Free False Impression by Jeffrey Archer

the edge of the sidewalk, Thy will he done. . . but felt nothing. On earth, as it is in Heaven.
She clung onto the edge of the sidewalk with her right hand and somehow managed
a few more inches. She was about to stop breathing when she thought she touched
something warm. Was it alive? ‘Help,’ she murmured feebly, expecting no
response.
    ‘Give me your
hand,’ came back the immediate reply. His grip was firm. Try and stand.’
    With his help, Anna
somehow pushed herself up. ‘Can you see that triangle of light coming from over
there?’ the voice said, but she couldn’t even see where he was pointing. Anna
turned a complete circle, and stared into 360 degrees of black night.
    Suddenly she let
out a muffled yelp of joy when she spotted a ray of sunlight trying to break
through the heavy overcoat of gloom.
    She took the
stranger’s hand and they began inching towards a light that grew brighter and
brighter with every step, until she finally walked out of hell and back into
New York.
    Anna turned to
the grey ash-coated figure who had saved her life. His
uniform was so covered in dirt and dust that if he hadn’t been wearing the
familiar peaked cap and badge she wouldn’t have known that he was a cop. He
smiled and cracks appeared on his face as if he was daubed in heavy makeup.
‘Keep heading towards the light,’ he said, and disappeared back into the murky
cloud before she could thank him. Amen.
    Fenston gave up
trying to contact his office only when he saw the North Tower collapse in front
of his eyes. He replaced the receiver and rushed back down the unfamiliar
corridor to find Leapman scrawling SOLD on a ‘To Rent’ board that was attached
to the door of an empty office.
    Tomorrow there
will be ten thousand people after this space,’ he explained, ‘so at least
that’s one problem solved.’
    Tou may be able
to replace an office, but what you can’t replace is my Monet,’ Fenston said
ungraciously. He paused. ‘And if I don’t get my hands on the Van Gogh Leapman
checked his watch. ‘It should be halfway across the Atlantic by now.’
    ‘Let’s hope so,
because we no longer have any documentation to prove we even own the painting,’
said Fenston as he looked out of the window and stared at a grey cloud that
hung above the ground where the Twin Towers had once proudly stood.
    Anna joined a
group of fellow stragglers as they emerged out of the gloom. Her compatriots
looked as if they’d already completed a marathon, but hadn’t yet reached the
finish line. Coming out of such darkness, Anna found she couldn’t bear to look
up at the glaring sun; even opening her dust-covered eyelids demanded effort.
On, on, she stumbled, inch by inch, foot by foot, coughing up dirt and dust
with every step, wondering how much more black liquid there could possibly be
left in her body. After a few more paces she collapsed onto her knees,
convinced the grey cloud could no longer overtake her. She continued coughing,
spitting.
    When Anna looked
up, she became aware of a group of startled onlookers, who were staring at her
as if she’d just landed from another planet.
    “Were you in one
of the towers?’ asked one of them. She didn’t have the strength to answer, and
decided to get as far away from their gawping eyes as possible. Anna had only
covered a few more paces before she bumped into a Japanese tourist who was
bending down trying to take a photograph of her. She angrily waved him away. He
immediately bowed even lower, and apologized.
    When Anna
reached the next intersection, she collapsed on the sidewalk and stared up at
the street sign – she was on the corner of Franklin and Church. I’m only a few
blocks from Tina’s apartment, was her first thought. But as Tina was still
somewhere behind her, how could she possibly have survived? Without warning, a
bus came to a halt by her side. Although it was as full as a San Francisco tram
car during rush hour, people edged back to allow her to clamber on. The