Page 55 of Whistle

Annie looked at Nabler and opened her mouth to scream, to say something, anything, but the words caught in her throat.

All she managed was, “That’s... that’s John’s... how did...”

“I’ll give you a minute,” Nabler said.

“ You ,” she said, finding her voice. In a voice that was no more than a whisper, she said, “You ran John down. You ran him down and

you stole his watch. You murdered my husband.” She gazed upon his creation. “For this . ”

“Not for that,” he said. “Not exactly.”

Annie wanted to summon the strength to lunge at him, tear him to pieces with her bare hands, and she was on the verge of doing

it when something caught her eye.

That pane of glass that came to her in moments of inspiration and clarity.

No more than a foot square, crystal clear, as though someone had Windexed the bejesus out of it, catching light from the overhead

fluorescents as it turned slowly in the air. It found its way between Annie and Nabler, closer to her, so that when she looked

through it, she saw all of him.

And saw him for what he was.

The goofy hat and the vest with all the badges faded away, and Nabler was no longer his short, pixieish self, but six, maybe seven feet tall, with an elongated snout and whiskers and large, pointed teeth and ears that stuck up straight and hairy hands with long, dark nails.

Her rat-wolf man from Penn Station.

Smiling.

And just like that, the pane of glass was gone, and Edwin Nabler, toy train proprietor, was back.

Annie froze in disbelief. She’d been holding her breath, speechless. Nabler was not oblivious to the change that had washed

over her.

He said, “You saw something.”

Annie shook her head. “No, I didn’t see anything.”

Nabler smiled. Annie knew that smile. “We’ve crossed paths before, haven’t we? A long time ago?”

“I don’t believe so,” Annie said.

He was studying her, looking at her differently than he had when she’d first arrived. “This is all starting to feel more preordained

than I could have imagined. There are a few... what I would call civilians... who can sometimes catch brief glimpses

into the sliver. Creative types, usually. You’re definitely one of the special ones.”

Annie took several quick, deep breaths, in and out, in and out. She needed her wits about her. As bizarre as her circumstances

were, she needed a clear head.

She asked, “Why did you kill my husband? It was you, wasn’t it? You ran him down in the street. You ran him down and ran back and stole his watch. Why?”

“It was integral to my objective.”

“Which was?”

“I need someone to take over, and I’d like it to be you.”

Annie blinked. “What?”

“There will be fair amount of work to handle the transition. I’m not kidding myself on that score. Much to be done, a retrofit of the facilities. But I think it’s all doable, and you strike me as the most likely candidate. Even more so now that I have a hint of your abilities. It was a hell of a job getting you here, but it wasn’t as if I could simply ask. I had to make you want to come here. I had to make it in your interest . And that meant settling you someplace where I could pique that interest. That house near Fenelon, where one of the best

sets I ever made was sitting in that shed waiting for you to arrive.”

“How...”

“So, first, John had to die. You would have to mourn, and for a period of time you would want to forget. To forget, you would

need to leave the city. And that house near Fenelon was still there, that Tide box full of trains in the shed, waiting to

be found. Made a couple of trips into Manhattan—my God, the traffic, I don’t know how you stand it—first, to kill John, and

then again, later, to put the idea of sending you here into your editor’s head. Waltzed right in, pretended to have a job

there, struck up a chat with him. They really ought to tighten up security.”

Annie listened, trying to get her head around what he was telling her.

“You killed Fin,” she said under breath.

“I wasn’t present, but I did make it happen.” He shrugged modestly. “You know, that was one of the first sets I sold from

this location. This Wendell Comstock fellow was quite taken with it the moment he saw it. Had some unfortunate business with

his wife and decided to move away, and lucky for him he did, or he’d have been here for the big event. You know, he told the

movers not to pack up the trains, but they ended up in the truck anyway.” He smiled. “Funny how these things happen. Anyway,

a splendid set, that one. Gotten a lot of mileage out of it.”

“Why? Why did Fin have to die?”

Nabler shrugged. “Sometimes these things just happen. It’s not like he was a loose end, that he had even an inkling of how he’d been manipulated. But you have to admit, it ramped up the pressure on you. Am I right? And once Charlie got it in his head that he had to come here, you had no choice but to chase after him. You felt compelled. And now you’re here, and we can talk about succession plans.”

Annie blinked, dumbstruck for a moment.

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” she said finally. “Thinking I’d take over from you? I don’t even understand what the fuck

you do, but I know it’s nothing I want to be part of.”

“While you’re not part of the sliver, we can work on that. We’ve recruited before. You’ve already demonstrated since you arrived

that you have certain talents. Under my tutelage, before I’m gone, you’ll be running the show as efficiently as I was. But

it won’t involve any of this.” He waved his hands about the room. “Toy trains are not your milieu.”

Annie gave her head a slow shake and, wiping a tear from her cheek, said pleadingly, “Please let me have Charlie back.”

“In time, in time! I told you. And, honestly, he’s closer than you think, having the time of his life.”

Two more trains went whistling past. A freight train with a long string of boxcars and a Santa Fe passenger train consisting

of several gleaming silver cars, including one with an observation dome on top.

“I promise you, you’ll see Charlie as soon as you let me finish explaining to you what all of this has been about.”

Annie stayed silent.

“First, you have to understand how I operate. In simplest terms, I make bad things happen.” He smiled broadly. “I know that sounds wrong, but it’s all part of a larger purpose, to keep order and balance in the world. How can there be joy without sorrow? How can there be success without failure? How can there be happiness without tragedy? Sometimes, the balance gets out of whack.”

Nabler took a breath, then said, “My trains make the difference. An innocent, beloved toy, rich with history. Who doesn’t

love toy trains? When they leave my shop, when they insinuate themselves into a household, that’s when they do what they’re

designed for. A kind of Trojan horse, you see. And what they are capable of, it’s nothing short of amazing. But kids don’t

love trains now the way they used to. Oh, they’re too sophisticated for them. No more trains or Silly Putty or cap guns. It’s all computer games and social media, although I dare say, that

last one might end up doing the kind of damage I could only dream of. But here’s the thing. Even if parents aren’t buying

trains for their kids anymore, you know what they are buying? If they’re good parents and they care about their youngsters’ intellectual development?”

Annie felt a sense of dread washing over her.

“Ah, I can tell by your face you know what’s coming. It’s books .”

Annie felt a chill.

“You know I mentioned how the Internet has changed things? Sitting here, taking orders for what train sets I still have, delivering

mayhem to unsuspecting families from here to Timbuktu, I also spend a lot of time reading the news. Online, of course. Once

I found a way to tap into a nearby power source—everything in town here is dead—I arranged an Internet connection and I’ve

kept up on what’s happening, and while doing that I’ve always been on the lookout for someone who could take over.”

He smiled. “And I saw a story about you.” He paused. “And Evan Corcoran.”

“No,” Annie whispered.

“His parents bought that book you wrote about Pierce the Penguin? The one where he decides that nothing is going to hold him back, that he might only be a penguin, but he was still a bird, and damn it, he was going to fly. And little Evan Corcoran found that book so inspiring that he—”

“Shut up! Just shut up!”

Annie had placed her hands over her ears, but Nabler kept on talking, as if he knew his words would get through no matter

how she tried to block them.

“So inspiring that he went out onto the balcony and jumped. When I saw that story, and the ones that followed, I thought to

myself, Edwin, your search is over. You’ve found the person you’re looking for. What an accomplishment .”

Nabler smiled, took the engineer’s cap from his head, and bowed. “You killed a child with a seemingly innocent little book.

I doff my hat to you.”