Also by his home address.” That was the thought that was in Jekjik’s mind as he zig-zagged his way toward the entrance. It looked no different from any other drain in Central Park: a decorative round steel grate that covered the terminus of a small concrete drainage ditch, almost completely hidden by trees and grass. Only someone educated in the ways of the city would know that it led to realms beyond the imagining of the urban engineers who had designed and built the system. Making sure he didn’t catch his large, fluffy tail in the grate, Jekjik squeezed through one of the several gaps and dropped down onto the service ledge that paralleled the deeper, wider ditch. He was thankful it had rained hard last week. The flush of fresh water had scoured the tunnel clean of the more mephitic muck with which it was often filled, and the stench that still lingered was tolerable. Even so, he had to catch and hold his breath several times.
