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272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. He entered the driver’s side, not inserting the keys in the ignition. One of her duties, after she had been taught to read, had been to read aloud after breakfast and before going to bed. I should like Mr. No lights were flashing, and a single squad car was not a cause for alert, as sometimes the Becks allowed squads to use their drive to watch for speeders and other reckless drivers. I want to get away—to go to London. But to England we will go.
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