in their pants and start making phone calls. By the time lunch is over, half the cops in the city are gossiping about what I'm up to, usually without even a grain of truth." He gestured toward a menu. "Please, have some chow while you're here. On me. The spaghetti with clams is first rate."
A waiter appeared.
"I've eaten," Cain said, shoving away the menu even as his stomach growled.
Hogan smiled. "Suit yourself."
"Is this really about Kannerman?"
"Interesting case, and a nice collar. Also a bit of a small fry, don't you think?"
"That was my impression, sir."
"Please. Call me Frank."
Hogan's tone was cordial. He had a relaxed, patrician air about him that put you at ease even as it made you wonder what he was up to, and Cain already had his suspicions. Juries probably loved him.
"So was there some other matter you wanted to discuss, then?"
Hogan looked up abruptly as someone loomed up over Cain's right shoulder. Cain turned and saw Murray Gurfein. Stocky, clipped mustache, hooded eyes—the whole package—plus a scowl that could've curdled milk.
"Have a seat, Murray. We were just getting started."
Was it Cain's imagination, or had the guy to his right moved a few inches closer, practically squeezing him against the wall? A couple seated on the other side of the room got up to leave. They were now the only remaining customers. Gurfein slid in next to Hogan.
"Murray, would you like to begin?"
"You do the honors, sir. Maybe he'll actually listen if it comes from the top."
"Apologies for my assistant's peremptory tone, Sergeant Cain."
"Call me Woodrow." He said it pointedly, figuring he ought to show them that he wasn't a pushover.
"Very good." Hogan's smile didn't waver. "The problem, Woodrow, is that we're told you've been tampering with a material witness in a very sensitive ongoing investigation."
"Are we still talking about Kannerman?"
"You know who we mean. And we'd like you to cease and desist. No more excursions out into the harbor. No more inquiries, official or otherwise, into any and all matters pertaining to that conversation. And certainly no further trips to the Hotel Astor."
The last remark caught him off guard, although he supposed it wasn't all that surprising that someone in the intelligence business would keep track of people who were keeping track of him.
"Why?"
Hogan looked at Gurfein, who took it from there.
"Maybe because we already have matters well in hand."
"So well in hand that two men and one woman are dead, and at least two more fellows are probably in danger. Not that they don't necessarily deserve it. Then there's the guy who, as far as I can tell, you've put on ice. Treating him like an enemy alien even though he's a citizen of the United States."
Hogan chimed in: "You might check the law books for a federal statute passed by Congress in 1909," he said. "It sets out a clear procedure for denaturalization. We're operating completely within the bounds of law."
He gave Cain a few seconds to digest that before continuing.
"His being 'on ice,' as you so colorfully put it, is a matter of keeping him out of harm's way. In case you didn't notice, other branches of our government have placed men on the premises to ensure that no one's personal well-being is at risk."
"So he said. I presume that's who told you I was out there."
Hogan smiled and picked up his coffee cup. "They're very efficient fellows, for the most part."
"Lorenz thinks this whole thing is all about the _Normandie._ Some kind of sabotage plot."
This stopped Hogan cold. His smile vanished, and he set the cup in its saucer with a rattle, his first sign of less than total composure. Then he exchanged glances with Gurfein. Neither man was able to hide his surprise.
"He actually said that?" Hogan said.
"Yes."
Hogan slowly shook his head. "He's been misinformed."
"About what?"
"Everything."
"Then what is this all about?"
Gurfein leaned across the table like a mastiff eager to take a bite out of his neck. "It's a matter of national defense. Way above your pay grade, detective." His eyes bulged, hooded or not.
Cain stared right back, his temper rising.
"Is it also above my pay grade for me to ask why you've been meeting with the likes of Meyer Lansky and some lawyer who works for Lucky Luciano?"
Hogan's look of shock told Cain that he should've kept his mouth shut.
"See?" Gurfein said to Hogan. "I told you. He knows way too much. Him and the old guy, both of 'em."
Maybe Cain had watched too many movies, but he was well aware of what could happen to people who knew too much, especially when seated among the powerful in an otherwise empty Italian restaurant in New York. Then he reminded himself that these guys were law enforcers, not law breakers. Unless, of course, they were crooked, and so was Haffenden, working off-the-books deals at his private office.
Hogan was staring at him with an air of deep disappointment. Cain speculated for a second on whether he might be able to shove Revis out of the booth and make his escape. Not likely, he decided, or not without bloodshed. Gurfein and Hogan exchanged grim glances and then zeroed in on him.
"Woodrow," Hogan said, his tone chilly, "those are the kinds of questions that, under the present circumstances, can be very dangerous for a whole lot of people."
"Me included?"
"Everyone included. This is bigger than you, bigger than me, and bigger than a few small murders. It's bigger than everyone in this city." He leaned forward, the big forehead thrusting toward Cain like a bowling ball. "I urge you to not proceed with this matter a single step further."
"And what happens if it gets kicked up to borough level?"
"Let us worry about that. And not for my sake, not in the least. Do this for the sake of your country."
Another appeal to his patriotism, just like with Lanza. Either it was genuine or it was a convenient dodge. And whatever Hogan and the others were up to, at least some of the participants were willing to kill to keep it under wraps. But rubbing out a few illiterate Germans, or even a sadly addicted young woman, was one thing. Killing a cop would be quite another. So at least he had that going for him.
"What if I choose instead to keep doing my job?"
Hogan sighed, sat up straight, and looked away, while putting his hands on the table. Gurfein leaned into the breach.
"We've been doing our homework, too, Mr. Cain. For example, we understand you're a Valentine man." He tacked on a smile, and not a friendly one.
"Where'd you get that idea?"
"Am I wrong?"
Cain shrugged, trying to act like it didn't bother him. "I'm a cop. We're all Valentine men."
Hogan deftly took up the thread, calmly intoning his words as if he were the voice of reason. "Gentlemen, I'm sure we're all after the same thing here. Justice for the murdered, no matter their nation of origin, and the strongest possible defense for our country in a time of war. And at this point there's no reason we can't still have them both, provided you cooperate."
"By doing nothing, you mean."
"Woodrow, when I was in law school I worked a lot of different summer jobs in a lot of different places. I was a steamfitter, a Pullman conductor. I even kept books for a mining company in Guatemala, and, believe me, along the way I've come across any number of punks and tough customers. But let me say this about that breed of man. I have yet to find a tough guy in whom there is not some good. Meaning, lest I need to be more explicit, that even those people who you and I may oppose on most days of any given week might at other times be capable of acting for the public good, if you're willing to let them. Am I getting through to you?"
There it was again. A wave of the flag, in hopes that Cain would simply pledge his allegiance and look the other way.
"Tell you what," Gurfein added, as if sensing Hogan hadn't closed the deal. "You do as we ask, and when this is over I'll happily give you enough dirt on crooked cops in the 14th to keep your commissioner happy until you're ready to retire."
Smart move. Finally, a genuine incentive was on the table. It also told Cain that they truly _did_ know he was a Valentine man, in the most secretive sense of the term. Wonderful. Further evidence that everyone he'd been dealing with had eyes all over the city. And if these guys knew about his arrangement with Archer and the commissioner, who else did?
"It's okay," Gurfein said, reading his face. "Your secret is safe with us. Provided that ours is safe with you."
So there it was, the stick behind the carrot. Keep nosing around, and your name will be mud in every precinct. And Cain knew where that led.
"You've given me a lot to think about. But right now I'm due back at the station house."
No one answered, and no one budged, and for a moment he wondered if they planned to hold him in place until he gave in. Finally, after a few seconds of silence, Hogan nodded to Revis, who slid out of the booth without a word.
Cain stood, feeling a little shaky. "Gentlemen," he said.
There were no answering farewells, no parting smiles. No one even nodded. He turned and walked out of the restaurant, feeling their eyes on his back all the way to the sidewalk.
—
This time Cain didn't calm down. The more he mulled over what had just happened, the angrier he got, because the bottom line was that Hogan and Gurfein wanted to bury everything, and they wanted his help in doing it. And if he refused, they'd rat him out to the likes of Mulhearn and Maloney. Unless...
Unless he beat them to the punch, by finishing his work in the 95 Room and turning over the goods to Valentine before they could derail his investigation. Then maybe he could secure the commissioner's backing in going forward with the case of the Germans, even if it led to the federal cover-up of a sabotage plot against the _Normandie._ Hogan and Gurfein had no idea how much progress he'd already made in digging out evidence of corruption in the 14th precinct, and when he returned to the squad room he set his sights on getting more.
First, he dutifully and quietly handled his paperwork, plus every other chore Mulhearn had dumped in his lap. Then, a little more than half an hour before the shift change, he went back downstairs to the 95 Room, where, true to further in-house gossip, Officers Steele and Rose had knocked off for the day well ahead of schedule.
Cain turned the key, slipped back inside, relocked the door, and switched on the light. He again got down to business. It turned out to be one of the most productive half hours of his day. Next time Linwood Archer called, Cain would have an earful for him.
# 28
# DANZIGER
IN THE PAST HOUR I received a most alarming communication. My telephone rang, and upon answering I was hailed by a rough and taunting male voice, unfamiliar to me. The caller asked to speak to Alexander Dalitz.
"There is no such occupant at this address," I replied.
"You sure, pal?"
"Beyond all doubt, sir."
"Yeah? Well if you see him, let him know I'm looking for him."
"Who is this?"
The man did not answer before disengaging.
I climbed to the rooftop of my building, and there, among the pigeons and the soot and the detritus of time, I scanned the streets below for anyone suspicious, anyone eyeing or approaching my doorway. I saw nothing out of the ordinary, but knew that, henceforth, and for the first time in many years, I could no longer consider this location to be either safe or secure. In some fundamental way, the new life I had chosen for myself so long ago was nearing its end. The question, then, is whether it will end in violence or, like the previous one, regeneration.
Although it is small consolation in light of such a jarring interlude, I do have progress to report on the matter of our investigation. Only this morning I was able to acquire new and interesting information concerning the four German laborers hired by Lutz Lorenz. Armed anew with their pseudonyms—Heinrich Heine, Friedrich Schiller, Wolfgang Goethe, and Thomas Mann—I ascertained through reliable connections with the Longshoremen's Union that four gentlemen using those names obtained union cards last December with a local on the Hudson waterfront. Listed on those cards were their last known addresses, which have in turn led me to additional new information, some of it quite alarming.
Intending to pass along these findings to Mr. Cain as soon as possible, I telephoned him a few moments ago in order to arrange a rendezvous. I chose the place of our meeting with care, partly out of the belief that my home is no longer either safe or suitable. Instead, I selected a more public venue, where we will enjoy the anonymity of the crowd. I expected Mr. Cain to object, or at least to question me further with regard to motive. But he agreed without hesitation, and in his ready acquiescence I detected a state of perturbation as advanced as my own.
"Are you well?" I asked. "What has upset you?"
"Nothing," he said, but I was not convinced. He then stated curtly that he would see me soon, and hung up.
Perhaps he was tired. I had telephoned at the end of his shift, and he may have been upset at the prospect of prolonging his workday. Then another thought struck me. Perhaps he, too, has been given reason to feel threatened, so much so that he did not feel free to express his true feelings while seated in his place of employment.
This thought disturbed me greatly, especially now that Mr. Cain's daughter has joined him in New York. It prompted me to revisit my vow from the previous morning, when I resolved to become a more watchful presence. It is obvious to me now that I cannot hope to accomplish this duty on my own. Yet, I do have an idea of who might be best positioned to help me: Beryl Blum, of course. Perhaps she can serve as my eyes and ears on certain occasions when I can be neither present nor in touch. And so, Fedya's protestations and objections notwithstanding, I decided to do all within my power to promote their liaison, amorous and otherwise. Partly, of course, for the sake of their happiness. But partly as well for their greater safety in each other's company.
So there we are, then—two wary and perturbed men on their separate ways to the location I chose for our rendezvous: a bench at the north end of Tompkins Square Park, favored environ of rabble-rousers, holy men on soapboxes, and children at play, with enough motion and noise to cloak our every word and deed. I confess also to an ulterior motive in choosing this location. You will discern it soon enough.
I will not wear my usual ensemble of clothing, seeing as how it no longer seems to offer its previous protections. This is yet another way in which I have begun adapting to the new circumstances of my once tranquil life here on Rivington Street. So, off I go, flushed from cover like a startled quail, in the awareness that from here on out I had best keep taking steps forward if I am to outpace those who now pursue me.
# 29
CAIN ALMOST MISSED DANZIGER on his first circuit through the upper end of the park. The man looked different—clothes, hair, the works. Not younger, exactly, but more polished, and Cain wondered at the transformation.
"Nice coat," he said, taking a seat beside him on the bench.
"Camel's hair," Danziger said.
"Tan. New color for you."
"Not really."
Cain detected the smell of mothballs. Not new, then. It just hadn't been worn in a while. As if you'd need any coat at all on a day this warm and beautiful. But without a coat perhaps he wouldn't be Danziger.
"Combed your hair, too. And the wool hat's gone. It even looks like you used a razor. Sort of. What do you call that style of beard you're growing, now that you've shaved the rest?"
"A Van Dyke."
Danziger stroked his newly smooth cheeks, as if to confirm it for himself. Cain noticed a small nick or two, marked with a styptic pencil.
"Usually I leave such duties to a barber," Danziger said, as if to explain the imperfections.
"You sounded a little shaken when you called."
"As did you."
Cain nodded. Each man waited for the other to speak, which led to several seconds of silence.
"You first," Cain said.
Danziger told him about the caller asking for Alexander Dalitz.
"I guess that explains the shave and the wardrobe."
"And our meeting place. Although there is a lesson for you here as well."
"A lesson?"
"It is staring at you from nearby."
Cain looked around, but noticed only pigeons and children. A nanny pushed a baby carriage past a small marble fountain.
"I must be missing it."
"We will proceed to that momentarily. Besides, I believe it is now your turn for explanations."
Cain told Danziger about the meeting with Hogan. Danziger reacted at first with shock. Then he frowned and shook his head. "I understand why they would want to keep an eye on Lorenz. But his patriotic defense of those other disreputable scoundrels makes no sense at all."
"Unless he's crooked."
"Remember that I told you Lanza was under indictment? Well, Hogan is still pursuing the charges—quite aggressively, I am told, possibly even with wiretaps in place. That would mean he knows all about any calls made by Haffenden to Lanza. Why, then, in speaking to you, would he cover for such people?"
"Could this all be for Luciano's benefit?"
"No. His prison sentence remains in full force. No motions of any sort have been filed on his behalf. Although, just as I heard at Longchamps, there _is_ talk that he will soon be moved. But to Great Meadow prison, not Sing Sing."
"It's closer to the city?"
"Yes, but not anywhere nearly as close as Sing Sing. Great Meadow is up by Albany. Any visitor would still have to stay overnight, so it is not as if Mr. Luciano got his entire wish. Yet, now our district attorney, our supposed beacon against the darkness of organized crime, suggests that you should leave these fine gentlemen in peace, and, in doing so, drop your present inquiries."
"And with three murders still unsolved. While offering no plausible reason."
Danziger shook his head.
"You said you've been busy?" Cain said.
"Quite. Many contacts. Many inquiries. Any single one of them might have triggered the phone call asking for Alexander Dalitz, but I do have progress to report. I have acquired new and interesting information concerning our four literary Germans."
He told Cain about the union cards obtained under the fake names of Heine, Schiller, Goethe, and Mann, all of them on the same day in December, issued by a longshoremen's local on the Hudson.
"Bingo."
"Yes. And from those cards I obtained their last known domiciles."
Danziger told him the addresses for the two remaining Germans—Goethe's for Dieter Göllner, and Mann's for Gerhard Muntz. Cain wrote them down, while Danziger watched.
"May I borrow that notebook of yours for a moment?"
"Sure."
"Your pencil as well."
"Okay."
Danziger crossed out the address for Dieter Göllner.
"He's moved?" Cain said.
"He is dead. Beaten to death in a waterfront bar two days ago, by three men who ran out and have not been seen since."
Cain let that sink in, and frowned at the implications. "That makes Hogan's request to back off look even worse. Now it's four murders, which he probably knew by the time he was talking to me."
"And, soon enough, five. Not that Gerhard Muntz has been foolish enough to remain at his old address. His landlord reports that he left a week ago, three days behind on his rent."
"Days?"
"His place of residence was a flophouse, the Comet Hotel, on the Bowery. Thirty cents a night."
"Why would Hogan look the other way? If you believe what Lorenz told us, these four krauts were in the middle of a sabotage plot, with some mob guys running the show. Hogan should want to round up every last one of them for interrogation and intelligence. Haffenden, too. Instead, it's like they're throwing these guys to the wolves, then calling it an act of patriotism when somebody hunts them down. Never mind that a young woman got killed along the way."
"I do not know what to make of it, other than it seems to be making our lives more difficult and dangerous than they need to be."
"Sounds like you'd prefer to drop it."
Danziger turned toward him, scowling. "Absolutely not. Are you suggesting that course of action for yourself?"
"I hadn't been. Now I'm beginning to wonder. Cops up here, it seems like they've been going along to get along for ages. Not just the ones getting rich off bribes, or in some politician's pocket. I mean the everyday guys, like me. Every time I turn around it feels like I have to make another trade-off, just to keep going. And is that really all that different from what I used to do? Look at me. I came up here on a sellout to my father-in-law, after a failure under pressure. Maybe that's the way it'll always be."
Danziger narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps. First, I think it is time for you to learn why I called you to this location. Indulge me for a second. Look in that direction once again, and tell me what you see."
Cain obliged him. "Same as before. Kids and pigeons. Plus that raving lunatic of a preacher over there. Although on any given Sunday in Horton I could find you two or three who'd give him a run for his money."
"What about statuary?"
"You mean that little slab of marble over there, with the curved top?"
"Yes. Tell me about it."
"Well, there's a fountain in the front with some kind of carving. People's faces, it looks like, with an inscription."
"Can you read the words?"
"Not from here."
"Then, please." He gestured with his hands. "Go and have a look, and report back to me."
Cain, feeling this was getting rather strange, walked over. He expected to find a profound message or quotation, or perhaps the name of a famous New Yorker that would tie in to some sort of parable. Instead there was only a relief carving of two children in profile, gazing heavenward. Just beneath them was a marble lion's head, spitting water into a basin. On the side of the slab, which was barely more than a foot wide, was an inscription reading "They were Earth's purest children, young and fair." That was all.
He went back to the bench and recited the words.
"Like something you'd see on a tombstone," he added.
"It is a memorial," Danziger said, "although I doubt that even one-tenth of the people in this park could tell you what it represents."
"But you can."
"Yes. And since you have expressed such a keen and abiding interest in my past—the real me, as you seem to regard it—then here is your chance. You are looking at a relic of the event that ended my childhood, in the year 1904. The biggest loss of life this city has ever seen. More than one thousand people, all perishing on a single morning in June. Among them, Solomon and Anna Dalitz."
"Your mom and dad?"
"On June fifteenth. The day I became an orphan."
"A _thousand_ people? What the hell? Did some big building go up in smoke?"
"A ship. The _General Slocum,_ during a pleasure cruise. Death by fire and then by water, a spectacle more horrible than the _Normandie,_ right out in the East River, while thousands of people watched from both banks. I survived only when someone on shore pulled me from the water with a rake, just as the currents were sweeping me away."
"My God. And this monument is all that remains?"
"Dedicated to the children. There were so many that day, and women, too. Most of the fathers were working. Almost the entire congregation of St. Mark's Evangelical Church—you know them as Lutherans—was on board."
"Lutherans? But you—"
"My father kept their books. That was his business, bookkeeping. And for St. Mark's he did such a good job of cleaning up the mess left behind by his gentile predecessor that the Reverend Haas, a truly fine man, asked my father if he would like to bring his whole family along."
"No good deed goes unpunished."
"Yes. The nature of fate. We were overjoyed to receive the invitation to such a festive event. A day on the water, with food, a brass band. The perfect family outing. I was required to bathe the night before. My mother spent hours getting dressed. A corset, a flannel petticoat, a skirt and a shirtwaist—everything that would later become saturated with the waters of the East River and drag her to the bottom. Alas, that was the case with many women and girls. I wore knickerbockers and a jacket, my finest. My father, his suit and tie.
"We boarded on a beautiful summer morning. The band was already playing Christian hymns, and I was set free to roam the decks with two nickels in my pocket—one for a tongue sandwich, one for a slice of pie. It was the heart of Kleindeutschland, gathered on one happy ship."
"Little Germany? But I thought that Yorkville—?"
"Yorkville came later. In fact, if not for this terrible day, Yorkville might never have happened. Those brownshirt parades from a few years ago would have marched instead up Third Avenue, from Houston Street to Fourteenth."
"You said there was a fire?"
Danziger nodded, gazing vacantly, his eyes off in some other time and place.
"It started near the engine room. Straw and gasoline, or some such combination. I am not so clear on details. They were in all the papers, but I've never had the stomach to read them. I remember only the thick black smoke, and then flames, rising from nowhere, sweeping the deck toward us like a wave. And the screams, of course. I was eating, and could not find my mother or father. I never saw them again."
He paused, sagging noticeably before collecting himself.
"People began jumping overboard. Some ran for the lifejackets, but in fourteen years they had never been used, and the cork inside had turned to dust. The lifeboats had been repainted so many times without removal that they had become stuck to the sides of the boat."
"My God."
"Yes. We were quite helpless, all of us, and as the fire spread people rushed to the side of the deck nearest the shore. Of course, that caused the ship to list violently, throwing one and all against the rail. And when the rail gave way, I fell into the river, a long way down. And as I was falling—and I am quite sure of this—that is when I heard my mother's voice, calling out my name. I landed in the water, sinking and then surfacing. I looked up for her on the lower deck above me, but all I could see was people burning, people jumping. There was a beautiful young woman with her hair on fire. All around me in the water, people were gasping for breath, trying to stay afloat. I saw men just ahead, standing in the shallows of North Brother Island, trying to pull people to safety. Then the current swept me under. A woman just behind me pulled me to the surface and pushed me forward. I grabbed for a rake, barely holding on, and was pulled ashore. The woman who saved me was swept away. I heard her screams and then saw her passing as she sank beneath the surface, another poor soul dragged to her death by her wet wardrobe. For days I heard those screams in my head, whenever it was quiet."
Danziger went silent, his eyes misting. Cain remembered their trip to Ellis Island, and his description of the menacing Lady Liberty, raising her torch on high.
"An omen, you said. About the Statue of Liberty."
"Yes."
"No wonder you looked so shaky the other day."
"It never departs you, that sense of foreboding. That day was the end of Kleindeutschland, its moment of doom. A thousand gone, and many who remained simply lost heart. People began to move away to other parts of the city. Many went to Yorkville, both gentile and Jew, although some Jews instead chose the Upper West Side, a division that grew wider over time. And now, through the correspondences of my clients, I see this same sort of disaster taking place on an even larger scale, in city after city of the Old World where I was born. Entire communities, disappearing in clouds of smoke."
He looked at Cain, his eyes imploring.
"So you see? As their interpreter, as their archivist, I am the keeper of all that remains. I took on this role—writing and reading letters—as an expediency, as a means to a humble income. But in these past few years I have come to see it as a trust, an obligation, to all those who are vanishing from our midst."
Cain saw now that Danziger was telling this story for posterity. Not only for the sake of the people he served, but also for his own legacy, in case he should disappear.
"Don't worry," Cain said. "I won't quit on you."
"Simply agreeing to continue is not enough. You also must not waver. Do so, and I shall be lost. And all that I harbor within my house will be lost with me, the dead and the living alike."
"I'm with you. I won't waver. But we need a way forward. Preferably one that will attract as little attention as possible."
"I believe I may have found one. A means of finding our fourth German."
"Gerhard Muntz?"
"I was able to ascertain that, of the four, he alone was from Bavaria. That told me he was far more likely to be Catholic than the others. And for the Catholics of this city, there is one place where the down-and-out—and, yes, those who are too frightened to show themselves by day—are known to gather during the day's smallest hours. A worker's mass, held especially for those with nocturnal employment. It takes place every Sunday at two thirty in the morning, at St. Andrew's, near Chambers Street. A location, I might add, that is quite convenient to the Bowery."
"Sounds like a shot in the dark."
"Be that as it may, I believe that this shot may have already struck the bull's-eye, if I use the idiom correctly."
"You've found him?"
"An assistant rector, a contact of mine at St. Andrew's. He reports the recent and regular Sunday presence of a shy and lonely man who goes only by the name of Gerhard."
"Our Gerhard?"
"Perhaps yes. Perhaps no. Monsignor Cashin, who presides at St. Andrew's, told my contact that he believes this Gerhard lives in a flophouse."
"Then why not just check the flophouses? Starting tomorrow morning, if you want, when everyone's still asleep."
"Do you have any idea what you are asking? Have you not been to the Bowery?"
"We're talking about, what, five or six places?"
Danziger threw up his hands, as if the number might be infinite.
"Dozens. Scores, even. From the top of my own head I can name at least eight. The Alabama, the Marathon, the Crystal, the Owl, the White House, the Grand Windsor, the Palace, the Newport. On and on, each with a clientele that pays by the night, moving on to some other bed if he feels the least bit threatened or uneasy, as our Gerhard certainly must. Seek him door to door and we shall only scare him deeper into hiding. We must wait for Sunday. Or, rather, for very late this Saturday night. We will attend the worker's mass."
"And if he doesn't show?"
"Then we will try again the following Sunday."
"By then he'll be dead. Or I'll be off the case. If I haven't been yanked already, once Hogan makes a few phone calls. Even if he shows, how will we recognize him?"
"The father, my contact, has promised to point him out. Gerhard always takes communion. The father will signal when he comes to the altar to receive the host."
"Worth a try. I doubt even Mulhearn will care what I'm up to on a Saturday night." Then he frowned. "Olivia. I can't just leave her."
"Then you must plan for her safekeeping."
"It'll be asking a lot of Eileen, but I guess she'll have to."
"Make your arrangements, then, and meet me at the church at two thirty. I will arrive early, and sit near the front on the left."
Danziger stood, wavered a bit, and took a moment to steady himself. Even with the shave and the nicer clothes, he once again looked old. This time his eyes were the giveaway—the blue now tinted by a somber grayness, a squint of effort. Then he turned and strolled off into the park, brushing his right hand against the marble memorial in passing.
—
By the time Cain got home it was nearly dark. Pete the night doorman informed him that Olivia and Eileen were again at the park. As he climbed the stairway he thought he smelled cigarette smoke, and he unlocked the door to see Linwood Archer seated by an open window with a huge revolver in his lap.
"Shut it slowly behind you and don't move," Archer said.
"How'd you get in?"
"You've been ducking me, Cain. Figured a house call was in order."
"Fine. I've got something for you."
Cain reached inside his overcoat, which prompted Archer to raise the revolver until it was aimed at Cain's chest.
"No, no," Archer said. "Take your hand out of the pocket nice and slow, and drop it to your side. We'll do this my way."
Through the open window they could hear a neighbor's radio. Once again, the voice of Red Barber provided the play-by-play.
_"Runners on the corners with nobody out. Newsom looks like a lost ball in tall grass out there on the mound."_
"Nice," Archer said as he stood, his finger on the trigger. "Don't even need your own radio to hear the bums. But what if you're a Yankees fan? I hate the fucking Dodgers." Reaching behind him with his free hand, Archer shut the window while keeping the gun trained on Cain's chest.
"That's better. Besides, wouldn't want to disturb your neighbors with any excessive noise."
Cain took a slow step backwards toward the door.
"Hold your horses, Cain. Go into the kitchen and sit down."
He did as he was asked, taking care not to make any sudden moves. Archer followed.
"What's this I hear about you paying the DA a visit this afternoon?"
News traveled fast, and through unlikely channels. Cain wondered if this was Gurfein's idea of a nasty joke.
"Hogan wanted to hear about a case," Cain said. "Some con artist named Kannerman."
"Not what I heard."
"Yeah? Then what did you hear?"
"This and that." He waggled the gun back and forth. Cain sensed Archer was bluffing, and was fishing for more information. "The commish doesn't like to learn about this kind of thing from a third party, Cain. It tells him that Hogan knows more about what's going on with your work than he does. How long you spend in his office?"
He was about to say that the meeting hadn't been in Hogan's office. Then he decided he liked the idea that Archer didn't have his facts straight. It meant there were probably other gaps in his knowledge, maybe even big ones.
"Not long. And you'll be pleased to know he was in a mood to help. He said pretty soon he might hand over all kinds of dirt on crooked cops in the fourteenth."
"How soon is pretty soon?"
"What if I told you it doesn't matter?"
Archer narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Well, if you'll kindly let me reach inside my coat for a second, I'll show you."
"Okay, but no funny business."
Archer held the gun steady while Cain pulled out eleven arrest reports that he'd stolen that evening from the binders for March and April in the 95 Room. All were cases that had been checkmarked in the arrest record ledger for special handling. And, rather than just writing down the names and then waiting for the reports—and, thus, the evidence of the scheme—to disappear, he'd decided to steal the reports. The names listed on them showed which subjects had undue influence inside the precinct. In addition, the cops participating in the scheme had become so stupidly brazen that they'd left several attached notes, which included phone numbers listed for collection purposes. Cain was pleased to discover that for two of the notes he recognized the handwriting, because it was the same as on the note Maloney had left on Cain's desk the other day with his returned sidearm, after he'd been shanghaied to his lunch with Harris Euston.
He explained it all to Archer, who nodded, seemingly impressed, even raising his eyebrows when Cain told him about the Murder, Inc. connection on one of the gambling arrests.
What Cain didn't tell Archer was that he'd also recognized one of the phone numbers which appeared on two of the notes discussing collection. He'd seen the same number several other times recently, on phone messages left for him at the office by Harris Euston's secretary at Willett & Reed. Cain had already logged the names of the two suspects from the attached reports, figuring they'd turn out to be law clients of Euston's. Archer and Valentine would figure out the connection soon enough, he supposed.
"If you want to see who's already made payments to get their cases wiped clean," he told Archer, "all you've got to do is check the old arrest record for erased check marks next to the names. I saw at least twenty-five of them. One of them was that bookie, Ericson. And Valentine was right. It all started in January."
Archer shook his head. "What a bunch of stupid fucks, leaving a trail like that."
"You're talking about guys in their late thirties and forties who still haven't made sergeant. Are you really that surprised?"
"Not where money's involved. Ericson. The commish will like that. He'll like all of this shit." He flipped through a couple of the arrest reports. "But some of these names...Art Wheeler? Herman Keller? Frankie Disch? Who the fuck are these guys?"
"You tell me. You guys are supposed to be the experts on that old Tammany crowd."
From the hallway came the sudden sound of footsteps and cheerful voices headed up the stairs. Olivia was home. Archer smiled again. He leaned over and stubbed out his cigarette on the kitchen table—slowly, so that it left a round black dot that looked just like the ones on Werner Hansch.
"Not to worry," Archer said. "I'll go the way I came."
He crossed the room to the window, threw open the sash, and climbed out onto the fire escape.
"You should try locking your windows, Cain. Crime around here, it's pretty appalling."
# 30
EILEEN O'CASEY WAS ALREADY more than an hour late when the phone rang. Cain answered in a state of nervous anticipation. It was indeed Eileen.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't make it tonight."
"What do you mean 'can't'? You _have_ to!"
"It's beyond my control sir. It's...It's a family emergency."
"What kind of emergency?"
"I'm sorry, sir. If it was within my power, I'd be there. You know I would. But it isn't possible."
"Maybe I can help. Or I could bring Olivia to you. There's still time, so just tell me what—"
"No, sir. It's not possible, sir." She was rushing her words, completely flustered. "I'll be there first thing Monday. Goodbye, sir."
And with that she was gone, meaning Cain was now in need of a babysitter at twenty minutes before midnight. His scheduled rendezvous with Danziger at St. Andrew's Church, where they hoped to catch the elusive Gerhard Muntz, was less than two hours away.
If he were back in Horton, he would've just called on his neighbors. The Turners to the left, or the Whitcombs to the right. Either would have happily taken in his daughter at any hour of the day. Here, no such luck. His failure, he supposed. Neighbors lived above, below, and to every side of them here, yet he didn't know a single one beyond a nod or hello in the hallway. How else could so many people be lonely on an island of millions?
He tried Beryl's number with only a faint hope of success. He and Olivia had eaten dinner with her earlier, but from there she was going to look after her uncle Fedya for the rest of the evening, and would probably be staying for the night. Cain had no idea how to reach the man. Danziger might know, but he had stopped answering his phone after dark ever since taking the anonymous call asking for Max Dalitz.
Not long before two a.m., when it was time to leave, he stood in Olivia's doorway watching her sleep. He had decided to lock the doors and windows and write a note, in case she woke up while he was gone. But at this hour there wasn't even a doorman on duty, meaning anyone might come up the stairway unimpeded. He couldn't help but remember Archer, sitting by his open window with a smirk on his face and a gun in his lap.
Okay, then. Think this through. His destination was a church, a place of worship, located only a few blocks south of police headquarters. They would be among worshippers and holy men, with candlelight and hushed voices. If Gerhard showed up, he'd be coming for solace, not violence. How bad could it possibly be? He crouched by the bed, kissed Olivia's forehead, and tousled her hair.
"Sweetie, I'm sorry. You have to wake up."
"Why is it dark? Is it morning time?"
"No, sweetie. Still nighttime, it's very late. But Miss Eileen couldn't come, so you'll have to go with me."
"Go where?"
"We're going to church."
"Now?"
"To a Catholic mass, so it will be kind of different. It's a service for people who have to work really late, and I have to talk to somebody there, so get dressed. C'mon, we have to hurry."
She yawned and sat up. Then, in the trusting way of children, she climbed from bed and began dressing just as he'd asked. Her eyes got wide for a second.
"Catholic? Like the ones Grandpa talks about? Will they be taking their orders from the pope?"
"Miss Eileen's Catholic, sweetie. They're just like you and me. It'll sound kind of different. The hymns and prayers, mostly. They'll probably do some speaking in Latin."
Or so he assumed. Cain didn't really know. In Horton there hadn't been a single Catholic church, although Raleigh had a few. She nodded and pulled a shirt over her head. Five minutes later they were out the door.
"It's different out here this time of night," she said, wide awake now. "It's all quieter."
Spookier, too, although he knew she would never say it. Even the smells were different. The piney scent of sawdust from the West Side Lumber Company was stronger now that the noise and exhaust of traffic was mostly gone. There were no cooking smells, and no one was hanging out the wash, or playing stickball. Only a few windows were illuminated.
The subways were still open, running on wartime hours. Cain was surprised by the number of riders, and by how many of them seemed to be traveling to and from jobs. The war machine, he supposed, noticeably more vigorous than even a few months ago. Aircraft factories and shipyards were now operating around the clock, plus all the businesses that supported them, fed them, cleaned for them, and so on.
"Look!" Olivia said, gazing out the window of their car. "They're racing us!"
She always liked it when a train pulled even on a parallel track, the subway cars swaying and rumbling as they competed for a few seconds. Cain stared at the riders in the other car, mirror images of the ones in their own—reading papers, dozing off, staring at their feet.
"They're going to beat us!" she said, as their own train began to decelerate, brakes shrieking.
"That's an express. It always wins."
Cain's eyes locked onto the face of a woman across the way. His reaction was disbelief, until Olivia spoke up.
"That lady looks like Mommy!"
It _was_ Mommy. Or seemed to be, although she was in profile, and partly in shadow. Then she turned to face them, and the illusion vanished. Not Clovis.
"I don't think it was her," Olivia said. "That's not her coat. Or the kind of hat she wears."
"Right you are," Cain said, although neither of those observations had occurred to him. Olivia had a better memory than he did.
The other train zoomed forward before descending into a deeper tunnel. Disappearing with it was the woman who was almost Clovis. Neither Olivia nor he spoke, and when he glanced at her she looked down at the floor. Cain felt like the rushing train had sucked the air right out of his lungs. They pulled into the next station, the platform again surprisingly crowded. He didn't fully regain his composure until the train reached Chambers Street.
"Okay, sweetie. Here's where we get off. We've got a bit of a walk ahead. Four or five blocks, so stay close."
The streets here were quiet, too, and even more imposing. Taller buildings with darker windows, deeper shadows.
"This is like the time we went looking for owls, when the moon was full," Olivia said. She held on tight to his hand.
"You're right. It's kind of the same thing. Anybody who's standing up there in a window can see us but we can't see them. Just like an owl, way up in a tree."
"Do you think people are watching us?"
Not the most reassuring question at this hour, but he was the idiot who had brought it up.
"Oh, probably not. I think everybody's sleeping, don't you?"
She nodded but squeezed his hand. His palms were sweaty, and he was sure she noticed.
A block later they heard the first faint strains of an organ, gothic and foreboding, as they turned left onto Centre Street. They were only about seven blocks south of police headquarters, but at this hour it seemed a world away. The music grew louder as they headed up a narrow passage between the looming Municipal Office Building on the left and the U.S. Courthouse on the right. A sinner, passing through the eye of the needle, Cain thought, tapping into memories from a distant summer at Vacation Bible School.
Other late-arriving worshippers approached from the right, climbing grimy marble steps to the open door. Cain and Olivia followed them in, and were greeted by an impressive sight. Stained glass windows glowed from high on both sides, above a balcony that spanned three sides of the church. The congregation, standing for a hymn, was mostly dressed for work. There were factory workers in coveralls, waitresses in uniform, and, here and there, tattered down-and-outers who'd drifted in from the Bowery. The air smelled of incense, candle wax, and body odor. Up front, a priest in white and gold vestments sang along with his flock.
A biblical verse in huge lettering caught Cain's eye from the right side of the altar: "A New Commandment I give unto you. That you love one another as I have loved you."
A worthy sentiment, ignored in wartime on a global scale.
Olivia tugged on his hand. "When do we sit down?" she whispered.
"When everybody else does. I'm looking for someone."
The hymn ended. Everyone knelt at their seats as the priest began a prayer. Cain bowed his head until it was over.
"What's that thing they're doing with their hands?" Olivia asked.
"Making the sign of the cross."
She frowned, then figured it out. "Like they're drawing it on their chests?"
"Yes. I see him. Let's go. He's over on the left, so we'll go up that aisle."
"The old man who's looking back at us?"
"Yes. That's Mr. Danziger."
"The one you said was mysterious?"
"Shhh!"
They slid down the wooden pew, settling in to Danziger's left. Olivia, who'd managed to scoot in ahead of Cain, sat between them. Not the optimum arrangement, but if anything Danziger seemed pleased after having initially reacted with surprise—perhaps even alarm. He smiled benevolently at her. Then he looked across at Cain, the smile gone, and mouthed the words "He is risen."
So, then. Gerhard was here. And before the hour was up, they would try to intercept him, right here in the church—all of it happening in full view of his daughter, unless Cain could spirit her away first to a place of greater safety.
The priest began to speak, and throughout the church every face but Cain's turned toward the front. He instead scanned the back of the pew in front of them until he found what he was seeking. He reached across Olivia for the Bible. He set the book in his lap and placed his right hand atop the black leather cover. And then Cain, who hadn't set foot in a church for nearly a year, closed his eyes and silently began to pray.
# 31
# DANZIGER
AT FIRST I WAS APPALLED. How could he bring her to this place of danger? Church or not, we were about to pursue a man on a death list, someone who might himself be willing to kill. Had Mr. Cain lost his mind? Or had he merely lost his housekeeper, and thus, temporarily, his better judgment?
Turning farther for a better view, I then saw her face, her innocence, as they walked up the aisle toward me, and immediately I revised my assessment. I chose instead to interpret her presence—carelessly engineered or not—as an omen, a sign: We would be protected here.
When they reached my pew she darted in front of her father and, then, as if to function as an intermediary, sat between us. She turned her face toward mine. It struck me at that moment that she had come to this city at an age only a few years older than I when I first arrived, and so I fully understood all of the questions in her eyes. Yet, I also saw trust, and this melted my heart.
I smiled, and she did not look away, which probably required some courage on her part, because mine is not a welcoming face.
"Here," I said, handing her a hymnal. "In case you want to sing along. They post the page numbers of the songs up there on that board. The next one will be three twenty-seven."
"Thank you."
None of us seemed interested in listening to the priest. Olivia thumbed through the hymnal. Cain, I saw now, was actually praying, mouthing words with his eyes shut, and holding on to a holy book as if it alone might save him. So perhaps he _did_ realize the risk he was taking. And with that thought I realized the true nature of what the girl was about to witness.
Cognizant or not, she would see a condemned man led closer to the scaffold. Because surely word of our actions here tonight would travel from this building on the lips of other denizens of the Bowery, many of whom were ever eager to profit from any special knowledge. For all we knew, this would be Gerhard's final night of freedom, of life itself.
As you well know, I am not a religious man. But in the way of many who have forsaken faith, I am often fascinated by the dogmas and rituals of believers. And, here, under this high arched ceiling, surrounded by symbols of the Christian God, it occurred to me that for us Gerhard would be the lamb of god. His blood, shed upon our altar of truth. As the congregation began to pray, I shut my eyes, receded into my thoughts, and asked some element of the cosmos—whether it be "God" or some other entity altogether—to grant us forgiveness for the sequence of deeds we were about to set in motion.
I opened my eyes to see Olivia looking at me, and could tell that somehow she knew and approved.
Then it was time for communion. We kept our seats, officially unworthy of the sacrament. Thirty or so people came and went from the altar. Several were dressed in the rags of flophouse poverty. We watched with keen interest, but the father dispensing the sacrament did not once look our way.
The next six communicants took their places before him. The fourth man from the left was a pale fellow with unkempt blond hair and a three-day beard. He took the wafer and sipped the wine. The father looked up, turned his head briefly in our direction, and nodded crisply.
"So that's the one," Cain whispered to my left. "And do we think this is _our_ Gerhard?"
"Yes. I do. He has the look of the hunted. We should be prepared to move quickly."
"Who's Gerhard?" Olivia asked.
"The man we need to speak with," I said, as gently as I could. "And when we do, it would probably be best for you to wait here, maybe with one of the priests, until we are finished."
She looked to her father. Cain nodded, sealing the arrangement.
"Okay," she said, taking on a solemn air.
I am certain she could tell from our manner that this was a serious business, the affairs of a policeman and a stranger. Wise girl.
# 32
CAIN WATCHED GERHARD RETURN to his pew, relaxing only when the man sat down and opened a Bible. The organ played until the last communicant was seated. Then the congregation rose for a hymn. Olivia, consulting the board, flipped to the correct page. She and everyone else began to sing—except for Gerhard, who dropped to his knees and bowed his head. His lips began moving at an almost frantic pace.
"Prayer," Danziger muttered. "Last refuge of the scoundrel."
Olivia's mouth dropped open in surprise.
"Is that true, Daddy?"
Cain was about to answer no, and then paused as he recalled his own desperate behavior from a few minutes ago.
"Sometimes," he whispered. "People take refuge behind a lot of things." Like patriotism, he thought, thinking of Hogan and Lanza.
"How can you tell when they're doing it to hide?"
"I'm not sure, sweetie. I'm still figuring that out."
The song ended. Then came the offering. Cain dropped some change into the plate. Danziger gave nothing, which seemed to either scandalize or impress Olivia. Even Gerhard put in a coin. Soon afterward the service ended. The lights came up, and the congregants began spilling into the aisles.
"Stay here," Cain said to Olivia. "Don't move, and don't speak to anyone unless it's a priest. Okay?"
"Okay." She frowned sulkily, but Cain couldn't think of an alternative.
He slipped into the aisle, Danziger right behind him, and they walked quickly toward the back.
"The father knows that we wish to speak to Gerhard," Danziger spoke into his ear. "He has promised us the use of a room, the sacristy. He has agreed to intercede on our behalf, if necessary. All he asks is that there be no trouble, no disturbance."
They were now within a few feet of Gerhard, who was unaware of their approach and seemed to be in no hurry. Danziger sidled up on his left. Cain scooted around him toward the doorway, to cut off his avenue of escape.
"Gerhard?" Danziger called gently. Then he said something in German.
The man froze, and his mouth opened in alarm. He raised his hands into a protective position and wavered like a man caught in a strong gust of wind. For a few seconds he seemed on the verge of collapse. He was pale and underfed, and for a moment Cain almost pitied him.
Gerhard bolted forward, but not before Danziger's right hand flashed out with impressive quickness and locked on to his forearm. Danziger whispered into his ear. Gerhard's eyes sought out the young father, who nodded reassuringly. Then the German sagged and blew out a deep breath, as if in surrender. Danziger called out to Cain in a low voice above the hubbub of the departing worshippers. "He will speak with us. Come. The sacristy is this way."
The three of them walked single-file toward an alcove to the right, with the father bringing up the rear. The sacristy was a quiet room with dark wood paneling, a modest desk strewn with notes, and a large bloody crucifix high on the wall. At the end was an open closet where vestments of various sizes and colors hung in a long row, smelling of incense.
Gerhard stood behind a folding chair, holding on to the back as if he wasn't yet ready to sit, or surrender. Cain slowly walked toward him. Maybe it was his imagination, but in the time it had taken them to reach the sacristy Gerhard seemed to have reconsidered his options. His eyes darted toward Danziger, and then toward the door.
"Gerhard Muntz?" Cain said, looking him in the eye.
Gerhard's eyes widened. He backed away from the chair and pulled a knife from his pants pocket. Cain heard the father gasp behind him.
"Ask him if that's what he used to kill Sabine," Cain said, keeping his hands ready for anything while Danziger relayed the question in German. The father also spoke in German, trying to calm the man, but Gerhard shook his head and said only "Nein! Es war nicht mich! Es war Dieter!"
"He says Dieter Göllner did it."
"So I gathered. Tell him Göllner is dead. And he will be, too, unless he lets us help him."
Danziger spoke rapidly, in a soothing tone. Gerhard uttered a low moan when he heard the news, and a tremor seemed to go through him. He shook his head and lowered the knife. He looked up at Cain briefly and put away the knife. Then he came forward a step and sank into the chair with a deep sigh.
Danziger addressed the priest. "I believe we now have matters sufficiently under control, Father. Thank you for your assistance."
The father looked from man to man with an expression of uncertainty, but he seemed to take the cue for his exit.
"Very well, then. I will be outside if you need me. Unless you intend to make an arrest, please do not harry him for longer than is necessary. He is a child of God."
"Of course, Father."
They waited until they could no longer hear his departing footsteps. Gerhard was now scrutinizing Cain, but when he spoke it was to Danziger.
"Ist er ein Polizist?"
"He asked if you're a cop." Then, to Gerhard, "Ja."
Gerhard folded his arms and stared at the floor.
"Dann werde ich nicht sprechen!"
"I doubt that needed a translation," Danziger said wearily.
"He says he won't talk? Fine. We'll wait him out."
"I am not sure how patient the father will be with us."
Then, as if someone had injected him with a tranquilizer, Gerhard unfolded his arms and leaned forward, his eyes softening. He was staring toward the door. Cain turned to see Olivia stepping across the threshold.
"Sweetie, I told you to wait!"
"They started turning off the lights. I was scared, and I saw where you'd gone, so..." She caught Gerhard's gaze, and for a moment she stared right back. Gerhard muttered sidelong to Danziger in German. Danziger, keeping his voice low, answered. The young priest entered the room behind Olivia.
"My apologies for allowing this interruption! I was dealing with parishioners." He turned toward Cain. "She is your daughter?"
"Yes." Cain felt like an explanation was in order. "I, uh—"
"Would you like me to look after her until your work is completed?"
"Please. That would be kind of you."
The priest offered his hand to Olivia. She frowned but took it. With her other hand she waved goodbye to the beleaguered Gerhard, who beamed as beatifically as if he had just watched an angel alight in the rafters. Once she was gone, he tilted his head as if to reappraise Cain, and asked another question. Danziger answered in the gentlest of tones. Gerhard nodded and spoke again.
"What's he saying?" Cain asked.
"He wanted to know if she was your daughter. I said yes. Then he quoted a line of scripture. Something about various animals coexisting, ending with 'And a child shall lead them.' "
"It's from Isaiah," Cain said.
Gerhard spoke again. A look of weary calm had descended on his features.
"He says, yes, the book of Isaiah. He says you may ask him whatever you like."
Cain shook his head in wonderment. "Let's start with how he got involved in all this. Lutz Lorenz and the four of them, and whatever it was they were trying to accomplish."
Gerhard nodded when Danziger relayed the question. He spoke in a monotone, as calmly and flatly as if he were reading from a printed statement, pausing only when Danziger stopped him with an upraised hand in order to translate for Cain, who took notes throughout. His account was frank, precise, and blessedly simple, and matched Lorenz's version almost exactly.
In December, not long after Pearl Harbor, Lorenz approached the four Germans with an offer of employment. If they accepted, they would be issued union cards, and someone else would meet them the following day at the Jaegerhaus, a Yorkville beer hall. They accepted. The next day, a nameless German businessman—or so they guessed from his expensive suit and coolly efficient manner—met them in a back room at the Jaegerhaus, and presented them with an enticing offer: Agree to help the Fatherland by making a strike upon the enemy, and you will be richly rewarded, now and later. At that time they knew only that the goal was to burn or sink a ship currently in harbor. The man promised to relay further instructions.
They quickly received their first installment of money, which bolstered their confidence. They also got their union cards, all on the same day. Two of them—Hansch and Schaller—then secured jobs with a maritime construction company which was working aboard the _Normandie,_ the French luxury liner which was being retrofitted for use as an American troop ship. This, they were told, was to be their target, with further instructions to follow. But before either man could report to the job site they awakened to headlines announcing that the _Normandie_ had burned and foundered.
Figuring that other operatives may have succeeded ahead of them, they awaited a new assignment. But weeks passed without further word. More to the point, they never received the promised second payment. With no name or contact information for the German businessman who was their intermediary, they contacted Lorenz. He wanted nothing further to do with them, but agreed to relay word of their concerns. Lorenz hadn't mentioned this second contact, but Cain wasn't surprised. Such an admission would have further implicated him in the _Normandie_ plot.
The German intermediary relayed word through Lorenz that he would meet them again at the Jaegerhaus, where he instructed them to sit tight, and promised they would be paid soon. He told them they were never to seek to contact him again. For any further inquiries they should get in touch with a Mr. D'Amico, on Saratoga Avenue in Brooklyn, where he could supposedly be found after seven o'clock on any weekday evening.
At this point Cain held up his hand to stop them.
"Does he have an exact address?"
Danziger asked, and Gerhard nodded and spoke again.
"Not the street number," Danziger said, "but it was a store at Saratoga and Livonia, right by the elevated IRT. The awning out front had the words 'candy,' 'soda,' and 'cigars' across the front."
"Got it."
Gerhard continued his account. The Germans wondered why Italians had become involved, but concluded that if the two countries were battlefield allies in Europe, then why shouldn't they also be working together behind enemy lines in this country?
Another week passed without action, so they delegated Werner Hansch to present their grievances to Mr. D'Amico in Brooklyn. Gerhard accompanied Hansch on the IRT to the Saratoga Avenue stop, and then waited for him in a bar down the street. After nearly an hour, when Hansch still hadn't returned, Gerhard walked to the address himself, keeping his eye on the entrance as he lingered at a newsstand across the street. At nine o'clock, a prosperous-looking man emerged, smoking a cigar and talking loudly. Two apparent underlings followed, with Hansch between them. He looked bruised and frightened, and his clothes were in disarray. A gleaming black Packard pulled to the curb, and the men climbed in, shoving Hansch into the back seat. It pulled away and drove out of sight.
By this time, the man running the newsstand had taken note of Gerhard's interest in the doings at the store. Danziger translated the exchange.
"Better not let them catch you watching," the man said, "unless you want to end up at the bottom of the East River."
"Wait a minute," Cain said, holding up a hand. "I thought he only spoke German. How'd he know what the newsstand guy was saying?"
Gerhard smiled for the first time.
"An excellent question," Danziger said. "How _did_ you know, Gerhard?"
"My speaking English, it is very bad. Hearing it?" He waggled a hand. "Sometime okay." He then addressed Danziger in a burst of German.
"He says he comprehends a general sense of what people are saying. Also, the news vendor's English wasn't much better than his. He said the fellow then told him the name of the man he'd seen with Werner Hansch."
"The one who was in charge?"
Danziger asked.
"Ja," Gerhard said. "The Mad Hatter."
Danziger's eyes widened. "You are quite sure of this?" he asked slowly. "The Mad Hatter?"
"Ja."
Cain caught Danziger's eye, but the older man frowned and tersely shook his head, as if to say that now wasn't the right time.
"Okay, then," Cain said. "What happened next?"
Danziger relayed Gerhard's answer as the words came tumbling out.
"That was the last time Gerhard saw Werner Hansch. Later he heard the news. Hansch was dead; his body had been found in the river. Then he and Göllner heard Schaller had been shot, so they both went into hiding. He said that Göllner blamed Sabine for giving them away, and vowed to kill her. But he says they did not see each other again. Gerhard moves every few days to a new flophouse. For the last two nights he has been staying in the Sunshine Hotel on the Bowery. He is careful. He mostly keeps to his room, except on Sundays, when he comes here to pray. He said for a while he went to the Church of the Transfiguration on Mott Street, but he did not like going to Chinatown. Too many neon signs for chop suey. Too many Chinese."
"That's very Aryan of him."
"He says he likes the words of Monsignor Cashin. They comfort him. Or did until we came along."
Gerhard spoke again, and Danziger replied. His answer prompted Gerhard to moan and bow his head.
"He asked how Göllner was killed. I told him he was beaten to death, and that no one has been arrested."
Gerhard raised his head and spoke rapidly.
"He said we must help him. He has helped us, and now we must do the same."
Gerhard's eyes pleaded. Cain looked at Danziger.
"Tell him we'd like to help but that it won't be easy. We must also be careful. Right now there is nowhere safe to take him. Coming with us would only expose him further."
Gerhard listened to the answer and shook his head. He began digging money out of his pocket—a few crumpled ones, a scatter of coins which clattered to the stone floor.
"He says he can get more if we will take him."
"No, Gerhard. It is not a matter of money."
"Information, then. He says he can tell us more. But we must help."
"Tell him we will try. But only, _only_ if he tells us everything he knows."
Gerhard nodded quickly. He leaned forward. Then he told his last tale while Danziger translated simultaneously. Cain listened carefully and kept taking notes.
"The German businessman," Danziger said. "The intermediary. Gerhard says that after their last meeting at the Jaegerhaus he followed the man out to the street, and heard him give an address as he got into a taxi. Gerhard then went there himself. Not in a taxi, he couldn't afford it, so he went on the subway. It was an office on Wall Street."
"A bank?" Cain said. "Some investment house?"
"Please, let him continue!" said Danziger.
Gerhard again took up the thread.
"Not a bank, he says. An older building, a smaller one with only one business inside. He waited maybe half an hour and saw the man come out and hail another cab. He did not hear the address this time, so he went inside. There was a reception desk, with a woman behind it. She asked him what he wanted, and Gerhard asked for an appointment. But his English was not very good, and when he would not give his name or say who he wanted to see, she told him to come back later or to telephone first. So he left, but not before he was able to look at the visitor's ledger, where he saw the man's name. It was Herman Keller."
"Keller?"
"Yes. First name, Herman."
It was somehow familiar, yet just out of reach.
"What was the address on Wall Street?"
"He says you do not need the number, because the woman, this receptionist, she gave him a business card so he could telephone later."
"Does he still have it?"
Gerhard nodded, and reached into his pocket. He looked at them for a few seconds and then handed it to Cain. Black letters on a cream background, with a phone number and a Wall Street address. In the middle, a logo for Willett & Reed.
"Lawyers," Cain said, his voice hoarse. "Herman Keller was seeing his lawyer."
Cain now remembered why Keller's name was familiar. It was on one of the arrest reports earmarked for special handling in the 95 Room. Some minor vice charge, like gambling, and now he knew what connection Keller must have used to make sure the charge went away—Harris Euston, his lawyer, the man with all those friends in the 14th precinct. And when the four Germans hired for the sabotage scheme had threatened to become unruly, Keller had probably gone to Euston for help on that, too.
Cain's mouth was dry, and his hands were clammy.
"You know this firm?" Danziger asked.
Cain nodded and looked away. For a moment he was worried he might vomit.
"He says there is one more thing," Danziger said. "About this man Keller."
Gerhard spoke again while Danziger translated.
"He says that a fellow who worked at the Jaegerhaus told them that this Keller was known as some sort of money man."
"Like a banker?" Cain asked. "Is that what he means?"
Danziger relayed the question. Gerhard shook his head.
"No. Not a banker. He says Keller was raising foreign currency for the Fatherland, a scheme asking people in Yorkville to buy Reichsmarks with dollars. With foreign currency, Herr Hitler would still be able to buy goods and supplies on the world market despite the embargoes on commerce in Reichsmarks. Keller was fronting for some American bank, which didn't wish its name to be associated with what was happening. This is apparently why Keller was chosen as their intermediary, because he was known as a good soldier for the cause."
Chase: that was Cain's guess on the name of the bank. It would be yet another reason Keller used Harris Euston as his lawyer. In fact, maybe Chase was the client who'd introduced the two men.
"I've heard about that scheme, in some of the Yorkville gossip around the station house," Cain said. "It was back before we got into the war. Groups of thugs, going door to door to make collections. Extorting money from people who still had family in Germany. What else does he know?"
"He says that is all. He says now we must help him."
Cain shook his head, marveling at the implications, and wondering how deeply Euston was enmeshed, wittingly or not.
"Tell him I need to speak with you in private," Cain said. "Tell him we must also speak to the father if we are to arrange for his safekeeping."
Danziger relayed the message.
"He wants our reassurance that we will not leave him."
"Tell him we'll be right outside. We will send the father for him when it is time. Until then he will be safer staying here."
Gerhard nodded when Danziger finished.
"Ja. Ich verstehe."
"He understands."
Cain followed Danziger back into the sanctuary. There they retreated to an altar off to one side, where a console table was covered with votive candles, and everything smelled of warm wax.
"This Willett & Reed. It is your father-in-law's legal firm, is it not?"
"It is. Harris Euston, and he's an asshole with connections. But I'd never pegged him as a traitor."
"I doubt Keller would have revealed any word of the sabotage plot to an American."
"Then why would Keller have gone to see him?"
"Because he was under duress, and Euston was already his lawyer. I suspect their working relationship has more to do with money. The banking scheme, perhaps."
"As if that makes it any better, raising spending money for Hitler. But, yeah, that's what I'm thinking, too."
"And if Herman Keller was fronting for a bank, well, money always makes its own allegiances, greater to some than those of country or king, especially if, as you said, it was happening before our country entered the war."
"But Germany was already in it, and anybody with a brain could see what they were doing."
"And you think that would taint matters for someone such as your father-in-law? Or for an American bank, even? Both Chase and their middlemen like Keller would stand to make a great deal in commissions from these transactions. Shady or not, this should hardly come as a surprise. Let me tell you of something that happened in this city two summers ago, just after the Wehrmacht marched into Paris. There was a dinner party at the Waldorf-Astoria. The guest of honor was a representative of the German foreign ministry. His hosts were executives for General Motors, Ford, and several oil companies. They shook hands and toasted the dawn of a new age of free trade. This was not a secret. It was in all of the newspapers. Money was their common ideology, not National Socialism. They would never dare to break bread together now, of course, but I doubt they have simply set aside all ambitions for future trade. And are these not the very sorts of people your father-in-law is paid to represent?"
"That's exactly what I intend to find out."
"How?"
"I'll confront him. Ask him face to face. At least now I know the real reason he had me to lunch. Even then he was asking me to keep him up to speed on the Hansch case."
"When was this?"
"Right after that story hit the _Daily News._ It was at his club."
"What did you tell him?"
"Not a damn thing. But he's got his spies. Maloney, Mulhearn. By now he probably knows plenty about where I've been going, what I've been up to. About you, too, maybe."
"And you've told him nothing? You're sure of that?"
"Positive." He paused. "Except..."
"Yes?"
"Lutz Lorenz. I mentioned his name. Euston said he had a few helpful contacts in Yorkville, so I bounced Lutz Lorenz's name off him. Claimed he'd never heard of him."
Danziger shook his head. "Another reason to watch your back. And hers."
Cain turned and saw Olivia near the front of the sanctuary, talking animatedly with the young priest, who seemed charmed, nodding as she spoke.
"He'd never do anything to hurt his granddaughter."
"But the Mad Hatter would."
"You know who that is?"
"You would, too, if you had been reading the papers a few months before your arrival. Albert Anastasia. One of the biggest murderers this side of the Atlantic. They have a name for his little enterprise at that candy store in Brooklyn."
"I know. Murder, Inc. Even some of those people have friends in the station house. But I thought most of them had been locked up?"
"Most have. The Mad Hatter has even been put on trial. Yet, whenever Albert Anastasia goes on trial, witnesses begin to disappear, or go silent, and inevitably he is freed. At least now we know why Lutz Lorenz would not reveal his name. In his shoes, I would have also remained silent. Lutz would like to survive this war. Mentioning the name of Albert Anastasia would be a sure way of guaranteeing he won't."
"Especially when he's already taken care of at least three of the men Lorenz hired. Cleaning up the evidence of his plans, I guess."
"What I don't understand is why he was involved in a sabotage plot."
"Well he _is_ Italian."
Danziger shook his head. "It is not so easy as that. The Mafiosi despise Mussolini. Il Duce has been merciless in hunting down their brethren in Sicily."
"Extortion, then?"
"Perhaps. How, then, to explain the involvement of all the others. Not Luciano, or Lansky. But Gurfein? Haffenden? Whatever we do next, we should not act in haste. We need time to plan, to deliberate."
"You do the thinking. I'll go see Harris Euston."
"If you must. But you should also consider her welfare." He nodded toward Olivia.
"I do. Every single day. And, yes, I know I shouldn't have brought her along. So let's get out of here."
"And what of Gerhard?"
Cain shook his head. "I don't see any possible way of helping him. Not without tipping off all the wrong people about what we're up to."
"I can only agree. And there is no escaping that he is a filthy Nazi who would gladly send me to the grave. Yet I cannot help but pity him. But as you say, it is not possible."
They walked over to Olivia. Cain thanked the father for his help.
"Has our guest departed?" the priest asked.
Cain and Danziger exchanged glances.
"He remains in the sacristy," Danziger said. "At the moment he is somewhat upset. It would probably be best to give him a few more moments alone. In the meantime, would it be all right if we were to exit that way?" He pointed toward a door off to the side at the front of the church. "Some rather dubious-looking people harassed the girl on our way in, and we'd prefer to exit by a different route."
Danziger winked at Olivia, who held her tongue.
"Of course," the father answered. "I will show you out."
Back on the street they walked two blocks in silence before pausing to make sure that Gerhard wasn't in pursuit.
"Neatly done," Cain said.
"I suppose we should not be so proud of our deceit," Danziger said.
"Were you able to help that man?" Olivia asked. Cain looked to Danziger.
"We did what we could," the older man said. "We did what we could."
"What's he afraid of?" she asked.
Danziger knelt so that they were eye to eye.
"The world, young lady. A world of his own making, I am sorry to say. I believe he described his situation best when he spoke the words of your holy book. 'The wolf shall dwell with the lamb.' For a while, he was the wolf. Now, at least in his own mind, he is the lamb."
"Which one are we?"
"A very sharp question, my dear. The kind that only a father should answer."
Danziger stood, nodded a farewell, and turned to go. They watched until he rounded the corner. Olivia was still awaiting an answer. Cain hadn't yet decided what to say, but he knew one thing for sure. He certainly didn't feel like the wolf.
# 33
NOW IT WAS HARRIS EUSTON who wouldn't return a phone call.
On Sunday, Cain left three messages with the doorman at Euston's apartment building on the Upper East Side. By nine thirty Monday morning he had already tried the number at Willett & Reed five times. Each time he got a polite but curt assurance from a secretary that Mr. Euston would call back at his earliest convenience.
He had no better luck in reaching Herman Keller, whose phone had been disconnected, and whose office on 86th Street was locked and seemingly deserted. Presumably the man had gone into hiding. Maybe he, too, was now fearing Anastasia's wrath. Briefly he considered phoning Chase National Bank, just to rattle a few cages, but he had no idea who to ask for or even what questions to ask, and decided that at this point it would create more trouble than it was worth.
Between phone calls, Cain handled more busywork for Mulhearn. When no one else was listening he managed to squeeze in a request to the Bureau of Criminal Identification for their files on Albert Anastasia. A clerk promised they'd be delivered to the station house by noon the following day, meaning that by then everyone in the 14th precinct would know about it.
On his final attempt to reach Euston, shortly after five p.m., Cain told the secretary, "Tell him that if he doesn't answer then I'll be calling on him at home tonight. You'll tell him that, won't you?"
"Certainly, sir. But I do know that Mr. Euston has plans for this evening, an important charity event, so he may not be available until quite late. Perhaps it would be better if you phoned here tomorrow morning. I'm sure he'll respond at his earliest convenience."
"I'm sure he will. Maybe even before the end of the war."
Cain slammed the receiver down. Important event, my ass, he thought. But it gave him an idea.
All sorts of local socialites seemed to be holding charity fundraisers associated with the war effort, and in recent weeks he'd seen notices of them several times a week in the society pages of the newspapers. A few times he'd spotted Willett & Reed among the sponsors.
He retrieved Mulhearn's copy of the Sunday _New York Times,_ and within ten minutes he found what he was looking for in a short article headlined "Fete to Aid Children's Fund." Euston's law firm was listed among the organizers for the black-tie event, which would be held at the Park Avenue home of a Mrs. Gordon Eglinton Stewart, to raise money to help feed and clothe British children orphaned by German bombing raids. There was even a minor celebrity scheduled to appear, the story said, noting, "At the event, Lady Ashfield will tell of her work in the evacuation of British children."
Jolly good, Cain thought, wondering how Lady Ashfield would react if she knew that one of her American sponsors was up to his neck in legal dealings with a sponsor of Nazi saboteurs. Probably not with a stiff upper lip.
In hopes of achieving maximum impact upon arrival, Cain waited until an hour after the event had begun before he showed up at the apartment building, where a doorman attired as grandly as a nineteenth-century general waved him into a lobby with a marble floor, a chandelier, and pink marble columns. Off to the side, a string quartet played a Bach concerto. A large desk stood between the entrance and the elevators. Manning it was another garishly clad satrap holding a clipboard.
"I'm here for Mrs. Gordon Eglinton Stewart's soiree," Cain said, relishing every syllable.
"Your name, please?"
"Woodrow Cain."
The man checked the sheet on his clipboard, scanning it twice and then nodding as if confirming what he'd suspected all along.
"I'm sorry, sir, but you're not on the guest list. And were you aware that the event was black-tie?"
"I don't care if it's buck naked. Just tell me the floor."
"Sir, you're _not invited._ If I have to, I'll telephone the police."
Cain took out his shield. "They've just arrived. Tell me the floor, please, unless you'd prefer I called in a few uniforms. We can always go floor by floor until we find the place."
"Twenty-two," the man said, going a little pale. "But, sir, you do realize this is a _charity_ event?"
"I'll make sure to drop a dime in the plate on the way out."
Mrs. Gordon Eglinton Stewart, or perhaps her husband, must have been filthy rich. They owned the entire twenty-second floor. The elevator opened onto a small alcove with a rather grand-looking door dead ahead. Cain could already hear conversation, laughter, and the clinking of glasses.
He knocked. It opened instantly. Inside he was greeted by some sort of valet who was taking coats. The man looked askance at Cain's rumpled suit, and seemed on the verge of commenting when Cain again flashed his shield and said, "Don't mind me. This shouldn't take more than a few minutes."
Cain drew a few stares as he crossed the room, but hardly noticed as he surveyed the opulence of his surroundings, not to mention the spectacular view of the city through the huge windows along the front. Further doorways opened to either side—the one to the left onto a dining room and then, beyond it, some sort of parlor. To the right was a library. There must have been close to a hundred people here, scattered through the apartment. The women were dressed grandly, most of them in white or black evening gowns. Every man except him was in black tie. He had thought earlier that his workaday suit would make him feel empowered, or perhaps boldly revolutionary among the privileged. He realized now that he only felt belittled and all too noticeable. The moment of swagger he'd experienced while lording it over the deskman was gone. He wished Beryl were here. He was betting she wouldn't be at all intimidated by this setup, and at the very least she'd be able to buck him up for the task ahead.
With that in mind he straightened his tie, took a deep breath, and quickly scanned the room for Euston, hoping to find him before anyone else asked him to leave. There he was, in the dining room.
Cain set out toward a long table brimming with appetizing food. An attendant stood ready to carve slices from a rib roast, and there were silver platters of orange and black caviar. He doubted any children of Britain would be eating as well tonight as the esteemed Lady Ashfield, whom he now saw on the far side of the room, standing out from the others with a regal bearing and a very proper accent.
Euston looked up just as Cain was approaching. Surprise registered in his eyes, but only for an instant. He spoke before Cain could open his mouth.
"Well, aren't you the fish out of water, Woodrow. Let me guess. You forgot your invitation."
"Actually I've got one right here." Cain again flashed his shield.
Euston moved up in his face. "Ah, the all-purpose pass for steerage. If you're on police business then we'd better take this outside." He sneered as he spoke, as if they were standing in a school hallway and preparing to mix it up. Maybe they were.
Cain barely resisted the urge to bump Euston's chest. But he didn't back down, not even when Euston dug his fingers into Cain's left forearm and attempted to steer him toward the door.
"Indoors works just fine for me, Euston. In fact, I'd like a drink first, and I'm going to let you get it for me. Unless you'd like me to tell the good Lady Ashfield all about your recent adventures with your friends up in Yorkville?"
Euston released his grip and, glowering, went straight to the bar in the sitting room, where a stout black man in a white dinner jacket presided over a full range of offerings. Euston turned with an inquiring glance. Cain mouthed the word "Bourbon."
The host, like the Union League Club, hadn't scrimped on supplies. It was the best bourbon Kentucky had to offer, and it came in a glass of beveled crystal. Cain liked the way the first swallow smoldered as it settled into his belly. Euston, who'd been holding a drink earlier, was now empty-handed.
"What about you?" Cain asked. "Where's your invitation?"
"Mrs. Stewart is a longtime client. She's second cousin to a Vanderbilt, once removed."
"Does that even count?"
"Come on, let's go." Euston again took Cain's arm, more gently this time. "Let's do this with a little dignity, at least."
Cain relented, if only because people had begun to stare. They went back out into the small alcove, where Euston shut the door behind them.
"Tell me about your client over in Yorkville," Cain said, "the one who moves in the same circles as Lutz Lorenz. You remember Lorenz, don't you? That guy whose name didn't ring a bell at lunch the other day?"
"We have lots of clients in all parts of this city, Woodrow, so I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about."
"The one who likes hanging out in beer halls with Bundists. Does that help?"
"You're foaming at the mouth, Woodrow. So I happen to represent a few German-Americans. I represent Italian-Americans as well. Do you know that the authorities even arrested Joe DiMaggio's father the other day, for pity's sake? And does anyone truly believe _he's_ a threat to our country? Yet now I suppose you intend to tar and feather me, or perhaps the good name of Willett & Reed, simply because some of our clients happen to be of German heritage? Is that your game?"
"Okay, you had your chance. Herman Keller. Does that one ring a bell?"
Euston flinched. Now he looked like he wished he'd brought his drink. He lowered his head and spoke into his chest. "Mr. Keller is no longer a client."
"Was that still the case when you were fixing his gambling charge with the boys in the 95 Room last month? What's the going rate for that, by the way? And I'm guessing you already knew Keller's connection to Werner Hansch, that fellow we fished out of the Hudson. That's why you were so eager for updates on the case when we lunched at your club. Lorenz was in on their arrangement, too, although I gather he's in some sort of protective custody now. Am I beginning to refresh your memory?"
But by then Euston had recovered from the initial shock and had begun to collect himself. He straightened and came right back at Cain, raising his voice.
"As you no doubt are aware, Woodrow, anything that previously took place between Mr. Keller and me is strictly protected, even and _especially_ from the likes of you, by the sanctity of attorney-client privilege. So don't even try."
"Which of your big banking clients are you protecting with this bullshit, Euston? Chase? That's my guess. They were using Keller to front this Reichsmarks-to-dollars thing, weren't they? Hitler needed an international bankroll, and they were happy to help him collect it, as long as they got to make a killing on the commissions."
Euston went red in the face. "All right, then," he said. "If attorney-client privilege doesn't do the trick, how about a few personal considerations? With only the slightest exertion, Woodrow, I could break you in this town. Break you right back to Horton, where nobody will ever trust you again. Break you so badly that you'd even lose that fine daughter of yours."
"And who'd take care of her then, you?"
"What makes you think I haven't already made arrangements? What makes you think you'll retain custody even if you manage to hang on here by your fingernails?"
Cain backed him against the wall. "You know what really breaks a man these days, Euston? Striking it rich by cutting deals with the enemy, and then having the news spread all over town. The way I see it, you and your clients are up to your eyeballs with a bunch of kraut saboteurs. So you want to break me? Try it. And if you like the _Daily News_ so much, maybe you'll enjoy landing on their front page. One of those big screamer headlines. _Hitler's Park Avenue Lawyer._ I bet that would sell a ton of papers, even in this building, don't you think?"
Euston seemed on the verge of throwing a punch when the door opened and a middle-aged man stepped into the hallway.
"Harris? I heard shouting, is everything all right?"
Cain flashed his shield and stepped briskly toward him. "Get the hell back inside until I'm through here. This man's a disgrace to you and me and everybody in that room."
The man blanched as white as his starched shirt, and he quickly retreated before shutting the door behind him.
"You'll pay for that as well, Woodrow."
"Good. Maybe I'll send the bill to Lady Ashfield. Go ahead. Start slinging mud right now, if you want, and we'll see whose name comes out dirtiest. But let me tell you one more thing that ought to sober you up. If shame doesn't move you, fine, I can work with that. How about fear?"
"You're threatening me?"
"Not me. Wouldn't dream of it. But how about the guy who seems to be single-handedly trying to clean up the mess that your client and his friends have made? Albert Anastasia. The Mad Hatter. Kills whoever he wants, and if he ever got word that you're part of the mess, then I wouldn't like your chances for tea with Lady Ashfield anytime soon."
Euston opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. He backed up a step, looking like someone had knocked the wind out of him, and his next words emerged in a hoarse whisper.
"Now be reasonable, Woodrow." He again took hold of Cain's arm, but this time in the manner of a supplicant, seeking mercy. "Whatever you think of me, I'm family. Right now I'm a big part of what's supporting you and Olivia, and I'm all that Clovis has left. Love her or hate her, she's still the mother of your child."
"Then give me something. If you want me to keep your name out of it, fine. Cover your ass to hell and back, and Chase Bank's, too. But where is Keller? Where is he hiding? Where has he gone?"
Euston exhaled loudly and lowered his head. "Jersey. Across the river."
Cain got out his notebook, wedging it beneath his glass of bourbon.
"Where in Jersey?"
"Edison."
"I need an address."
Euston nodded. "Hand me that, plus your pencil."
Cain gave him the notebook and Euston began to write.
"If there's a phone number, give me that as well."
"There isn't. It's bare-bones, practically an empty apartment. Not even a man on the door."
"You'd think with all those Reichsmarks and dollars Chase could have at least afforded a bodyguard."
Euston opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it. He handed back the notebook and pencil. Then he crossed his arms and sighed loudly.
"I will stand by anything and everything we have done on his behalf," he finally said. "Our actions at the time were perfectly legal, and we've adhered to the highest professional standards throughout."
"And at a nice hourly rate, I'm sure. Next time you speak to him, you might advise him to cooperate fully when the authorities come knocking. Understood?"
"I told you, he's no longer a client."
"Right. Now he's just a tenant." Cain handed Euston the crystal cocktail glass, which was still half full of bourbon. "Here. You need it more than I do."
He turned and pushed the button for the elevator. Behind him, he heard the door opening to the party, a spill of laughter and conversation, with a woman's voice rising above it in a refined British accent. Lady Ashfield giving a speech, something bland about hands across the water. She spoke Hitler's name just as the door shut.
He wondered what Euston would tell his buddies about the interruption. He was even more curious about what Herman Keller would have to say. The elevator opened. Cain stepped aboard feeling like he'd just faced down a bully. But he had also stirred things up, quite violently, and by the time he was strolling past the doorman downstairs he was already wondering if he'd made a huge mistake.
# 34
HERMAN KELLER WAS NOWHERE to be found. Or so said the police in Edison, New Jersey, who grudgingly checked the address Euston had written down, only to report back that no one had answered their knock on the door.
Maybe he was hiding inside. Maybe Euston had faked the address, or warned off Keller, who had taken off to points unknown. Cain told the desk sergeant in Edison that it might be worth forcing entry on the next try, but short of a search warrant or something more solid he realized that wasn't likely. Nor did Cain have time to cross the river to see for himself. Captain Mulhearn had seen to that by loading him up with fresh paperwork.
At eleven a.m. Cain also gave up on those chores when a clerk from the Bureau of Criminal Identification arrived at his desk with a boxful of files on Albert Anastasia. It was quite a haul—arrest records, charge sheets, eyewitness reports, and plenty of lurid newspaper stories. Paper-clipped to a rap sheet on top was a two-year-old mug shot. Anastasia stared up at him with an "I dare you" face—intense dark eyes, a small crooked mouth, strong chin, puffy cheeks, and a broad nose that looked like it might have been broken a few times. Black wavy hair, combed straight back from a high forehead, and piled into a high ridge on the left. Reading the particulars, Cain saw that Anastasia was thirty-nine, meaning he probably still had plenty of fight in him.
"What you got there?" It was Simmons, munching on a sandwich.
"Nothing much."
Cain closed the box. Mulhearn stood only a few desks away, inching closer by the minute. The last thing he needed was to have everyone start poking their noses in. Loose lips sink ships, and his was already taking on water. He hefted the box, carried it downstairs to an empty interview room, and began to read.
Anastasia had come to New York at seventeen on a freighter from Italy with three brothers. He took a job as a longshoreman on the Brooklyn waterfront, and within two years he had killed a man, for which he was convicted and sentenced to death. That's where his story should have ended. Instead, he won a new trial on a technicality, and by then all four witnesses had disappeared. It would become a recurring pattern, right up through last November.
In 1928 a second murder charge in Brooklyn was dropped when the witnesses vanished or clammed up. In 1931 Anastasia was named as a participant in the killing of Joe "The Boss" Masseria, which had cleared the way for the ascent of Charles "Lucky" Luciano, the very man whose attorney was now meeting with Murray Gurfein and Meyer Lansky. No one was charged. A year later Anastasia was booked for killing a man with an ice pick. No witnesses, charge dropped. The following year brought another murder charge, also dropped for the same reason.
In the mid-thirties, cops and mobsters began calling Anastasia and his pals Murder, Inc. It was an industrial-strength subsidiary of the mob, a specialty shop for which no lethal assignment was too difficult. Cain took note of its purported hangout: Midnight Rose's, a candy store on Saratoga Avenue in Brooklyn. The very place where Gerhard had watched Werner Hansch disappear into the back seat of a Packard. He also noted several references to an associate, Clarence Cohen, the fellow whose recent gambling charge had been erased in the 14th precinct, thanks to the boys in the 95 Room. He shook his head and flipped to the next page.
Anastasia's most notorious work had come during the past several years. In 1939 he arranged the murders of a rival union official and an upstart union activist. Both cases made big headlines. But his boldest stroke had occurred only five months ago, a few weeks before Pearl Harbor, when Anastasia took notice of mob guy Abe Reles. Reles was cooperating with government prosecutors in cases against Anastasia and others. The authorities, understandably worried for Reles's safety, stashed him on the sixth floor of a Coney Island hotel and posted armed guards at the door. Reles was then found dead on a rooftop a floor below his room's open window. The latest theory was that Anastasia had offered a $100,000 reward for the deed. The press wasted no time in coming up with a nickname for Reles: "The canary who could sing, but couldn't fly."
Cain toted up the body count. Eight in all, plus dozens of other cases in which Murder, Inc. was implicated, not to mention the three dead Germans, with a fourth now living on borrowed time in some flophouse on the Bowery. He sighed and put everything back into the box.
But he also took note of one thing Anastasia _hadn't_ yet done. He had never killed a cop. A small matter, perhaps, unless you were a cop. It gave Cain a measure of comfort as he contemplated how aggressively to pursue his case. It was Danziger who'd need protection. And any witnesses, of course. Gerhard, Lorenz, and probably Herman Keller as well.
What he still couldn't figure was why Anastasia would have involved himself in a plot to burn the _Normandie._ Yes, he had been born in Italy. But, as Danziger had said, mob guys despised Mussolini.
Cain resealed the box for delivery back to the Bureau of Criminal Identification. Just as he returned to his desk, Mulhearn dropped off yet another case for him to work on. At the next desk over, Yuri Zharkov smiled ruefully.
"Look on the bright side," Zharkov said. "It's time for lunch, and you look like you could use a break."
"I could use about ten of 'em."
"There's a Russian joint not far from here. My treat, if you're interested. The food's top notch and the vodka's homemade. A shot or two might change your whole outlook."
Cain was tempted.
"What I really need to do is head uptown. Or even over to Jersey, if only I could swing a car for the afternoon."
"Just so happens I can take care of that as well. I've got use of a radio car for the rest of the day. And, well, maybe after lunch...?"
"Now that you put it that way, a little borscht and vodka would really hit the spot. But how'd you manage a car?"
"Let's just say Mulhearn owes me. Which means he won't make a peep even if he sees you walking out the door with me. When we're done, I'll run you across the river."
"Lead the way."
The patrol car was parked right out front, a '41 Plymouth with a black body and a white roof.
"Nice wheels."
"Only the best when your captain wants you to keep your mouth shut."
"Care to say what you've got on him?"
"Then it wouldn't be a secret."
Cain laughed, but wondered what Zharkov might be willing to hush up in exchange for a few favors. Zharkov drove uptown. They got hung up in heavy traffic near Times Square before Zharkov invoked a little policeman's privilege by blaring the siren to clear a path. Half a block later he turned up an alley behind a row of stout buildings along Broadway.
"Where the hell's this Russian place?"
"Dead ahead."
Zharkov braked sharply and pulled alongside a loading dock where laundry carts were piled with sheets and towels. Four men in cheap suits and fedoras came sprinting out an open cargo bay and hopped down into the alley, surrounding the car. Zharkov kept his hands on the wheel and his foot on the brake, even as one of the men opened the passenger door.
"What the hell, Yuri?"
Cain reached for his sidearm, but Zharkov beat him to it.
"It's for your own good."
Hands grabbed Cain and pulled him into the alley.
"Is that what you say to all of them?" he asked.
Zharkov wouldn't look at him. He just waited for the door to close and drove away.
Two men had Cain by the arms, one on either side. The other two walked in front and behind. He tried once to wiggle free, but couldn't shake their grip. But they didn't hit him, didn't threaten him. Nor did they look particularly like mob guys. They were clean-shaven and had short haircuts, and their suits looked straight off the rack, like the kind you might buy on a government salary.
"Is this some kind of shakedown?"
"Relax, fella. Right now you're safer than Fort Knox."
They hauled him up the steps of the loading dock and took him down a hallway and through a big kitchen, where men in white smocks were washing dishes. They came out the other side into a corridor where a service elevator stood with its doors open, ready to roll. They went up a floor, to the mezzanine, and when the doors opened Cain saw that they were in the Hotel Astor. They rounded a corner and he knew exactly where he was: just outside the offices of the Executives Association of Greater New York, where Naval Intelligence officer "Red" Haffenden presided over whatever private operation he'd cooked up with his mob buddies. Doomed or not, Cain at least felt like he was on the verge of learning something.
They entered an office where a neatly dressed middle-aged woman sat behind a desk. She stood and knocked on the door of an adjoining room before sticking her head inside.
"He's here, sir. They have him."
"Thank you, Elizabeth," a man answered. "Bring him in. And please hold all calls."
"Yes, sir."
She turned and nodded. The two men marched Cain forward, although by now his curiosity was piqued enough that he would have gone voluntarily. He entered a narrow room with a long table where six men were seated. The man who presumably was Haffenden stood from a chair at the far end. He wore a full dress Navy uniform with a star and three stripes on each sleeve. Murray Gurfein and his boss, DA Frank Hogan, were seated on the right side, opposite three men on the left whom Cain didn't recognize, although he was pretty sure that Socks Lanza was the third one down.
"Detective Sergeant Cain, I'm Lieutenant Commander Haffenden, U.S. Naval Intelligence, although I believe you already knew that. All the more reason we need to confer with you. Be seated."
Cain sat at the opposite end. His escorts left the room.
"I believe you're already acquainted with Mr. Hogan and Mr. Gurfein, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
Cain felt like he'd been called before a military tribunal, with Haffenden preparing to present evidence. Beneath the table he wiped sweaty palms on his trousers.
"The first of these gentlemen to my right is Mr. Joseph Lanza. I understand you attempted to visit him under some sort of cockamamie fake name."
A frowning Lanza nodded to drive home the point.
"To Mr. Lanza's right is Mr. Moses Polakoff, who is here this afternoon on behalf of his client, Mr. Charles Luciano."
"Soon to be residing at Great Meadows prison, correct?" Cain couldn't resist. If they were going to muzzle him, strong-arm him, or worse, he at least wanted to get in a few shots. Haffenden waited a beat, as if controlling his temper.
"He is. Although that is privileged information, Detective Cain, and it would be best for all concerned if you were not to repeat it outside this room. In fact, this is probably a good time to remind you that everything you'll be hearing is privileged information. Top secret. We'll be asking you to sign an FBI confidentiality agreement once we're done. On second thought, let's take care of that now, shall we, Frank?"
Hogan nodded, and Gurfein slid forward a legal-sized page of small print on an FBI letterhead, with his full name typed beneath a blank line for his signature.
"Should I even bother to read it?"
"Only if you want to waste our time," Hogan said. "It's boilerplate."
Cain nodded. The man to his immediate left, an exquisitely dressed fellow sitting on what Cain already thought of as the mob side of the table, offered him the use of a sleek and expensive-looking fountain pen. He had big ears, dark eyebrows, and intense narrow-set eyes that seemed to take your measure in an instant.
"Thank you," Cain said. "I don't believe we've been introduced."
"I'm sure Red will correct that oversight shortly. First things first."
Cain took the pen, warm from its resting place inside the man's shirt pocket, and signed the document. The scratching of the nib against paper was the only sound in the room. Cain started to hand back the pen. Then, thinking better of it, he dropped it into his pocket. This drew an enigmatic smile from the pen's owner. Gurfein took the document and handed it to Hogan, who locked it in a briefcase.
"Let's hope the rest of our business this afternoon proceeds as smoothly," Haffenden said. "Now I'd like you to meet Mr. Meyer Lansky, whose pen you just stole."
The others laughed uncomfortably. Cain managed a weak smile, which seemed to please Lansky a great deal. Cain met his gaze and tried not to waver. The Little Man, that's what Danziger had called him. Maybe Cain would've recognized him if everyone had been standing.
"Very well," Haffenden said. "Let's get down to business."
Lanza took the opportunity to glare at Cain once again. Lansky merely nodded, which somehow bothered him more. Hogan and Gurfein were preoccupied with their notes, and Polakoff was already glancing at his watch.
"Detective Cain, we've invited you here today—"
" _Invited_ me, sir?"
This drew another round of uneasy laughter, but Haffenden wasn't amused.
"Let's not get hung up on logistics," he said. "You're here by whatever means because your work has become a nuisance and, frankly, a danger to an ongoing operation vital to our national security, a highly sensitive intelligence arrangement involving the cooperation of every man in this room, and quite a few of their associates."
"Criminal associates, you mean."
"Call them what you will, but in this instance they are acting legally and with the full consent of local and federal authorities."
"Doing what?"
"Finally, a relevant question. They are acting as our eyes and ears, sir, all along the waterfront. From Manhattan to Brooklyn and on over to Jersey, at every shipyard and loading dock, and aboard every fishing smack. When they're out on the water, they're watching for submarines, or for anyone aiding and abetting them. They're listening for signs of treason, or sabotage, or any loose talk that might tip the enemy to our shipping schedules. Call it unorthodox, I'm fine with that. But these people have power with the unions and clout on the wharves, and for the duration of this war I'm happy and even honored to have them on our side. Agreed, gentlemen?"
Everyone nodded or said yes, although to Cain's eye Gurfein and Hogan didn't look particularly comfortable about it. Whatever else he thought of the arrangement, Cain easily saw its logic. Truckers, fishermen, retailers, and shipping companies had long ago learned that if you wanted to do business on the waterfront, then you had to work with the mob. Perhaps it stood to reason that, with a war on, the government would be just as pragmatic. But at what price? Businessmen paid cash. He wondered what the government was offering. Legal considerations, perhaps, or why else would Hogan and Gurfein be involved?
"What do they get out of it?" Cain asked. "And did you plan on maybe letting the cops know?"
Haffenden frowned and hesitated. Hogan spoke up.
"I can answer part of that. Neither Mr. Luciano nor Mr. Lanza here have been given any special legal considerations whatsoever. Mr. Lanza remains under indictment by my office, and Mr. Luciano's prison sentence remains in force. Mr. Lansky will attest to that, I'm sure. He is currently acting as the liaison between Mr. Luciano and my office. And since you brought it up, Mr. Luciano's move to Great Meadows is a simple matter of convenience. Whenever we need to meet him—or rather, whenever Mr. Lansky needs to meet him on our behalf—he can now do so in roughly half the time. But we have made no promises of leniency, nor will we."
"As for the police," Haffenden said, "to this point we've kept Commissioner Valentine out of the loop for his own damn good. La Guardia as well. But apparently now we're going to have to tell them _something,_ largely because of you."
Cain had been debating whether to take his lesson quietly, or, since this might be his only opportunity, to try to get all the answers he could, even if it meant asking dangerous questions. He decided to opt for the latter, and his first question was a doozy.
"You say you've made no special considerations. Does that apply as well to the associates of these men who've been murdering German laborers? Three of them, so far, with the probable involvement of Albert Anastasia. Who, as far as I can tell, has been trying to cover up a plot to burn the _Normandie,_ a plot which seems to have succeeded pretty damn well."
Haffenden sighed and slowly shook his head, as if he'd just heard the ravings of a lunatic. Hogan's reaction was far more interesting: a startled glance at Gurfein, who frowned and spread his hands, pleading ignorance. Lansky looked down at the table, his expression stony.
Haffenden turned to Hogan.
"Frank, please tell Detective Cain the full results once again of the select investigation of the fire on the _Normandie,_ will you?"
Hogan nodded solemnly and produced a thick file. He plucked a sheet from inside.
"It was an accident, open and shut. This is not merely my opinion, Mr. Cain. It's the firm conclusion of a panel of experts from several walks of life, convened especially for this purpose. Believe me, these were people who _wanted_ to find evidence of espionage if there was any to be found. There's nothing we would have liked better than to pin this on some foreign bogeyman. If you need further convincing, I can arrange for your access to the entire file—every eyewitness account, every expert analysis. I might even be able to arrange for you to speak to the stupid and careless welder who started the whole thing, because God knows he won't be busy with gainful employment anytime soon."
"No need," Cain said. "But if that's true, why have three men been killed? And why is Anastasia involved?"
Hogan lowered his eyes. He looked uncomfortable, the way he probably looked in a courtroom when a defense attorney blindsided him with new information. He jabbed a finger at Cain and raised his voice.
"Mr. Anastasia has nothing to do with this arrangement. If he's a participant in any way, shape, or form, then it is certainly not under our auspices!"
A strong remark, but the lawyerly wording left the door open to complicity by others in the room. Haffenden scowled as if the whole thing were preposterous, or maybe he was upset because Cain had introduced a note of discord to his collegial atmosphere. Lansky continued to look down at the table, no longer smiling. Cain turned toward him.
"Mr. Lansky, is that your understanding as well?"
Lansky looked up abruptly, narrowing his eyes into a gaze so penetrating that Cain almost wished he hadn't asked.
"I concur with everything Mr. Hogan just said. And I'll have you know that I, too, am a patriot, sir, as is every man at this table."
"Well spoken, Meyer," Haffenden said, sounding entirely too chummy for Cain's taste. Hogan and Gurfein were both fiddling with papers.
Lansky, emboldened, continued. "As for whoever might be running around murdering scrappy little Germans with swastikas sewn into their underwear, well...?" He threw up his hands. "It's not as if those fellows get along all that well among themselves."
"Detective Cain," Haffenden said, "if we haven't sufficiently satisfied your curiosity, then you had better speak up now, because the last thing we want is for you to leave this meeting thinking you can simply resume business as before."
"You've answered some questions, obviously. But all of them? No."
"In that case, I believe it's time for our other special guest." He turned toward Gurfein. "Murray, bring him in."
Gurfein returned seconds later with a stout fellow in a gray suit. Cain was guessing he was yet another government lawyer. The man stood behind Hogan's chair.
"Thank you, Murray." Haffenden said. "This is Mr. Lawrence Albright, the U.S. Attorney for North Carolina. Mr. Albright, at taxpayer expense, has come all the way up here from Raleigh on an overnight train, and at very short notice. He tells us that he is in the process of deciding whether to take a new look at a case involving the shooting death of a former colleague of yours, Officer Robert Vance, due to certain irregularities that have come to light in recent weeks."
"Irregularities?" Cain felt his voice fading even as the word left his mouth.
Albright turned to face him, somewhat awkwardly perhaps, although he managed to spout his few scripted lines as if he really believed them.
"Yes, sir. Irregularities. Due to new information, some of it from a member of Mr. Vance's family."
"His brother James, you mean, who'd say or do anything to get back at me. I understand his grief, believe me. I share it. But he's become a bit unhinged, as you may have noticed."
"Be that as it may..." Albright paused to clear his throat. "We're currently considering whether to reopen the investigation with regard to possible federal charges."
"I see."
"I'm sure you do," Haffenden said. "And I'm sure you would prefer to put that matter to rest, just as we would prefer that your intrusive inquiry proceed no further. So do we have an understanding, Mr. Cain?"
He knew when he was whipped. "Yes. I believe we do."
"Outstanding. And by the way, since you're not the only one who's been creating problems, it might behoove you to learn a little more about your co-conspirator, Mr. Danziger. Turns out there is all sorts of readily available information, most of which we were able to discover thanks to your own initial inquiry. So we do have you to thank for that, I suppose. Frank, could you please give him that last item?"
Hogan reached beneath the table and produced a fat, dog-eared folder. He slid it across the table, and Cain's heart sank as he saw the name on the outer edge: Dalitz, Alexander. It was the police file that he'd requested from the Hall of Records. The word "CLOSED" was stamped in red on the outer flap. Below was a handwritten notation in black ink: _"Subject deceased. File closed, Dec. 4, 1928."_
So here it was, then. Everything about Danziger's past, filed under his true identity. And now, thanks to his own curiosity, everyone in the room knew about Sascha Dalitz's disappearing act, and his subsequent resurrection. He'd given them Danziger, served him up as conveniently as a Thanksgiving turkey, and this was their way of letting him know it.
"We've made our own copies," Haffenden said, "so feel free to keep that for as long as you like. As a bonus, we even threw in a nice little story, written long ago by America's favorite scribe of the streets. It's right there on the top."
Cain opened the folder just long enough to see the pages of a magazine story from 1920, written by Damon Runyon. So it was true, then. Danziger had even briefly been famous, or perhaps notorious was the better word. And now maybe he was about to be notorious again, in a way he never would have wanted. Cain felt sick to his stomach.
"You're free to go," Haffenden said.
He stood, saying nothing. He was a little weak in the knees, and he must have looked quite forlorn, because even in their moment of triumph none of the other men would look him in the eye. Except Lansky, who leaned toward him across the table, smiling enigmatically. He beckoned Cain closer, and Cain obliged. Lansky cupped a hand to his mouth and whispered, the words brushing Cain's ear like the wings of a moth: "Give my personal regards to Sascha. Tell him it has been far too long."
Turning to face him, Cain barely controlled a shudder as Lansky smiled again. Then he left the room, passing through the outer office like a sleepwalker. No escorts followed him. He stepped down the hallway toward the front of the building. The doors of an elevator opened as if by request.
"Which way, sir?" a uniformed operator asked brightly.
"Down," Cain said as he stepped aboard. "Ground floor. Straight to the bottom."
# 35
ZHARKOV WAS WAITING FOR HIM in the hotel lobby, hat in hand. He looked a bit sheepish.
"Thought you might need a ride back," he said.
Cain considered walking past him without a word, but Zharkov looked so eager to make amends that he nodded and said, "Guess we're not going to Jersey, huh?"
The patrol car was double-parked on Broadway, a brazen move which drew a few grumbles as they climbed in. Cain said nothing as Zharkov pulled away from the curb. He looked down at the folder in his lap. He opened it, glanced at the Damon Runyon story, and then turned to the pages below, a smattering of arrest reports and eyewitness accounts.
"What you got there?" Zharkov asked.
"The file for Sascha Dalitz."
"So they know?" He sounded upset.
"So do you, from the sound of it."
Zharkov shrugged. He didn't look happy.
Cain looked back at the file. The first thing that jumped out at him were the aliases—aka Sascha, Webster, The Dictionary. So, then. Even the thugs and mobsters had been impressed by his manner of speaking, or perhaps by his command of so many tongues.
Slowly and silently, Cain began to read, skimming pages while Zharkov sat quietly at the wheel, stalled in Broadway traffic. Not that either of them was in a hurry.
The documented crimes began early, at the age of sixteen, but they were petty and infrequent—minor involvement in sidewalk crap games, or running numbers. And as Danziger—or Dalitz—entered his twenties there was practically nothing more. The real news at this point in his life were peripheral mentions, copied into the file from witness statements and charging documents for other suspects charged in far more serious cases involving extortion, assault, murder—crimes for which Dalitz either had been questioned or had turned up as part of the scenery, the background noise. There were a few pages from the NYPD's "modus operandi" file as well, which, when combined with the rest, built a skeletal portrait of an ambitious young man up to his neck in the mobster lifestyle, a workaday regular in the entourage of the kingpin of his era, Arnold Rothstein, aka The Brain.
But it was the Runyon piece that gave the portrait its flesh and blood, albeit without once mentioning Dalitz by name. It was not a newspaper column, as Beryl's uncle Fedya had thought, but a short story from _Collier's_ magazine, in which Runyon described a quiet young man on the cusp of thirty who was known to his fellows as The Dictionary. Runyon set the scene by describing the characters gathered at a Broadway restaurant called Mindy's, which of course was a stand-in for Lindy's. Rothstein appeared simply as The Brain.
_One evening along about eight o'clock I am eating at Mindy's Restaurant when in walks The Brain and all his boys. It is that lonely hour when the hustlers and horseplayers have all gone home with their torn markers and glum faces, scuffling off into a night that is as cold as a blonde's heart._
One of Rothstein's "boys," as it turned out, was The Dictionary. Runyon, the street poet who by all accounts was still hanging out with the likes of Jack Dempsey and Al Capone—or had been, until Capone went to prison—offered a brief close-up of The Dictionary, who he described as keeping to himself more than the others, even while attracting the attention of The Brain whenever an important question arose.
_For even though the boys are chatty tonight, and their gab sounds very dreamy, sometimes very pipe-dreamy, the real action is playing out as if in a back room of some road house off the Pelham Parkway. I learn this just by sitting in my chair without once making it squeak, which allows me to watch the one boy among them who speaks like a man with an education, like even maybe he should be covered in Ivy. He measures his every word, and never acts at all giddy or excited even when he sees, as we all do, the Brain hand a C-note to Mindy._
The piece went on in that vein for a few paragraphs more, painting The Dictionary as a sort of oracle who The Brain consulted from time to time whenever the room got quiet. The story then veered off into a lengthy description of a colorful event in which two of The Brain's other minions played the most prominent roles. By the time you reached the meat of the action, Dalitz, or The Dictionary, had fallen by the wayside. In fact, he had exited Mindy's altogether, and for Cain the most intriguing sentence of the story was Runyon's passing description of The Dictionary's early departure.
_The boys all smile because he leaves on the arm of a doll called Maria who is black haired and built well from the ground up, with one of those heartbreaker faces that says there will soon be tears. And you can bet five to six that they won't be hers, because if there is anything apt to cause trouble it is dolls._
Maria. Cain wondered if it was yet another pseudonym from Runyon, or the real thing? Maybe she had merely been a passing fancy. But the image stuck with him.
He put the story aside and thumbed back through the other pages toward the end. It was all disturbing, he supposed, although not as much of a punch to the gut as he would've guessed. What had Cain expected, after all? Something pretty much like this. For the moment he was far more troubled by having alerted everyone else, Lansky included, to Sascha's new existence as a harmless old letter writer named Danziger.
Then he turned to the final page, and there was the punch to the gut. It was an incident report for a murder, citing a body that had been pulled from the East River on a cold morning in late November of 1928. The naked corpse was bloated from its prolonged soak, and had been severely disfigured by deep knife wounds to the face and chest. Those circumstances made identification difficult, and the body sat for six days on a slab at the city mortuary before an enterprising young beat cop was able to make a positive identification, finally settling the matter to the satisfaction of the medical examiner and the principal investigator.
The dead man, the cop said, was Alexander "Sascha" Dalitz, age thirty-eight. The policeman attested to this fact in a sworn statement, which he signed with a flourish: Patrolman Yuri Zharkov, of the 7th precinct.
Cain was unable to withhold a gasp. He abruptly shut the file and looked out through the windshield. They were stopped at a red light at Broadway and 35th.
"So it was you," he said to Zharkov.
"The guy who gave him his new skin?"
"Yeah."
Zharkov nodded.
"Who was it really? The body, I mean."
Zharkov shrugged. "Who knows? Some nobody. The gangs were going at each other pretty good right then. Everybody was fighting over Rothstein's old turf, so it wasn't exactly a big deal for some stiff to turn up nobody had ever heard of."
"I suppose it was his idea. Danziger's, I mean."
"It's a long story. I'm sure Sascha could tell it better."
"Oh, I'm quite sure of that." Cain's tone was sarcastic enough to draw a look from Zharkov, who then turned back toward the traffic.
"If you're waiting for me to act ashamed then you're going to be waiting a long damn time."
"What did you get out of the deal?"
"A friend worth saving."
"That's all?"
"Like I said. Ask Sascha. Or Danziger, or whatever the fuck you want to call him. But only if you're ready to be the guy who saves him this time around. If all those guys know, then he's pretty fucked. You're aware of that, I hope."
"Well aware. Considering everything I just learned back at the Astor, I'm pretty sure me and him both are fucked. Especially as long as no one seems inclined to do anything about the Mad Hatter."
Zharkov frowned darkly. His hands tightened on the steering wheel.
"Anastasia's involved in this?"
"Has been all along, apparently. Just not in any sort of officially sanctioned role."
Zharkov whistled and shook his head. "Shit. Poor Sascha."
"Yeah," Cain said without much emotion. "Poor Sascha."
He glanced down at the file, with all its evidence of Danziger's misspent youth and beyond, all the way up to age thirty-eight.
"How 'bout if you take me on home? Not sure I can stand another whole afternoon of Mulhearn."
"I'll cover for you."
"I'm sure you will. You're good at that."
Zharkov might have winced, but he didn't speak. Cain entered his apartment building in a bit of a daze, which is probably why he didn't pick up on it right away when the day doorman, Tom, began to gush about how Cain must really be coming up in the world, a real man of means, based on the posh treatment his family was getting these days.
"Ain't that right, sir?"
Cain turned at the base of the stairwell. Tom was grinning ear to ear.
"What was that, Tom?"
"I mean, driving around in limos. Or practically limos, from what I could see. Living in the lap of luxury. At least, that's pretty much how everybody else on the block must have seen it."
"Back up a second. Who are we talking about here?"
"Why, your little Olivia! And Miss Eileen. Less than an hour ago, climbing into that big black Packard like they owned half of Macy's or something."
Cain's backbone went rigid.
"Say that again. Olivia got into a black Packard? Going where?"
"Straight to the Plaza for tea and crumpets for all I know, Mr. Cain. You mean to tell me you didn't know about this? We all figured you was putting on airs!"
"Who took them? Who made them get in?"
"Made them, sir?" Tom's smile disappeared.
"Did they get in on their own, or was somebody forcing them? Who the hell was in that car, Tom?"
Cain's fear was contagious. Tom was now blinking rapidly as he racked his brain for details of what he'd witnessed less than an hour ago.
"I dunno, sir. It all happened so fast, and so smooth. If I'd have thought something bad was going down I sure as hell would've done something. Do you think—?"
"I don't know what to think. But I need to find them."
Cain pushed back through the door and onto the sidewalk. He ran toward the street, looking left and right for the patrol car so he could flag down Zharkov. But the patrol car was gone. Cain was in a panic, out of breath and out of ideas.
All he could think of was the black Packard that Gerhard had watched pulling up to the curb on Saratoga Avenue, just before Werner Hansch and Albert Anastasia climbed in.
# 36
# DANZIGER
IN APRIL 1917, SHORTLY BEFORE my twenty-sixth birthday, I tried to become a soldier in the United States Army. The world was at war and I wished to do my part. I meant to "beat back the Hun," as the placards said, even though by birth I _was_ a Hun. I saw it as my chance to prove that I was at last fully American, and with my mother and father long gone there was no one to object. Or so I thought.
Out of professional courtesy I decided to notify my boss of my intentions, the very man of genius and largesse who had utilized my talents to date, and, by doing so, had turned me into a somewhat polished man of means.
It was early evening by the time I steeled myself for this task. He sat in his usual booth at Lindy's, dapper as ever in a pressed suit, starched shirt, and his almost dainty bow tie. I detected the scent of his aftershave as he welcomed me into what passed for his office. I must have been more nervous about it than I wanted to let on, because I remember trying to strike a casual pose by leaning against the coatrack. I cleared my throat and broke the news.
"I am going to enlist."
"Enlist?"
"For the war."
"You already _have_ enlisted," he said, gesturing grandly with his right arm to encompass the room and all his minions and petitioners, gathered under one roof as they did each and every night. It was, in that sense, very much like a corporate headquarters.
"With the draft board, I mean."
"I know what you mean. But you're needed here, Sascha. For this war, which will still be going long after the one in Europe has ended."
I eyed him closely. The intensity of his resolve was written in the steady coolness of his eyes. He was practically daring me to blink. Then, as it became clear that I wouldn't, he rose slowly and placed a hand on my shoulder. Under other circumstances it might have felt protective, but at the moment it seemed only as if he were driving home the message that he would never willingly release his hold. For the first time since we had met, I was genuinely frightened by the man.
Yet, I could not resist raising at least the possibility of a challenge to his authority.
"And if I sign up anyway?"
"Well, you know what becomes of deserters, don't you? In anyone's army, theirs or ours."
I nodded, hoping that he would see that I had exhausted the limits of my resistance, and therefore needed no further explanation. Apparently he was not convinced, because he then elucidated further by miming the shape of a pistol with his right hand. He held this pose briefly before snapping down his thumb like a firing hammer.
"Bang," he said.
Then he smiled, so that we could pretend it was a joke, even though we both knew it wasn't.
So, I stayed home in New York, and continued to fight in that other war which only occasionally made the newspapers, issuing its casualty reports in ones and twos. I suppose you might say I worked in the intelligence corps, a role which fortunately did not often lend itself to criminal charges or grand jury proceedings.
That alarming moment of candor made me realize that there would never be any safe exit from this world unless I was willing to take extraordinary measures. It was then that I first began to contemplate what those measures might entail, even though I would not come up with a satisfactory answer for another eleven and a half years.
Now, having heard the terrible name of Anastasia in association with this scheme that Mr. Cain and I have stumbled upon, I realize that those extraordinary measures, which once seemed foolproof, were almost certainly insufficient. And with the world once again in conflict I fully expect in the days to come to be called back into active duty in that other, lesser war, the one closer to home, the one in which service is always compulsory. Except this time my charge as a soldier will be to protect Mr. Cain and his daughter. Having drawn them into the line of fire, I must vow to act more out of concern for their safety than my own.
Such were my thoughts as I rounded the corner onto Rivington Street and saw, to my horror, that the windows and doors for house number 174 were pouring black smoke into the gray skies above. A crowd stood outside, clamoring, alarmed, mouths open. A long truck of the fire brigade had arrived, and men in red helmets were smashing forward with axes and hoses. I thought of all those lives trapped inside, in their snug holes and crevices, spirits which now seemed to be rising from the windows with each bellow of smoke.
I cried out loudly and ran. Reaching a cordon of neighbors, I shoved them aside, desperate for entry, until my progress was halted by a pair of rough hands that seized me from behind and threw me backward to the ground. I looked up expecting to see an overzealous fireman, but instead beheld two grinning men in fedoras and dark pinstripe suits who began kicking me with the toes of their lace-up Italian shoes.
"It burns, and you're gone, chump!" the one on the right said as his toe hammered my rib cage.
I rolled onto my stomach just as a blow from the other direction glanced off my head. I already felt light-headed, trying to fend off their kicks with my arms at my sides even as their blows drummed my ribs and my back. I heard shouting, some sort of commotion in the crowd beyond, and then the noise went fuzzy and the world grew dim. That was when the kicking suddenly stopped, leaving my ears ringing and my body in agony, but my consciousness intact. Slowly, painfully, I raised myself onto my knees. Then a hand came down to help me, pulling me unsteadily to my feet.
It was Yuri Zharkov, I saw now, although my eyes were swimming. A police patrol car, its door open and the engine still running, was pulled to the edge of the crowd at a violent angle. Half the people were still watching the fire, and half were watching me. Another policeman, arriving on foot, held one of the thugs at gunpoint. The other had presumably made his escape.
"You okay, Sascha?"
Zharkov looked back and forth between me and the thug, who had a nasty welt in his forehead with an imprint of the grain of Zharkov's gun stock. The thug was swaying on his feet, even woozier than me.
"I think so." I patted myself to check for anything broken.
"Here," Zharkov said, handing me a handkerchief. "Your nose is bloody."
I tasted salt and wiped at my face. The handkerchief came away red, so I held it again to my nostrils and squeezed.
"You need to find a bolthole and stay in it," Zharkov said.
"You expect there will be more of them?"
"Your secret's out. _Our_ secret. Cain, everybody, they all know it. Hogan, Lansky, everybody. I'll make do, you know how that works, but you are well and truly fucked."
"Yes," I said, taking it all in. A gust of smoke blew through us, acrid and stinking of burned paper, suddenly reminding me of why moments ago I had been in such a panic.
"My letters!" I exclaimed, turning. But as I did so, a shower of sparks blew toward us and the gasping crowd surged back. We heard the crash and splintering roar of falling timbers. The roof was collapsing. The house was caving in on itself. _My_ house. My neighborhood nerve center, with all its memories, its archival importance, turning to ashes before my eyes.
I sank to my knees. I saw no way forward, no way of moving anywhere at all. And for a moment or two I contemplated how I might most easily finish what the two thugs had begun. Drown myself, shoot myself, jump off a bridge. Into the East River, perhaps, to join my mother and father.
Then I shuddered and drew a few deep breaths to clear my head of smoke and fear and pain. I stood, regaining my balance more easily than I would have thought possible. Zharkov told me to get into the patrol car. His words came to me muted and wavery, as if we were both underwater.
However dimly, I now realized that one course still remained open to me—a dark and slender path leading back into the past. Just as I'd suspected, just as I'd feared, I had become a soldier again, called back to duty in the only war I had ever known.
"Get in," Zharkov said again, taking me by the arm. "We have to find someplace where you'll be safe for a while."
"Yes," I said, nodding.
I was eager to get moving, eager to tend to my wounds. It was time to re-enlist.
# 37
CAIN'S PANIC MOVED INTO its second hour.
He had already phoned Danziger three times and Beryl twice. No answer at the former, but he had finally reached Beryl, who vowed to be there as fast as she could. In desperation for any possible help he had even tried to reach Harris Euston, but all he got was his father-in-law's secretary, who curtly took a message and told him that her boss was gone for the day, even though it was only three p.m.
Finally he tried phoning Zharkov at the station house, but neither the detective nor the patrol car had returned, and for the moment both were unreachable by radio.
Briefly he toyed with the idea of asking Mulhearn to sound the alarm, or put out an APB for his daughter. But he knew from experience that they fielded missing person calls like this all the time, and never did a damn thing until at least forty-eight hours had passed. And for all he knew, Mulhearn, or Maloney, or another of his corrupt colleagues from the 14th precinct was in on the whole thing, so what was the use?
Going stir-crazy as he paced the floor of the small kitchen, Cain grabbed his keys, ran down the stairs, and headed for the street. Tom the doorman bounded to his feet, following Cain onto the sidewalk.
"Any luck, sir?"
"No," he called over his shoulder. "Not a sign."
He had no plan, no leads, no ideas, and at first all he could think to do was circle the block, if only to burn off nervous energy. He then expanded his orbit by a block in each direction, on the slim hope of stumbling onto Olivia and Eileen in some park or school playground, or on the stoop of a beneficent friend or neighbor who would turn out to be the person who'd generously sent the limo, although Cain knew that didn't make a damn bit of sense.
Misery seemed to be everywhere he looked. A young woman emerged from a store in tears; a beggar fell to his knees at the curb, pants torn, ranting about a spilled cup of coffee; the old grocer Aldo from around the corner, usually so cheerful, stood morosely in his doorway, head down. On Seventh Avenue, Cain looked up at the sky hoping to see a hopeful expanse of blue, but instead felt hemmed in by the tall buildings, windows reflecting sunlight so sharply that it hurt his eyes. Omens and portents, all of them bad.
He stopped to collect himself and was immediately bumped into from behind.
"Move it, bud!"
This wasn't bustle, or vibrancy. It was a stampede before an ill wind. He resumed his progress, such as it was, and as he returned to the apartment building he saw Tom galloping toward him.
"They're here, sir! All in one piece!"
Cain stopped, momentarily overwhelmed by relief, blood pounding between his ears. He stooped over, pressed his hands to his knees, and then straightened as he drew a deep breath, tasting spring.
"Thank you, Tom. Are they upstairs?"
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry to have upset you, sir."
"No, Tom, it's fine." He heaved out another deep breath. "All's well that ends well."
He came through the door to find them both in the kitchen, Olivia seated at the table with a glass of water, and Eileen beside her with a look of concern, still holding her purse, as if she expected to be asked to leave immediately.
"Mr. Cain," she said. "My apologies, sir. We just—"
"Where were you? Oh, Olivia, come here."
He reached her before she could even climb out of the chair, and he pulled her into the air with a fierce hug. If anything she seemed baffled, but she kissed him on the cheek. He gently set her back down and turned to Eileen.
"Who was in the limo?" he asked. "The big Packard that came and picked you up?"
Eileen lowered her head. "I am so sorry, sir. I have been a deceitful woman. But I cannot do it no more, sir, no matter how much he pays me."
"Who?"
She winced and averted her eyes. "Mr. Euston, sir."
Cain was about to ask more, but she rushed onward in another burst of confession.
"I knew I'd reached my limit, sir, when the girl told me about what happened last Saturday night, after I called in saying there was a family emergency, like he'd asked me."
"Euston _asked_ you to do that?"
She nodded rapidly.
"And on Monday morning, when this poor girl told me about all the places she'd been that night, and everything that she had seen." Eileen shook her head. "Well, sir, not that I don't wish for her to spend more time in the house of the Lord. But, glory be, Mr. Cain, with all of those people of the night? You couldn't burn enough incense to hide the stench of their mortal sin. The ladies alone. And when she told me the story of that poor man..."
"The German? You know about him? Tell me, when you last talked to Mr. Euston, did you tell him about the German?"
She lowered her face, and didn't look up as she answered. "Only in the most general way, sir. Just as I'm telling you now. It wasn't as if the poor girl gave me chapter and verse."
Cain stood there marveling at his father-in-law's manipulative powers, at all of his conduits for information. And no wonder, with clients like Herman Keller and Chase Bank to cover for. Poor old Gerhard. Even a knave like him seemed to deserve a little pity in the face of such formidable opposition. And this certainly explained why Euston had been so willing to pay for all of Eileen's extended hours—except on Sunday, of course, when Euston must have realized Cain was still working the case in his off hours, so he had acted accordingly to try to stop him.
"Where did you go this afternoon, then, in Euston's limo?"
This was Eileen's worst moment yet. She twisted the handles of her purse. For a moment he thought she would cry.
"I don't blame _you,_ Eileen," he said softly. "Just tell me what happened."
"It's the girl's mother, sir. He sends the car with her in it, and we climb in for a visit, for a ride."
"A visit? With _Clovis_?"
The mention of the name almost crumpled Eileen. She answered with a nod.
"How many times has this happened? How many times have you taken Olivia to see her behind my back?"
Eileen began to shake with sobs.
"Daddy, it's all right." It was Olivia, who lowered her head when he looked her way. Then she slowly looked up at him, her face imploring him for mercy. He realized then that he was quivering with anger, so he took another deep breath and blew the air out his cheeks.
"I was going to tell, you," Olivia said, suddenly looking quite grown up. She paused. "Not right away, but someday." A girl with her secrets. All those earlier trips to the park. "It's just been a few times. We drive around mostly. Or stop for ice cream and stuff. She asks about you."
Cain dropped into a crouch and again enfolded his daughter in his arms.
"I'm not mad at you, sweetheart. I just need to know what you're doing, who you're seeing." He steeled himself for his next words, not sure he could say them without a tinge of bitterness. "It's okay if you see your mama. But just tell me about it next time. Preferably beforehand, okay?"
"Okay."
"Now why don't you go to your room and get washed up for dinner. Maybe we'll go out, all right?"
"All right."
His anger began building again almost the moment she departed—not at Eileen, or at Clovis, but at Euston, whose long-range plan now seemed clearer than ever. Give Cain a job to lure him and Olivia to New York. Then secretly reunite the girl with her mother, and as soon as Clovis was healthy or stable enough, snatch Olivia away from him with Eileen's assistance. In the meantime he'd use Cain all he could to find out more information from inside the 14th precinct. Then the Hansch case had come along, giving even greater urgency to Cain's role as a conduit, a tool. A bonus return on Euston's investment.
Although that part of the man's scheme had backfired, because Cain had now dug up enough dirt about Euston to stay his hand with regard to Olivia.
Provided no one killed Cain first. Because now he had the likes of Hogan and Haffenden bearing down on him with threats of prosecution or, at the very least, further embarrassment, over the shooting in Horton. Plus Lansky, Lanza, and, worst of all, Anastasia, who seemed to be acting beyond everyone's control. Even if Haffenden's intent was truly to secure the waterfront, at minimum the naval officer had been duped about the Mad Hatter's doings. Lansky himself had implied as much, with his gestures if not his words.
How do you fight back against those kinds of forces? Cain didn't yet have an answer.
"Is it all right if I go now, sir?" Eileen asked as meekly as a girl of nineteen.
"Yes, Eileen. You may go. And I hope you'll be returning in the morning."
"Of course, sir."
She bustled away before he could change his mind. Cain stood in the kitchen, worried and discouraged, trying to come up with any plausible means to keep the investigation going. His thoughts were interrupted by a tentative knock at the door.
"Christ!" he muttered. Eileen must have forgotten something.
Instead it was the night doorman, Pete, who must have just come on duty.
"Pardon, sir, but you have visitors, and considering the shape one of 'em is in I thought it was best to bring them up straightaway."
The door opened wider to reveal Danziger, bruised and bleeding and smelling of smoke, with a shaken Beryl at his side, helping to support him. He was stooped beneath the weight of a dingy sack, a pillowcase bulging with papers which Cain now saw were letters and envelopes, folded and crumpled in a slapdash pile.
"What's happened? Bring them in, Pete. Danziger, are you all right?"
He and Beryl led Danziger to the couch, where the older man collapsed. He let his makeshift sack fall to the floor, where it slumped sideways and spilled a pile of letters onto the floor. Mixed among them, Cain saw, was the small photo of the young black-haired woman that he had seen atop Danziger's desk. Cain was now pretty sure he knew who it was. Among the letters that were showing, many were yellowed, with faded ink and foreign stamps. Lives, he thought. Scattered on his floor as if rescued from disaster.
Danziger followed his gaze.
"It is all that remains," he said, patting the sack as if to reassure himself. His voice was hoarse with exhaustion, his blue eyes almost spectral. "I am fortunate in the extreme to have even this much. A neighbor, who is also a client, ran inside the moment he saw smoke, or else it would all be gone. Of course, some he could not save. A third of it, perhaps. Maybe more. Gone. Like smoke up a chimney."
"Your whole place burned?"
"To the ground."
"But how did you...? You're bleeding, and—"
"A pair of thugs, almost certainly dispatched by the Mad Hatter. They took hold of me as I tried to get through the crowd. They beat me, right there in front of everyone, and I have no doubt they would have finished the job if Yuri Zharkov had not arrived."
"In the patrol car?"
"Yes. He told me of your lunch appointment, and of your newest archival acquisition. Even the Runyon story, he said. So now you know. Now you have seen it. The life of Sascha."
Cain glanced at Beryl, who had settled onto the couch at Danziger's side. She frowned with concern.
"You can stay here if you like," Cain told the old man. It seemed more important right now to offer assurance than to pry deeper into his past. Explanations could wait. He fetched a blanket, and Beryl put it around Danziger's shoulders. Then he got a glass of water. The older man drank and nodded in gratitude.
"I thank you for your generous offer," Danziger said, "but it will not be safe for me here. It is one of the first places they will seek me. Fedya will know where I can hide. That is where I have come from, courtesy of this sweet young woman."
"Fedya called me right after you did," Beryl explained. "I'm glad to see Olivia's all right."
"False alarm," Cain said.
"The girl?" Danziger said, eyes shining with sudden alarm.
"She's fine," Cain said. "See?"
Olivia, looking a little bewildered by the scene, waved to him from the kitchen doorway. Danziger smiled and relaxed back into the cushions.
"I've led you right back into the middle of everything," Cain said.
"I have gone of my own accord. It was I who sought you out. Even then I probably knew where it would lead." He looked off toward an empty corner of the room. "Perhaps that is why I did it."
"But we can't stop now. Not completely. You should lay low, but I've been thinking about what I can still do, and—"
Danziger's hand shot out and gripped Cain's forearm. His blue eyes glowed with vitality. He may have been drawing upon his last and deepest reserves, but he was not yet beaten.
"That is the very thing you must _not_ do. Later, perhaps, when we are thinking more clearly. For now, you have your girl to think of, and you are yet so young. Please, Beryl, make a call now to your uncle, to see if he has completed the arrangements for my lodging."
Beryl did so, and kept it brief. Cain heard the anxiety in her voice. Mostly she nodded while Fedya talked.
"You should eat," Cain said to Danziger. "All of us should. Olivia and me were about to go out."
Danziger shook his head. "Go, then, the two of you. I should not be out and about with you. I would not put her at risk in that way. I have put far too many innocents at risk in this life of mine, as by now you must be aware."
"Sort of."
"Yes. Police records are always incomplete. The bones only. Perhaps after you have eaten, I can offer you the flesh and blood."
"You don't have to, you know. You don't owe me that."
"I do, especially if I am to ask one last favor of you."
And so, an hour later, after Beryl ventured out for sandwiches from a diner, the three of them ate while Danziger watched from the couch, the blanket still around his shoulders. After washing up, Cain sent Olivia off to her room, and Beryl left for her uncle's.
Danziger shed the blanket and joined Cain in the kitchen, where the two men sat at the table with two bottles of beer. Danziger then began to talk of things that he had not discussed in ages.
# 38
DANZIGER TOOK A LONG SWIG OF BEER, his Adam's apple bobbing with every swallow. Then he sighed, as if suitably fortified for the task ahead.
"May I?" he asked, tilting the bottle toward the file folder across the table.
Cain slid it toward him, and Danziger opened the flap. He picked up the Runyon story, curling at the edges, and he slowly broke into a smile of deep fondness. Then he shook his head.
"It shames me to say it now, but the day this edition of _Collier's_ first went on sale was one of the greatest of my life. Or so I believed at the time. I clearly remember the morning. I had received advance notice of the story's contents from a writer friend in the Village, who knew very well the identity of The Dictionary. I rose at dawn in anticipation. I practically beat the delivery truck to the newsstand, and I didn't even wait to take it home. I stood there reading it on the sidewalk, pigeons strutting at my feet. My reaction was quite vain, quite proud, and quite stupid."
He set down the beer.
"There is no fool like a young fool, especially one who believes he has arrived because suddenly he is notorious and has money in his pocket. I was also convinced, at least for a day or two, that I need never worry again about having a conscience. Folly and consequence. Engage in the former, and the latter will surely follow."
Cain had already told him about his summons to the meeting at the Hotel Astor, with its unlikely cast of characters—so similar to the one at Longchamps—and the even more unlikely scheme that was afoot to secure the New York waterfront.
"Wartime," Danziger said. "It breeds such creative alliances, yes? Hitler and Stalin, at least for a while. And now, Lansky and Luciano are breaking bread with Frank Hogan and the United States Navy."
"The lion shall lie down with the lamb," Cain said.
"Yes. Although I doubt Gerhard would take any comfort from this current manifestation. As long as Hogan and Haffenden remain willing to overlook the occasional excesses of their new friends, those friends will hunt until their quarry is dead."
"There was one last thing," Cain said. He hesitated.
"Yes?"
"Lansky, right before I left. He whispered in my ear, so that no one else would hear. He sent his personal regards to Sascha, and said to tell you that it had been far too long. He was smiling, but I wouldn't call it friendly."
"I feared that would be his response."
"You knew him then?"
"I was there at the birth, you might say. Of his career, I mean. And we did not part on the best of terms. You will understand when I have finished."
Sascha then seemed to shiver. He swallowed more of his beer. A few minutes later, the bottle was half empty as he again took up his tale.
"I might have easily avoided this sort of life, of course. All of it: The disappearing act and, before, my descent into perdition, my apprenticeship among dangerous people. Even after losing my parents, I was well cared for. The good Reverend Haas saw to that after the _General Slocum_ calamity. I was lodged with caring neighbors. Jews, of course—the reverend was not that magnanimous. I stayed in school. I had all the books I ever wanted. Responsible adults were concerned for my welfare."
"Beryl said something about a rabbi."
"Rabbi Kaufmann, yes. He became a presence when I began to discover the attractions of the streets. If I had heeded his counsel, I suppose that I might have taken up a respectable profession or trade. I might even have read for the law. But the competition was fierce, I must tell you. Stroll down Second Avenue, and how could a boy not be dazzled? Crap games in which, with a modicum of intelligence and mathematical cunning, you could instantly become wealthier. Whiskey and women—for a price, of course, but available all the same. Joints and hangouts offering all the action a boy could ever ask for. Tischler's on Rivington, Max Himmel's on Delancey. And there were so many easy ways for a boy like me to make pocket money from the macks and the gun molls."
"Like what?"
"Running numbers, delivering a parcel here and there. For a while I was just an errand boy, until they learned I was also good at finding out things."
"Such as?"
"Anything. Names, addresses, people's daily habits."
"Information. Just like on your card."
"Well, it's true. It is what I have always excelled at. Along with the languages, of course. But even then I was not a fool about it. I knew the temptations. I saw the dangers. Left to my own devices, I am confident I would have followed Rabbi Kaufmann's guidance. But I was led astray."
"By who?"
"Not who. What. It was love. Love for a woman who is not at all to be blamed, because she, too, would have chosen the straight and narrow path for me."
Cain wrinkled his brow.
"Then how—?"
"Her brother, Angelo. She was Italian, you see. Her family lived two blocks over. Upright people, all of them except Angelo. When I saw her at a dance, I knew I would have to impress him if I were ever to stand a chance at an introduction. So for a while—too long of a while—I did as he asked, and took orders from whoever he said, and I was happy to do so because it was leading me closer to her.
"I knew as well that I would have to learn her language, all of it, and not just the few rough terms I had acquired for my dealings on the street. I was happy to do this as well, because her language was a thing of beauty. Italian is like the lyrics to a love song. All of those vowels, rolling around like lovers in a bedchamber. Compared to it, German stumbles along like a defeated army in retreat, a dirgelike procession of consonants down a stony lane.
"And it worked! She liked me! Loved me, even, in spite of what I was up to with her brother. Her father did not share her feelings, of course, but sometimes at that age a father's disapproval only adds to a young man's charm. I became forbidden fruit of the sweetest variety. I was living in a dream of the best sort."
Danziger paused for a moment, his eyes staring off toward something Cain would never see.
"Maria?" Cain asked.
Danziger's body jolted as if he'd been struck. His eyes flamed with accusation.
"Runyon mentioned her name in the story."
"Ah." He relaxed instantly. "Of course. Yes. Another reason I was so fond of that tale, although even he surmised correctly that tears were ahead."
"It didn't last?"
"Unless you count the first nine years."
_"Nine?"_
"Nine years in which she would never give her hand in marriage. Her father would not consent, not as long as I was a filthy companion of her disreputable brother and all of those terrible people he worked for. By then, of course, it was impossible for me to leave that sort of work. The Brain made that painfully clear to me. So I tried to earn my way financially into her father's graces. Yet, even after I moved into a fine new home in a far better neighborhood—up on the fringes of Yorkville, in fact—he would not relent. Still, she stayed loyal to me, or tried. But not long after the story in _Collier's_ I sank so deeply into my own delusions that she moved away. Quite literally. Over to Queens, parting with a request that I not see her again. In my hubris, and even in my heartache, I insisted that I was not wounded. I assured her that I would soon find someone better. An idiocy, of course, but understandable because by then I had been in thrall to another for far too long, a devotion that had nothing to do with love."
"Arnold Rothstein."
"The Brain. My talents came to his attention fairly early. He was only eight years my senior, but seemed well advanced beyond the rest of us in both wisdom and sophistication. He was the up-and-coming force of our time—in those circles, anyway. So I did as he asked, whenever he asked it. And it was my ruin, as Maria could plainly see."
Cain nodded at the file folder.
"Your arrest record was pretty thin."
"Mine were not the sort of assignments which tended to land a man in jail. At first I was simply a finger man."
"Finger man?"
"I knew how to find people who didn't wish to be found, usually those who were behind on their payments to Mr. Rothstein. He told me it was quite harmless, of course. He said it was like working for a bank, being a loan officer who went after welshers and deadbeats. I would hang around Lindy's, waiting for a name.
"Then one night he saw Maria, or, more to the point, saw me speaking to her in her own tongue. And with my fine and fluent Italian—I was overly proud of my accent, I must admit—I soon became an asset of another sort, by being able to find out what certain rivals were up to. A careful listener in all the right places. A spy, if you will.
"When necessary, I also functioned as a liaison for important meetings. Mr. Rothstein knew that whenever his Italian associates wanted to speak to each other in their own language I would not miss a trick."
"It all sounds so normal. Almost like you were working for J. P. Morgan."
"That is what I wanted to believe as well. Mr. Rothstein knew this. Because one evening he sent me out with two men who had been supplied with one of the names and addresses I had found for them. He told me to accompany them in order to witness the fruits of my labors. I was somewhat puzzled by the request, but I went without protest.
"It was a man, I soon learned, who was not simply behind on his payments. He had defaulted altogether. He had been redlined, as a bank officer would say. They stood me in the room and made me watch as they beat him. Quite thoroughly, with saps and a hammer. Then they bound him, forcing me to tie the knots while he squirmed and whimpered. We placed him in the trunk of a large Chevrolet and drove him to a dock on the Harlem River, where we put him aboard a boat. Cement shoes, you have heard this term, yes?"
"Yes." Cain said.
Danziger's eyes looked dead, his face a blank. "Well, we made him a pair, then and there on the deck of the boat, in a galvanized washtub. I was charged with stirring water into the mixture. All the while this man watched me with his red eyes and his whimpers. I helped lift him overboard, and stood at the rail as he sank. His hair, trailing like seaweed. So many bubbles. I shall never forget."
The room was silent a few seconds. Cain got up to peek around the corner to make sure Olivia wasn't listening. He heard her soft and steady breathing from her bedroom doorway. When he sat back at the table, Danziger had his head in his hands.
"Why did they do that?" Cain asked.
Danziger lowered his hands. He was pale, drained.
"To let me know that I was eternally theirs. A fact which Mr. Rothstein reminded me of not so much later, when I considered enlisting in the Army. So by the time Mr. Runyon met me on that night in 1920, I had hardened myself, and I had insinuated myself ever deeper into the organization. I was a planner, a thinker. I needn't dirty my hands anymore from that point forward, but certainly I was aware of what my talents helped bring about in the dark regions beyond my sight. Maria read this in my eyes, and that is why she finally gave up on me. A few years later I heard she had married a grocer, a man who sold citrus fruits in Queens. I never heard his name. I never went looking for her address. I could not bear to."
"How'd you get out? I know you faked your own death, but that was eight years after the Runyon piece."
"It took that long for me to see an opening for my escape. It came the night Mr. Rothstein was killed. Everyone was at Lindy's. A call came in, a little after ten. Mr. Lindy, he was not fond of having his telephone line tied up in this way, but what could he do? I watched as Mr. Rothstein took the phone. He got out his black book and nodded as he spoke. When he hung up he gave me the high sign, and motioned me to the door. I followed him outside, where he told me he was going to meet George McManus at the Park Central Hotel. I was puzzled, because Mr. McManus was a gambler of small consequence. The Brain handed me his gun for safekeeping until he returned. 'I'll be right back,' he said. Those were his last words to me.
"The rest I learned from the newspapers. He arrived at room three forty-nine and was shot. A day or so later he died of his wounds. No one was ever convicted for the shooting, although that should not surprise you if you have read any stories about Mr. Anastasia."
"Some kind of fix?"
"Yes. Some kind of fix. But by the time of the trial I was preoccupied by my own fix. From the moment The Brain died I knew there would be a war of succession. Even at his funeral people were already speaking of it."
"The last time you rode in a taxi?"
Danziger smiled ruefully.
"Yes. Because from that point forward I began living more modestly, more carefully. As the killing began I awaited my moment, and it arrived quickly, well before the trial, even. I received word that one of the fallen, a poor mack of no account named Whitey Mendel, had been knifed in the face and dropped into the river. His corpse had turned up, but the police had not yet identified it. This was my chance. But to succeed I needed an accomplice, one who could not be chosen from any of the usual interested parties."
"Yuri Zharkov."
"A fine beat cop. He knew when to pry, and when to look away."
"He was on the take."
"No, no, no. You still do not see. As a cop in our neighborhood in those days you could either make yourself an ineffective nuisance by trying to stop every petty act, or, if you were wise, choose larger targets and work in concert with the neighbors to bring them down. He chose the latter, and in exchange for his assistance I helped him in return."
"You ratted on someone?"
"On three men in particular. All of them deserving, and all of them by now deceased, thank goodness. It was a boost to his career, and to the city's law-abiding residents."
"So Zharkov made detective and you got a new life."
"Yes."
"Who else knew?"
"The elder Lorenz, Lutz's father, who arranged my paperwork. And Fedya, my oldest friend. Plus a handful of others whose help I needed in various ways. Mostly they are dead now. Only four people today know me as Sascha, and one of them, Beryl, knows little of its significance."
"Five now, counting Lansky."
"Yes, there is him as well, plus everyone else in that room today at the Astor."
"Okay, but here's what I still don't get. When a man escapes his past, he usually runs from it, the further the better. But you went right back to the old neighborhood, almost like you _wanted_ them to find you. Hell, you'd been there at Lindy's practically every night, standing at the right hand of God himself where everybody could see you. Yet when Mr. Big dies you figure you can just vanish into the woodwork?"
"Let me correct you on several points. I certainly did not want to be found, nor was I daring them to do so. Moving to Rivington Street was a form of camouflage they did not expect. It is called hiding in plain sight. And by the time I returned I was a different person, with new documents and a new face. A surgeon in the Catskills accomplished that. A nose job, I believe it is called now, plus more.
"I asked that he make me look ten years older, which astonished him because it was the opposite of what all his other customers wanted. But he did what he could to oblige me. The mere whisper of a mark became an indentation. He moved flesh from one place to another to make my neck sag like a turkey's, well ahead of its time. I purchased gray coloring and applied it to my hair, which cooperated by exploding in all directions. I grew a beard, which I did not shave even once until three years ago, when I deemed that enough time had passed to allow for some harmless nostalgia, in the form of my monthly breakfast at Longchamps."
"So much for harmless."
"No one is infallible, and my biggest asset all along was the nature of what I had done before. You said I stood at the right hand of God? Perhaps. But who really bothers to watch who is at God's side as long as God himself is there to be gazed upon? Yes, I drew the eye of Mr. Runyon, only because it was his job to observe, to notice. To others in my profession—to almost everyone, in fact, except Mr. Rothstein—I was a nothing, a cipher. I worked at the center yet existed on the fringe. Close to the throne, but a mere whisperer in the royal ear, neither seen nor heard in any real sense except by the one man who mattered, The Brain. And once he died it was all the easier for me to disappear and never be missed. It might have been flawless but for a single complication."
"Lansky?"
Danziger nodded.
"In the matter of those three men I fed to Zharkov, one of them turned out to be a protégé, alas, of Mr. Lansky's."
"I see."
"No. You do not see. Meyer Lansky is a man incapable of forgetting. He is also the one man who could have ever possibly recognized me, changes and all, beard or no beard. So when I saw him walk into Longchamps, I was very careful to hide behind my newspaper."
"You said you were there at his birth, professionally speaking."
"It was 1922. Mr. Rothstein asked me to arrange a table for two for a noon business lunch at the Park Central Hotel. He said he was meeting a hungry and ambitious young man, a fellow who had as good a head for numbers as I did for words. At one point, around three that afternoon, the maître d' telephoned me to say that Mr. Rothstein wished for me to bring him some papers. When I arrived he introduced me to this short, brash fellow, twenty years old and dressed ridiculously in an overly large suit. It was Meyer Lansky."
"Three o'clock, on a noon reservation? Lansky must have made quite an impression."
"That is safe to say. Their lunch lasted six hours."
"Okay, then. Point taken. He's dangerous, particularly to you. But our more immediate problem is Anastasia."
"Of course. But from what you have told me he is a problem for _everyone,_ Lansky included, and I am guessing that others will deal with him before we will ever have to. It is another reason for us to wait."
"To _wait_? He's already gotten to three of the Germans. If we wait he'll also get Gerhard, and there goes the last of our evidence. And who's to say he won't come after us?"
Danziger shook his head impatiently. "Listen to me! It is Lansky who had a hand in this as well. Not in these sloppy murders in the aftermath, perhaps, but certainly in the larger scheme—the _Normandie_ plot—before any deal was ever made with Hogan, or with the Navy. Do you not see this?"
"The _Normandie_ was an accident. I doubt even Hogan or Haffenden would try to fake that investigation."
"Of course it was an accident, a most fortuitous one which accomplished exactly what Mr. Lansky hoped for, by scaring the United States Navy enough to bring Haffenden and Hogan to grovel at his feet. But that left these four restive Germans still to be accounted for, out there on the docks, loose with their union cards and their letters home. Four men still awaiting orders and, more important, awaiting payment. So Anastasia took care of them. Not in the manner Lansky would have recommended, because it was far too sloppy. But I assure you, Lansky's hand is evident in all that has occurred."
"There's no proof. Not from Lorenz, not from Gerhard, not from anybody."
"The proof is in the design, Mr. Cain. The proof is in the details."
"I'm not seeing it."
Danziger pounded the table in exasperation, and then sagged in his chair. He took a few seconds to collect himself, and then put both hands flat on the table.
"Tell me, then," he said, "those clever names that were chosen for our four Germans—Heine, Schiller, Goethe, and Mann—are those the choices, do you think, of a stupid and uneducated killer like Anastasia? Or even of an unimaginative dollar snatcher like Herman Keller?"
Cain shrugged, but had no rebuttal.
"Let me tell you what Mr. Lansky is like when it comes to books and thinking. He is proud, he is vainglorious, and he is insecure because he never went to university. Within an hour of meeting you he will tell you that he can recite all of Shakespeare's _Merchant of Venice_ from memory. He is intelligent, yes, but what he wishes most to impress upon you is that he is brilliant. And no matter how much he wishes to portray Anastasia as some wild man who acted completely on his own, it is not believable. Do you not see this?"
"Maybe you're right. But for now he's still not the biggest danger. And even after what they threatened me with at the Astor, there are still certain things that I can do as a policeman that—"
"Please! No more talk of action, and no more talk of Anastasia! He is a killer, yes. But even he operates under certain rules, and one of those is that you do not kill a policeman. Not even a policeman who is meddlesome and has become a terrible nuisance. If this rule did not exist you would already be quite dead, trust me. Anastasia will be dealt with by his own people. Let them do so! And in good time we can decide how to best deal with Lansky."
Cain wasn't ready to buy it. "Lansky isn't the guy who's been burning people with cigarettes, or dropping them into the river."
Danziger shook his head and sighed, but this time he did not shout. He leaned across the table and spoke in a quiet but determined voice. "Let me tell you a story of the last time I saw Meyer Lansky. The Little Man, face to face. He had brokered a deal for us, and Mr. Rothstein put me in charge of ensuring that all sides met their obligations. Lansky knew this, and one night outside of Lindy's he walked up to me on the sidewalk and put his hands upon my face, one to either side, and he began to squeeze. He felt deeply of my bones and muscles, like a sculptor trying to imprint a memory. He turned my jaw one way and then another. Then he pulled my head down to meet his own—eyes to eyes, nose to nose. I smelled his peppermint breath, the spice of his aftershave. He waited for a few seconds longer, and then he smiled in a most unpleasant manner."
"Yes. I've seen that smile."
"Then you know how vulnerable it makes you feel. He spoke to me, whispering, probably just as he did to you at the Astor."
Cain felt a shiver, remembering.
"He said, 'Treasure this moment, Sascha. Imprint it on your memory. Because I do not forget, and I do not let go. Even when you think I am gone, I will be there always, Sascha.' "
Cain nodded, unsure how to respond. He swallowed more beer and offered Danziger another, but the older man declined.
"So let us agree then, shall we?"
"Agree on what?"
"Agree that for the time being we shall both lay low. Yes?"
"Okay."
"And that we will no longer speak of foolish acts, and that you will put these ideas of further action far from your mind until we are able to meet again. Yes?"
Cain nodded.
"Promise me."
"I promise."
Danziger held his gaze, as if watching for any sign of falseness.
"Good," he said finally. "I will have that next beer, then. As shall you."
Cain pried off the caps of two more bottles. He handed one to Danziger, who raised it in a toast.
"To sanity, then. Sanity and caution, while we await our moment."
Cain clinked his bottle to Danziger's, and over the next several minutes they finished several more while they waited for Beryl and Fedya to arrive. Danziger said nothing further about his past. Cain, as if to show how faithfully he was already abiding by his promise, said nothing further about any plans or stratagems.
But he did not stop thinking about them.
# 39
CAIN DID NOT LAY LOW.
After Danziger left with Fedya and Beryl he barely sat still and hardly slept, mostly because he kept going over everything in his head. By morning he was exhausted. He was also elated, convinced that he had come up with a fresh way forward.
Promise or no promise, doing nothing wasn't an option. He was a cop, for Chrissakes, and Hogan and Gurfein were prosecutors. And he was betting that during the meeting at the Astor both of them would've asked plenty of questions about the issues he'd raised if they hadn't been so intent on presenting a united front with Haffenden, who, to Cain, seemed far too willing to go along with whatever script the mob guys wanted. There was no mistaking the flicker of doubt that had passed between the DA and his deputy when Cain mentioned the three murders linked to Anastasia, and he saw that now as an opening.
A private meeting with the two men might actually get some results. But what he needed first was stronger evidence. An official statement from Gerhard might do it. Better still, why not give them Gerhard himself? That would solve two problems at once: convincing Hogan and Gurfein that they had been duped, and protecting his best remaining eyewitness. A rackets investigator like Gurfein was probably well practiced in keeping witnesses out of harm's way. And who knows? With Gerhard in hand, maybe they could even persuade Lorenz to open up.
First he needed to find Gerhard before Anastasia did, which meant a trip to the Bowery and its skid row of flophouses and rummy bars, the so-called "mile of misery" that stretched from 4th Street down to Chatham Square, home to tens of thousands of down-and-outers who paid thirty cents a night for a bed.
It wouldn't be easy. Gerhard's last known residence was the Sunshine Hotel, but by now he had probably moved on, which left scores of possibilities. Each would be best explored after dark, when Cain was off duty, and free of Mulhearn and all his busywork. The lone advantage of Eileen's complicity with his father-in-law was that she was now so guilt-ridden that he would have no trouble persuading her to work enough extra hours to cover for him at home.
Danziger could not be a part of this, of course. He needed to keep the older man out of harm's way, and mob guys would now see Danziger as one of their own, a fallen figure who was fair game. Cain, however, would be protected by his status as a cop. They could threaten him or even rough him up, but they wouldn't kill him. Even Danziger had said it. Or so Cain kept telling himself as he rode the subway downtown an hour after sunset.
The Bowery ran beneath the Third Avenue El, and it only took a block or two to get the flavor of the place. Doorways smelled of urine and stale beer. Most of the people on the street were men, hard-luck cases with weathered, stubbly faces and floppy hats slouched low on their foreheads. A few stumbled; others shuffled. To his right, Cain passed three men seated in a row along the curb, passing a half-empty bottle of cheap rye from hand to hand while they laughed and talked. A downtown train clattered overhead, casting them in deeper shadow.
At the next corner, a sidewalk preacher thrust a handbill toward him. Can took a look at the drawing on the front—a drunk in a gutter, with empties at his feet. On the back was the same fellow, cleaned up and gazing heavenward into a ray of godly sunshine, a Bible tucked under his arm.
"No thanks," Cain said, handing it back.
He checked first at the Sunshine, passing through a sad little downstairs bar to climb an echoing stairwell to the second-floor lobby. The white tile floor smelled like a sour mop. Two men seated in beat-up chairs stared vacantly out the streaked front windows. A third fellow sat on a couch, smoking a sloppily rolled cigarette and reading a _Herald-Tribune_ from the previous Sunday.
Cain crossed the floor to the caged reception cubicle, where the attendant looked up from a copy of the _Racing Form_ and frowned. Cain flashed his shield, which made no noticeable impression.
"I'm looking for a German guy who would've been staying here a few nights ago. Named Gerhard, although he might've been calling himself something else."
The guy reading the _Herald-Tribune_ flipped to another page but tilted his head, eavesdropping. The attendant opened a beaten-up looking ledger, flipped it back a page or two and ran a forefinger down the side.
"He was in five-oh-five. Stayed two nights. Took off yesterday."
"Know where he went?"
"Beats me."
"Maybe I'll take a look upstairs."
"Suit yourself, flatfoot."
Cain turned toward the stairwell to find the guy with the _Herald-Tribune_ blocking his way, an eager glint in his eyes.
"You asking about the kraut? Sorry G?"
"That's what they called him?"
"Sorriest man I ever seen. A toes-up goddamn nuisance who wouldn't lift a finger for nobody. Had him some money, too. Not much but enough, and wouldn't share a dime of it, which don't sit well when you're plinging dawn to dusk just to get three squares and a flop."
"What's your name?"
"Ace Andy."
A nickname, but it would do for now.
"Any idea where he went?"
"Let's get something straight. I don't normally make nice with bulls. But Sorry G, he could use some manners."
"Okay. Nice talking to you."
Cain turned to go, figuring that would get him talking, and it did. Ace Andy bustled up on his right.
"I can tell you where he likes to eat, and his dinner time's in about half an hour. You could set your clock by it."
"You eat with him a lot?
The guy laughed, wheezing.
"You bulls. It ain't like that at all. I was his runner, yeah?"
"Runner?"
"Got stuff for him. He didn't like going out on the streets, so he paid for special deliveries, a nickel a pop."
"Thought you said he was a skinflint?"
"Hey, I was working for my keep. Waited on him hand and foot."
"For what kind of stuff. Narcotics?"
Ace Andy wheezed again, face crinkling.
"He was clean. Just a basket case, that's all. Didn't even touch the sauce except for a beer now and then."
"And you'd bring those for him?"
"I got every motherfucking thing for him, like I was his goddamn valet. His runner, that's what I'm telling you. Got his morning paper, his coffee, his lunch, his dinner. And along about now he always wanted the same thing, at seven on the dot."
"Night after night, huh?"
"You bet.
"And you know this from what, two whole days?"
Ace Andy frowned and waved him off.
"Fine. You don't want it, I don't need to be seen sucking up to a bull anyway."
"Suit yourself." Cain again turned to go. Ace Andy again followed, and sidled past him to block the doorway.
"Okay, then," Cain said. "Tell me what you know."
"Just like that, free of charge? You think I'm the Salvation Army?"
He handed the guy a nickel, who dropped it in his pocket and laughed.
"Down payment, but not even close to the balance due. Way I see it, you're probably half the reason he skipped without telling anybody, meaning you've already cost me two bits a day, right there."
Cain held out a quarter, and the guy shook his head. He pulled out his wallet and forked over a dollar.
"Here's four days' pay," Cain said. "You better be worth it or I can always run you in."
"Yeah, well, what you didn't know was that I've been running for him ten days in a row. Or had been till you scared him off."
"You've been moving whenever he does?"
"The White House, the Comet, the Crystal, the Providence. And now, nothing. Steady source of income, gone just like that. And he trusted me, or did until you spooked him."
The idea that skittish Gerhard had ever put his faith in the likes of Ace Andy made Cain question the man's judgment, but he supposed that you took your allies as they came, mercenary or not.
"What else did he do?"
"Church on Sundays, up at St. Andrew's, too damn early even for me. Not much else. Went to the pictures once a week. He liked the Venice, over on Park Row, 'cause they opened at eight and he could stay most of the day. You get a double feature, a newsreel, a cartoon, and a short. Then maybe a cop serial, all for a dime. An even better deal when you sit through it twice. I don't think he was watching much, though." Ace Andy grinned crookedly. "Making the bald man cry, you ask me."
"The bald man?"
"Beating his bologna." Andy moved his fist up and down so Cain wouldn't miss the point a second time.
"Right."
Andy wheezed with laughter.
"Okay, so where does he like to eat?"
"I'll take you there. It's extra, though."
"Had a feeling you'd say that."
"You want to get all huffy, I'll just give you the name, and you can go all by your lonesome. But I know his order, and I know the other runners, 'cause it won't be him coming to pick up the food."
Cain gave him a quarter. Andy nodded.
They walked to the block between Grand and Hester, to a joint called the Blossom Restaurant, where the entire steamed-up window was covered in a scrawl of white lettering listing every item on the menu.
"Pig's trotters and cabbage for a dime, that's what he gets. With buttermilk. Guy ought to be along any minute."
Five minutes later, and right on schedule, Ace Andy perked up as a fellow rounded the corner with his hands in his pockets, looking a bit lean and hungry. They watched him enter the Blossom.
"Easy Zeke," Andy said. "He runs from the Victoria House. Those krauts, they're creatures of habit, huh? All that _ordnung._ Must be what keeps 'em going, yeah?"
"Yeah."
Cain was about to pay the guy a final dime to keep his mouth shut and scram so he could follow the runner alone, and then a complication occurred to him.
"So I take it you speak some German."
Andy shrugged.
"Ein bisschen, aber genug. Means 'a little but enough.' "
And that's when it hit him. Trust hadn't been the issue for Gerhard with Andy. Language was. Which was why Cain still needed Andy's help.
They headed for the Victoria House to wait for Zeke and settled in on a couch in the lobby, which was drearily similar to the one at the Sunshine except the windows were smaller and the attendant's booth had a block-lettered sign saying ROOMS WITH ELECTRIC LIGHTS, 30C.
Zeke came up the steps a few minutes later, carrying a brown paper bag with dark blotches of grease. He climbed past the lobby toward a higher floor, and they got up to follow him. They heard him exit on the fourth-floor landing, and reached it just in time to see Zeke going into a room six doors down a narrow hallway. A few seconds later he came back out, flipping a nickel in the air like he'd just hit the daily double at Aqueduct.
Cain opened the door into a cramped room with a camp bed and a bare bulb hanging by a cord from the ceiling. Gerhard, shirtless, was hunched in a chair by the window, already gorging himself, hands greasy. He looked up in alarm and stood quickly, the food spilling everywhere. He tried to reach the door but Cain grabbed him, barely holding on to the grease-slicked wrists.
"Tell him it's okay!" Cain shouted to Andy. "I'm here to help him!"
Gerhard either gave up or understood enough to calm down. Cain coaxed him back into the chair, where he stared forlornly at his spilled dinner on the scuffed floor. The room looked like a jail cell. Maybe six feet wide and ten feet long. The walls didn't even reach the ceiling, and the proprietor had put chicken wire across the top from one end of the place to another, in order to keep the tenants from climbing over the partitions into the rooms of their neighbors.
Cain figured that everyone on the fourth floor must have heard the commotion, because he could easily hear Gerhard's neighbors coughing, laughing, and mumbling to themselves. The whole place smelled of sweat, piss, fear, and exhaustion, plus the greasy stink of Gerhard's pig's feet and cabbage. If anything, the man looked more baffled and forlorn than he had at the church, although now his hair was clipped in a buzz cut.
"You got a haircut," Cain said. "Good idea."
"You can get 'em for free at the barber college at Chatham Square," Andy answered.
"Tell him what I said!" Cain snapped. "In German!"
Andy obliged, although he couldn't resist adding at the end, in English, "This'll cost more, right?"
Cain handed him another quarter and told him to shut the hell up and do as he was told. Andy nodded and for a split second looked almost chastened.
"Tell him I didn't forget. That I wasn't trying to shake him the other day." Even though that's exactly what he _had_ been doing. "I needed time to figure out where to take him next, to keep him safe."
Andy took a while to finish that one, and Gerhard frowned, giving Cain the idea that Andy's German wasn't the greatest. Finally Gerhard nodded and asked a question.
"He says—uhh, hold on a minute."
Andy spoke German again, trying to zero in on Gerhard's meaning. Gerhard replied with a hint of exasperation.
"He asks where you can go that's safe."
"Tell him I'm going to take him there right now. That he and I will wait a few minutes while he finishes his food, and then we'll go, and he will be safe."
This time Andy must have done reasonably well. Gerhard nodded and began picking up the spilled dinner, grabbing the pig's foot and scooping the cabbage with the palm of his left hand. He heaped everything atop the flattened bag.
"Okay," Cain said to Andy. "Time for you to take off."
Andy stood uncertainly, and then hesitated by the door like a bellhop hoping for a tip.
"I said scram!" Cain shouted. Andy left, shutting the door behind him. After that there was nothing to say.
Gerhard ate quickly, and then licked his fingers. He went down the hall and washed up in the common bathroom. Cain decided they should wait another ten minutes, explaining to Gerhard with hand signals and basic English, which he seemed to understand. Cain hoped this would be enough time for Andy to lose interest and be on his way. The last thing they needed was someone else tagging along, or demanding further pay to keep his mouth shut.
Cain's plan was to put Gerhard up for the night in a more secure and respectable place, a small hotel he'd picked out on Seventh Avenue, much further uptown. He'd show his shield and, if necessary, have a uniform drop by a few times to make sure everything was okay. It wasn't perfect, but for one night only it would probably be safe enough. Then, first thing in the morning, he'd march Gerhard over to Gurfein's office and hope that somebody there spoke enough German to take an official statement.
After that, it would be out of his hands. Either the DA would do the right thing, or he'd let Anastasia slide. That, too, was imperfect, but for the moment it was the best plan he could come up with.
When they got downstairs the lobby was empty and no one was in the cage. It gave Cain a bad feeling as their footsteps echoed on the floor tiles. He slid a hand inside his jacket, feeling the stock of his Colt, and he was on the verge of telling Gerhard to turn around so they could wait a while longer when two guys emerged from a rear hallway with guns drawn. They wore dark pinstriped suits and white fedoras, and their pistols looked big enough to blow you to kingdom come.
"Take your hand out of the cookie jar," the first one said, aiming at Cain's chest. "Real slow like. Then put your hands on your head."
Cain did as he was told, trying to keep his cool in hopes that Gerhard wouldn't panic and get them both shot. The German looked worried, his eyes wild, brow creased. He'd already raised his hands into position to fend off any blows.
The first guy strolled up, casual as you please, and reached inside Cain's jacket to remove the Colt. The second thug broke into a grin.
"Nice work, flatfoot," he said. "We'll take the kraut off your hands now. Good to finally get something out of all those tax dollars we spend on all you boys in blue."
"As if you guys pay taxes."
"Tell him he's coming with us, how 'bout it."
"You tell him. I don't speak German."
"Hey kraut!" The first guy shoved the gun underneath Gerhard's chin. He reached into Gerhard's pocket and pulled out a knife. "That's much better. You're coming with us!"
Gerhard glared at Cain, as if to say thanks for nothing. He bowed his head and walked out of the building with the first guy behind him, pressing a gun barrel to his back. The second guy lowered his gun and walked up beside Cain.
"Let's take it outside."
A big dark car was idling at the curb. A Plymouth Road King, not a Packard. The first thug and another guy were putting Gerhard in the back while a third fellow watched from a perch near the hood. He, too, was armed. The thug next to Cain spoke again.
"So who's your shadow?"
"Shadow?"
"Your little friend out there. If he's your guardian angel, better give him a whistle before he does something stupid."
"I don't know what you're talking about. You mean Ace Andy, the bum?"
"Don't get wise. He's been with you for this whole tour, up one block and down the other, like you had him on a string."
Cain looked in both directions, noticing nothing beyond a few bums, and all of them had their eyes averted, scrupulously avoiding this bit of unpleasantness outside the Victoria House. All except for Ace Andy, who stood just across the street with a wry look on his face and a fresh greenback in his right hand. So, then, outbid in the end, by these guys who'd probably picked up his trail the moment he hit the Bowery.
But who was this shadow they were talking about? Cain wondered again about the odd recurring feeling he'd had lately, a sense of being watched, or even stalked. Archer? Not after what Cain had given him. But the thought gave him an idea. Feeble, but an idea nonetheless.
"Probably a cop," Cain said. "I'd asked for some backup."
The thug chuckled and got out a toothpick, which he used to begin working at something stuck between his molars.
"This guy ain't no cop, I can tell you that. Way too wet behind the ears. But he's steady. Hey, Bingo!" He shouted to the guy posted by the hood of the car. "What happened to our little ghost back there?"
"Scrammed. Guess he didn't like your looks."
"So there goes your backup," the thug said. He tossed the toothpick to the curb.
The Plymouth revved its engine. The lookout stepped away and the car smoothly glided toward the next corner and turned out of sight. Poor Gerhard. And poor Cain, who'd just lost his last hope for making a case to Hogan. His shoulders sagged. At least he'd gotten the tag number on the Plymouth. In the morning maybe he'd write the whole thing up, start to finish, and drop it off at Hogan's office, just in case. Then he could figure out how to best protect Danziger. For now, Anastasia had beaten them.
"Well, nice meeting you," Cain said, "but I better get my gun back from your friend over there." He stepped toward the curb only to have the thug wheel on him and get right up in his face. The big gun was back in full view.
"Where you think _you're_ going, pal? Me and Bingo, we're still waiting for your ride. So hold your horses."
" _My_ ride?" His voice was a little weak. "For what?"
"The boss would like to express his gratitude. Now how 'bout shutting it until we're in Brooklyn."
Cain did as he was told. For the moment, he was out of ideas, even feeble ones.
# 40
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN looking at Albert Anastasia's mug shot and seeing him in the flesh was, to Cain, like the difference between seeing a tiger at the zoo and meeting up with one in the wild. The former is tame, or at least caged, its primal instincts held in check for your idle observation. The latter is a force of nature, eyes gleaming, muscles poised, ready to pounce and devour.
"So you're the flatfoot I been hearing about," Anastasia said, voice a little raspy, eyes aglow. He walked slowly toward Cain in measured footsteps, as if worried about scaring off his prey.
Cain swallowed with some difficulty, unable for the moment to come up with a suitable reply other than "Yep."
"Shame," Anastasia said, shaking his head slowly. "Real shame about that."
They were in the back room at Midnight Rose's, the very place Gerhard had scouted on Saratoga Avenue. Cain knew this not only by the address, but also from the awning out front, printed with the words "candy," "soda," and "cigars," like Gerhard had said. Except Gerhard, by now, was probably settling into the silt on the bottom of some river.
Cain had tried to keep calm on the way over, mostly by repeating to himself, in the manner of a Catholic praying the rosary, Danziger's maxim about the mob's unbreakable rule, the one that forbade killing a cop. Because it created too much trouble, too much grief with other cops, too much scrutiny from prosecutors. It was too sloppy altogether, and never worth the aggravation. Right?
By the time he got out of the car—a black Packard, no less—he'd decided to approach this confrontation like a business meeting. Seek the best possible deal by using whatever leverage remained at his disposal. But, of course, Gerhard had been his biggest asset, and Cain was still trying to come up with a fresh approach when Anastasia emerged from the back.
He wore baggy gray flannel pants, a wrinkled white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, black suspenders, and a yellow necktie, sloppily knotted. His combed-back hair, as advertised, was wavy and shoved higher on one side. The biggest surprise was his aura of casual menace, a sense that he approached the most brutally violent acts with the indifference of a man smashing a bug, or prying loose a dead mouse from a trap—an almost blasé attitude that seemed to lurk at the back of his eyes. Or maybe Cain had read too many press clippings while going through the man's file. The words "Murder, Inc." flitted around his brain like a bat trapped in a closet. It was just business to this guy, and as with any business he probably grew bored from time to time—an idea which only compounded Cain's anxiety.
"You've been causing an awful lot of trouble for me," Anastasia said. "But we're all done with that now."
"Okay." Was he offering a way out? At that moment Cain realized that maybe he did have something to offer. His cooperation, of course. A cop's surrender. Craven and submissive and completely unworthy, yet redeemable in full for one human life if the offer was accepted.
" 'Okay'? Whadda you mean with the 'okay'? We ain't here to bargain. This thing's done."
Cain wet his lips and swallowed, or else he might not have been able to utter a word.
"Don't you guys have a rule against killing cops?"
"Rule?" Anastasia grinned widely. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, playing to his audience. "Hey, you fellas remember that last rule we heard about? What was it, Bingo?"
"Never kill a mob boss."
"Yeah. Never kill a mob boss. Maybe our guest here could ask Joe 'The Boss' Masseria what became of that one."
Cain knew the answer from the file: Anastasia and three others had shot Masseria dead at a Coney Island restaurant.
So that was that. Somehow, by knowing that his fate was now inevitable, Cain was able to, if not relax, then at least marshal his wits, even though all his wits gave him in return was a snappy comeback.
"I'll make sure and ask him if I bump into him a few minutes from now."
Anastasia laughed, pulling his hands out of his pockets and clapping them sharply. So, then. Not bored after all, Cain thought, or at least not bored by this job. Glad to have helped brighten your workday, sir. He wished he had his gun back. Point the barrel right at his open mouth. Shatter the teeth and blow a hole through the back of his neck. The goons would shoot him immediately, but at least he'd have the pleasure of recompense.
Instead, his only recourse was to stand there in silence, thugs to either side. Anastasia stepped back across the room while rubbing his hands together in apparent relish. He plucked a gray suit coat off the back of a chair and spoke to one and all: "Okay, gents. What do you say we all go for a spin?"
Yet another unwanted ride in a stranger's car. It seemed to be the only way Cain got around anymore.
Out at the curb, the black Packard stood waiting. Cain thought of it now as a hearse, a prop for some movie shot on a gray film set where the street lamps were misted over. Except in reality it was a fine April evening, a little chilly maybe but with the stars out—one of the few benefits of the dim-out—and a rising three-quarter moon suitable for lovers and children alike.
Anastasia sat up front, Cain in the back with beefy escorts to either side. The boss rolled down his window.
"What'll it be tonight, sir?" the driver asked. "East River or the Hudson?"
"I was thinking maybe the Harlem."
They crossed through Brooklyn and headed up into Queens. Along the way, shoppers were still out on the neighborhood streets with their sacks and baskets. Cain looked up a cross street and saw kids playing beneath a dimmed street lamp, one last game of hopscotch before mom called them to bed. The guy named Bingo spoke up.
"Hey, Cain. Look at it this way. You'll be immortal. Up on the wall of the fallen. At the cop bars down on Centre maybe they'll even name a drink for you."
"The Cain Cocktail," Anastasia said. "A shot and a splash."
They all had a nice laugh and settled back into silence. To Cain it was surreal. A jolly old time with men seated to either side, everyone in a suit, with a crisp breeze pouring in through the window, as if they were headed for a night on the town.
Traffic was light, another perk of wartime. They crossed the Queensboro Bridge back into Manhattan and headed up East River Drive. They exited and rolled down to a wharf, only a few blocks from where Angela Feinman's body had been found. The driver cut the headlights as they rolled onto cobbles.
"Just doing our part for the dim-out," the driver said, laughing at his own joke.
"Shut up and drive!" Anastasia said. "I'm not paying you to laugh." Becoming testy now that it was almost time to get to work.
Cain looked straight ahead. Deep shadows. An approaching shimmer of black water along an abandoned stretch of wharf. He thought back to that first night on the job, down by the Hudson, and he imagined writing his own name onto that list of victims in his notebook: _Woodrow Cain, 34, white, gunshot._ Although he supposed the real cause was stupidity, or not knowing when to quit.
They parked and opened the doors. Cain got out with them. The thugs again flanked him, holding his arms. He kept expecting to panic, to cry, to piss his pants. But all he felt was disbelief, a simmering anger. Anastasia led the way toward the water, turning his back on them. That was when Cain tried to lunge away from them, twisting both arms and kicking out with his feet. But the goons held tight, grunting and laboring without complaint. Fully accustomed to this type of resistance, probably. All in a day's work.
They walked him onto the wharf and turned him so that his back was to the water. He looked up at the staved-in windows of an empty warehouse, a blank stare from every opening.
Anastasia chambered bullets into a huge revolver and slowly raised the barrel. The men holding his arms leaned away from him, which made Anastasia smile.
"That's right, gents. Keep your suits clean." He aimed at Cain's nose and stepped closer. They heard tires bouncing on cobbles, a big car by the sound of it. Then a tunnel of headlights swerved around the near corner and illuminated them all. Cain's hopes soared and then collapsed as he saw it wasn't a cop. Anastasia turned his gun toward the car. One of his thugs reached into a coat pocket and pulled out a revolver.
The car switched off its headlights. An Olds 98, long and black. The passenger door opened, and a shadowy figure stepped out onto a crunch of broken glass.
"Fine night, gentlemen. But not for this sort of thing."
Anastasia frowned and lowered his gun.
"This is none of your business, Stu."
"Never said it was. But the Little Man says otherwise. Sorry, Albert. This one doesn't belong to you."
So the cavalry had arrived, courtesy of Meyer Lansky. But why? Was this a reprieve or a temporary stay of execution, merely to allow for a change of venue, a different executioner? Somehow he'd gotten caught up in the middle of a mob tussle, a tug-of-war in which his arms were likely to be pulled off. And while that didn't exactly sound promising, without it he'd be dead by now.
Anastasia raised his gun and again pointed it at Cain's face.
"Yeah, well. We'll just see about that."
"You know the score, Albert. Don't be stupid."
Anastasia seemed to quiver with anger as he aimed, the trigger finger moving but not yet squeezing. With the possibility of hope now on the horizon, Cain lost his composure, breaking into a sweat. A bead crawled down his spine like a caterpillar. Another rolled to the tip of his nose, as if to provide Anastasia with a target.
"Goddamn it!" Anastasia again lowered the gun. "Then take him, you asshole kike! Get him the fuck outta my sight!"
"He'll work it out with you, Albert." Stu was walking toward them now, cool as you please. He wasn't even carrying a gun. "You know he always does."
Anastasia waved him off and stalked back toward the Packard, refusing to watch the handover. And then, just like that, the two thugs let go. Stu took Cain's left arm as gently as an usher at a wedding and steered him toward the waiting Olds. Cain barely breathed until the doors were shut and he was seated in the back, alone this time. Then he exhaled deeply and wiped the sweat from his nose.
Stu slid in up front, next to the driver.
"Next stop, Curtis. You know the way."
Yet another strange ride in another strange car. Cain wondered if he'd ever go for a ride in New York that was his own idea, and not somebody else's.
They drove off into the night, with Cain still in one piece, and still very much alive.
# 41
CAIN WAS SO OVERCOME with relief that it was several minutes before he spoke.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Keep quiet, how 'bout it."
Hardly reassuring, but by now they were on Fifth Avenue, headed toward Midtown along the east side of Central Park. The location made him feel relatively safe, almost cheerful. So did the Olds, which felt more like a family car than a mob wagon. There was a Felix the Cat doll down on the floor to his right. He'd already dug out a school pencil, well chewed, from the seat to his left. Kids rode in this car with their mom and dad. Surely it wouldn't be used to run death errands like Anastasia's Packard.
Just as he was starting to feel better about things they turned right into the park at 72nd, and the darkness was complete. Okay then, maybe not so good. He now envisioned being garroted beneath the trees, followed by a midnight burial on the fringes of the Ramble, or the Sheep's Meadow, one of those big fields that Olivia liked so much. His bones would be discovered years later by a puzzled landscaper, or maybe never.
They drove deeper into the park, the car slowing. But the driver was just being careful on a curve. Weaving past dense foliage, they topped a slight rise. At this point they were past the halfway mark through the park, and he began to take hope. At least now they were heading back to civilization, and looming above the treetops just ahead were the twin towers of a grand apartment building, which even in the dim-out was lit as brightly as a birthday cake. After everything Cain had been through in the past hour, it looked like an oasis across the sands.
"What's that building up ahead, the one that looks like a castle?"
"Funny you should ask. That's the Majestic."
"Well named."
"Ain't it, though."
They emerged from the park, crossed Central Park West and braked at the curb alongside the Majestic. Stu turned and slung his arm across the back of the seat.
"You were way out of your league back there."
"I got that idea."
"You're way out of your league here, too. But who knows? Play your cards right and you should at least get out of it with your skin."
"I take it I'm here to see Lansky."
" _Mister_ Lansky. Third floor. You're expected."
Cain slid left across the seat and unlatched the door. Then he hesitated.
"I guess he wouldn't like it too much if I decided to not show up."
Stu shrugged. "Your choice. Him or Albert."
"That's an easy one."
Cain got out, waltzed through the entrance, and gave his name to the doorman, who directed him to the elevators.
"Apartment three-oh-one, sir."
—
Lansky answered the door himself. He _was_ a little man, not an inch over five feet, which hadn't been apparent around the table at the Astor. Cain had to suppress his astonishment. The last thing he wanted to do was get off on the wrong foot, and he was nervous enough as it was.
Once again Lansky was sharply dressed in clothes that looked prosperous, with creases in all the right places even at this hour of the day.
"Come in, Cain. We've got the place to ourselves tonight, so make yourself at home."
It was a comfortable room, large by Manhattan standards, with plush-looking wallpaper, a big Oriental rug, and a long couch facing two love seats and a wing chair. Off to one side was a grand piano. But the real draw was the row of big windows across the front, which looked out onto a moonlit view of the treetops of Central Park. Cain strolled over for a look.
"The view is what makes the place," Lansky said. "Drink?" He stood by a cart loaded with bottles and crystal decanters. Cain was about to say no when he realized how badly he needed one.
"Bourbon, straight up."
Lansky poured a whiskey for himself and brought the drinks over. He made a short speech before handing Cain the glass.
"You're a pretty sharp 'tec, Cain, but you're not exactly a fast learner. So I've brought you here in hopes of imparting a little education, since our lesson the other day didn't seem to make a dent. I like to think we'll be able to speak frankly, man to man. But if you intend to run home when we're done and scribble everything into that notebook of yours, well, then I might as well have Stu take you back to Midnight Rose's. So, whadda you say?"
"We'll keep it man to man, and nothing goes on paper."
"Swell. Like I say to my associates: Trust your memory, and keep your business in your hat."
He handed over the drink, and as he did so their eyes locked. Lansky's gaze was sharp, probing, and Cain now saw how the Little Man made up for his unimposing stature. Even in the studied informality of the moment, his eyes told you that there were wheels in his head that never stopped turning. He was calculating angles, laying plans, anticipating the next question, arranging the next dodge.
Cain realized how badly he had overreacted during the drive over here, thinking he might be murdered in Central Park. Not Lansky's style at all, nor would he ever be a shot and a splash kind of guy. Lansky could pull off whatever he needed without even giving an order. He'd just make a suggestion to somebody, who'd make a suggestion to somebody else. Then one day you wouldn't show up for work, and your seat would remain empty at the dinner table. Gone without a trace, except for a few well-placed rumors about how you'd crossed the wrong guy, or maybe absconded with the kitty from the commissioner's favorite charity. In fact, for all anyone knew you might still be out there, spending the loose change. That's how Lansky would do it—excuse me: _Mister_ Lansky.
That unsettling train of thought probably explained why Cain flinched noticeably when Lansky made a sudden move to shut the window blinds.
Lansky, taking notice, straightened and then smiled.
"Now, see? That's the nature of power in this town. I make even a suggestion of a threatening move, and you're halfway to the floor." He slapped Cain on the shoulder. "Perception. It's something you can't buy with all the money on Wall Street. The very thing that allows Charlie Luciano to still call the shots from inside a prison cell. A few symbolic gestures might be needed once in a while, but otherwise nothing even the slightest bit illegal has to be done. Then who comes calling in our nation's hour of need? No less than the United States Navy."
He squeezed Cain's shoulder before letting go. He nodded toward the couch.
"Whadda you say we sit down?"
"Sure."
Cain was relieved to discover that his voice was still working. He sat at one end of the couch. Lansky settled into the wing chair, with arm rests that made it look like a cushiony throne. Cain's eyes were drawn to a family photo on a side table. Lansky's wife with their two young sons and an infant daughter, everybody smiling and in their best clothes. Lansky followed his gaze.
"You got a kid, too, I hear. A girl, right?"
Not the sort of information he wanted the Little Man to know, but that was probably why Lansky brought it up.
"Yes."
"It's the best part of living, having a family. Having a wife? Well..." He waggled a hand, his little joke about infidelity, or maybe a nod to Cain's recent history.
"So let's get down to business. As I'm sure you know, you've made a lot of people unhappy."
"That's been made pretty clear to me."
"And I know you're probably thinking, hey, these mugs are really getting away with something. Am I right?"
"One of them is."
Lansky nodded.
"Yes, he is. As you've seen for yourself, Albert is a man of excesses. Far too often he strikes out on his own, and thinks he's a damn genius for doing so. But that's Albert, not us. Which is why we will deal with Albert in our own time, in our own way. So, you see, if you and that old Jew keep poking around you're going to fuck this up for everybody."
"Then why didn't you let Albert kill me? Not that I'm ungrateful."
"Because the only thing that would fuck this up even more would be if he killed the very cop who'd just been asking the DA about him. That would have sunk this thing for sure, and right now, I've gotta tell you, it's a real good thing. And I don't just mean for Charlie and me. It's a real good thing for this country."
"If you say so."
"Don't you get smart with me!"
Lansky leaned across the space between them, jabbed a finger against Cain's chest and left it there. This was the pivot point of the night, Cain sensed, the moment at which Lansky would begin making demands, and Cain would either pass the test by capitulating or fail miserably by standing up to him. The worst kind of choice, in other words, pitting his life against his honor. Or so he thought.
To his everlasting surprise he instead got a lecture, a plea, plus a wave or two of the flag. What's more, the performance felt oddly sincere, as if the Little Man wanted earnestly for Cain to believe that, at least this once, he really was doing the best of deeds for the best of motives.
"There is one reason only that I'm in on this deal, Cain, and it's very simple. I am a patriot, helping my country. Don't smile, don't even think about it, unless you want your face knocked through those windows."
"Okay." Cain didn't move a muscle. Lansky's finger was still pressed firmly against his chest. Finally he removed it, and settled back into the chair.
"Tell me something. Do you know how I used to spend my weekends around here back in the thirties?"
"No."
"Busting heads at Nazi rallies, all over town. You ever heard of Nathan Perlman? Used to be in Congress, now he's a judge?"
"No." Cain had been rendered almost speechless. He could hardly believe the pleading tone of Lansky's voice, as if the man's soul were on trial and he was delivering the closing argument for his own defense.
"Well, he came to me personally back in thirty-five and said, 'We Jews have to start demonstrating a little more militancy.' A judge, mind you, so I took him at his word. And one night Walter Winchell calls—he lives in this building, you know—and he tips me off to a rally of a bunch of Bundists up in Yorkville. Well, I get on the horn to as many of my pals as I can. There were only fifteen of us, but let me tell you, by the end of the night those brownshirts were calling the cops to help _them_ get out of there alive."
Lansky's face was beaming.
"And you know what I did last year, even before Pearl Harbor ever happened?"
"I don't."
"Signed up with my local draft board. Told 'em I'd do anything. You can check. It's all in writing. Knew they'd say I was too old for soldiering, so I said I'd work in a machine shop, like when I was a kid. Run a lathe, a drill press, whatever they needed! Of course they never got back to me. But then, you see, _then_ I get word from Lanza that this Haffenden guy is trying to put together some deal for the waterfront, so of course I get on board. _Of course!_ Because it's my chance to do something!
"Now, is Charlie thinking this way? Hell, I don't know. Maybe Charlie sees a way out of the joint, 'cause that's Charlie. I do know he hates that asshole Mussolini, whose cops rounded up half the wise guys in Sicily, bad blood all around. But he's in this for the full ride, even if he gets nothing out of the deal. Lanza, too. All our guys. As for Albert, well, we knew we had a problem as soon as we heard what he'd been up to."
"The plot, you mean. To burn the _Normandie._ "
Lansky shook his head in exasperation. "Dumbass figured he'd be doing Charlie a favor. Make it look like a bunch of German zealots had done it, to scare everybody into begging for Charlie's help. Then the damn thing burns anyway, and Haffenden's people come looking for us, and things start moving in the right direction. So when we hear what Albert's been up to, Charlie about blows a gasket, and tells him to clean up his fucking mess before he ruins it for everybody. And, Albert being Albert, he just makes a bigger mess, which brought you into it."
"And now you want me out of it."
"Of your own accord, and for the good of your country."
"What about Albert?"
"Like I said."
"You said you'd deal with him. I need something better than that."
"Or what, you'll haul him in?" Lansky laughed aloud. "Like I said, Cain. You're not a fast learner, although you are persuasive, so I'll tell you one thing, and one thing only about where this is headed. But it sure as hell had better not leave this room, because right now even Albert doesn't know it's coming."
"Okay."
"Albert, he's practically forty. Only two months younger than me, in fact. Nonetheless, I have it on the best of authority that Albert will soon be enlisting in the United States Army. They're going to make a soldier out of him. They'll post him somewhere well beyond the city. He'll be training soldiers to be military longshoremen. That will take him off the streets and out of that candy store. He'll live in a barracks and take orders. And you can take that to the bank."
Cain was astounded. What's more, he believed it. Murder, Inc. goes to war. The final swipe of the mop to clean up Anastasia's mess, once and for all, so that the bizarre waterfront security alliance of mob guys, prosecutors, and the Navy could march onward without further distraction. It was just strange enough to be true.
"Then do we have an understanding, Detective Cain?"
"Maybe."
Lansky raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth. For the first time tonight, he was the one who seemed astounded.
"Just one other thing," Cain said. "The old Jew, Danziger. Or Sascha, as you know him. I want him left alone."
Lansky frowned and tilted his head.
"You don't exactly have much leverage, you know."
"I could go to the DA tomorrow, tell him everything you just admitted to me, not to mention tell him all about my little ride to the Harlem River."
"Not if you value your life."
"You just said bumping me off would fuck up everything."
"Sure, if you did it Albert's way." Lansky smiled, the wheels turning again behind his eyes.
"But it's not my life we're talking about. It's Sascha's."
Cain had no more cards to play, and he supposed Lansky knew it. Lansky scrutinized him for a while longer and then smiled wryly.
"You know, Cain, the way I see it, it's probably good business if I can find some way to ingratiate myself with one of New York's finest. 'Cause you never know what dividends that might pay somewhere down the road. Right?"
Cain couldn't bring himself to say yes to that kind of mortgage on his future, so instead he nodded and smiled uncomfortably, which seemed to amuse Lansky a great deal. What had Cain really expected? To be able to walk out of here clean as a whistle? He would be lucky if he walked out at all.
"In that case," Lansky said, "I have something for you. Something to give Sascha. Come with me a second."
They stood and crossed the room, walking past the piano to a wood-paneled study with wall-to-wall bookshelves. Lansky opened a desk drawer and retrieved a black book. Now _that_ would probably have lots of interesting reading. He also got out an envelope and a sheet of paper, and began rooting through the top drawer of the desk, presumably in search of a pen or pencil. That's when Cain remembered what he still had in his trouser pocket.
"Allow me," he said, producing the fountain pen that he'd pocketed at the Astor.
Lansky smiled and stared at Cain for an extra second or two.
"Never let it be said that you're short of chutzpah, Cain. Are you familiar with that word?"
"No, sir."
"That does not surprise me. One moment, then."
He opened the black book in a way that Cain couldn't see the contents. He eyed the page for a second, put away the book, and began writing. It took only seconds. He capped the pen, stuck it back into the desk with a wink at Cain, and then folded the paper, which he slipped into the envelope. With a lick of his tongue, he sealed it and handed it over.
"For Sascha. A down payment on his continued silence. In fact, if I'm not mistaken it may well suffice for all future installments. Listen to me! Just thinking about the guy, and I start talking the way he does." He shook his head, as if marveling. "The fucking Dictionary!"
Cain took the envelope. "May I ask what it is?"
"The thing Sascha has always liked best. Information."
—
Cain emerged into the night feeling like he'd attained an imperfect but defensible sort of justice, if only at the level of one friend looking out for another. The war would continue, of course—not just the larger one abroad, but the one here with its casualties on every front, some of them hidden forever. But he would have at least defended one small citadel, however compromised in his tactics.
The moon was rising over the park, and after everything he'd just endured he felt like a stroll. Maybe he'd even stop for a beer along the way. Kick back and collect his wits before heading home. Give Olivia a kiss goodnight, maybe talk about when she would next see her mother, and then he might make a date with Beryl. Tomorrow he'd alert Danziger and sound the all-clear. He was eager to see what was in Lansky's note.
He crossed the street to be as close as he could to the trees and flowers of the park, with their springtime perfume that was strong even in the chill. This wasn't bad at all, being alive like this. Then he stopped and turned, having experienced once again that odd fleeting sensation of a watchful presence at his back. Considering what had just transpired, he was frankly a little surprised to feel it again.
He looked toward the trees and down the sidewalk. Nothing. Just as he was about to be back on his way, a voice called out his name.
"Cain!"
A familiar voice, although he couldn't yet place it. He looked again, and still saw no one.
"Cain! Over here!"
The voice was calling from the trees, from perhaps ten feet inside the stone wall that bordered the park, where he now saw a familiar face emerge into the moonlight. A face from home. James Vance, Rob's younger brother. He was slowly raising his right arm, which Cain now saw held a pistol with a long barrel, rising like a periscope from the deep.
"These bullets are Rob's!" James shouted. "This gun is his! I'm finishing this for him!"
Even as Cain's muscles tensed for a leap to safety, he thought he also detected a second man, just emerging from the trees. But by the time that thought had registered he was throwing himself to the ground, the gun had already fired, and the bullet had found a target.
# 42
# DANZIGER
I HAVE LIVED A LONG LIFE—longer, anyway, than the numeric span of my years would imply. That is the first thought that drives my actions as I watch the desolate young man raise his gun into a firing position and take careful aim at Mr. Cain. A long life. Or long enough.
Besides, if I am ever to make good on my recently stated intention to act more out of concern for the safety of Mr. Cain and his daughter than for myself, then I had better move now or forever be branded as a fraud and a liar. The tragedy of this moment, the absolute _blunder_ of it, is that I should have seen it coming. Instead, I underestimated the danger of this forlorn fellow, who on both occasions when I saw him before had looked so hopelessly lost and out of place that he seemed a mere zephyr, a bothersome bit of wind but nothing more. Now, too late, I see him as I should have. His is the bottomless grief of the untethered, of those who are capable of any action. I missed this because I was distracted and diverted by more familiar faces, marked by a more familiar brand of danger.
But there may yet be room for me to act. Because for men such as him it is never sufficient to simply fire a weapon and be gone. They must announce their presence, and enunciate their purpose. They must ritualize their vengeance. And that is what I see and hear him doing now as he calls out again to Mr. Cain. So perhaps there is time.
I have put myself into this position thanks in part to the assistance of friends. When Mr. Cain and I parted company the night before, I knew he would not keep his promise to lay low. It was clear in his eyes and his manner. He lied so that I would not act. So I lied as well, and made ready to assist him.
Mr. Cain is a restless man, prone to risk, so I knew he would act quickly. But he is not rash, he is not a fool, and I knew as well that he would wait until after dark. My own status as a hunted man made matters tricky, and I was not certain where Mr. Cain would venture first. So, I enlisted Fedya and Beryl as lookouts. Fedya in particular was excited to be included in such a seemingly dubious enterprise. Beryl acted only out of concern, although I took pains to ensure that her assignment was the more benign of the two.
I stationed Fedya at the newsstand on Saratoga Avenue, the very one where Gerhard had watched Hansch disappear into Anastasia's Packard. Beryl took up her post on a park bench across the street from Lansky's home, at the Majestic. Surely, one of these places would be Mr. Cain's eventual destination, whether of his own choosing or not, and when he arrived, my observer would notify me so that I could hurry to the scene.
And after that? I did not know. I did not even think about it all that much, perhaps because I did not wish to confront the possibility that I would be wholly inadequate to the task of helping him in the face of such formidable opposition.
Fedya being Fedya—a wonderful friend, but one who has never engaged in these kinds of activities—he soon grew bored and restless. Even though he paid for his right to his post by purchasing three newspapers and a magazine, he deserted after only an hour in order to fortify himself for further duty with a cup of coffee at an eatery around the corner. As luck would have it, Mr. Cain must have arrived shortly after Fedya's departure, because by the time Fedya returned the operator of the newsstand told him all about the excitement that had transpired in his absence. Fedya telephoned me sheepishly with the news, and for more than half an hour I paced the room, fearful that hope was lost.
Then Beryl telephoned with the news that Mr. Cain had miraculously arrived at the Majestic. I departed immediately, even hiring a taxi, and as soon as I arrived I dispatched her to retrieve the poor, distraught Fedya and put him to bed.
So here I am, then, lurching forward, my body moving with an alacrity I have not experienced in ages as the young man, James Vance, shouts his intentions and prepares to carry them out. Even as I do so, I realize somewhere deep within me that the man I used to be would not have been up to this task.
During the Great War—the _first_ Great War, I suppose we should call it now—I often heard accounts of men my age calling for their mothers and crying like infants as they died in the trenches. They suffered their final agonies in a panic, dying poorly and pitifully, and I probably would have done the same.
But twenty-four years have passed, and with them a second lifetime. When the idea of death now intrudes upon my thoughts, I find to my surprise that I am calmly accepting, I am prepared. Perhaps it is because I have endured much and have survived more.
For once, then, let it be said of Danziger—or of Sascha: I will leave it to you to choose—that he acted on motives that were entirely selfless. Let it be said in five languages, if possible. And, if necessary, let it be said in memoriam. But do let it be said.
Consider that to be my final request as I cross the darkened sidewalk toward the space that separates the boy from Danziger. I plunge forward into the breach as the gun fires. I cry out, I know not in what language. American, I suppose.
The bullet strikes. The ground rushes up to greet me.
# 43
FROM THE MOMENT HE REACHED Danziger's gurney at Bellevue, Cain resolved that he would splurge on a taxi for the old fellow's funeral. But, please, he prayed, let that happen in some other year, and by some other cause of death.
The gurney was parked in the emergency ward, not in the mortuary. That at least offered cause for hope, although matters were far from settled. It was something of a snafu that Danziger was at Bellevue at all, so many blocks from the shooting. But ambulance drivers apparently had their turf wars, too, so here they were. Nurses had just wheeled the gurney out of an operating room. One of them hovered nearby, her scrubs still bloody.
"You're not allowed here, sir."
"Police," he said, flashing his shield.
She probably would have ordered him out anyway if his eyes hadn't looked so pleading. So instead she waited, a rare moment of grace in such a bustling place, and she indulged him for a few seconds while he surveyed the pale, thin, unconscious figure stretched out on the white sheet. Danziger's mouth was agape, as if he might begin snoring at any moment. His chest was stitched up like a cadaver's. Then time was up.
"I'm sorry, sir. Police or not, you can't stay. This is a recovery area."
"Okay then."
He touched the gurney but didn't dare touch Danziger—germs, a jinx, who knew what maladies he might visit upon the poor man? He went to the waiting room to begin his vigil.
Between all the mayhem in front of the Majestic and the reams of police work that followed it had taken him hours to get here. As soon as James Vance had seen what his shot had done—striking an old man instead of Cain—he'd stood dumbfounded as Cain rushed to Danziger's aid. Cain glanced up just in time to see Vance raise the gun a second time. Their eyes locked. Vance's were desolate. He then turned the gun on himself and placed the barrel in his mouth.
"James, no!"
The young man blew out the back of his head and crumpled to the ground, another member of the Vance family whose blood would forever weigh upon Cain's conscience.
Cain remained at Bellevue until dawn. Eileen, the family spy, still contrite in her duplicity, had gotten in touch long ago to ask if it was okay if Olivia spent the night at her mother's apartment on the Upper East Side. He supposed it was. If Clovis could handle being a mother again, then it was actually a relief. She might be just what the girl needed in the coming year. Even if they ended up parenting by subway, maybe they could make it work. Not for themselves—that was dead on the floor of the drunk's shack in Horton—but for Olivia.
Shortly after sunrise, a nudge awakened him. Creaky and sore from the chair, Cain looked up and saw the nurse from the night before. Her face was so filled with concern that panic rose up like something alive in his throat. She put a hand on his arm, as if to steady him, and spoke. "You're Mr. Danziger's friend, right?"
He nodded, too scared to speak.
"It looks like he's going to survive, but he might not be conscious for quite a while. Besides the bullet he also took a blow to the head when he hit the ground."
"A few more hours, you think?"
"More like days." She hesitated. "Maybe longer. I guess what I'm saying is that there's really no sense in you waiting. Maybe you could leave a number."
Cain nodded. Then he noticed for the first time that Beryl was seated to his left, as quiet as could be. She must have arrived during the night. They stood to leave. Only then did he begin learning of the measures Danziger had taken to protect him.
On their way out the door he felt inside his jacket for the envelope Lansky had given him. He thought about leaving it behind but felt responsible for protecting it, so he merely tapped it like a talisman. Then he took Beryl's hand and they strolled into the morning.
—
Danziger rejoined the world six weeks later. By that time he looked as if he were intent on assuming a third identity, so changed was he by his time in a coma. He was pale and bony. The nurses had shaved his beard and stubble, and had clipped his hair to military length. Only his eyes remained the same, still shining with that June vitality from the moment he reopened them.
"What am I supposed to call you now?" Cain asked.
Danziger smiled weakly, his eyes flickering with amusement. "That is up to you." The voice was raspy, but filled with warmth. His diction was impeccable as always, the accent still roaming across two continents. "Friend will do for now."
"Sounds about right. I've brought you some things."
"Yes?"
"Fresh news, for starters, from the United States Army."
"An invasion of Europe?"
"Sorry, no. This is from the home front. The newly enlisted Private Albert Anastasia has reported for duty at Fort Indiantown Gap, out toward the middle of Pennsylvania. He's got a bunk in a barracks, gets three squares a day, and says 'Yes, sir' about twenty times an hour. Who knows, maybe he'll learn to act like a human being."
"Doubtful."
"Probably. But I hear his wife is looking for a house in Jersey, for after the war. So there's that."
"And what of our other friend? Should I fear a visit in the night sometime soon?"
"Mr. Lansky continues to pursue a patriotic course of action, or so Hogan tells me."
"Hogan himself?"
"Gurfein joined the Army. Some intelligence outfit called the OSS. Maybe he couldn't stomach the idea of working hand in glove with all those goons he'd been trying to put in jail. As for whatever beef there was between Lansky and you, well, he says that's over now."
Danziger took a moment to digest that.
"You are sure of this? He gave his word?"
"He did. About five minutes before you saw me walk out of the Majestic."
"Then perhaps this time I can keep my current name. Or even go back to my old one."
Cain told Danziger what had become of their investigation. It no longer existed. The files for four unsolved murders had already been marked for storage in the cold case drawer. A fifth, the murder of Angela Feinman, had been established as the handiwork of the late Dieter Göllner.
"They didn't all get away, though. Hogan at least took an interest in Herman Keller, over some business deals he'd brokered that were a little too cozy with Germany. Seems he was in violation of some laws that only my father-in-law could understand."
"Laws which will mysteriously not be applied to Chase National Bank, or to the machinations of their favorite lawyer, correct?"
"Correct. I guess some people always have the muscle when they need it."
"Now and forevermore. And you, Mr. Cain? Do you remain employed?"
"One week suspension without pay, but that's over and done with."
Danziger raised an eyebrow.
"Not for anything we did. For losing my sidearm. Anastasia's guys never gave it back. Two weeks ago I got transferred to headquarters to work an internal investigation with Zharkov. There are some indictments pending on some of my former colleagues in the fourteenth precinct, and last week Hogan dropped some more dirt in through the transom, so it looks like we might be busy a while longer."
"A man of his word, after all."
"And from all I've heard, the waterfront operation actually seems to be working. Lanza put some Navy people aboard some of the fishing fleets. Just last week some mob guys out on Long Island helped round up a few saboteurs that the Germans had landed from a sub. Luciano moved to his new digs at Great Meadow prison last month, and it looks like Lansky will be visiting every week or two. Not that anyone really thinks they'll only be doing the country's business."
Danziger shook his head in apparent amazement.
"Oh, and one other thing about Lansky. He gave me this. For you." Cain held out the envelope, still sealed. "He called it a payment for your continued silence."
Danziger wrinkled his brow and, with some difficulty, reached out to take it. He struggled for a few seconds to tear it open, and then sighed in exasperation.
"Allow me," Cain said.
Cain retrieved a knife from Danziger's breakfast tray and slit open the envelope. He pulled out the folded sheet of paper and handed it over, and then moved around the bed so he could read over Danziger's shoulder. Having resisted the temptation to open it for all these weeks, he figured he'd earned the right.
Danziger unfolded the paper to reveal a few brief lines in Lansky's neat handwriting. There was a name, Maria Corazza, followed by an address in Queens, and then a single word, "Widowed."
"So is that...?"
Danziger nodded. For a few seconds he seemed to be in disbelief. Then his eyes darted back and forth, as if he were watching a newsreel inside his head.
"She's the real reason you never left New York, isn't she? The whole reason you were willing to take the stupid risk of going back to your old neighborhood."
"The whole reason? No. But one of them. Foolish, of course."
"What about now?"
Danziger's eyes were swimming. For a moment he didn't speak. He blinked, but no tears fell. Then he drew a deep breath and smiled, still holding on tightly to the paper.
"Now," he said, "now I believe that I shall go on living for a while longer."
"Good plan," Cain said. "For both of us."
# AFTERWORD
After finishing any novel which combines the real and the imagined, some readers inevitably ask how much of it was true. Quite a lot, in the case of this book, especially with regard to the unholy alliance that U.S. Naval Intelligence and District Attorney Frank Hogan cooked up with the Mafia to secure the New York waterfront against sabotage and enemy submarines.
It is also well established that the burning of the luxury liner _Normandie_ was a major impetus to the arrangement. Even though a subsequent Navy inquiry established that the fire was an accident, that didn't stop several Mafia figures—Charles "Lucky" Luciano and Meyer Lansky, in particular—from claiming years later that mob hit man Albert Anastasia, a Luciano ally, had arranged the burning of the ship in hopes of engineering a better deal for his imprisoned boss. For me, their claims raised the possibility that, at the very least, a fellow as unpredictable as Anastasia might have indeed concocted such a plot, even if he never brought it to fruition.
The subplot involving Harris Euston, Herman Keller, and the scheme to raise capital for the German government by selling Reichsmarks for dollars is also rooted in fact, as described in Charles Higham's 1984 book, _Trading with the Enemy: An Exposé of the Nazi-American Money Plot._
It's interesting to look at some of the well-documented particulars of the Navy-Mafia deal to see how they align with events in this novel. Naval Intelligence operatives at first tried to do the job themselves, but failed miserably when mob guys and their union allies easily saw through their cloak-and-dagger approach. Navy Captain Roscoe C. MacFall then decided that his intelligence people should enlist the help of the underworld, and his point man was Lieutenant Commander Charles R. "Red" Haffenden.
MacFall and Haffenden sought advice from DA Frank Hogan and his rackets investigator, Murray Gurfein, on how to best approach the Mafia. Gurfein suggested that the Navy contact Joseph "Socks" Lanza, because of his control over the Fulton Fish Market. Lanza agreed to do what he could, but soon discovered that many colleagues suspected a trap because Lanza was under indictment at the time. Lanza suggested that the only way to get everyone on board would be to obtain the blessing of mob boss Charles "Lucky" Luciano, who was serving a thirty- to fifty-year sentence at a state prison in remote Dannemora, New York. Gurfein telephoned Luciano's attorney, Moses Polakoff, who suggested Meyer Lansky as the best choice to approach Luciano on the government's behalf.
Lansky, as he tells Cain in chapter 41, was indeed patriotic about the war effort, and about opposing Hitler. He really did get into violent scrapes at Bundist rallies in New York in the 1930s, and he really did try to enlist in the Army at the age of thirty-nine. And, just as described in this book, he helped initiate the Navy's waterfront security deal with the Mafia by participating in a face-to-face meeting with Gurfein and Polakoff on a Saturday morning in April 1942, at the Longchamps Restaurant on 57th Street—the same breakfast meeting which Danziger witnesses in chapter 12.
Just as described here, the three men discussed moving Luciano to a more convenient location. Also as depicted in the book, the three men then continued their discussion by taking a taxi to the Hotel Astor, where they met Red Haffenden, who indeed had a suite of offices at the hotel under the auspices of the Executives Association of Greater New York. From then on, Haffenden used the Astor office as a sort of safe house for his increasingly frequent meetings with mob figures, although later he became so chummy that they began brazenly visiting him at Naval Intelligence offices in the federal building on Church Street.
State authorities did, in fact, move Luciano to a more convenient location at Great Meadow prison, and Lansky became a regular visitor as part of the deal. A wide array of other notorious mob figures soon joined the parade to Great Meadow under the auspices of the Navy arrangement. No one ever bothered to bug those meetings, and it has always been assumed that Luciano discussed matters well beyond his work for his country. Thus did the U.S. Navy make it easier for Luciano to keep running his criminal enterprises.
Although Hogan gave his blessing to the arrangement, he never lost his skepticism of some of the figures involved. He ordered a wiretap of Lanza's phone at the Meyers Hotel, and in one instance recorded Haffenden approving of activities that resulted in mob figures beating up a union official who was trying to organize a strike on the Brooklyn waterfront.
Other excesses were also overlooked or glossed over. As one historian has noted, there were approximately thirty unsolved murders on the New York waterfront between 1942 and 1950.
Gurfein, as mentioned in the book, did leave the DA's office not long after helping bring about the arrangement, to become an officer in the Office of Strategic Services, precursor to the CIA.
But the biggest lingering question mark concerns the role played by Anastasia, whose Murder, Inc. was known by then to be operating out of Midnight Rose's candy store in Brooklyn. If he had indeed pursued some sort of plot to burn the _Normandie,_ as Luciano and Lansky later claimed, how would he have reacted if fate had preempted his plans with an accidental burning? That tantalizing possibility—and the current lack of a clear and convincing answer—drove much of my plot.
This, in turn, left me wondering whether Anastasia would have taken it upon himself to remove all traces of such a plot, in order to keep from jeopardizing the deal his boss had negotiated with the Navy. If so, how would Anastasia's associates have reacted to his possible excesses? The historical record provides the answer I eventually chose for my plot: In June of 1942, just as the Navy-Mafia arrangement was hitting its stride, and only a few months before Anastasia's fortieth birthday, the government accepted his enlistment into the U.S. Army, which promptly posted him to Fort Indiantown Gap, in Pennsylvania.
There is also a historical basis for the character of Danziger, at least as far as his occupation as a letter writer is concerned. My inspiration for him was a seven-paragraph description of "Alexandroff the Letter-Writing Man" in a 1932 book, _The Real New York,_ by Helen Worden, an item which also appeared under her byline in the "Talk of the Town" section of the October 8 issue of _The New Yorker_ that same year. Worden depicted a tall, broad-shouldered "Cossack" of indeterminate age who wrote letters for his illiterate and non-English-speaking neighbors of the Lower East Side from an office on East 4th Street. He spoke Russian, Polish, and German, charged fifty cents per letter, and wrote about five letters per day. All well and good, but this was the passage that intrigued me the most, with its rich well of possibility:
> When Alexandroff isn't writing letters, he is answering questions. Across his window is inscribed, "Alexandroff—Information."...Through the thousands of letters he reads (his little shop is the local post office) he is closely linked with the current situation in the small towns of Europe..."Alexandroff is wise," the neighbors say. "He knows much."
After reading that, how could I possibly resist?
# Acknowledgments
I would like to thank the following people for their invaluable assistance in the course of researching this book: Ellen Belcher, special collections librarian at John Jay College of Criminal Justice; Barry Moreno, librarian at the Ellis Island Immigration Museum; Professor Trevar Riley-Reid, librarian at City College of New York; the staff of the Municipal Archives of the City of New York's Department of Records (especially for their help in using the wonderful archive of photos taken by the city tax assessor of every property in the city in 1938–40); and the staffs of the New York City Public Library and of the archives of the New-York Historical Society.
# In addition, the following books were of great assistance:
_The Luciano Project,_ by Rodney Campbell
_Over Here!: New York City During World War II,_ by Lorraine B. Diehl
_New York in the Forties,_ _162 photographs,_ by Andreas Feininger
_The Rise and Fall of the Jewish Gangster in America,_ by Albert Fried
_Helluva Town: The Story of New York City During World War II,_ by Richard Goldstein
_The Last Testament of Lucky Luciano,_ by Martin A. Gosch and Richard Hammer
_Flophouse: Life on the Bowery,_ by David Isay, Stacy Abramson and Harvey Wang
_WWII & NYC, _by Kenneth T. Jackson
_The Big Bankroll: The Life and Times of Arnold Rothstein,_ by Leo Katcher
_The Upperworld and the Underworld: Case Studies of Racketeering and Business Infiltrations in the United States,_ by Robert J. Kelly
_A Treasury of Damon Runyon,_ edited by Clark Kinnaird
_Little Man: Meyer Lansky and the Gangster Life,_ by Robert Lacey
_Honest Cop: The Dramatic Life Story of Lewis J. Valentine,_ by Lowell Limpus
_Up in the Old Hotel,_ by Joseph Mitchell
_Manhattan '45,_ by Jan Morris
_Mafia Allies,_ by Tim Newark
_The Burning of the_ General Slocum, by Claude Rust
_Broadway Boogie Woogie: Damon Runyon and the Making of New York City Culture,_ by Daniel R. Schwarz
_My Mother and I,_ a memoir by Elizabeth G. Stern
_Night Stick,_ by Lewis J. Valentine
_The Real New York_ (1932), by Helen Worden
I would also like to thank the Graduate Center of the City University of New York's Center for Urban Research, for its wonderfully informative website, 1940snewyork.com.
# A NOTE ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dan Fesperman's travels as a writer have taken him to thirty countries and three war zones. His previous novels include _Lie in the Dark,_ which won the Crime Writers' Association of Britain's John Creasey Memorial Dagger Award for best first crime novel; _The Small Boat of Great Sorrows,_ which won the Ian Fleming Steel Dagger Award for best thriller; and _The Prisoner of Guantánamo,_ which won the Dashiell Hammett Award from the International Association of Crime Writers. He lives in Baltimore.
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1. Cover
2. Other Titles
3. Title Page
4. Copyright
5. Contents
6. Prologue
7. Chapter 1
8. Chapter 2
9. Chapter 3
10. Chapter 4
11. Chapter 5
12. Chapter 6
13. Chapter 7
14. Chapter 8
15. Chapter 9
16. Chapter 10
17. Chapter 11
18. Chapter 12
19. Chapter 13
20. Chapter 14
21. Chapter 15
22. Chapter 16
23. Chapter 17
24. Chapter 18
25. Chapter 19
26. Chapter 20
27. Chapter 21
28. Chapter 22
29. Chapter 23
30. Chapter 24
31. Chapter 25
32. Chapter 26
33. Chapter 27
34. Chapter 28
35. Chapter 29
36. Chapter 30
37. Chapter 31
38. Chapter 32
39. Chapter 33
40. Chapter 34
41. Chapter 35
42. Chapter 36
43. Chapter 37
44. Chapter 38
45. Chapter 39
46. Chapter 40
47. Chapter 41
48. Chapter 42
49. Chapter 43
50. Afterword
51. Acknowledgments
52. A Note About the Author
1. Cover
2. Cover
3. Title Page
4. Contents
5. Start
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| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Books3 |
189 F.3d 619 (7th Cir. 1999)
HECTOR REUBEN SANCHEZ, Petitioner-Appellant,v.JERRY D. GILMORE, Warden, Pontiac Correctional Center, Respondent-Appellee.
No. 98-2734
United States Court of Appeals, Seventh Circuit
Argued May 10, 1999Decided September 1, 1999Rehearing En Banc Denied October 20, 1999
Appeal from the United States District Court for the Northern District of Illinois, Eastern Division. No. 96 C 3956--James F. Holderman, Judge.
Before BAUER, RIPPLE, and EVANS, Circuit Judges.
TERENCE T. EVANS, Circuit Judge.
1
Fifteen years ago Hector Reuben Sanchez was found guilty by an Illinois jury on several charges, including murder, attempted murder, rape, aggravated kidnapping, and deviant sexual assault. The jury concluded that Sanchez killed 21-year-old Michelle Thompson by strangling her after she was abducted and raped. The jury also found that Sanchez shot and seriously wounded Thompson's friend, Rene Valentine. In the second phase of the trial the jury determined that Sanchez should be sentenced to death.
2
At trial, Valentine testified that he and Thompson met at a Gurnee, Illinois, disco called "D. Laney's" on the evening of February 3, 1984. An hour after midnight, Valentine and Thompson were sitting in a car outside of D. Laney's when two men approached from behind. During the trial, Valentine testified that one of the men pulled him out of the car, led him to a nearby alley, and shot him. Valentine positively identified Sanchez as the culprit.
3
More damning trial testimony came from Walter Peters, Sanchez's companion on the evening of February 3. By the time of Sanchez's trial, Peters had already been tried and convicted for his role in Thompson's murder but had not been sentenced. Peters testified that he, Sanchez, and a man named Forest Heinz were surveying the layout of the Normandie Restaurant, near D. Laney's, with the intent to burglarize it later that night. After taking Heinz home, Peters and Sanchez (according to Peters' testimony) returned to the area and, upon seeing Valentine and Thompson alone in the parking lot, approached the pair. Peters said that Sanchez led Valentine away while he (Peters) pulled Ms. Thompson into his car. Peters said he heard a gunshot and then Sanchez returned to the car and reported that he had shot Valentine.
4
With Thompson handcuffed in the car, the two kidnappers drove to Sanchez's house in nearby Waukegan. After forcing Thompson inside the house, Sanchez raped her. Then, after hog-tying her with nylon cord (in addition to the handcuffs), Peters and Sanchez left the house for a short time. When the two returned to the room where Thompson had been bound, she was gone. They found her, unclad from the waist down, screaming for help outside a neighboring house. Sanchez led her back into his house and then returned to the neighbor's house to smooth things over.
5
When he returned from the neighbor's, Sanchez forced Thompson into the basement, where he raped her again and, upon finishing the assault, asked Peters if he "wanted any." Peters testified that he declined. Sanchez then strangled Thompson with a nylon cord and tightly wrapped a wire hanger around her neck. He then slammed her head into the floor and gave her lifeless body a couple of kicks for good measure. The two men collected Thompson's clothing (again, according to Peters) and jewelry and burned them in the fireplace. They then loaded Thompson's body into Sanchez's car, drove across the state line, and dumped her body in a rural area of Milwaukee County, Wisconsin.
6
In addition to the testimony of Valentine and Peters, Gene Gonyo, Sanchez's neighbor, testified that he heard a woman screaming outside his door around 1:30 a.m., and that he saw Sanchez lead the woman away from his house. Gonyo said he later saw Sanchez's car cruise down the driveway, lights off, and turn toward Wisconsin.
7
Scientific evidence--hair samples, fibers, etc.- -that added weight to the State's case against Sanchez was also introduced during the trial. Actually, more evidence of Sanchez's guilt was admitted, but what we have already noted is sufficient to demonstrate that the State had a reasonably strong case and that the verdict was supported by substantial evidence if that evidence was believed by the jury. And by its verdict, the jury showed that it believed the State's case.
8
The case was set to move to its sentencing stage the day after the jury returned its guilty verdicts. But things slowed down the next morning when the judge was told by jailers that Sanchez had tried to commit suicide. Sanchez, it seems, broke the lenses of his eyeglasses and used the broken pieces of glass to cut his arm. Sanchez was taken to a hospital and released in short order after treatment for his injuries. Sanchez was then returned to court where he met with his attorneys. Defense counsel reported that Sanchez was distraught and that he wanted his mitigation witnesses sent home. Counsel also related that Sanchez said he attempted to take his own life because he thought society was going to do it. Defense counsel requested that the jury be discharged and the sentencing hearing postponed until Sanchez had "gotten a hold of himself" and was able to cooperate more fully with counsel. Asked by the judge whether Sanchez was able to communicate with his attorneys, counsel replied that he seemed different from when he had spoken to him the preceding night. As evidence of the defendant's inability to "cooperate," counsel said that Sanchez had ordered the attorney to do the opposite of what counsel had intended to do. Following this colloquy, the trial judge concluded that there was no bona fide doubt as to Sanchez's fitness to proceed on to the sentencing phase of the trial. The judge denied the defense postponement motion, and the penalty hearing got under way. Sanchez waived a jury determination on his eligibility for the death penalty and the judge found him eligible. The jury then reconvened for the second stage of the penalty phase. The government's aggravation evidence related primarily to the unsolved 1975 murder of a woman named Sharon Egerer, which two witnesses (one a participant in the crime) pinned on Sanchez. Sanchez took the stand at the sentencing hearing and denied responsibility for either Michelle Thompson's death or the murder of Ms. Egerer. Sanchez testified about his abusive relationship with his father; he testified that, despite being functionally illiterate, he held the same job for 15 years and saved enough money to buy a house; he testified that he helped his family even while in prison. Unmoved, apparently, by these pleas, the jury sentenced Sanchez to death.
9
Sanchez filed a number of direct and collateral attacks and, ultimately, the Illinois Supreme Court rendered three opinions, the first in 1986 and the last one 10 years later. People v. Sanchez, 115 Ill. 2d 238, 503 N.E.2d 277 (1986), cert. denied, 483 U.S. 1010 (1987); People v. Sanchez, 131 Ill. 2d 417, 546 N.E.2d 574 (1989); and People v. Sanchez, 169 Ill. 2d 472, 662 N.E.2d 1199, cert. denied, 519 U.S. 967 (1996). In federal court, Sanchez filed a premature petition for a writ of habeas corpus in 1990, but that was dismissed without prejudice for failure to exhaust state remedies. In 1997, Sanchez filed the present petition for a writ of habeas corpus, the denial of which by the district court is before us on this appeal.
10
Sanchez's appeal raises issues regarding his sentencing proceeding but he tosses in an undeveloped claim that the Illinois Death Penalty Act is unconstitutional. On this point, in less than one page, Sanchez contends that the Illinois statute is infirm because, in his words, it "places a burden on a defendant to prove that the death penalty should not be imposed." This argument fails under Walton v. Arizona, 497 U.S. 639 (1990), where the United States Supreme Court held that so long as a state's method of allocating burdens of proof does not lessen the state's burden to prove every element of the offense charged, or in a case like this to prove the existence of aggravating circumstances, a defendant's constitutional rights are not violated by placing on him the burden of proving mitigating circumstances sufficiently substantial to call for leniency.
11
One other matter can be quickly addressed before moving to the guts of this appeal. Sanchez maintains that his petition is not governed by the 1996 amendments to 28 U.S.C. sec. 2254, the Antiterrorism and Effective Death Penalty Act (AEDPA), because he filed his first petition for relief in 1990. But we deal here with his second petition filed in 1997, and that is the year which controls whether AEDPA applies. It applies; he cannot move the date to pre-AEDPA times by relying on his old unexhausted petition.
12
Under AEDPA federal courts give deference to state court merit adjudications. To procure habeas relief under AEDPA a petitioner is required to show that state court determinations under review are either "contrary to" or employ an "unreasonable application of" federal law as determined by the United States Supreme Court. sec. 2254(d)(1). A petitioner can also attack a state court's adjudication on the grounds that it is based "on an unreasonable determination of the facts," but such attacks are accompanied by a rigorous burden of proof: state court factual findings are presumed to be correct unless the petitioner rebuts the presumption with "clear and convincing" evidence. sec. 2254(e)(1). Although state court legal conclusions, as well as mixed questions of law and fact, are reviewed de novo, that standard is also tempered by AEDPA's deferential constraints: the "criterion for assessing the reasonableness of a state court's application of Supreme Court case law, pursuant to sec. 2254(d)(1), is whether the determination is at least minimally consistent with the facts and circumstances of the case." Sweeney v. Parke, 113 F.3d 716, 718 (7th Cir. 1997). The upshot of all of this is that federal review is now severely restricted; the fact that we may think certain things could have been handled better by the state trial judge or by the prosecuting attorney or by a state reviewing court means very little.
13
Sanchez claims that after his suicide attempt the state trial judge should have held an evidentiary hearing to determine whether he was competent to proceed. Tangentially, he claims the waiver of his right to have a jury determination of his eligibility for the death penalty was not voluntary because he was not competent at the time.
14
There is no question that Sanchez was competent to proceed through the guilt portion of his trial. Unlike the defendant in Drope v. Missouri, 420 U.S. 162 (1975), Sanchez's competency to proceed during that phase of the trial was never questioned. But Drope teaches that even when a defendant is competent at the start of a trial, courts must "be alert to circumstances suggesting a change that would render the accused unable to meet the standards of competence to stand trial." Id. at 181.
15
After the suicide attempt, Sanchez's attorney reported that his client was "distraught" and not cooperating; counsel also said, as we previously noted, that Sanchez told him to send his witnesses home. But nothing that was reported to the judge suggested legal incompetency to proceed from a defendant who had previously been of unquestioned competency. On top of that, the state trial judge saw Sanchez and observed his conduct (especially when he was questioned about his jury waiver on the eligibility question), and that was enough to convince him that Sanchez was not incompetent to continue. Although it would have been preferable to hold an evidentiary hearing right after the suicide attempt was reported and nail the matter down once and for all, we cannot condemn the trial judge's decision not to do so; after all, he observed Sanchez's demeanor and heard, firsthand, counsel's reports of his condition. As matters proceeded, the judge personally heard Sanchez's responses to questions, and nothing he heard caused him to doubt that Sanchez was indeed competent. Nor can we condemn the Illinois Supreme Court's decision to affirm the trial judge's decision to move forward with sentencing. That decision was not an unreasonable application of the rule in Drope. We add further the obvious: being "distraught" about the possibility of being sentenced to die at the hands of the State does not demonstrate a failure to understand and appreciate the nature of the proceedings; on the contrary, it's a quite lucid reaction to a very chilling situation.
16
Finally, to justify an evidentiary hearing to explore the possibility of Sanchez's competency to continue with the trial, he had to produce "clear and convincing evidence [raising a] threshold doubt about his competency." Nguyen v. Reynolds, 131 F.3d 1340, 1346 (10th Cir. 1997), quoting from Lokos v. Capps, 625 F.2d 1258, 1261 (5th Cir. 1980). The Supreme Court of Illinois concluded that Sanchez had not demonstrated sufficient doubt about his competence, and that determination is far from an unreasonable application of law as established by the United States Supreme Court.
17
Sanchez goes on to argue that his jury waiver resulted from his incompetence. He doesn't explain why, however, preferring instead to rely on an inference that no reasonable defendant would waive his right to a determination by a jury that his crimes warranted the imposition of the death penalty. We reject that inference. Sanchez is certainly not the first defendant to waive full jury participation in the death penalty phase of a case; in fact, defendants often concede eligibility and move directly to the aggravation-mitigation phase of a sentencing hearing. That decision, in and of itself, does not demonstrate incompetence, and because Sanchez offered nothing more, no hearing was required. See Tenner v. Gilmore, 184 F.3d 608, 613-14 (7th Cir. June 9, 1999). Furthermore, we emphasize again that the trial judge saw Sanchez up close and personal. The judge heard responsive answers by Sanchez, given in a rational, lucid manner, to questions about his waiver. Plus, Sanchez did not engage in irrational conduct in court that red-flagged a questionable mental state.
18
Sanchez next argues that the prosecutor crossed the line during his cross-examination of Sanchez at the sentencing hearing. The Illinois Supreme Court disagreed with Sanchez on this issue, and we must affirm that decision unless it is contrary to federal law. It was not. The single question Sanchez challenges--the prosecutor asked Sanchez whether he could think of any factor in mitigation to preclude a death sentence--was not so serious that it infected the entire sentencing hearing. See Darden v. Wainwright, 477 U.S. 168, 181 (1986). Sanchez's attorney objected to the question, the trial court sustained the objection, and the questioning continued in an appropriate manner. Given all of the other evidence in aggravation, and given that Sanchez himself admitted that the crimes (if in fact he committed them) were horrendous, we cannot say that the single controversial question swayed the jury's deliberations. It certainly wasn't enough to deprive Sanchez of a fair hearing.
19
Sanchez argues that the state court erred in denying his petition (under sec. 2-1401 of the Illinois statutes) for relief from the judgment. He sought relief under sec. 2-1401 based on the statement of Oscar Cartegena, an inmate in Milwaukee County jail who said he saw Thompson's abduction from D. Laney's. Cartegena, who was in jail with Sanchez, swore in a statement that Sanchez played no role in the abduction or in Valentine's shooting. This is perhaps the most troubling of Sanchez's claims and represents yet another instance in which the standard of review constrains what we can do. Based on Cartegena's statement, Sanchez moved for a new trial under sec. 2-1401 of the Illinois code. At the hearing on Sanchez's petition, Cartegena was called to testify but he refused, invoking the Fifth Amendment. After determining that Cartegena's invocation of the Fifth Amendment was legitimate, the trial judge found that Sanchez was not entitled to relief. We agree. Sanchez suggests that the court merely accepted Cartegena's "say so" that his testimony would subject him to incrimination. But the record doesn't support that parsing of the facts. The judge weighed and considered the testimony and ultimately concluded that Cartegena's invocation of the Fifth Amendment was legitimate. We said this aspect of the case is troubling, and it is. In the second (1989) Sanchez opinion from the Illinois Supreme Court, Justice Ryan dissented because, although he had no idea what Cartegena would have said, he thought the court "should have the benefit of all information available" before affirming a death sentence. We think Justice Ryan got it right. But that's really not the issue here. The question before us is whether the Illinois Supreme Court's decision on the 2-1401 petition was consistent with federal law. It was. Even Justice Ryan conceded that the Illinois Supreme Court's decision on this issue was supported by (i.e., consistent with) law. Finally, Sanchez argues that his attorneys provided ineffective assistance at the penalty phase because they failed to offer substantial evidence in mitigation. Going directly to the merits of this claim, we find it untenable. The record shows that Sanchez's attorneys put him on the stand to describe to the jury how his father abused him and how he was generally treated cruelly as a child. Sanchez testified that, despite his tragic start in life, he got a job and kept it for nearly 15 years; he saved enough money to buy a house; and he took care of his family. Sanchez's attorneys called his family members to tell the jury how well he had treated them. And the attorneys elicited that Sanchez had no record of criminal convictions. Perhaps there was more Sanchez's attorneys could have put on--Sanchez doesn't tell us what that evidence might have been--but we find no flaw in the Illinois Supreme Court's decision that the attorneys' conduct did not rise to the level of incompetence required by Strickland v. Washington, 466 U.S. 668 (1984) (defendant must show first that counsel's performance was deficient and, second, that counsel's deficient performance was so serious that it deprived defendant of a fair hearing).
20
For these reasons, we affirm the district court's decision denying Sanchez's habeas corpus petition.
21
Ripple, Circuit Judge, concurring.
22
I concur in the judgment of the court. The majority opinion covers adequately all but one of the arguments raised by Mr. Sanchez. I write separately to address the argument that my colleagues do not address. This is a death case, and I believe it is especially important that we state our views as comprehensively as possible. Our obligation to the litigants requires that we do; our obligation to the Supreme Court requires that we do.
23
Drope v. Missouri, 420 U.S. 162 (1975), makes clear that state courts have a continuing obligation to address, throughout the state proceedings, whether the defendant was competent at the time of trial. In this case, additional evidence as to whether Mr. Sanchez was competent at the time of sentencing came to light after trial. Mr. Sanchez now contends that the state courts did not fulfill their responsibility under Drope to evaluate properly the evidence that came to light during the post-conviction review. He contends that this evidence, when evaluated in light of the situation that arose at trial just prior to the penalty phase, raises a substantial question about his competency to participate in the proceedings at that time. As we did in Tenner v. Gilmore, 184 F.3d 608 (7th Cir. June 9, 1999), we therefore must decide whether the state courts adequately addressed the issue of this new evidence during the post-conviction review proceedings. My review of the record and of the decisions of the state courts on post- conviction review convinces me that the state courts' assessment of the new evidence was in conformity with the constitutional principles set out by the Supreme Court of the United States. On habeas review, this court must accept the state courts' well-founded conclusions. Therefore, I must conclude that the district court properly denied the writ of habeas corpus and its judgment ought to be affirmed.
| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | FreeLaw |
Introduction {#s1}
============
In the human species, females have longer life expectancies than males. The most recent US census data (<http://www.census.gov>) reports that males have a life expectancy of 75.5 years and females 80.5 years. Throughout this manuscript, we will define this phenomenon as the "gender effect". This gender effect was masked in the past due to high rates of maternal death from childbirth [@pone.0061955-Austad1]. The effect is now clearly visible throughout the developed world, with the only exceptions being underdeveloped countries where health systems are not capable to limit maternal deaths and the life expectancy is still that observed in developed countries one century ago [@pone.0061955-Austad1].
Over the last two decades, the Surveillance, Epidemiology and End Results (SEER) Program of the National Cancer Institute has collected information on cancer incidence, prevalence and survival in the United States. The SEER database is freely accessible and comprises geographic areas representing 28 percent of the US population. In our opinion, this database represents a useful source to address the gender effect in cancer. An analysis using the SEER database by Cook et al. in 2009 focused on gender differences in the incidence of cancer [@pone.0061955-Cook1]. This study clearly demonstrated that the risk of malignancy is higher in males, relative to females, for a majority of cancers at most ages. A second study by Cook et al addressed cancer mortality rate and noted a trend toward worse survival in men for a number of cancers. The authors noted that this trend tended to reflect the previously described pattern in cancer incidence [@pone.0061955-Cook2]. One limitation of these studies is that the authors considered the gender effect as constant throughout lifetime. Indeed, at birth the differences by gender are minimal. At puberty, however, with the acquisition of sexual maturity, gender differences start to appear and ultimately peak during young adulthood. These differences begin to decrease in middle to advanced adulthood, with the decrease in gonadic sex hormone production.
The National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey (NHANES) is a survey research program conducted by the National Center for Health Statistics to assess the health and nutritional status of US population. The survey combines interviews and physical examinations, including medical, dental, and physiological measurements, as well as laboratory tests administered by medical personnel, thus providing a snapshot of the health status of the US population.
We sought to address this gap in the field by determining the relevance of the gender effect on survival analysis with respect to age as a continuous variable and possible relation to physiological variables assessed in the NHANES III population study.
Materials and Methods {#s2}
=====================
SEER database {#s2a}
-------------
The April 2012 release of the 1973--2009 SEER-18 Research Data in SEER\*Stat version 7.0.9 was used for this study. Information from 3,133,120 patients was initially collected and used to analyze five year cause-specific survival for all cancer sites defined in the database. Case selection was defined as actively followed cases in the research database with malignant behavior and age at diagnosis of 1 to 84 years of age. Cases with death certificate only or autopsy only, cases based on multiple primaries and cases alive with no survival time were excluded (n = 189,718). Only patients for whom information was available about race, tumor stage, tumor type, gender and age at diagnosis were included. Analysis excluded gender specific sites (ovary, endometrial, vaginal, testis and prostate cancer). Breast cancer was not included because of the disproportionate frequency by gender. Details of the ICD codes of the excluded diseases are provided in [Table 1](#pone-0061955-t001){ref-type="table"}. This limited the sample size to 1,194,490 patients. The SEER cause-specific death classification was set as the definition of cause of death. The primary endpoint was cause-specific survival of each patient\'s originally diagnosed cancer site. Cause-specific survival was censored at the last follow-up, December 31, 2009, or five years after diagnosis, whichever came first. To analyze for gender-based survival differences, cases were stratified by males and females. Cases were further stratified by histological type and SEER Historic Stage (LRD Stage) [@pone.0061955-Henson1].
10.1371/journal.pone.0061955.t001
###### Break down of genitalia tumors excluded from the analysis.
{#pone-0061955-t001-1}
Tissue ICD-9 codes Number of male patients Number of female patients
--------------------------------- ---------------- ------------------------- --------------------------- -----------
**Breast** 175 (males); 4,641 689,952
174 (females);
**Cervix Uteri** 180; 60,076
**Corpus Uteri** 182; 144,621
**Other Female Genital Organs** 184; 181; 4,090
**Other Male Genital Organs** 187; 1,150
**Ovary** 183; 79,546
**Penis** 187; 3,514
**Prostate** 185; 711,145
**Testis** 186; 34,250
**Uterus, NOS** 179; 2,451
**Vagina** 184; 3,006
**Vulva** 184; 10,470
**Total** 754,700 994,212 1,748,912
NHANES III dataset {#s2b}
------------------
NHANES III is the seventh in a series of surveys that began in 1960 to examine the health of the US population. NHANES III sampled approximately 40,000 individuals from 1988 through 1994. One-hundred thirty variables related to human health were included in the analysis. All the variables were computed as provided in the dataset. The variables taken into consideration are included in the lab file available at <http://www.cdc.gov/nchs/nhanes/nh3data.htm>. Such variables are reported with two different scales, one in the native scale and the other one after conversion in the international system of units, thus representing 65 independent variables in two different measurement units. In particular free testosterone index was calculated according to the formula FTI (Free Testosterone Index) = \[(TT/SHBG) \* 100\], as suggested by the document file attached to the dataset <ftp://ftp.cdc.gov/pub/health_statistics/nchs/nhanes/nhanes3/25a/sshormon.pdf>.
Statistical analysis {#s2c}
--------------------
Cox proportional hazards models were used to estimate the male to female hazard of cause-specific mortality, defined here as the cause of death being the specific cancer originally diagnosed and death being within five years of cancer diagnosis. A Hazard Ratio (HR) value of 1 means no difference compared to the reference, while a value lower or higher than 1 means decreased or increased risk, respectively. Multivariate analysis model included the following variables: age at diagnosis, tumor stage, cancer type (sarcoma, solid tumor or hematologic malignancy), race and gender.
Overall Survival (OS) was calculated from the date of diagnosis to the date of death or five years after diagnosis. Medians and life tables were computed using the product-limit estimate by the Kaplan-Meier method, and the Log-Rank test was employed to assess statistical significance. Analysis was performed using the same variables described above.
To assess the homology between the distribution of the HR across age and gender, the distribution of each parameter analyzed in the NHANES III dataset was computed across the available age range and the Spearman correlation test was computed to detect the presence of a statistically significant correlation. To further assess the homology between the variables an additional analysis was conducted. Two samples kolmogorov-smirnov (KS) test assessed the homology between the HR distribution and the distribution of a given variable in the NHANES III dataset. The null distribution of this statistic was calculated under the null hypothesis that the samples were drawn from the same distribution. Since the HR and the NHANES III variables have different scales, the z-score was computed for each variable according to the following equation:, where µ and σ are mean and standard deviation of the whole population, respectively. Due to the differences of size of the two databases used for this study (SEER n = 1,194,490; NHANES III n = 29,314) we used the technique of bootstrapping (n = 10,000) to sample from the SEER database an equal number of patients capable to match for each age the size of the NHNAES III database, using the R function censboot [@pone.0061955-Efron1]. For each bootstrap, a KS test was made and the results are expressed as % of homology, which was the % of KS tests demonstrating that the two samples were coming from the same distribution. In all cases the level of significance was set at a p value \<0.05.
Results {#s3}
=======
A multivariate Cox proportional hazard model was generated with gender, race, stage, tumor type as categorical variables and age as a continuous variable. The outcome variable was five year survival. After excluding for gender-specific cancers ([Table 1](#pone-0061955-t001){ref-type="table"}), approximately 1,200,000 cases from the SEER-18 database were analyzed. All the variables included in the model were highly significant at a p\<0.00001 ([Table 2](#pone-0061955-t002){ref-type="table"}). Caucasians (HR 0.75 CI 0.74--0.76) had a better survival than African-Americans, while epithelial solid tumors (HR 1.8 CI 1.79--1.83) and sarcomas (HR 1.61 CI 1.57--1.66) showed a worse outcome than hematologic malignancies (reference = 1). Stage of cancer significantly affected the outcome, with patients featuring a tumor with regional (HR 0.84 CI 0.83--0.84) or local (HR 0.21 CI 0.21--0.21) involvement having a higher chance of survival as compared to patients with distant metastatic disease. Age (HR 1.03 CI 1.03--1.03) and gender (HR 1.13 CI 1.12--1.13) had a marginal but significant effect, with males exhibiting a more aggressive disease and a lower chance (∼13%) of surviving five years post-diagnosis.
10.1371/journal.pone.0061955.t002
###### Multivariate Cox analysis from the SEER 18 database.
{#pone-0061955-t002-2}
Number of patients Number of deaths HR[\*](#nt101){ref-type="table-fn"} 95% CI\*\* P-Value
------------------ -------------------- ------------------ ------------------------------------- ------------ ---------
**Gender** \<2e-16
Female 517,765 185,363 1 (Reference)
Male 676,725 255,117 1.12 1.12--1.13
**Age** 1.03 1.03--1.03 \<2e-16
**Race** \<2e-16
African-American 127,531 58,533 1 (Reference)
Caucasian 1,066,959 381,947 0.75 0.74--0.76
**Tumor** \<2e-16
Hematological 98,642 35,650 1 (Reference)
Sarcoma 21,431 5,556 1.61 1.57--1.66
Solid 1,074,417 399,274 1.81 1.79--1.83
**Stage** \<2e-16
Distant 417,434 224,375 1 (Reference)
Localized 525,007 84,903 0.21 0.21--0.21
Regional 252,049 131,202 0.84 0.83--0.84
HR = Hazard Ratio \*\*CI = Confidence Interval.
Thereafter, we adopted the same Cox proportional hazard model and calculated the HR over the entire age range (0 to 84 years). As depicted in [Fig. 1](#pone-0061955-g001){ref-type="fig"}, we used females as reference (HR = 1). No significant effects were noticed in the age range 0--17 years. From 18 to 41 years, the HR increased to average at about 1.5 and began to decrease thereafter. At the age of 61 years, the HR was below 1.13, not significant at the age of 74 years and significantly less than 1 at the age of 83 years. This led us to stratify patients in two age ranges: 17--61 years ([Table 3](#pone-0061955-t003){ref-type="table"}) and 62--84 years ([Table 4](#pone-0061955-t004){ref-type="table"}). We applied the same model and again, found that all variables were highly significant at p\<0.00001. The gender effect was more prominent in the age range 17--61 years, with a difference of about 30% in terms of the HR compared with patients over the age of 62 years. To further investigate this phenomenon, Kaplan-Meier analysis was conducted with the same dataset. Differences in survival between females and males were computed at each age and Log-Rank test was used to assess if variation was significant at a p value \<0.05 ([Figure 2](#pone-0061955-g002){ref-type="fig"}, [Video S1](#pone.0061955.s001){ref-type="supplementary-material"}). Until the age of 17 years, no significant changes were noticed. Starting from 18 years of age, an increasing and statistically significant difference was found. This effect peaked around 27 years and slightly decreased thereafter, remaining significant until the age of 63 years. After 70 years, the opposite phenomenon was noticed, with males having a slight but significant survival advantage. In terms of racial groups, the gender effect was more prominent in African-Americans than in Caucasians ([Fig. 3A](#pone-0061955-g003){ref-type="fig"}). In terms of tumor type, the gender effect was equally represented in sarcomas and epithelial solid tumors, but not in hematopoietic malignancies ([Fig. 3B](#pone-0061955-g003){ref-type="fig"}). In terms of staging, the gender effect was maximal in the most aggressive tumors with metastatic disease, slightly displayed in tumors with regional involvement and inverted in patients with localized disease, with males barely outliving females ([Fig. 3C](#pone-0061955-g003){ref-type="fig"}).
{#pone-0061955-g001}
{#pone-0061955-g002}
{#pone-0061955-g003}
10.1371/journal.pone.0061955.t003
###### Multivariate Cox analysis from the SEER 18 database for patients stratified for age range 17--61.
{#pone-0061955-t003-3}
Number of patients Number of deaths HR[\*](#nt102){ref-type="table-fn"} 95% CI\*\* P-Value
-------------------- -------------------- ------------------ ------------------------------------- ------------ ---------
**Age 17**--**61**
**Gender** \<2e-16
Female 214,647 51,416 1 (Reference)
Male 282,084 89,748 1.31 1.30--1.33
**Age** 1.03 1.03--1.03 \<2e-16
**Race** \<2e-16
African-American 61,907 25,479 1 (Reference)
Caucasian 434,824 115,685 0.69 0.68--0.70
**Tumor** \<2e-16
Hematological 37,012 11,299 1 (Reference)
Sarcoma 12,274 2,765 1.87 1.79--1.95
Solid 447,445 127,100 2.10 2.05--2.14
**Stage** \<2e-16
Distant 149,360 72,675 1 (Reference)
Localized 238,439 23,656 0.14 0.14--0.15
Regional 108,932 44,833 0.68 0.67--0.69
**Gender** \<2e-16
HR = Hazard Ratio \*\*CI = Confidence Interval.
10.1371/journal.pone.0061955.t004
###### Multivariate Cox analysis from the SEER 18 database for patients stratified for age range 62--84.
{#pone-0061955-t004-4}
Number of patients Number of deaths HR[\*](#nt103){ref-type="table-fn"} 95% CI\*\* P-Value
-------------------- -------------------- ------------------ ------------------------------------- ------------ ---------
**Gender** \<2e-16
**Age 62**--**84**
Female 297,522 133,296 1 (Reference)
Male 388,217 164,464 1.04 1.03--1.04
**Age** 1.03 1.03--1.03 \<2e-16
**Race** \<2e-16
African-American 64,346 32,807 1 (Reference)
Caucasian 621,393 264,953 0.81 0.79--0.82
**Tumor** \<2e-16
Hematological 53,763 23,409 1 (Reference)
Sarcoma 6,655 2,279 1.40 1.33--1.46
Solid 625,321 272,072 1.70 1.68--1.72
**Stage** \<2e-16
Distant 259,208 150,582 1 (Reference)
Localized 284,555 61,033 0.26 0.25--0.26
Regional 141,976 86,145 0.92 0.92--0.93
HR = Hazard Ratio \*\*CI = Confidence Interval.
To identify potential biological causes of the gender effect, we analyzed a series of physiologic variables assessed in the NHANES III study population. All variables were computed across the age range for the available population sample (n = 29,314). Spearman correlation test by gender was made between the distribution of HR and each of the NHANES III variables ([Table 5](#pone-0061955-t005){ref-type="table"}). The strongest correlation was noticed for Free Testosterone Index (FTI) in males with an R value of 0.9 ([Fig. 4](#pone-0061955-g004){ref-type="fig"}).
{#pone-0061955-g004}
10.1371/journal.pone.0061955.t005
###### Homology of the NHANES III parameters with the distribution of HR calculated with the Spearman correlation test.
{#pone-0061955-t005-5}
Name[\*](#nt104){ref-type="table-fn"} Variable R-Female\*\* P-value Female R-Male\*\* P-value Male
--------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------ -------------- ---------------- ------------ --------------
AAP Serum apolipoprotein AI (mg/dL) −0.192 0.08641129 −0.281 0.01092914
AAPSI Serum apolipoprotein AI: SI (g/L) −0.192 0.08641129 −0.281 0.01098927
ABP Serum apolipoprotein B (mg/dL) −0.271 0.01447273 −0.042 0.71236907
ABPSI Serum apolipoprotein B: SI (g/L) −0.271 0.01427207 −0.042 0.71236907
ACP Serum alpha carotene (ug/dL) −0.357 0.00106457 −0.269 0.01525548
ACPSI Serum alpha carotene: SI (umol/L) −0.357 0.00106457 −0.249 0.02525033
AMP Serum albumin (g/dL) 0.337 0.00356104 0.749 0.00000000
AMPSI Serum albumin: SI (g/L) 0.339 0.00339225 0.749 0.00000000
APPSI Serum alkaline phosphatase: SI (U/L) −0.813 0.00000000 −0.417 0.00023949
ASPSI Aspartate aminotransferase: SI(U/L) −0.798 0.00000000 0.589 0.00000004
ATPSI Alanine aminotransferase: SI (U/L) 0.099 0.40254662 0.772 0.00000000
BCP Serum beta carotene (ug/dL) −0.627 0.00000000 −0.814 0.00000000
BCPSI Serum beta carotene: SI (umol/L) −0.627 0.00000000 −0.811 0.00000000
BUP Serum blood urea nitrogen (mg/dL) −0.749 0.00000000 −0.735 0.00000000
BUPSI Serum blood urea nitrogen: SI (mmol/L) −0.750 0.00000000 −0.735 0.00000000
BXP Serum beta cryptoxanthin (ug/dL) −0.575 0.00000002 0.114 0.30923053
BXPSI Serum beta cryptoxanthin: SI (umol/L) −0.575 0.00000002 0.114 0.30923053
C1P Serum C-peptide (pmol/mL) −0.853 0.00000000 −0.900 0.00000000
C1PSI Serum C-peptide: SI (nmol/L) −0.853 0.00000000 −0.900 0.00000000
C3PSI Serum bicarbonate: SI (mmol/L) −0.719 0.00000000 −0.146 0.21736862
CAPSI Serum total calcium: SI (mmol/L) −0.360 0.00176134 0.649 0.00000000
CEP Serum creatinine (mg/dL) −0.735 0.00000000 −0.560 0.00000026
CEPSI Serum creatinine: SI (umol/L) −0.735 0.00000000 −0.564 0.00000021
CHP Serum cholesterol (mg/dL) −0.632 0.00000000 −0.300 0.00991549
CHPSI Serum cholesterol: SI (mmol/L) −0.632 0.00000000 −0.300 0.00991549
CLPSI Serum chloride: SI (mmol/L) 0.749 0.00000000 0.305 0.00874252
CRP Serum C-reactive protein (mg/dL) 0.120 0.28496126 −0.526 0.00000045
DWP Platelet distribution width (%) −0.209 0.05619882 −0.273 0.01210983
EPP Erythrocyte protoporphyrin (ug/dL) 0.129 0.24269588 −0.821 0.00000000
EPPSI Erythrocyte protoporphyrin: SI (umol/L) 0.129 0.24269588 −0.821 0.00000000
FBP Plasma fibrinogen (mg/dL) −0.785 0.00000000 −0.875 0.00000000
FBPSI Plasma fibrinogen: SI (g/L) −0.785 0.00000000 −0.875 0.00000000
FEP Serum iron (ug/dL) 0.245 0.02495242 0.810 0.00000000
FEPSI Serum iron: SI (umol/L) 0.245 0.02495242 0.811 0.00000000
FHPSI Serum FSH: SI (IU/L) −0.923 0.00000000 NA NA
FOP Serum folate (ng/mL) −0.848 0.00000000 −0.878 0.00000000
FOPSI Serum folate: SI (nmol/L) −0.849 0.00000000 −0.878 0.00000000
FRP Serum ferritin (ng/mL) −0.309 0.00425086 0.313 0.00377445
FRPSI Serum ferritin: SI (ug/L) −0.309 0.00425086 0.313 0.00377445
FTI Free Testosterone Index NA NA 0.896 0.00000000
G1P Plasma glucose (mg/dL) −0.935 0.00000000 −0.893 0.00000000
G1PSI Plasma glucose: SI (mmol/L) −0.935 0.00000000 −0.894 0.00000000
GBP Serum globulin (g/dL) 0.493 0.00000959 −0.508 0.00000442
GBPSI Serum globulin: SI (g/L) 0.493 0.00000959 −0.508 0.00000442
GGPSI Gamma glutamyl transferase: SI(U/L) −0.309 0.00784222 0.300 0.00982023
GHP Glycated hemoglobin: (%) −0.458 0.00001750 −0.328 0.00281080
GRP Granulocyte number (Coulter) 0.330 0.00219745 −0.156 0.15681130
GRPPCNT Granulocyte percent (Coulter) 0.099 0.36796983 −0.209 0.05677155
HDP Serum HDL cholesterol (mg/dL) −0.026 0.81885388 −0.028 0.80150034
HDPSI Serum HDL cholesterol: SI (mmol/L) −0.026 0.81647053 −0.033 0.77302280
HGP Hemoglobin (g/dL) −0.201 0.06652643 0.888 0.00000000
HGPSI Hemoglobin: SI (g/L) −0.207 0.05936647 0.887 0.00000000
HTP Hematocrit (%) −0.230 0.03530110 0.882 0.00000000
HTPSI Hematocrit: SI (L/L = 1) −0.261 0.01662213 0.882 0.00000000
I1P Serum insulin (uU/mL) −0.388 0.00140917 −0.631 0.00000002
I1PSI Serum insulin: SI (pmol/L) −0.397 0.00106616 −0.646 0.00000001
ICPSI Serum normalized calcium: SI (mmol/L) −0.181 0.12583385 0.592 0.00000003
LCP Serum LDL cholesterol (mg/dL) −0.649 0.00000000 −0.278 0.01716036
LCPSI Serum LDL cholesterol: SI (mmol/L) −0.648 0.00000000 −0.279 0.01664851
LDPSI Serum lactate dehydrogenase: SI (U/L) −0.872 0.00000000 −0.603 0.00000002
LHPSI Serum luteinizing hormone: SI (IU/L) −0.900 0.00000000 NA NA
LMP Lymphocyte number (Coulter) 0.112 0.31063595 0.111 0.31586929
LMPPCNT Lymphocyte percent (Coulter) −0.031 0.77844359 0.226 0.03867549
LUP Serum lutein/zeaxanthin (ug/dL) −0.503 0.00000166 −0.186 0.09706599
LUPSI Serum lutein/zeaxanthin: SI (umol/L) −0.503 0.00000166 −0.185 0.09862355
LYP Serum lycopene (ug/dL) 0.581 0.00000001 0.693 0.00000000
LYPSI Serum lycopene: SI (umol/L) 0.581 0.00000001 0.696 0.00000000
MCPSI Mean cell hemoglobin: SI (pg) −0.098 0.37316009 −0.102 0.35591627
MHP Mean cell hemoglobin concentration −0.025 0.81809731 0.713 0.00000000
MHPSI Mean cell hemoglobin concentration: SI −0.041 0.71258807 0.712 0.00000000
MOP Mononuclear number (Coulter) −0.459 0.00001110 −0.270 0.01296002
MOPPCNT Mononuclear percent (Coulter) −0.694 0.00000000 −0.303 0.00502804
MVPSI Mean cell volume: SI (fL) −0.162 0.14189878 −0.196 0.07470494
NAPSI Serum sodium: SI (mmol/L) −0.730 0.00000000 0.121 0.30861718
OSPSI Serum osmolality: SI (mmol/Kg) −0.774 0.00000000 −0.610 0.00000001
PBP Lead (ug/dL) −0.716 0.00000000 −0.366 0.00061883
PBPSI Lead: SI (umol/L) −0.716 0.00000000 −0.365 0.00063950
PLP Platelet count 0.164 0.13599759 0.170 0.12316988
PLPSI Platelet count: SI 0.164 0.13599759 0.170 0.12316988
PSP Serum phosphorus (mg/dL) −0.092 0.43837499 0.592 0.00000003
PSPSI Serum phosphorus: SI (mmol/L) −0.105 0.37698728 0.601 0.00000002
PVPSI Mean platelet volume: SI (fL) 0.263 0.01556216 0.509 0.00000076
PXP Serum transferrin saturation (%) 0.004 0.97279399 0.651 0.00000000
RBP RBC folate (ng/mL) −0.697 0.00000000 −0.829 0.00000000
RBPSI RBC folate: SI (nmol/L) −0.697 0.00000000 −0.830 0.00000000
RCP Red blood cell count −0.389 0.00025433 0.894 0.00000000
RCPSI Red blood cell count: SI −0.389 0.00025433 0.894 0.00000000
REP Serum sum retinyl esters (ug/dL) −0.478 0.00000631 0.197 0.07756829
REPSI Serum sum retinyl esters: SI (umol/L) −0.478 0.00000631 0.197 0.07756829
RWP Red cell distribution width (%) −0.213 0.05126613 −0.453 0.00001495
RWPSI Red cell distribution width:SI(fraction) −0.201 0.06649576 −0.466 0.00000773
SCP Serum total calcium (mg/dL) −0.757 0.00000000 0.498 0.00000753
SCPSI Serum total calcium: SI (mmol/L) −0.757 0.00000000 0.498 0.00000753
SEP Serum selenium (ng/mL) −0.373 0.00115565 0.050 0.67213796
SEPSI Serum selenium: SI (nmol/L) −0.373 0.00115565 0.049 0.67829545
SFP Serum iron (ug/dL) 0.111 0.34785293 0.769 0.00000000
SFPSI Serum iron: SI (umol/L) 0.120 0.31127706 0.769 0.00000000
SGP Serum glucose (mg/dL) −0.798 0.00000000 −0.695 0.00000000
SGPSI Serum glucose: SI (mmol/L) −0.798 0.00000000 −0.695 0.00000000
SKPSI Serum potassium: SI (mmol/L) −0.740 0.00000000 −0.764 0.00000000
TBP Serum total bilirubin (mg/dL) −0.160 0.17761841 0.349 0.00245347
TBPSI Serum total bilirubin: SI (umol/L) −0.160 0.17761841 0.349 0.00245347
TCP Serum cholesterol (mg/dL) −0.309 0.00506787 −0.064 0.56742948
TCPSI Serum cholesterol: SI (mmol/L) −0.310 0.00491528 −0.064 0.57120680
TGP Serum triglycerides (mg/dL) −0.432 0.00005590 −0.094 0.40159299
TGPSI Serum triglycerides: SI (mmol/L) −0.432 0.00005530 −0.093 0.40818301
TIP Serum TIBC (ug/dL) 0.439 0.00002980 0.225 0.03940973
TIPSI Serum TIBC: SI (umol/L) 0.439 0.00002920 0.225 0.03946738
TPP Serum total protein (g/dL) 0.540 0.00000081 0.661 0.00000000
TPPSI Serum total protein: SI (g/L) 0.540 0.00000081 0.661 0.00000000
TRP Serum triglycerides (mg/dL) −0.647 0.00000000 −0.356 0.00200854
TRPSI Serum triglycerides: SI (mmol/L) −0.648 0.00000000 −0.357 0.00191951
UAP Serum uric acid (mg/dL) −0.799 0.00000000 −0.118 0.31931443
UAPSI Serum uric acid: SI (umol/L) −0.799 0.00000000 −0.103 0.38586985
UBP Urinary albumin (ug/mL) −0.389 0.00040086 −0.529 0.00000054
UDP Urinary cadmium (ng/mL) −0.198 0.07995458 −0.264 0.01867397
UDPSI Urinary cadmium: SI (nmol/L) −0.197 0.08239987 −0.257 0.02218103
UIP Urinary iodine (ug/dL) 0.090 0.43194652 −0.127 0.26442096
URP Urinary creatinine (mg/dL) 0.665 0.00000000 0.832 0.00000000
URPSI Urinary creatinine: SI (mmol/L) 0.666 0.00000000 0.832 0.00000000
VAP Serum vitamin A (ug/dL) −0.316 0.00400679 −0.125 0.26576601
VAPSI Serum vitamin A: SI (umol/L) −0.316 0.00402357 −0.125 0.26570892
VBP Serum vitamin B12 (pg/mL) −0.246 0.02668772 0.177 0.11346459
VBPSI Serum vitamin B12: SI (pmol/L) −0.245 0.02733610 0.177 0.11381964
VCP Serum vitamin C (mg/dL) −0.793 0.00000000 −0.357 0.00124030
VCPSI Serum vitamin C: SI (mmol/L) −0.794 0.00000000 −0.357 0.00123505
VEP Serum vitamin E (ug/dL) −0.390 0.00032274 −0.245 0.02737352
VEPSI Serum vitamin E: SI (umol/L) −0.390 0.00032274 −0.245 0.02731578
WCP White blood cell count 0.041 0.70884419 −0.347 0.00121351
WCPSI White blood cell count: SI 0.041 0.70884419 −0.347 0.00121351
Name of the variable in the attached dataset file;\*\*calculated with Spearman Correlation test;
The homology between HR and the NHANES III was then computed for all the available variables across the available age range. KS test assessed the hypothesis that HR and a given NHANES III parameter followed in whole or in part the same distribution. This analysis was performed independently for each gender ([Table 6](#pone-0061955-t006){ref-type="table"}). A striking full homology (100%) was observed for FTI in males, as the two distributions did not differ significantly across the entire age range ([Fig. 5A](#pone-0061955-g005){ref-type="fig"}). None of the other variables exhibited a similar degree of concordance with the HR distribution. The second strongest homology was observed for Hemoglobin in males (11.9%, [Fig. 5B](#pone-0061955-g005){ref-type="fig"}), where the homology was mostly confined to the age range 17--27. Noteworthy, the behavior of hemoglobin in females did not show a comparable homology with HR ([Fig. 5B](#pone-0061955-g005){ref-type="fig"}).
{#pone-0061955-g005}
10.1371/journal.pone.0061955.t006
###### Homology of the NHANES III parameters with the distribution of HR calculated with the KS method.
{#pone-0061955-t006-6}
Number Parameter \% Homology Female \% Homology Male
--------- ------------------------------------------ -------------------- ------------------
**1** Serum apolipoprotein AI (mg/dL) 6.2% 2.5%
**2** Serum apolipoprotein AI: SI (g/L) 6.2% 2.5%
**3** Serum apolipoprotein B (mg/dL) 3.7% 3.7%
**4** Serum apolipoprotein B: SI (g/L) 3.7% 3.7%
**5** Serum alpha carotene (ug/dL) 1.2% 0.0%
**6** Serum alpha carotene: SI (umol/L) 2.5% 0.0%
**7** Serum albumin (g/dL) 0.0% 1.4%
**8** Serum albumin: SI (g/L) 0.0% 1.4%
**9** Serum alkaline phosphatase: SI (U/L) 1.4% 0.0%
**10** Aspartate aminotransferase: SI(U/L) 1.4% 1.4%
**11** Alanine aminotransferase: SI (U/L) 2.7% 1.4%
**12** Serum beta carotene (ug/dL) 2.5% 1.2%
**13** Serum beta carotene: SI (umol/L) 2.5% 1.2%
**14** Serum blood urea nitrogen (mg/dL) 2.7% 0.0%
**15** Serum blood urea nitrogen: SI (mmol/L) 2.7% 0.0%
**16** Serum beta cryptoxanthin (ug/dL) 0.0% 0.0%
**17** Serum beta cryptoxanthin: SI (umol/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**18** Serum C-peptide (pmol/mL) 0.0% 0.0%
**19** Serum C-peptide: SI (nmol/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**20** Serum bicarbonate: SI (mmol/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**21** Serum total calcium: SI (mmol/L) 0.0% 1.4%
**22** Serum creatinine (mg/dL) 0.0% 0.0%
**23** Serum creatinine: SI (umol/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**24** Serum cholesterol (mg/dL) 0.0% 0.0%
**25** Serum cholesterol: SI (mmol/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**26** Serum chloride: SI (mmol/L) 1.4% 1.4%
**27** Serum C-reactive protein (mg/dL) 3.7% 7.4%
**28** Platelet distribution width (%) 2.4% 2.4%
**29** Erythrocyte protoporphyrin (ug/dL) 4.8% 1.2%
**30** Erythrocyte protoporphyrin: SI (umol/L) 2.4% 1.2%
**31** Plasma fibrinogen (mg/dL) 0.0% 0.0%
**32** Plasma fibrinogen: SI (g/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**33** Serum iron (ug/dL) 1.2% 2.4%
**34** Serum iron: SI (umol/L) 1.2% 2.4%
**35** Serum FSH: SI (IU/L) 0.0% N.A.
**36** Serum folate (ng/mL) 2.5% 1.2%
**37** Serum folate: SI (nmol/L) 2.5% 1.2%
**38** Serum ferritin (ng/mL) 2.4% 0.0%
**39** Serum ferritin: SI (ug/L) 2.4% 0.0%
**40** Free Testosterone Index N.A. 100.0%
**41** Plasma glucose (mg/dL) 0.0% 0.0%
**42** Plasma glucose: SI (mmol/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**43** Serum globulin (g/dL) 0.0% 0.0%
**44** Serum globulin: SI (g/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**45** Gamma glutamyl transferase: SI(U/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**46** Glycated hemoglobin: (%) 3.7% 6.2%
**47** Granulocyte number (Coulter) 1.2% 2.4%
**48** Granulocyte percent (Coulter) 3.6% 2.4%
**49** Serum HDL cholesterol (mg/dL) 2.5% 1.2%
**50** Serum HDL cholesterol: SI (mmol/L) 2.5% 1.2%
**51** Hemoglobin (g/dL) 1.2% 11.9%
**52** Hemoglobin: SI (g/L) 1.2% 10.7%
**53** Hematocrit (%) 2.4% 10.7%
**54** Hematocrit: SI (L/L = 1) 1.2% 10.7%
**55** Serum insulin (uU/mL) 0.0% 0.0%
**56** Serum insulin: SI (pmol/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**57** Serum normalized calcium: SI (mmol/L) 0.0% 1.4%
**58** Serum LDL cholesterol (mg/dL) 0.0% 0.0%
**59** Serum LDL cholesterol: SI (mmol/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**60** Serum lactate dehydrogenase: SI (U/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**61** Serum luteinizing hormone: SI (IU/L) 0.0% N.A.
**62** Lymphocyte number (Coulter) 1.2% 0.0%
**63** Lymphocyte percent (Coulter) 1.2% 0.0%
**64** Serum lutein/zeaxanthin (ug/dL) 2.5% 3.7%
**65** Serum lutein/zeaxanthin: SI (umol/L) 2.5% 3.7%
**66** Serum lycopene (ug/dL) 0.0% 1.2%
**67** Serum lycopene: SI (umol/L) 0.0% 1.2%
**68** Mean cell hemoglobin: SI (pg) 2.4% 2.4%
**69** Mean cell hemoglobin concentration 0.0% 2.4%
**70** Mean cell hemoglobin concentration: SI 1.2% 1.2%
**71** Mononuclear number (Coulter) 0.0% 1.2%
**72** Mononuclear percent (Coulter) 0.0% 1.2%
**73** Mean cell volume: SI (fL) 6.0% 6.0%
**74** Serum sodium: SI (mmol/L) 1.4% 1.4%
**75** Serum osmolality: SI (mmol/Kg) 0.0% 1.4%
**76** Lead (ug/dL) 3.6% 6.0%
**77** Lead: SI (umol/L) 3.6% 6.0%
**78** Platelet count 1.2% 0.0%
**79** Platelet count: SI 1.2% 0.0%
**80** Serum phosphorus (mg/dL) 0.0% 1.4%
**81** Serum phosphorus: SI (mmol/L) 0.0% 1.4%
**82** Mean platelet volume: SI (fL) 1.2% 2.4%
**83** Serum transferrin saturation (%) 1.2% 3.6%
**84** RBC folate (ng/mL) 2.5% 0.0%
**85** RBC folate: SI (nmol/L) 2.5% 0.0%
**86** Red blood cell count 0.0% 7.1%
**87** Red blood cell count: SI 0.0% 7.1%
**88** Serum sum retinyl esters (ug/dL) 0.0% 0.0%
**89** Serum sum retinyl esters: SI (umol/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**90** Red cell distribution width (%) 7.1% 4.8%
**91** Red cell distribution width:SI(fraction) 6.0% 3.6%
**92** Serum total calcium (mg/dL) 0.0% 0.0%
**93** Serum total calcium: SI (mmol/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**94** Serum selenium (ng/mL) 0.0% 1.4%
**95** Serum selenium: SI (nmol/L) 0.0% 1.4%
**96** Serum iron (ug/dL) 0.0% 0.0%
**97** Serum iron: SI (umol/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**98** Serum glucose (mg/dL) 1.4% 2.7%
**99** Serum glucose: SI (mmol/L) 1.4% 2.7%
**100** Serum potassium: SI (mmol/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**101** Serum total bilirubin (mg/dL) 0.0% 0.0%
**102** Serum total bilirubin: SI (umol/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**103** Serum cholesterol (mg/dL) 2.5% 4.9%
**104** Serum cholesterol: SI (mmol/L) 2.5% 4.9%
**105** Serum triglycerides (mg/dL) 6.2% 4.9%
**106** Serum triglycerides: SI (mmol/L) 6.2% 4.9%
**107** Serum TIBC (ug/dL) 0.0% 0.0%
**108** Serum TIBC: SI (umol/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**109** Serum total protein (g/dL) 0.0% 0.0%
**110** Serum total protein: SI (g/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**111** Serum triglycerides (mg/dL) 4.1% 2.7%
**112** Serum triglycerides: SI (mmol/L) 4.1% 2.7%
**113** Serum uric acid (mg/dL) 1.4% 1.4%
**114** Serum uric acid: SI (umol/L) 1.4% 1.4%
**115** Urinary albumin (ug/mL) 1.3% 0.0%
**116** Urinary cadmium (ng/mL) 2.5% 1.3%
**117** Urinary cadmium: SI (nmol/L) 2.5% 1.3%
**118** Urinary iodine (ug/dL) 0.0% 0.0%
**119** Urinary creatinine (mg/dL) 3.8% 5.1%
**120** Urinary creatinine: SI (mmol/L) 3.8% 5.1%
**121** Serum vitamin A (ug/dL) 6.2% 4.9%
**122** Serum vitamin A: SI (umol/L) 6.2% 4.9%
**123** Serum vitamin B12 (pg/mL) 0.0% 1.2%
**124** Serum vitamin B12: SI (pmol/L) 0.0% 1.2%
**125** Serum vitamin C (mg/dL) 0.0% 0.0%
**126** Serum vitamin C: SI (mmol/L) 0.0% 0.0%
**127** Serum vitamin E (ug/dL) 1.2% 3.7%
**128** Serum vitamin E: SI (umol/L) 1.2% 3.7%
**129** White blood cell count 2.4% 2.4%
**130** White blood cell count: SI 2.4% 2.4%
Discussion {#s4}
==========
In this era of personalized medicine, research is now focused on identifying specific biomarkers to tailor the therapeutic approach to both the disease and the unique genetic makeup of the patient. This concept is rapidly advancing in oncology, where differences in the genetic composition of a single tumor may be exploited to select individual targeted therapies. Until now, the search for personalized therapeutic strategies has not taken the impact of gender into consideration. Our study emphasizes that gender may be responsible for significant differences in cancer outcome prevalently in patients 17--61 years of age. These differences have been underestimated in previous studies that did not consider the significance of age for the gender effect. To our knowledge, this is the first study that systematically investigates the gender effect stratified over age as continuous variable using US population data. The only other study that has investigated the gender effect with reference to age was conducted in Europe and found a 5% gender-based survival difference [@pone.0061955-Micheli1], as compared to the 30% effect reported here. This discrepancy could be explained by the heterogeneous European database, overrepresentation of older patients or the study design in which age ranges were chosen arbitrarily [@pone.0061955-Micheli1]. Our initial hypothesis was that, if present, the gender effect would be influenced by age, since the hormonal differences between males and females are maximal in the fertile years; similarly, we expected the gender effect to decrease in influence following those years. This hypothesis was confirmed by our analysis since the gender effect peaked during the fertile years, when hormonal differences are maximal by gender.
What determines the gender effect? So far, the concept of hormone-dependent disease has been confined to prostate and breast cancer, where anti-hormone strategies are principal modalities of therapy. Our findings suggest that sex hormones, more generally, could be key drivers of a malignancy\'s aggressiveness, particularly when cancer is developed at a young age, and may thus be exploited to increase cancer survival rates.
Another important finding in our study is that out of 65 physiologic variables [@pone.0061955-Sempos1], free testosterone displayed the strongest homology to that of the HR. The gender effect has traditionally been explained to result from differences in estrogen levels in the female population, with focus on a female\'s pre- or post-menopausal status. Our study strongly suggests that also androgens could be involved in driving the gender effect. Indeed, the amount of free testosterone in males is not constant throughout life [@pone.0061955-Rohrmann1]. Rather, levels increase at around 17 years, peak in the mid-twenties and gradually decrease thereafter until returning to pre-puberty levels at the age of 61 years.
In our study, the gender effect was more prominent in African-American than in Caucasian. In the US population, young African-Americans exhibit higher bone density and muscle mass [@pone.0061955-Ellis1], all parameters which have been related to increased androgen levels [@pone.0061955-Zmuda1]. At the same time, there is also an increased risk of prostate cancer in African-Americans which has been correlated with higher levels of androgens [@pone.0061955-Litman1]. For these reasons, African-Americans may benefit more of a therapeutic manipulation of the hormonal levels aimed at increasing the effects of metastatic cancer treatments. In addition to free testosterone, we noticed that also the amount of hemoglobin displayed a significant correlation with the gender effect in males but not in females. Hemoglobin levels are known to depend on free testosterone levels in males [@pone.0061955-Utriainen1], thus strengthening the biological link between HR trend in males and circulating androgen levels.
How are androgens involved in cancer mortality? Here we reported that the gender effect is not visible in all the patients, but only when the disease is solid (epithelial and sarcomas but not hematological malignancies) and at an advanced stage which would require additional treatments. This fact suggests the presence of a relationship between gender effect and response/resistance to treatments used for metastatic cancers. Recently, androgens have been reported to activate a prosurvival pathway in colorectal cancer through the overexpression of class III and V β-tubulin isotypes [@pone.0061955-Mariani1]. Class III β-tubulin is an adaptive survival pathway to a harsh microenvironment featured by hypoxia [@pone.0061955-Raspaglio1] and poor nutrient supply [@pone.0061955-Raspaglio2]. In this context, androgens could activate a survival pathway regardless of exposure to such a microenvironment, making a cancer more aggressive and resistant to anoikis, which occurs in the setting of low oxygen and nutrient supply. This would enable cancer cells to metastasize locally and distantly and escape from cancer treatments. These processes could establish a biological ground to explain an androgen-dependent gender effect.
But, do estrogen levels exert some protective effects for cancer survival? This hypothesis, originated by Adami and coll. in 1990 [@pone.0061955-Adami1], cannot be directly excluded in our study, as the NHANES III dataset did not analyze estrogen levels in its female population. However, other female-specific sex hormones whose expression is directly related to estrogen levels, such as FSH and LH [@pone.0061955-Hale1], were investigated in the NHANES III population. None of these hormones exhibited a direct relationship with the HR distribution with both Spearman and KS-test. Moreover, estrogen production in females peaks at around 12 years of age [@pone.0061955-Chumlea1] and decreases at around 50--51 years of age [@pone.0061955-Faddy1], which is earlier than the pattern of free testosterone in males. Such physiological observations suggest that the curve of estrogen production does not match the HR distribution over age reported here.
The major limitation of our study is that all the results are driven from patient population studies and that SEER database and NHANES III include cancer patients and healthy subjects, respectively. Therefore, our analysis was made from two independent subsets and data did not come from the same patients. However, such risk is partially mitigated by the size of the studied populations and the fact that they were coming across US, thus decreasing the risk to be affected by specific treatments delivered in a single Institution.
Nevertheless, our data emphasize the new hypothesis that androgens, rather than estrogens, could be drivers of the gender effect. An array of antiandrogen therapies has been developed for the management of prostate cancer, including drugs that also decrease tissue production of androgens [@pone.0061955-Mostaghel1]. Our population study supports the need of prospective clinical trials to test whether young male cancer patients (aged less than 61 years) with metastatic disease could benefit from therapeutic modulation of male hormone levels.
Supporting Information {#s5}
======================
######
**Survival analysis from age 0 to 84.** The video is generated by Kaplan-Meier analysis from the data presented in the manuscript from the age 1 to 84 and the animation is obtained with the overlapping of the 84 images. For each age, blue and red lines indicate the survival curve for male and females, respectively.
(MP4)
######
Click here for additional data file.
We are grateful to Sam Kopf for the critical reading. This work is dedicated to Monica DeFeo who lost her courageous battle against cancer at the young age of 53.
[^1]: **Competing Interests:**The authors have declared that no competing interests exist.
[^2]: Conceived and designed the experiments: CF MK SS SH GS. Performed the experiments: SH MK. Analyzed the data: SH MK CF JP. Contributed reagents/materials/analysis tools: MK MM. Wrote the paper: CF.
| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | PubMed Central |
The 2018 Cardinals offense was abysmal under offensive Mike McCoy, so abysmal that they had to axe him mid-season and roll with Byron Leftwich as their play-caller. The blend of horrific play-calling, a rookie quarterback thrown into the fire too soon and a shitty offensive line led to a tumultuous fantasy season for David Johnson. Although DJ finished as the RB11, it was more so based on his ability to make something out of nothing — which should change under the one of the more creative offensive minds, Kliff Kingsbury. As Washington State QCC Drew Hollingshead told us, Kingsbury will not only utilize Johnson’s strength, speed and vision in the run game, but he’ll also find creative ways to deploy his elite receiving skill-set in the pass game to resurrect his fantasy career.
One of the more interesting (and maddening) tidbits about last season is that the Cards rushed DJ up the middle and into the heart of the opposing defense a whopping 156 times. For a little perspective, Ezekiel Elliott had the second most carries up the middle with only 89. Even with how brainless McCoy proved to be, Johnson was still a fantasy factor at times throughout the 2018 season.
With McCoy gone, Kingsbury calling the shots and the addition of Broncos’ OL coach Sean Kugler, the run game should be much more effective in 2019. As noted, Kingsbury will find ways to get DJ to the perimeter in the run game and also find creative mismatches in the pass game. There will be no more “three-yards and a cloud of dust” in Arizona, which makes Johnson a no-brainer bounce-back candidate for 2019.
David Johnson is back in our top 10 overall and needs to be a first round staple. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
橋下徹・元大阪府知事がジャーナリストを名誉毀損で提訴。しかし、法廷で証言の矛盾を追及される
橋下徹氏がジャーナリストの岩上安身氏を名誉棄損で提訴
岩上氏が橋下氏の「訪台前の会議決定なし」を暴露
元大阪府知事・大阪市長でタレントの橋下徹弁護士が岩上安身・インディペンデント・ウェブ・ジャーナル（IWJ）代表を被告として起こした名誉毀損・損害賠償請求訴訟（リツイート裁判、岩上氏も反訴）の第6回口頭弁論が3月27日午前10時15分から、大阪地方裁判所第13民事部（末永雅之裁判長、重高啓右陪席裁判官、青木崇史左陪席裁判官）第202号法廷で開かれた。 この日の午前中の弁論では、元大阪府職員の大石晃子氏が被告（反訴原告）の岩上氏側の証人として、また、原告（反訴被告）の橋下氏側の証人として、小河保之元大阪府副知事が出廷した。午後は、岩上、橋下両氏が証言台に立った。 大阪地裁は午前8時10分ごろから30分まで傍聴券を配布したが、傍聴希望者は64人で、法廷の傍聴席は90席（記者クラブが13席占有）あり、全員が傍聴できた。午後1時15分からの証人尋問で、岩上氏と橋下氏が並んで「偽証しない」との宣誓文を順に読み上げた。橋下氏は「偽りを述べず」の部分で噛んでしまうなど、かなり緊張しているようだった。 先に岩上氏が証言した。岩上氏は梓澤和幸弁護士の主尋問で、出版社、週刊誌、フリー記者、テレビコメンテーター、IWJの設立など自身の経歴を述べた。そして、40年間のジャーナリストの仕事ではまず潜行取材を重ね、ファクトを掴み、最後に当事者に当たり取材をして報道することを実践してきたと語った。 橋下氏の提訴については、「橋下氏に取材したことがある。橋下氏は事前の問い合わせも何もなく、いきなり訴状を送ってきた。IWJの業務を妨害する意図があったと思う。私がリツイートした元ツイートについて、橋下氏は『僕が直接職員を自殺に追い込んだと書いていた』と非難しているが、元ツイートは、知事が幹部を叱責したと書いており、自殺した職員を直接叱ったとは書いていない。 ツイートの文章を読めば誰でもわかると思うが、『幹部たちに生意気な口を聞き』で切れている。『幹部たち』とは複数で、複数の人間がみんな自殺したっていう話に、直結したらなってしまう。何よりも述語が大事だが、この述語を橋下氏は、法廷に出している書面、ツイッターなどでカットしている。た、『追い込んだ』の後に句点まで打っている。これは原文の改竄である」と述べた。 坂弁護士は、J-Castニュース、『FRIDAY』、『週刊文春』、『週刊金曜日』、『新潮45』、宝島社など、橋下氏のもと参事だったN参事の自殺と橋下知事の関係について聞いたのに対し、「競合関係にある他のメディアも、の自殺の真相に迫っていたので、ライバルにヒントを与えてはいけないと感じて、本格的な深堀り取材レポートを書く前にリツイートを削除した」と述べた。 この後、岩上氏は「IWJの独自取材で、大阪府の担当者に確認したが、知事の訪台に関する部長会議、戦略会議での決定はなかったという正式に回答を得た。橋下氏のこれまでの説明は事実に反している」と“爆弾”証言した。 | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
The Collectif des livreurs autonomes de Paris (The Paris Autonomous Deliverers’ Collective, or CLAP) are a group of Paris-based delivery riders - employed by Deliveroo, Uber Eats, and so on - who are together organising across the city.
In August 2017 CLAP members led a series of strikes against Deliveroo’s changing the pay structure from a guaranteed hourly minimum to a fully piece-based system, being exactly the same change that provoked the London Deliveroo rider protests in late 2016. CLAP have since organised workers across the food delivery platforms, bikes and mopeds, with their latest action - a mass deactivation over the weekend of the World Cup final - contributing, they think, to Deliveroo and other platforms suspending their services.
JHJoe Hayns
SSteven, founding member of CLAP
The following interview was conducted in English, whilst travelling across Paris; it was lightly edited for clarity. Thanks to CA for her support before and during the meeting.
JHHow did CLAP start?
SWe started around February last year, from a gathering of some bikers who wanted to strike against platforms, and do some activism, and not just ideological work.
Six months before that, there was another platform, Foodora, who stopped business without paying bikers. The company went bust, and many bikers weren’t paid. Of the first members of CLAP, many worked for this company. They were saying “we can’t be without protection - they, the platforms, have to protect us”.
JHHow have the larger, longer-established organisations related with riders? Do you work with them?
SIn CLAP, some of us are in Sud’s (Solidaires Unitaires Démocratiques) Commerce branch, and others are in the CGT (Confédération nationale du travail)
Both of these unions have sections that represent Deliveroo and Uber Eats riders, but they have both found it difficult. They have structures now, after riders had a big fight with them.
The first strike from riders in France was in Bordeaux, in 2016. They asked the CGT for representation, and the CGT said “no, you are a little boss”. The bikers had to strike alone, but after this fight - against the CGT - the union said “OK, you are workers”. After that, Sud did the same, and tried to syndicalise a lot of bikers.
But the structure of trade unions are not adapted for riders, because we don’t have a factory, a place, somewhere to give leaflets, no coffee machines for chatting around - ‘Le rue est notre usine’, ‘the Street is our Factory’, as we say.
JHBut you do physically meet together, as members of CLAP?
SI think there is a contradiction in these platforms. We don’t have a workplace, but when we are working, there are some strategic places - between two big restaurants, for example - that, when you work, you know about.
Every biker goes to this place. And at that moment, at this place, we can speak
JHI’ll ask about tactics in a moment. On the riders - in the UK, it tends to be younger people, with a substantial number of men of colour, and that’ve migrated here. Is something similar true in France? How does migration status relate with this work, do you think?
SThere are a lot of Bangladeshi riders for Deliveroo and Uber Eats. The platforms try to employ a lot of migrants, because, they think, they will keep quiet, and won’t strike.
Sans papiers need to buy an account from a French guy, because in France, we need to create an enterprise to work lawfully, and you can’t do this if you’re a sans papier. So, they pay for a Deliveroo account from French people. They buy it, and give 50% to the French guy. We are fighting against this.
We say that the guy who is selling his account to an illegal immigrant, for profit, without doing anything, is doing the same shit as a Deliveroo or Uber Eats boss.
JHDuring the first wave of Deliveroo and Uber Eats strikes in the UK, over the late summer of 2016, workers protested outside firms’ offices, and also deactivated. Following that, there’s been a legal campaign from the IWGB (Independent Workers Great Britain) union, for the re-classification of riders as workers. And, in late November last year, riders blocked Deliveroos’ Brighton ‘Editions Kitchen’, where restaurants make food exclusively for delivery, which you now have in France, too.
I think then we talk about series of “spontaneous” strikes alongside a legal campaign. What kind of tactics have you used?
SOur biggest tactic is to block the restaurants. We all stop working at the same time, and we go to the same place, to the same restaurant, and we ask them to stop the tablet [used to organise deliveries], so there is no profit. If they don’t do what we say, we stay, outside the restaurant, shouting - and when they stop it, OK, we will go to another restaurant. We try to strike like this.
From September, we will have a permanence - somewhere where we will stay, one day a week, where we will help bikers with many things - advice about work, and so on.
JHIn the UK, the strategy of the Independent Workers Great Britain (IWGB) union has been to demand not that riders get more per piece, but to show through the courts that riders are workers - not, as Deliveroo claim, independent contractors - and therefore entitled to certain statutory minimums.
You talked about riders’ status and social security - access to services - in an interview last March with the Nouveau Parti anticapitaliste (NPA), saying that you are in a ‘zone grise’, a grey zone, when it comes to both work-based benefits, as IWGB are addressing, but also access to social services.
Could you speak about how your relationship with the employer relates to accessing social security?
SWhat we want is social protection, dignité - a little money, to live. We want access to social security. If we get that through legal recognition as workers, OK; if it’s through some micro business statute, that’s OK too ..
[At this point in the interview our companion got trapped between a metro car’s doors, taking our attention away from the question, which we didn’t return to. To quote the NPA interview:]
Since we’re not considered workers (salariés), we don’t have to social security. When we’re hurt, all the costs are on us, unless we have private insurance, which between 60-80% of couriers don’t have.
JHThe Macron administration recently proposed a chart social, which appeared to be a suggestion of how platforms might relate with workers. What’s CLAP’s view of it?
SIt was another bullshit communication from the government of Macron. When we began the World Cup strike, this question of the chart social was put to the Senate, and the Senate said “No”. It wasn’t a victory, it just meant more time. What we say about the chart social is that the platforms and the government are just discussing between themselves, without bikers being involved.
In fact, the chart doesn’t put any obligations on the platforms. They can say what they want: ‘tout passe par la lutte’ - everything comes from struggle.
JHCheminots and cheminotes on strike, students occupying faculties - there was a cautious optimism in the UK about the working class in France over the summer, against Macron’s attempting what Thatcher achieved, as another trade unionist, Tiziri Kandi, put it to me earlier this year .
SWell, there’s a difference - Thatcher won. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
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Jessica vs. Ashley Super Bowl Odds
When you think Jessica vs. Ashley odds, those trampy Simpson sisters come to mind, especially since Jessica was Tony Romo's love interest several years ago.
But these Super Bowl odds related the current girlfriends of starting QB's Aaron Rodgers of the Packers and Ben Roethlisberger of the Steelers.
The prop bet is whether Jessica Szohr (Rodgers' girlfriend) will be shown first during the telecast, ahead of Ashley Harlan (Big Ben's Fiancée). Perhaps because of Big Ben's sordid off-season sexual misconduct, perhaps because this is Ben's third Super Bowl, his fiancée is the favorite choice at +100.
ADVERTISEMENT: Literally hundreds of Super Bowl props from the kings of football props, Bovada, check out the latest and greatest football odds where you get the best Steelers point spread at +3!
It's one of dozens of fun entertainment and celebrity props available at Bovada this week.
Many thought that Dallas had a good chance to become the first tam ever to play he Super Bowl in their home stadium. That obviously did not happen this season with the disastrous season the Cowboys had going 6-10. Bovada has odds on showing Jerry Jones on TV O/U 3 times and you don't think the FOX announcers will mention the controversial owner? I would take the Over in this bet.
Super Bowl XLV - How Many Times will FOX show Jerry Jones on TV during the Game?
Over/Under 3
Brett Favre is likely retiring after this season, but he has done this for the last few seasons so you never know. He may come up in the Super Bowl broadcast, but I think the closer the game will be the less time his name will be mentioned.
Super Bowl XLV - How Many Times will FOX mention Brett Favre on TV during the Game?
Over/Under 2.5
The impending lockout after this season is a big issue and it may be talked about during the broadcast. There is a lot of down time in the Super Bowl especially before the game and at halftime and you don't think the FOX guys will talk about the lockout? Not likely.
Super Bowl XLV - How Many Times will FOX mention "Lockout" on TV during the Game?
Over/Under 2.5
Yeah, yeah, yeah Troy Polamalu and Clay Matthews both have sweet flowing locks, but who has the better coif? Bovada has odds on what player the FOX announcers think has the better do'.
Super Bowl XLV - Who will the FOX announcers say has better hair TV during the Game?
Troy Polamalu -120Clay Matthews -120
The winning coach will likely be doused after the game and while there are odds on 5 colors the best odds are for Clear/Water. I think that means water since clear Gatorade is not usually found on the sideline. Orange at 5/2? That is my take, as I have a lot in common with NFL players, besides how much I can bench press, as I think orange Gatorade is the best like they do!
Super Bowl XLV - What Color will the Gatorade be that is dumped on the Head Coach of the Winning Super Bowl Team?
Yellow 3/2Clear/Water 2/1Orange 5/2Lime Green 5/1Red 15/2Blue 10/1
The guys that usually dump the Gatorade are big guys and Bovada thinks that the defensive guys will douse their coach. Do they now know the offensive linemen are the biggest guys on the team?
Super Bowl XLV - What side of the ball will the Players that perform the Gatorade Shower be from?
Offensive 150Defensive -200
Super Bowl XLV - Will a punt hit the scoreboard during the game?
The scoreboard in Dallas is very low and may be hit by a punt, again! However, even though the odds are against this at 10/1 if you wager Yes and the game is a defensive battle with many points you have a chance to win some green.
Yes 10/1
The Steelers are a pretty classy and well-coached team, but will they disrespect Aaron Rodgers and imitate his Championship Belt Celebration. I am with Bovada on this one, as I do not think so.
Super Bowl XLV Specials - Will a Steelers player do the Aaron Rodgers Championship Belt Celebration during the game?
Yes EVENNo -140
The Lambeau Leap has become synonymous for Green Bay when they score a TD, but in the Super Bowl? Yeah, they will do it, but I hope, for their sake, they do not jump into a bunch of Steelers' fans. I would like to see that though.
Super Bowl XLV Specials - Will Any Player do the Lambeau Leap after a TD?
Yes 2/1
You don't think B.J.Raji will be on the field in the game? Well, bet on it, but the odds have him doing so. You don't think the Packers will be in any short yardage or goal line situations? Come on!
With the presidential elections coming next year Obama needs all the popularity he can get. He may get some by picking the Super Bowl winner so you would think that he would pick the Packers since they are favored and sportsbooks this they are likely to win. Seriously? Snap put of it!
The Steelers have the better odds at Bovada, but I think they should have HUGE odds. Obama is a Chicago guy so the Bears are his team. Why the hell would he pick the Bears' archrival to win the big game?
Super Bowl XLV - Who will President Obama pick to win the game?
Pittsburgh Steelers -140Green Bay Packers +100
Current player arrests are nothing out of the ordinary with all the partying and festivities that go on during the week. However. Bovada has the better odds with no current player getting arrested. No pushes on this wager, as it is hard to arrest, or not arrest, a 1/2 person.
Super Bowl XLV -How many current NFL Players will be arrested during Super Bowl Week?
Over 0.5 +150Under 0.5 -200
The Super Bowl commercials are always a highlight to the game and Budweiser and Bud Light are the leaders when it comes to hilarious ads. That is why they have the best odds to have the highest rating in the show. However, in my opinion the Bud guys have lagged in the last few years and last years' Doritos commercials were comedy.
The handicapping, sports odds information contained on this website is for entertainment purposes only. Please confirm the wagering regulations in your jurisdiction as they vary from state to state, province to province and country to country. Using this information to contravene any law or statute is prohibited. The site is not associated with nor is it endorsed by any professional or collegiate league, association or team. OddsShark does not target an audience under the age of 18. Please visit gambleaware.co.uk or gamcare.org.uk for guidelines on responsible gaming. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
Many of us use credit cards extensively in our personal and professional lives. What if we were to tell you that you could earn money every time you swipe your card for a purchase? With cash back credit cards, it's possible to earn money every time you make a purchase.
The concept of cash back credit cards is relatively new in India. mymoneykarma demystifies these type of credit cards so that you can avail of the cash back credit card features and benefits. mymoneykarma also brings you a list of cash back credit cards that offer the most benefits. Let's get started.
What Are Cash Back Credit Cards?
These are particular types of credit cards that pay you back a certain percentage of the amount you spend for every transaction in the form of rebates or points that you can exchange for gifts. The usual rebate rate is 1-2% of the transactional amount for most credit card companies. More than half of the credit companies offer cash back credit cards in India.
Types of Cash Back Credit Cards
Different types of cash back cards come with various benefits that we’ll cover in this article. A good cash back card can help you cover expenses, build credit, or even grow your savings.
Before picking a card and starting the application process, you should have a good idea of your spending habits. Cash back cards are often designed with certain types of spenders in mind. The cash back card will work best for you if its reward structure fits your buying habits.
There are three common types of cash back credit cards.
1) Flat rate: Some cash back rewards cards offer a flat rate of cash back on every eligible purchase. You don’t have to worry about which card to use at which store because you get the same rewards rate everywhere.
2) Bonus categories: Some cards have cash back offers on specific bonus categories. Bonus-category cards can help you earn more than many flat-rate cards as long as you keep track of where to use the card for the best rewards.
3) Rotating categories: With these cards, you can earn much more, but it is on the cardholder to remember where to use which card for what business need.
SBI Signature Credit Card
SBI Signature Credit Card is a must-have for every shopaholic as this card allows them to earn money on their shopping sprees. You get the following benefits with the card.
1. You get 24×7 concierge anywhere in the world with this card and 75% discounts in major hotel chains around the world.
2. You get vouchers worth Rs. 5,000 along with welcome gifts from Bata, Yatra.com, and many more websites with this card. You are awarded two points for every transaction of Rs. 100 that you can redeem later.
3. You also get 10,000 reward points if you spend Rs. 4 Lakhs and above and 20,000 reward points if you spend Rs. 5 Lakhs and above.
4. You are also eligible for getting five times more reward points when you spend money on groceries and in certain supermarkets.
Standard Chartered Platinum Credit Card
This credit card is designed for working people and offers a lot of travel benefits and points. The card is suitable for online shoppers as well. We have mentioned a few of the key benefits below.
1) The card offers 20% cashback on Uber rides.
2) You get a reward point for a transaction of Rs. 150. You earn 1,000 points on purchases within two months of getting this card. If you register for online banking, you instantly get 500 points.
3) You also get five reward points for each Rs. 150 spent on fuel and dining.
American Express Payback Credit Card
American Express Payback Credit Card has tied up with some of the best grocery and departmental stores in India to give you an array of benefits and savings every time you shop at these stores. You also have exclusive discounts on fuel, dining, online shopping, movie tickets, and so on. Some of the key benefits include:
1) On every Rs. 100 you spend on utilities, you get three reward points.
2) With the DineOut app, you get 5-30% cash back on significant restaurant chains around the country.
3) Joining vouchers worth Rs. 3,000.
ICICI Instant Platinum Credit Card
Customers with an account with ICICI Bank can easily access this card. It includes benefits as given below.
1) 5% fuel surcharge waiver on spending a minimum of Rs. 4,000 at any of the HPCL petrol pumps.
2) 15% off on dining in 800 major restaurants in ten cities in the country.
3) Two reward points on every transaction of Rs. 100 on the card.
4) Rs. 200 off on movie tickets every month through the website BookMyShow.
Citibank Cashback Credit Card
This cash back credit card is perfect for people who do a lot of transactions online. It gives instant cashbacks and attractive deals very frequently. But it might be a little difficult for you to procure this card if you don't have a very good credit history. You can expect to get the following benefits with the card.
1) You earn 5% cashback every time you make an online purchase, pay your bills online, and buy tickets through the BookMyShow website. You get a guaranteed 0.5% cashback on the rest of your purchases.
2) The card has a very nominal annual fee and enables contactless payments.
HDFC Bank Moneyback Credit Card
This credit card is one of the premium cash back cards in the market. The perfect card for the shopaholic, this card gives you a lot of cash back if you love online shopping and offline shopping. The promising features of the card are provided below.
1) 2X reward points every time you purchase something online.
2) 2X reward points on every Rs. 150 you spend.
3) Savings on fuel recharges up to Rs. 1800 per year.
4) Your annual fee for the card is waived off if you pay Rs. 10,000 within the first 90 days of receiving the card.
5) 100 points earned by the card are worth Rs. 30.
Citibank Premier Miles Card
This card is specially designed for those infected with wanderlust. If you are an avid traveler, you will love this cash back card. It gives you cash back on the purchases you made abroad and many other exciting features such as:
1) You get 10,000 air miles as soon as you activate your card.
2) Exclusive lounge access in all airport lounges around the world.
3) On every Rs.100 spent on airline transactions, you get ten air miles free of cost, which can be redeemed for domestic and international airline tickets.
Conclusion
Picking the best cash back credit card for your needs requires an introspection into your spending habits and earnings. Keeping the card fees in mind is essential—if you are choosing a card with an annual fee, make sure to do the math to ensure that you’re earning enough cash back to cover the cost.
If you can pay off your credit card balance in full and on time each month to avoid mounting interests, cash back credit cards can be a great addition to your wallet. Check your credit report regularly to stay aware of your credit standing as well. | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | OpenWebText2 |
When the first BMXers plunge off the three-story-high ramp that starts the race, sprint up to 40 mph and begin throwing elbows at 200 rpm—ideally without ripping off a foot in a crash—the summer Olympics are never going to be the same | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
A review of the Nokia E71 - raganwald
http://www.joelonsoftware.com/items/2008/08/22.html
======
gamble
Am I missing something? He lists three requirements for a new phone:
\- decent mp3 player \- laptop tethering \- good Exchange synchronization
Then he spends the rest of the review explaining why the E71 doesn't meet
those requirements.
Seriously, at one point he says: "I’ve been desperately trying to get Merlin
Mann’s Inbox Zero concept working and you need a great Exchange client, not a
1.0 Exchange client."
Then, two paragraphs later: "Nokia’s built in Exchange synchronization is very
1.0."
~~~
kqr2
Yes, but he manages to find 3rd party applications that work nicely. For
example, in the case of the web browser, he raves about opera mini.
Perhaps the key for Nokia is to just ship those apps natively instead of
rolling their own.
------
iigs
The iPhone validates another company's product+market. Most of the whiz-bang
features cited are not really that remarkable these days, even in feature-
phones, let alone smartphones.
That said, I'm not sure why you'd pick this phone over a Blackberry 8300:
\- The Blackberry is the reference standard for corporate mail integration.
\- The camera in the 8100 at least is absolutely rocking, judging from this
picture on the front page of Reddit right now (Mosquito larvae, some people
are weirded out by it -- <http://dl.getdropbox.com/u/42132/IMG00056.jpg> ).
\- I believe the music player is comparably acceptable but unimpressive.
\- Comments about browsing both seem to end with "but that's ok, you can run
Opera Mini on it"
~~~
tsuraan
Well, it looks like the 8300 still have that lovely ball that is the center of
the phone's UI, and that totally stops functioning when it gets the smallest
speck of dust on it. Is the ball of the 8300 removable, or is it like the
8100, where you are totally unable to use any of the menus (or most of the
applications) of the phone for the 5-15 minutes that it can easily take to get
the speck of dust worked out of the ball's socket?
Also, nokia phones tend to be very liberal about bluetooth bonding; they'll
export all their capabilities to anything. With my 8100, it will only
advertise its DUN profile to my powerbook. It won't show that profile when I'm
attempting to pair it with my nokia 770, which is pretty lame. Apparently the
blackberry network is very fragile, and could easily be taken down by rogue
bluetooth stacks using the DUN profile of bluetooth enabled phones, or
something...
Anyhow, I'm holding out for a nice 3G nokia, or maybe an android phone, to
replace my irritating 8100.
------
ajross
Wait for next week's blog, when he discovers the joys of Series60 programming.
~~~
ruslan
Yeah, Symbian API and the entire SDK is complete bullshit. Sadly I have to use
it for past three years :-(.
------
prakash
I can't wait for Nokia to launch a no-keyboard, display only phone -- and see
how that compares with the iPhone.
~~~
kirubakaran
With this: [http://www.engadget.com/2008/01/23/nokia-files-virtual-
keybo...](http://www.engadget.com/2008/01/23/nokia-files-virtual-keyboard-
patent/)
| tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | HackerNews |
Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian: Friends Again? [PHOTO]
Last night, Kim posted the above picture of her and Hilton on Instagram with the following caption: "Reminiscing about the 1st time we went to Ibiza in 2006! @parishilton it was so good to see you & catch up!! Loves it lol"
So has the beef between them been squashed?
Kim and Paris grew up as childhood friends and when the two were emerging socialites in the Hollywood scene, both Paris and Kim were inseparable. But as Huffington Post chronicles, the two stopped hanging out together around 2007 when Kim's popularity started emerging after her infamous sex tape with Ray J came out. In 2008, Paris even went as far as saying that Kim's "rear end" reminded her of "cottage cheese inside a big trash bag." Paris even walked out on a 'Good Morning America' interview in 2011 when she was asked if she was worried that Kim's popularity had overshadowed her.
Kim may have gotten her own revenge, however. As some users have pointed out, many believe that the character of Willow Page, a "villain" in the video game Kim Kardashian: Hollywood, is a not-so-subtle dig at Paris. In the game, Willow Page is a character the player competes with as the user tries to climb Hollywood's social ladder.
But all seems well between the two now, as indicated in the photo anyway. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, right? | tomekkorbak/pile-curse-small | Pile-CC |
Most people familiar with the latest Epstein arrest are well aware that his crimes are now going to be used to punish others. This whole thing is not really about Esptein, it’s about who is going to be brought down with him. And while that’s a sad indictment of our legal system, it’s the truth of how the game is played at the highest levels, but at least Epstein will get what’s coming to him when all is said and done.
Some people have speculated that the media will try to tie Epstein to Trump, and that’s what’s really behind this latest arrest. But I just don’t see that being the case because there are a few tell-tale signs that are missing if that’s how this is going to play out.
We know how the mainstream media and their handlers in the deep state operate. They coordinate and act as one. When the New York Times or other controlled outlet puts out a piece of propaganda, the rest of the media chorus jumps on board. They have pre-made talking points ready to go and it all reeks of a coordinated effort from start to finish.
With this latest Epstein arrest, that’s just not happening. Of course there are few people chattering about Trump’s possible ties to Epstein, but it’s all easily debunked. If Epstein’s arrest was about smearing Trump ahead of 2020, we would see the full court press of media mouthpieces blabbering about it non-stop on cable news. They would break out the big guns like Bob Woodward or Michael Isikoff to put out a poorly sourced column full of outrageous claims that the rest of the media would run with for days, fueling the fake news cycle as long as they could until the next bit of fake news could be dropped.
If this all sounds familiar, it’s because you just witnessed 2 years of this with the Russia hoax. A daily coordinated effort by the deep state and their mouthpieces in the media to try to sell a mirage. Nearly non-stop fake headlines and media bigwigs going on and on about Trump secretly being a Russian agent.
But in the Epstein case, we have mostly silence. Not only do we have silence, we have Democrats warning others that some of their “favorites” may be exposed as the legal process progresses. In addition we have the likes of Bill Clinton immediately going on the defensive to say he was only on the “lolita express” a few times, not the 27 times that was widely reported. It almost reminds me of the current meme that goes something like;
Nobody:
Bill Clinton: I flew the lolita express 5 times, not 27.
If the Epstein arrest was a deep state plan to smear Trump, there would be no defense from the likes of Democrats. It would be all offense, all the time. That’s always their strategy when pushing a fake narrative.
As I write this, CNN has exactly zero articles about Epstein on the front page of their website. If this was all to smear Trump, the page would be littered with stories trying to link Trump and Epstein.
So with all that in mind, it’s very likely that Trump and his allies are the ones pulling the strings here. There is no doubt that Trump is a very vindictive character. If you wrong him, he has no problem coming at you with a tactical nuke. Overkill is often his modus operandi and considering what he feels has been done to him over the last two years, expect Trump to start bringing people down.
Who he has is in crosshairs is a mystery at this point. Could it just be the Clintons or does he feel Obama can be linked to all of this? In fact, there may be people we don’t even know about yet. But I think Trump is going on the offensive, and Epstein’s arrest is just the beginning of a large scale effort by Trump to make his enemies pay for trying to falsely paint him as a traitor for the last two years.
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