WHEN HE WENT OUT ONTO THE STREET, MARTIN was sure that only a hot, strong coffee would do him any good at that time. The cold that visited the city was almost solid when it was windy. The streets seemed to be disguised in a gloomy climate never before seen there, thanks to the solitude in which everything found itself after the Fifth Avenue incident and the state of alert issued by the government. Only when he closed all the windows of the car did the thermal sensation become acceptable to the young man's wounded skin. His wounds seemed to scream in the sharp pain that the cold made throb, when any movement, even the slightest, could become painful agony.
They crossed part of the city, heading towards the designated point. When they arrived, it took them a while to find the correct number, as there was no number 1960. There were numbers 1958 and 1964, and between them, a small gate, covered by a round awning, which in other places could be the entrance to a brothel.
After hesitating for a while, as they feared what could happen inside, the two decided to go in, since remaining exposed on a public road while being hunted by unknown forces would be even more dangerous.
The sun's rays were already appearing on the horizon, crossing the New York sky and weakly illuminating the city. Morning had already arrived.
The rustic wooden door was not locked, and with a light push, it opened. The owner had certainly left it unlocked for their arrival. When they entered, they found themselves in a narrow and dark hallway, a bit dirty, which showed that it was a place not often visited. Some leaks in the corners and slime on the wall gave it a gloomy air that no one could imagine seeing the door closed there on the street. Even so, they both continued on their way.
Taking slow steps, as Benedetti was balancing on his drunkenness and Martin looked extremely weak, they entered a small room full of junk, quite dark and damp, which had an iron door at the back that was locked.
In the darkness of the room, a quick, small reflection of light caught the young man's attention, high up on the wall, just above the locked door. Martin could see a camera set in the corner near the ceiling moving towards him. After a few seconds, footsteps approached the door and someone opened the lock with a percussive noise. It was Clooney:
— Quickly, come in!