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Part of the building's fashionable black stonework facade was up； chalk marks still criss…crossed some of the blocks； the white and yellow glyphs of the modern world。 Still； fully one side was skeletonized like a transparent cocoon beneath which the chrysalis could be seen forming。
They walked along wooden planks laid out while； in the rubble beneath； men with bulging muscles and oil…streaked faces drilled with jackhammers like sullen dentists。
They came into the shade of the roofed walkway。 The air was filmed with dust which hung chokingly； settling on their hair and their shoulders like dandruff。
A man with a lean dented face approached them。 He wore a bright yellow hard hat。 'Lubin Bros' was stencilled across the front in blue。 He smiled broadly when he recognized Tomkin； extended his hand。 He led them off to the right into a mobile home which served as construction headquarters。 Tomkin introduced him laconically as Abe Russo； the building foreman。 Russo shook Nicholas's hand with a firm cool grip。 He handed out hard hats for all of them and they left。
Frank led them into the innards of the structure； through the enormous atrium lobby； then along a corridor where bare light bulbs hung on flex threads and the damp smell of raw concrete filled their nostrils。
Olive…green mats still hung on the walls of the elevator。 They took it to the top。 In the hall a man as big across as Frank but slightly shorter met them。 They went silently down the corridor。
The ceiling was finished； as was the interior wall； in a deep blue fabric； slightly nubby； giving the effect of raw silk。 To their right； the outer wall was glass down to the level of their shins； or at least it would be when all the plates were in。 Mostly it was a latticework of thin…seeming metal； stained orange by the rust proofing。 Beyond was the breathtaking panorama of Manhattan； west and north。 First the thick buildings on the opposite side of the avenue； then onward； marching in square cut rows towards the Hudson。 River。 Looking north； he could make out the depression in the elevated surface of Manhattan that was the south end of Central Park。
The corridor gave onto metal…facaded double doors with ostentatious brass doorknobs in the centre of each。 To the left； bare wooden doors opened on small offices； floored at this stage only with rough concrete。 In several Nicholas could see the huge rolls of carpet； ready to be stapled down。
A warm wind whipped at them； intermittently。 It was still hot up here； one could not so easily escape the heat of a summer's day in Manhattan。 Soot and grime raced along the bare floor like spindrift； borne on the breeze。 The corridor seemed very exposed at this point。
Tomkin paused before the metal doors and looked outward。 His arm lifted as if he were about to begin an aria。 'Do you see what I see； Nicholas？〃 He turned for a moment。 'I may call you Nicholas。' But it was a rhetorical question and he continued apace。 'That used to be a big world out there。 Used to be something for everyone … at least for anyone with guts enough to go out and get it。' His arm came down； the fingers curled at his side。 'Now it's nothing but a goddamned industrial farmyard。 There's no space any more and no time。 Do you know what that means； hmm？ I'll tell you。 There's not enough out there any more。 We're all strangling each other in an effort to survive。 Oho； yes； you heard me right。 It's survival now； not just a matter of making a profit。 And the world's homogenized。' He squinted sideways at Nicholas。 'You know what I mean？ No？ How'd you have liked to've been Marco Polo； eh？ Travelling for two and a half years across the endless deadly expanse of Asia； to e at last upon Cathay； a land where no Western man had ever dreamed of； let alone set foot in？ Could there be anything in this world to equal such an extraordinary experience？ No； I'll tell you a thousand times。 No。'
He moved forward as if in a trance； put his hands on the spider…web tracery of the steel superstructure。 'Do you know；' he whispered； 'that I don't know how much money I have。 Oh； I could hire a staff to figure it out； except by the time they did me figure'd be totally out of date。 Anyway； the sum's far too big to think about fortably。' His face glistened now with a thin film of sweat。 'There is virtually nothing in this world I can't have if I wish it。 Do you believe that？' He turned on Nicholas。 His tone of voice had turned savage and the veins stood out on the sides of his temples； pulsing。 'I could have you heaved over the side of this building。 Now。 Just like that。 I could do it with plete immunity。 Oh； I might have to suffer through a cursory investigation but that's all。' He waved a hand。 'But I wouldn't。'
'I'm relieved；' Nicholas said； but Tomkin went on as though he hadn't heard him。
'That would be a rather despotic way to act。 A flaunting of my power。 It doesn't interest me。〃
'You sound disappointed。'
'What？' He came back from his reverie slowly。 'Oh； of course not。 But let…me tell you； like all great men before me I am concerned by mortality … my mortality。' He hesitated。 'I want the best for Justine … for both my daughters。'
For some reason； Nicholas had the distinct impression that Tomkin had been about to say something else entirely。 'Then I'm sure they'll get it；' he said。
'Don't patronize me；' Tomkin said harshly 'I am well aware of my failings as a father。 Justine has problems relating to men and Gelda just divorced her fourth husband and I can't hire enough men to keep her away from the liquor。 I keep jumping into their lives。 In and out。 That's the way it is。 If it's hard for either of them to bear； too bad。'
'Justine； at least； doesn't seem to want you jumping at all；' Nicholas pointed out。
'She's got no choice；' Tomkin snarled。 'I'm still her father whatever she cares to say to others。 I still love her。 I love them both。 We're all fucked up； one way or another； their problems are just more visible than most； that's all。'
'Look； Mr Tomkin …'
'Don't screw up now； Nicholas。 Not when we're getting along so well。' He spat the words out now as if they were burning the lining of his mouth。 'Sure she hated it when I jumped in two years ago。 But what did she know？ Christ； she was up to her armpits in shit。' He made a quick violent motion with his head。 'She was following that bastard around like he was God himself。'
'She told me …' Nicholas began。
'Did she tell you that he ran a male stud service？ That he was a speed freak？ That he liked men more than women？ Did she tell you that he tied her up and beat her before laying her？ Did she tell you any of that？' His face was mottled with anger and shame and spittle flew uncontrollably from his lips。
'No；' Nicholas said softly。 'She didn't。'
Tomkin laughed harshly； humourlessly； an animal…like sound。 'I'll just bet she didn't。' His head was thrust forward and in that position he looked remarkably like a hunting dog on point。 Nicholas found himself wondering if he were the prey。 If so； Tomkin had bitten off more than he could chew this time。
'You had no business telling me all this；' he said。 His voice rose dangerously。
'What's the matter？ Is your stomach turning at the tho