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.Let them have it for as long as possible… We'll worry about a shortage later." He replaced the phone."Joe Erskine wants immediate authority to institute water rationing.Would you believe it?" He glanced at his notepad."Now, let's get on with it.Kennedy! Kennedy is going to be under water.Keep the planes flying as long as you can, but only out.All incoming flights are to be diverted.And by nine o'clock every last aircraft must have gone and all personnel evacuated.Same thing for La Guardia; it'll probably be flooded as well.The whole of Brooklyn looks like going.""That's another solid jam," McGrath said."I checked with Tommy Burns, just to see if we could route some of our problems through there.He's threatening to shoot anyone coming over the bridge.""But they're already over the bridge," Grundy commented."As for Staten Island."Two aides hurried in."They're reporting over 150-mile-per-hour winds in Atlantic City," one gasped."And 20-foot waves.The Boardwalk is just falling apart.""There's a guy on the phone from Prospect Park Zoo asking if he should turn the animals loose," said the other."Holy Jesus! Is he mad?" the Commissioner shouted."That's all we need, a bunch of lions and tigers running down the street.""And snakes," McGrath put in dolefully."They got some big ones in there."Naseby sighed."I'm sorry, Lou, but people have to come before animals.Anyway, Prospect Park is way above the flood line.And why is he calling me? Isn't there anyone awake down in Brooklyn? Now, shipping.All small craft should head up the rivers as far as possible.""They're doing it," McGrath said."The Harbor Police report there's nearly as big a crush on the water as on the street.""The big stuff will have to sit it out," Naseby said."Well… some of them are already putting to sea.""Out into that?""They reckon they have more chance riding it out at sea.They could be right.Those big ships are sitting ducks in harbor.A 40-foot tidal surge pushed by a 200-mile-an-hour wind could just land one of them in Times Square.""Well… we'll have to leave that to the judgment of individual masters, but they have to understand there's going to be no coastguard assistance if they get themselves into trouble.Christ, I know we haven't thought of everything.But first, we have to get those streets cleared, and get the evacuation under control.I want a comprehensive plan to handle the situation placed on my desk just as quickly as possible.""You will have it," promised Mitch."By 8 am.""8 am will be too late.I want it by 5.30.That gives you one hour." The phone buzzed again."Yes? Oh, Governor, thank God… yes, from all reports it's sheer hell out there… Yes, everything you have… The President? Oh, that's great… Okay, we're moving into action, right now." He replaced the phone."The President has authorized the imposition of martial law; it takes effect at 6 am.The message is being put out over all TV and radio stations now.The National Guard is being assembled, and the army is being sent in to help.Seems there's nothing legal about what we're doing, but we're going to sort that one out afterwards.Now we have to hustle." He looked at his watch."4.30.Mitch, arrange for me to make a broadcast at 6.00, telling people what we're trying to do.Fix coverage on all networks, and on radio.""How do we get them here?""Use the helicopter.Starting now." He pointed at the Commissioner and McGrath."I want things under control when I go on the air."Coney Island — 4.45 amThe bedroom faced south, but the buildings opposite blocked out the sea view even without the rain, which was streaming down the window.Just their luck, Florence Bennett thought, to have weather like this for their annual Coney Island vacation."Looks pretty horrible out there," Bert mumbled through empty gums."What're you out of bed for, anyway? Not thinking of going for a swim, are you?""It was the thunder woke me.Thought I'd take a look," Florence replied."I guess this is a bit of that hurricane that hit the Donnellys' place in the Bahamas a few days ago.I wonder if it'll come up here."They hadn't looked at a television or read a newspaper since coming to Coney Island: Bert's idea of a vacation was to forget the world existed, and if there'd been considerable discussion and agitation about the weather amongst their fellow boarders the past few days, he had ignored it with great determination."Hurricanes don't come this far north, girl," he pontificated."They kick off into the Atlantic.Come on back to bed for a cuddle; it's been a long time.""Now then, Bert," his wife scolded."We can't have any of that first thing in the morning.Emmie's in the next room and the walls in this place are paper thin.""So what? Don't she think we do it any more? Huh, come to think of it, it's been one hell of a long time," he finished on a note of complaint.Florence sighed and started to remove the curling pins from her hair –but there was a smile twitching the corners of her mouth.Park Avenue — 5.00 amWashington Jones took his father's silver pocket watch out of his fob pocket and peered at the Roman numerals, only vaguely readable without his spectacles.Five o'clock: Edwardes wasn't due to relieve him for another hour – if he was coming at all.He returned the watch to its pocket, rubbed his eyes, and yawned.Boy, was he weary.Quite apart from the lack of sleep involved in night duty in any event, he had been on his feet for the better part of the past five hours, ever since Mrs Donnelly had told him about the emergency.He had called all the apartments, and then he'd gone up to each floor to knock on the doors of those who hadn't answered the phone, just to check that everyone was warned about the possible dangers of this storm they called Faith.He hadn't liked leaving the foyer unattended all that time – he'd had to leave the glass doors open so that anyone who wanted could get out… but that had meant anyone who wanted could also get in.Not that anyone had done that, apparently, and waking the tenants had been the more important.Strange the way different folk had reacted.Some had been terrified, effusively grateful to him for contacting them, and couldn't get out fast enough, not even waiting to pack a bag, while others, like old Mr Jurgens, looked like they'd wanted to knock his head off his shoulders for waking them up, and just slammed the door in his face.Then there had been Miss Schmitt, who was deaf as well as elderly; he had spent damned near an hour in Miss Schmitt's apartment, trying to explain exactly what was going on.Well, she had gone in the end, and so had everybody else… except for Mr Jurgens.If he wanted to stay that was his decision.Certainly no one, not even the agent, could expect him to hang about any longer.Mrs Donnelly had told him to get out of town, and he'd told the wife to pack.She'd be waiting.He frowned at the suitcase placed neatly in the corner, bent to examine it.The nametag said Donnelly, which didn't make sense.Except that Mrs Donnelly must have forgotten it in the elevator when she and the children had left – they sure had been in a hurry – and some other tenant must have found it and put it where it could come to no harm.They were a real good crowd, his tenants – except for Mr Jurgens.But that Mrs Donnelly was the best.He was truly happy she and her kids had got out so early, before the traffic had built up.She was one nice lady – and the only tenant who had given a thought to his predicament
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