A taste of freedom

Drawing a line: Pittsburgh to Erie

“Good morning, boys. Sit yourselves down and help yourself to cereals and juice, there’s plenty left even though everyone else has almost finished breakfast. I’m just about to make Nat his favourite waffles and bacon, Craig. I can do you some of my baked beans you so loved to go with some bacon, egg and sausage if you like.”

“Thanks, Milly,” said Craig, pouring some cornflakes into a bowl and dousing them liberally with milk before sitting down beside Elizabeth at the nearest empty place on the yacht’s sun deck dining area. The yacht was already gliding majestically downstream on its way back to the Bauer’s mansion. “Don’t go to any extra trouble for me, I’ll have some waffles and bacon too if you’re already planning on doing some for Nat.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want, Craig, two servings of waffles and bacon coming up. And let me be the first to say it, your singing last night with Nathan and Elizabeth really seems to have taken the city by storm. Everyone’s wondering about you.”

“They certainly are,” said Nat’s mom, lowering her tablet and smiling at Craig. “I’ve just been looking at the newspaper and tv station websites. The concert, and more specifically the three of you, are the lead story on most of them. If you’d let me know beforehand what you were planning, I could have dropped a press release, let them know who you are. As it is, they’re all guessing.”

Craig blushed, looked at his dad, turned to Angela. “It kind of wasn’t planned. Just a spur of the moment thing based on something Elizabeth said.”

“I hadn’t a clue about it,” said Nat. “When the spotlight came up, Elizabeth should have been there to duet with me. Instead, Craig was there. So, I just improvised and carried on playing until I figured out what he was up to.”

Elizabeth smiled too, clearly enjoying the speculation. “I think the mystery adds to it all. Some of the papers have linked Craig with me. The Post has edged ahead and run the picture of Craig and mom at the opening of the exhibition at the Carnegie last Fall. It’ll be a talking point for days on the society pages and gossip columns. Keep pop’s campaign in the limelight by association. And your voice wasn’t too bad, Craig, just a little frayed around the edges. It’d respond well to a few professional lessons.”

Craig scowled indignantly. “I’ve had some lessons, Elizabeth. Mom and Mandy saw to that, whether I wanted it or not.”

“Take some more then,” retorted Elizabeth. “You scraped through last night but that’s not hard; singing through a second rate sound system in an outdoor arena to a crowd of drunks is one thing, but if you want to be good…”

Both Nat and Craig’s dads looked at each other and exchanged smirks.

“So, boys,” said Nat’s pop, changing the subject quickly to avoid potential bloodshed. “We’ll be back home in a couple of hours and then I think it’s time we lived up to our side of the bargain. The pair of you did me proud last night. I couldn’t have hoped for a better start to my campaign and your contribution, planned or not, really added a little extra spice to the mix. If you still want to go, I think it would be perfect for the two of you to hightail it out of Dodge and lie low, enjoy yourselves for a while. Let everyone else guess and speculate.”

Nat paused with a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth, looked startled. “You serious, pop? We can really go?”

Craig’s dad nodded. “Yes, why not? We said it was on the cards. We trust you both. It’s not like you’re Mason and Dixon, or Lewis and Clark, setting off into the unknown, you’ll just be a phone call away. You’ve shown over the past few months that you deserve a chance to cut the apron strings and step out on your own.”

“I bet there will be a list of conditions as long as your arm,” said Nat, looking at Craig.

Craig looked over to their dads.

“No, hardly any at all,” replied Nat’s pop. “As Mark already said, we trust you. You’ve shown you can act sensibly. There will be just a few practical issues to sort, but apart from that you’ll be free to do pretty much as you please.”

“Practical issues?” echoed Nat, as suspiciously as he could.

“Well, we’ll need to know where you’re staying each night,” grinned Nat’s dad. “In advance. As you’re both under eighteen you’ll find it pretty much impossible to book a hotel room anywhere respectable. Legally, you can’t contract for goods or services.”

“So,” added Craig’s dad. “Let us know where you plan to stay and we’ll book a hotel for you. Give us a call when you get there, just to confirm you’ve arrived safely. Tell us where you plan to go the following day. Stay within Pennsylvania. Other than that, no conditions. Your mom agrees…”

“Mom?”

“Both me and Angela are fully in agreement, Craig. It’ll do the two of you good to get some time together out of the spotlight.”

* * *

Nat paused Lemon Steroids at the gatehouse as he waited for the electronic gate to open and glanced at the bright red watch on his wrist, the Vostok Komandirskie that Craig had bought him for Christmas. Craig was wearing his own identical watch as he counted out the dollar bills in his wallet.

“You good, Craig?”

Craig smiled. “I’m good, Nat. I have my own money, from my job, and dad gave me an extra 500 dollars just before we said goodbye back on the steps.”

“No, I don’t mean about money, Boots. You won’t need that. When I was over with you at Easter, you and your parents paid for everything for me. Boat trips. Meals. Museums. All I paid for was my shopping.”

“You were our guest, Nat.”

“And now you’re my guest, Craig. So, all you need money for is your shopping. Living expenses are on me. But like I said, it’s not the money I was asking about.”

As Craig hesitated, Nat smiled. “It’s okay, Boots, look.” Nat leaned forward and ran his finger quickly over the discreet sensor on the transmission tunnel separating their seats. The hidden safe popped up instantly.

“See Craig? Empty. I’m not carrying a gun. Now, you can be navigator. Scroll the GPS screen to ‘menu’ and input the destination as ‘Erie’ like we agreed. I actually know the way, right to the front door of the hotel, but a backup is useful.”

“Roger that,” grinned Craig.

* * *

“I’m stuffed, Nat, that was awesome,” said Craig, wiping his lips on a paper napkin. “We could just have shared a portion between us, that was way bigger than I was expecting. It’s no wonder so many Americans are fat.”

Nat laughed. “We’ve always stopped here at the Country Kitchen at Lake Arthur on our way to Erie, Boots. Best lemon pepper baked cod and coleslaw in the state. And exactly 50 minutes driving time from our start, so right on your precious ‘drive fifty, rest ten’ schedule.”

“Except we’ve been rested an hour, Nat. Worth it though. Car fuelled up, got to keep tank topped off to maximise range, and us fuelled too. Two more legs to go, so we’ll be in Erie for 18:00 no problem at all.”

“That boat ramp I pointed out to you, just back down the highway as we pulled off the interstate,” said Nat as they climbed back into Lemon Steroids,  “That’s where Elizabeth fell in a couple of years ago. She was standing right up front on the bow of a speedboat we hired and pop opened up the throttle when she wasn’t expecting it. She made his life hell all day after that.”

* * *

“Please make a U turn where possible.”

“Nat, where are we going? The sat-nav said to keep on the I-79.”

“Ignore the mad woman in the box, Boots,” grinned Nat. “I know where I’m going. You’ll love it too. We’re calling in to Wendell Forge.”

“Wendell Forge?”

“That’s what I said, boots. Oldest Forge in America still working. Not as old as the stuff we made with Owen over in York, but the best we can do in Pennsylvania. Founded in 1923. It’s metals and engineering and stuff, right up your street.”

Barely two minutes later Nat eased down ‘America Way’ and parked Lemon Steroids in the car lot at Wendell Forge, then led the way towards the gleaming, plate-glass fronted shop adjacent to the large, more industrial shed-like building on which was writ large ‘Wendell August’.

“They make all sorts of stuff here, Boots,” said Nathan as they began browsing round the trinkets on display in the store. “I got a trip round the factory a few years back, organised by my pop, but today I guess we’ll just have to look at the shop and tourist display. They made stuff for a special Hindenburg Zeppelin trip once. Back in ’36. The Press said there was more wealth aboard that flight than all the money still down on the ground in America. Great grandpop had a souvenir ash tray they gave him on the flight.”

“Not sure having ash trays on the Hindenburg turned out well, Nat,” said Craig.

Nat laughed. “They did other stuff too. Specially in aluminum. Partnered with Alcoa – they’re based in Pittsburgh, we can probably get to go there one day if you like – and did lots of stuff like gates and altars for churches.”

“Al-u-min-IUM, Nat.”

“Al-OO-minum, Boots, says so right here on the label of this bill clip.”

“Hear that rumbling sound, Nat? That’s Shakespeare. Turning in his grave over what you lot do to English.”

Half an hour later, Craig and Nat climbed back into Lemon Steroids, Craig clutching a paper bag containing a shallow, pressed bronze dish inlaid with the outline of a ‘Steelers’ football helmet.

“It’ll look good on my bedside table back home, Nat. I can put my loose change in it every night, save it pulling my trousers out of shape when I hang them up.”

“Pants, Boots.”

“Rumble, Nat, rumble…”

* * *

“We’ve a reservation in the name of Bauer,” said Nathan confidently as he and Craig strolled in to the lobby of the Erie Bayfront Hotel and halted at the reception desk. Out of the corner of his eye, Craig saw the valet who had just taken Lemon Steroids from them enter via a side door carrying their bags and head towards a staff elevator.

The concierge smiled and tapped at a computer screen before him.

“Ah, here we are, Mr Bauer. A bayfront twin room with Club privileges. I see you must be a frequent guest with us.”

Nat smiled. “My pop is, uses the chain all the time. It’s the first time I’ve stayed in this hotel though, it wasn’t built last time we came up to Erie. It’s been our summer place for ages.”

“You wouldn’t be…” began the concierge, looking down at the booking data in front of him and then up at Nat.

“Got it in one,” grinned Nat, “The Pennsylvania Bauers. I guess I can’t really hide way unless I get my hair dyed.”

The concierge smiled and handed Nat a pair of electronic room cards. “I’d recommend booking a table for dinner, Mr Bauer, we get very busy of an evening. Or if you prefer to dine out, I can help you with recommendations and reservations. The Presque Isle Yacht Club perhaps, or maybe…”

“What do you think, Boots? Book a table now, or take a stroll around later and see what takes our fancy? There’s plenty to see along the waterfront. We can freshen up and be out by seven.”

“Yeah, let’s do that, Nat. Look around later. Take pot luck. I’m not starving yet, still full from lunch.”

* * *

“Hey, this is a great room, Nat. Awesome view out over the marina. And our bags got here before us. Two beds though. First time I’ve seen king size beds in a twin room. Back home we usually get two tiny single beds in a twin room and no space to swing a mouse, let alone a cat.”

“The twin room will be pop playing cautious, Boots. On paperwork it’ll show that we had separate beds, if anyone ever looks into it. I’ll bet you every hotel room he books for us is a twin bed.” Nat grinned. “We don’t have to use both of them though…”

“We can just mess up the unused one in a morning so it looks like we did,” smirked Craig.

“You’re learning fast, Boots,” said Nat. “Soon make a politician out of you. You settle in here, I’ll just pop out to the Club Lounge and pick us up some sodas and snacks to replenish stocks. Call my pop too, let him know we’re here and safe. He probably left instructions for the hotel to tip him off on that front, but I’ll call him anyway. We said we would.”

When Nat returned ten minutes later clutching an armful of soda cans and packets of nibbles, Craig was sat on the floor with several tins of polish spread out around him, industriously brushing his shoes. “Chuck yours over, Nat, I’ll give them a quick spruce up too before we go out. Did your dad have much to say? I’ll give my dad a call too in a while.”

“No need, Boots, I spoke to him as well. He was with my pop when he answered the phone. They just said to be sure to enjoy ourselves and not forget to update them on where we plan to go next. Oh, and Elizabeth said to hiss at you for her.”

“Your sister’s mad, Nat.”

Nat nodded in agreement. “But nice mad, Boots. Just don’t tell her that.”

Nat looked out of the window and along the waterfront as Craig finished brushing his own shoes and then picked Nat’s up from where he has slipped them off. “I’ve booked us a cab to go somewhere ace for dinner, Boots. I remembered it when I was speaking to pop. It’s only five minutes away. You’ll love it. The cab will be here at half seven.”

Craig looked up. “Where are we going, Nat? And if it’s only a few minutes away by cab, we could walk. Build up an appetite.”

Nat turned from the window to face Craig and looked serious for a moment. “It’s easy within walking distance, Boots, but it’s not somewhere we ought to walk. Pop wouldn’t like it. You see out there on the waterfront? Presque Isle State Park? The beach? All the restaurants? That’s a thin strip just a couple of blocks wide where all the rich folk from Pennsylvania come and spend the summer. Go a few blocks inland and you’ll find Erie is completely different.” Nat paused for a moment. “We’re going to a place a few blocks inland. It’s nice enough, but inland Erie is one of the poorest zipcodes in the whole USA.”

Craig frowned. “There’s no reason not to go there just because people are poor, Nat.”

Nat nodded. “I know. And pop would agree. But it’s not that people are poor. It’s the crime and stuff that goes with it.  Drugs. Muggings and stuff to feed drug habits. We’d probably be okay, but there’s a small chance we might not. It isn’t worth risks, Boots. We can walk around the coastal strip no problem, but if we go inland, we go by cab. Okay?”

Craig nodded. “Okay, Nat. We go by cab.”

* * *

Nat handed the driver a twenty-dollar bill to cover a ten-dollar fare as he and Craig climbed out of the cab and waved away the change. The driver smiled and handed Nat a card. “Be sure to give me a call if you need a cab later, or over the next few days. My cell number’s handwritten on the back. Come to me direct rather than through the office, I’ll give you a personal rate.”

Nat smiled and placed the card in his pocket as the cab pulled away, then turned to Craig.

“Union Station, Erie, Boots. Part of it, round the back, is still a working Amtrak station. That’s a bit of a dump but in its heyday, this was the place to arrive. Art Deco luxury. Loads of famous people passed through here each summer. Even from New York. Pop was involved in in setting up some grant funding a few years ago for the restoration of the interior and leasing the upper floors to a logistics company. The old ticket offices and rotunda are now a restaurant and a microbrewery. Come on, I’ll show you round. Some of the best burgers in Erie too.”

Craig followed Nat through the swing doors with their big brass handles and into what had clearly once been a very stylish marble floored concourse with ticket and baggage offices, still signposted, but which was now set out with tables for dining and with a centrepiece of several highly polished copper mash tubs and stills.

“Evenin’ bud,” said Nat as a server stepped forward from behind a podium near the door. “Table for two. Reservation in the name of Bauer, made for us by the concierge at the Bayfront.”

The server, a casually dressed man in his early twenties, looked Nat up and down, then glanced at Craig, clearly trying to reconcile their confident demeanour, their apparent age and the fact that a reservation had been made for them by the Bayfront Hotel. Nat maintained his smile.

“You’re right, we’re not 21, but we’re only drinking sodas. Small price to pay for the best burgers in town. That table over there would be good.” Without waiting for agreement, Nat led the way to a table situated towards the rear of the concourse outside a glass fronted office labelled ‘Baggage Check’ in a stylish 1920s script. “This’ll do fine. Could we have a couple of glasses of iced water and menus?”

Craig pulled out a chair and sat opposite Nat as the server returned with a jug of iced water, glasses and a menu card. “This is awesome, Nat. Real stylish.”

Nat smiled at Craig. “Trust me on this, Craig. Let me order for us both.” Nat glanced up and caught the server’s eye, who sprang over to their table.

“Can we have a pound of your beer steamed mussels as a starter, then a main of a Bruschetta Chicken salad? Just the one, to share. Go easy on the garlic though.”

Craig laughed and looked at the server. “He’s a vampire…”

The server chuckled and looked first at Nat, “No problem, Sir, down from the crypt?” and then, as Nat grinned, leaned towards Craig and said in a stage whisper, “We get them in all the time. I think they mistake Pennsylvania for Transylvania.”

Nat took a sip of his water as the server wandered over towards what Craig presumed was the kitchen, but which was signed as “Telegraphs” over the wood panelled door.

“There’s actually a local legend about vampires, Boots. Just a few blocks away is Erie Central Cemetery with a big mausoleum in it. Story has it that back in the 1930’s a young kid broke into it one night to investigate the rumours that vampires lived there. Pried open a coffin and stole a ring from the finger of a skeleton to prove to his friends that he had really been inside, showed it round at school on the next day. That night, he fell sick and the ring was missing from his bedroom nightstand when his folks found him dead next morning.”

“Probably breathed in some bacteria from the coffin, Nat,” said Craig. “There’s always a sensible scientific explanation if you look for it.”

“Sure,” said Nat. “But makes you think, doesn’t it? Bacteria don’t steal rings back…”

* * *

A few minutes later the server re-appeared bearing a large silver bowl full of mussels, first marinaded then steamed in the Old Brewerie’s signature best ale. Placing the bowl on the centre of the table, he smiled as he passed Nat and Craig each a small, beech handled shucking knife and wished them ‘bon appetit’.

“Actually,” said Nat, placing his small shucking knife on the table and picking up a spoon instead, “You don’t pry open any mussel shell that hasn’t opened in the cooking. Closed means it’s off.”

“That’s oysters,” said Craig, spooning several mussels onto his own side plate to allow them to cool out of the delicious smelling liquor in which they were still bubbling. “And in any case, it’s an old wives’ tale. Nobody got sick from eating shellfish that didn’t open in cooking. Yeah, plenty of people get sick from shellfish, especially oysters, but it’s nothing to do with whether they open or not.”

“Do you a deal, then, iron-guts,“ laughed Nat. “You have any that haven’t opened, I’ll play safe and only eat the ones that have.”

“Fair enough,” laughed Craig, “But I’ll be sure to be sick over you anyway if I do get a dodgy one.”

“You know,” said Nat, between mussels, “This reminds me of visiting you in York.”

“Yeah, I guess this is a bit like one of the settings in the railway museum,” said Craig.

“No, Deefer,” laughed Nat. “I mean, when I came to stay with you, it was like the first time I was really free. Able to just do what I wanted. Well, what you wanted anyway. Now it’s the same here. It’s the first time pop has let me loose to do stuff. A whole week away with you on a road trip. No strings worth speaking of. We can do whatever we like, go wherever we like.”

Craig slurped another mussel and grinned. “Where are we going, anyway, Nat?”

“I’m still thinking it over, Boots, but I have some rough ideas. What I’m thinking is we spend tomorrow here in Erie so I can show you round. Maybe the Navy Museum and Oliver Hazard Perry and stuff like that. You’ll love it. Then we can head east, right to the other end of the state. Philadelphia. Maybe go and see Noah.”

“Noah lives in Philadelphia, Nat? Is it far?”

“Just about as far from here as we can get and still be in Pennsylvania. Kind of like the opposite diagonal corner from here. But a great trip. I can check if Noah is around. He might be at their Florida place for summer.”

“I’d like that, Nat. Be good to see Noah again.”

“We can go to Philly anyway, it’s a great place. Plenty to see on the way. Then we can slowly meander back over to Pittsburgh, take in some Civil War battle sites if you like. Gettysburg, definitely Gettysburg, and Harrisburg, the state Capital.”

“Sounds like a plan, Nat. Now, move your hand away from that last mussel or it’ll get stabbed…”

* * *

“There you are, gentlemen, one raspberry and vanilla cheesecake and two spoons.” The server placed the large portion of cheesecake on the table in front of Nat and Craig, smiled and sauntered away.

Craig looked at the cheesecake and then at Nat. “We need to do an extra hour of swimming in the morning, Nat.”

“Stop worrying,” laughed Nat. “No way will you get fat, you’re always too active. You’ve only had a few mussels and half a chicken salad, remember? Now, try this cheesecake. It’s the best there is.” Nat grabbed a spoon, scooped a large portion from the cheesecake and flew the spoon to Craig’s lips like he was feeding a toddler. “Open wide, Bootykins,”

As Craig laughed and leaned forward, Nat pulled the spoon away quickly and ate the cheesecake himself.

“Nat!”

“Best I try it first, Craig, it might be poisoned. It’s definitely full of calories. No good for you…”

Craig scooped up a portion of the cheesecake with his own spoon and leaned forward, putting it to Nat’s lips. “Best have some more, Nat, build up your energy for tonight.”

“What’s special about tonight?” grinned Nat, licking at the spoon.

“It’s a long waddle back to the hotel for you, Nat. We can call a cab for safety, but we run behind it all the way…” laughed Craig as he pulled the spoon away from Nat and devoured the cheesecake himself.

* * *

Half an hour later, Nat and Craig had paid finished eating, paid their bill and were leaving the restaurant to head back to the lakefront for a walk before returning to the hotel.

“We’ll go out the side door, Craig, head round to the Amtrack station out the back. There’s more likely to be a cab waiting there. Unless I ring for a cab.”

“No, let’s try the taxi rank, Nat. There should be one if it’s a working station. Quicker that way.”

Side by side, Craig and Nat headed outside and headed up the ramp towards the car lot and what looked like it might be a cab rank at the far end of the station plaza.

It was Craig who spotted the man first. A figure stepping out of the shadows, reaching his hand towards Nat. A man the same height as them, skinnier, perhaps ten years older. Scruffily dressed.

It was Craig who reacted first. In a single fluid movement, he pushed forward, shoved Nat backwards away from the figure, twisted his body to face square on to the man, his balled fists flashing up to guard his face, his elbows tucked tight in to protect his abdomen.

“Whoa, bud,” said the figure hoarsely, stepping back quickly as Craig felt Nat’s hand instinctively find his shoulder, letting Craig know where he was. “I didn’t want to scare yah. Just gonna ask if you had any change to spare. I’ve not had anything to eat today…”

Craig looked guardedly over his fists, relaxed a little. The man didn’t appear to have a weapon, his hands were empty.  He was no physical threat, being lighter in weight and nowhere near as muscled as Craig or even Nat. His face was pale, his eyes seemingly uncomfortable now he was drawn out of the shadows into the brighter evening sun.

“Druggie,” whispered Nat quietly in Craig’s ear. “We need to go.” Nat started to steer Craig around and away from the man using the hand he had on Craig’s shoulder, but Craig hesitated, stood his ground. For a moment he continued to look at the man, then slowly lowered his fists as he stepped back and away from him, opening up safe ground between them.

Craig kept his eyes focused on the man as Nat tightened his grip on his shoulder and whispered once again. “Druggie”

“I didn’t think he was a bloody vampire, Nat.”

Taking another step back, but remaining wary still, Craig reached down to his back pocket, began to take out his wallet.

“No, Craig,” said Nat. “Money won’t help. Trust me. It’ll go on drugs, not food.”

Undeterred, Craig flipped open his wallet and slipped out a couple of bills, glanced briefly down at them to try and make out what denomination they were.

“Craig, it won’t help. I’ve been round a correctional centre with my pop. Believe me, it’s wasting money. You’re just fuelling his habit.”

Craig hesitated, risked a look at Nat.

“I know what you’re thinking, Craig, and why. But this isn’t like Shane.”

For a moment Nat and Craig locked eyes, each reading the other, then Nat’s face changed. His hand slipped off Craig’s shoulder and he stepped forward to stand alongside him. Took control of the situation.

“Come on, we can help,” he said to the man. Nat reached out, touched the man’s shoulder, twisted him to face away from them, began to guide him gently ahead of them and back into the restaurant they had just left.

As they returned, the same server who had waited on them stepped forward, looked awkwardly at the druggie, looked questioningly at Nathan and Craig.

“This small table here in the corner will do,” said Nathan, guiding them all to a half-hidden table almost out of sight of the rest of the restaurant. The server relaxed a little. “Here’s fifty dollars,” said Nat, handing over a few bills to the server. “Get him a coffee and some food. Nothing fancy, just filling and warm. Lasagne would do, with fries. Don’t let him have any change, just the food. A coffee to go afterwards too. Do you need more to cover it?”

“No, fifty will be okay for that,” said the server. “That guy’s always hanging around the station, making a nuisance of himself…” said the server warily, “Normally we wouldn’t…”

Nat cut him off. “Tonight’s different. Just let him get warm and fed, he’ll leave when you close. Just don’t give him any of the money. And don’t tell anybody about this…”

A minute or so after they had entered, Nat and Craig left again, this time by the front door, and were soon in a cab heading back to their hotel having decided to forego a walk along the lakefront. Neither said much until they were back in the room.

“Thanks, Nat,” said Craig. “I know you’re probably right. If I’d given him some money, he probably would have spent it on drugs, on getting another fix…  But I just kind of hoped that he’d be different. This time.”

Nat smiled. “I know what you were thinking, Craig. You always see the best in people. But like I said, pop took me and Elizabeth round a correctional facility when we were younger, partly to educate us, partly to scare us I suppose. Make sure we never went near drugs. Giving money to drug addicts never helps, Craig.”

“I know,” said Craig. “But I hoped it would be different. And anyway, your solution was better. At least he’ll get a meal today, even if tomorrow he’s back begging and spending on his next fix. We at least gave him a better day today.”

Nat smiled as he slipped off his watch and placed it on the bedside table. “I’ll go get us a couple of coffees from the Club Lounge, unless you want tea? They might even make it properly in a little pot for you if I ask them and explain that you’re English. I’ll be back in a few minutes.

Craig smiled. “Tea would be good, Nat. And Nat, I liked that you said to the waiter not to tell anybody what we did. Dad always says if you do a good deed, do it secretly.”

Nat nodded and, as Craig turned away to slide the bedside table out ready for his return, Nat picked up his phone and slipped it in his pocket before heading off to the Club Lounge. Twenty minutes later he returned with small tray bearing a small silver coffee pot, a silver tea pot and a plate of cookies.

* * *

“Well, well, little brother…” said Elizabeth to herself as her fingers tapped away at the keyboard in front of her. A few minutes earlier, Nat had phoned her when he had found his pop’s phone already engaged. He explained what had happened outside the station, suggested that his pop’s campaign team might like, anonymously, to contact the Erie press, drop a few hints, suggest they go and ask a few questions down at the restaurant in Union Station.  “No point in wasting a good deed,” Nat had said.

Elizabeth had agreed, then decided to take a few extra steps herself before looking up the names of reporters accredited to the Erie press and local tv station. It hadn’t taken her long to find a weakness in the router handling the CCTV cameras in the station restaurant – didn’t anyone ever change the default password?  she sighed. The images from the door camera weren’t great but they were good enough: Nat and Craig could be seen ushering the drug addict in, seating him down, handing over some money for his food to the waiter. Nat and Craig couldn’t be easily identified from the footage, unless of course the viewer knew who they were. Had been told who to expect. Then it was clear. It was good how the mind always fitted pictures to the pre-determined facts.

Elizabeth had just been about to download a few seconds’ worth of imagery, was musing on how the drug addict might easily be mistaken for a homeless unfortunate by a rookie reporter spoon-fed his or her first good story, when she smiled. Scrolling back through the images from earlier in the evening out of curiosity paid off. A second camera was present in the restaurant and that had a much better view of some of the tables. A clear view of Nat and Craig smiling at each other, leaning towards each other, feeding each other dessert. Elizabeth downloaded the imagery and stored it securely. That could come in very useful.