A/N: Chapter four is ready to go! Thank-yous go out to my reviewers, because you guys are the best. It's great to know that there are lots of Tintin fans out there. I just hope that all you Tintin fans start writing fanfictions! Now that would be absolutely wonderful! Anyway, yes, this is the fourth chapter. It's a tad bit short, but that's because it has a good stopping point. Also, I know nothing about New York City in the 1960s, so don't start freaking out if I wrote something wrong. However, if I did (and I know that I have made several mistakes), tell me, and I'll try and fix the story if it's not beyond fixing! So, yeah, chapter four: enjoy!

-mo

…

The subway car was not as crowded as it could have been, and luckily, there were some empty plastic seats that we could sit down on. As the train started up again, I looked out the large, dirty windows, watching the tiled wall fly by at speeds far faster than what regular trains traveled at. "What do you think, Captain?"

"Impressive, in a way," he commented, though he appeared to be rather nervous. "As long as it doesn't derail or crash, I think everything will be alright."

I nodded. "It should be alright. Our stop is one of the first ones, so we needn't worry. As for the Moonies…"

"It's a religious cult, my lad. I don't think they'd have the guts to team up with some gangsters to dispose of us."

"Maybe so, but I still have to wonder." I pulled on Snowy's lead to bring him closer, then added, "I guess we should forget about it for now, but if they show up again, I won't doubt their involvement in this crime."

"I'm with you on that one," the captain agreed. The subway train began to slow to a stop, and he stood. "This is our place to get off."

"Come on, Snowy." The subway station was more crowded than the first one, and in a way, I was relieved. It was late at night, a quarter past eleven, and that was when New York City was its most dangerous, I had been told. Rate of crime was up in the city, but tackling small-time gangsters was something that I was no longer interested in, and besides, most of it was petty crimes like robbery and pick-pocketing and the occasional gang fight in the Bronx. The airport that we were headed to, though, would probably be one of the safer places in the city.

…

The time nearing midnight, the airport terminal was still as alive as it would have been during the day. While the captain ordered a pair of tickets for Chicago, I strolled over to some nearby windows that gave me a clear, uninterrupted view of the New York City skyline. Everything was lit up, the most impressive skyscrapers being the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building. Their spires reached high into the night sky, a beacon of America and everything that the country stood for. The traffic of planes overhead was constant, with their flashing lights and roaring engines, and I wondered if the staff at the airport ever got any sleep.

A moment later, the captain walked up to me, holding out a pair of tickets. "The plane leaves tomorrow morning at eleven," he explained. "We might as well sleep here, at this confounded place. No point in wasting time trying to find a hotel."

I nodded. "It's a good idea." Pointing at the window, toward the skyline of the city, I murmured, "This is why I originally came here, Captain - to see that. Isn't it amazing?"

"I'll say! Why, it's stupendous! Awesome! Marvelous! Er, amazing…!"

I smirked. "You won't see anything like this back home."

"And thundering typhoons, I don't want to! All these lights and buildings would ruin the landscape." He filled his pipe and lit it, adding, "Besides, it would make everyone so high-strung."

"You're right. There definitely is a difference."

The captain took a puff from his pipe. "See those empty couches over there? If you don't mind, I'll be turning in for the evening."

"Alright, Captain. Good-night." After he left, I turned back to the window, letting my eyes wander across the jagged skyline of New York. The people of the city were constantly awake; the windows of towering office buildings were lit, taxis and buses and cars still crowded the streets; planes streaked across the sky in perpetual motion. The Captain was right; there was a sense of nervousness here, an unmistakable element of a rushed lifestyle. It was nothing like the laid-back, casual days that the Captain and I enjoyed at Marlinspike. I yawned, and with Snowy at my heels, a trudged sleepily over to an empty couch. I was dead tired, but a worry about the near future of our adventure was bothering me so much that I couldn't sleep. Lying on the couch (Snowy sleeping at my feet, of course), I pulled out a travel brochure that detailed the city of Chicago. I wondered how much the place had changed since my last visit…

…

The sun was rising over the skyline of New York City, its rays glinting off the polished metal sides of the buildings. It was not the sunlight, however, that had waken me; it was the hum of activity at the airport. In fact, it was far from a hum, it was a sound closer to that of a roar. Commuters, busily walking to and fro; businessmen and women, with their briefcases held securely at their sides; the final calls for flights booming from the loudspeakers every couple of minutes. I yawned and leaned forward, shaking Snowy out of his slumber. What time was it?

The captain was not on the couch where I had last seen him the night before, but a sudden row from one of the nearby coffee shops brought to my attention where he was. "No tea? Blistering barnacles, what is this, the land of savages? What do you drink here, anyway?"

"Coffee, sir."

"Coffee? How can you stand that stuff?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but we just don't have tea."

"Thundering typhoons, I need something to wake me up! Fine, you technocrat, get me two coffees, please."

I rolled my eyes as the captain took a seat next to me, and handed me a Styrofoam cup filled with hot coffee. "You created quite the fuss over there."

"You would too! These centipedes don't know what a decent drink is. They serve this poison," he held up his coffee, "instead of a decent cup of tea." The captain sniffed the dark liquid, and a look of displeasure crossed his face.

"A bit strong, but not bad." I smirked. "Don't tell me you're afraid of giving it a taste."

That set him off immediately, as I had planned. "Captain Haddock, afraid of a little bit of coffee?" He took a long swig of it, like he would a glass of whiskey, and immediately spat it out. "Billions of blue blistering barnacles! You never said that it was scalding, you psychopath!"

I laughed. "Sorry, Captain. I'll be right back: I'm going to fetch this morning's paper."

"Go right ahead," he grumbled.

A moment later, I returned, with the morning's edition of the New York Times folded under my arm. I took a seat on the couch, and opened up the paper, its boldest headline attracting my attention right away: SUBWAY TRAIN DERAILS, TEN PASSENGERS INJURED, TWO KILLED. Sabotage is suspected in last night's disaster.

"Crumbs!"

"What? What's the problem now?"

"Here, Captain, look." I pointed at the headline and read part of the article aloud. " 'Moments after taking its normal stop at the city's first national airport station, the last subway car on the train experienced some difficulty as the train returned to its normal speed. Seconds later, the coupling that held it to the rest of the train broke, and the car derailed and crashed. Occurring at eleven-fifteen p.m., this is the worst subway accident since…'" I looked up from the newspaper and frowned. "I say, Captain, doesn't that seem a little suspicious to you?"

"Thundering typhoons! You're right! That's the same subway car that we were on!" The captain looked over the article, drawing his eyebrows together in a frown. "They meant to kill us, the murderers!"

"But they didn't anticipate us getting off on that particular stop, because there are several stops for various entries to the airport!" I skimmed over the article for any clues that related to our original objective. " 'There are no suspects as of yet, but police are combing the scene for any information.' Well, that's torn it. Those gangsters killed two innocent people in an attempt to dispose of us."

"When I get my hands on those bandits… But wait a moment, are we still going to travel to Chicago, after this?"

"It's risky, but…" I thought it over for a moment. "It certainly shows that these gangsters will stop at nothing to kill us, even if it means harming innocent bystanders. But would they go as far as crashing a plane?"

The captain scratched his bearded chin, took a small sip of coffee and grumbled, "I hope not."

"It doesn't matter; we've got to get out of here. I'd bet my life it was those Moonie girls that told the saboteurs we were on the subway." I took one last look at the story in the newspaper, but it offered no hints as to who possibly could have done the job. "We can't tell the police, at least not yet, that it was meant for us. It would only bring attention to our presence, and we'd have more people going after us."

"If we must lay low, we have no choice, then, by thunder."

"Right. In other words," I said with a half-grin, "don't call so much attention to yourself when a certain coffee shop doesn't serve any tea. Speaking of which, I'm hungry. Shall we find ourselves some breakfast?"

"Sure. What's the time, by the way?"

"Nine o'clock. We've two hours before our plane leaves; plenty of time."

"Good! I'm famished!"

…

"Boarding has begun for the eleven o'clock flight to Chicago." A friendly-sounding woman's voice flooded through the hallways of the airport terminal. "The current time is ten-fifteen."

I glanced over to the captain. "Think we should head that way?"

"Yes… One moment…" He was fiddling with one of the clasps on his suitcase. "Blistering barnacles… What a piece of junk."

Before long, we were outside, climbing up the ramp to the plane. It was a brilliant day outside, quite the change from the drizzly night before; it was early spring in New York City, but it felt much warmer than that. I had a desire to see the daffodils and tulips and the tiny leaf buds on all the trees in Central Park, but there was no way I could do that now: I had already taken my seat on the plane, the captain sitting next to me, with Snowy laying on my lap.

I glanced about the plane, looking for anyone familiar or suspicious, but to no avail. Either we had a new enemy whom we had never seen before, or no one knew that we were taking the eleven o'clock flight to Chicago. Or, I thought grimly, they thought we were killed in the subway accident.

"So, where will we be going when we arrive in Chicago?" the captain asked, his eyes not leaving a travel brochure for the city.

"We'll go straight to wherever Dawson and the LondonAir headquarters are," I whispered, trying not to draw attention to myself. "They may be holding Skut there, but for all we know, he's still here in New York."

"Or he could be dead," the Captain grumbled. "And if he is, those LondonAir bashi-bazouks had better keep their distance…"

I didn't respond, and instead kept my eyes fixed on the steady line of people streaming into the plane. All seemed fine until a distinct-looking man boarded the aircraft: he had a large, black moustache and was wearing a dark brown suit. I kept an eye on him, for he had an ill-mannered look in his eyes. As soon as he had passed and was out of listening distance, I leaned over to the captain and whispered, "Be on your guard. There's a Syldavian on this airplane."

"Our last experience we had with those savages was not a good one, let me tell you that," the captain mumbled. "Does he look suspicious?"

"I don't know. It's wrong to be profiling people, but since we've run into these guys so often in the past, we've got to be on the lookout." Snowy growled softly, and I flicked the back of his head. "Shh, boy. I don't want you to get me thrown off the plane. They hate having dogs on board."

"I must admit," the captain said cheerfully, "that this is an awfully nice plane."

"Yes… I'm sorry that your first American experience is a rushed one, Captain."

The older man rolled his eyes and laughed. "It's not rushed yet, Tintin. I have a feeling we'll be coming back to this place soon."

"Perhaps…" Before I could finish my thought, the roar of the airplane engines kicked in. I fastened my seatbelt, took a deep breath, and wondered how I had ever gotten myself into this mess.

…

A/N: Alright, that wraps up chapter four. For anyone that's curious and has never heard of the site, Tintinologist is a wonderful website that every Tintin reader should see. It's got endless forums, guides, book reviews, and little-known facts. Oh, and the best part - unlike many Tintin sites, it's all in English. My username on the site is MoonRocket, if you ever want to read the junk that I talk about in the forums. Anyway, leave some feedback if you enjoyed the chapter, of even if you didn't, and give me some suggestions if you have any. Thanks!

-mo