TWENTY-ONE: AN END AND A BEGINNING
Momo took several seconds to decipher the longer words on the noticeboard,
and by the time she slipped through the gate the last of the men in gray had disappeared.
In front of her yawned a gigantic pit, eighty or ninety feet deep, with bulldozers and excavators around it.
Several trucks had stopped mid-way down the ramp that led to the bottom of the pit
and construction workers were standing motionless all over the place, frozen in a variety of positions.
Where to now? There was no sign of the man in the gray and no clue as to where he might have gone.
Cassiopeia seemed equally at a loss. Her shell did not light up. Momo made her way down the ramp to the bottom of the pit and looked around.
Suddenly she saw a familiar face. It was Salvatore, the bricklayer who had painted the pretty flower picture on the wall of her room.
He was as motionless as all the rest, but something about his pose made Momo think twice.
He was cupping his mouth as though calling to someone
and pointing to the rim of a huge pipe jutting from the ground beside him, almost as if drawing Momo's attention to it.
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