PROLOGUE

For those unfamiliar with Palisades Park or the song, these videos are helpful – and fun :-)

[YouTube URL]/watch?v=dkNVwV5zquM

[YouTube URL]/watch?v=Q8KIdxXtX0M

Last night I took a walk in the dark
A swingin' place called Palisades Park
To have some fun and see what I could see...
That's where the girls are!

I took a ride on a Shoot the Chute
The girl I sat beside was awful cute
And when we stopped,
She was holdin' hands with me...

My heart was flyin' up, like a rocket ship
Down, like a roller coaster
Back, like the Loop-the-Loop
And around, like a merry go round

We ate and ate at a hot dog stand
We danced around to a rockin' band,
And when I could, I gave that girl a hug –
In the Tunnel of Love...!

You'll never know how great a kiss can feel
Till you stop, at the top, of the Ferris wheel
When you fall in love –
Down at Palisades Park...!

[Fade out] ...down at Palisades Park... you know it's Palisades Park... down at...

Writer: Chuck Barris
Artist: Freddy Cannon
© Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

Chapter 1: Halifax can wait

"Mother, this was supposed to be a get-away. No duties at all. Three days in New York, then my brother's family in Halifax. I've had it scheduled for months."

"Life comes upon us all, Miss King," boomed Mother's voice, with a slight distort, across the trans-Atlantic connection. ("Miss King" being his motherly way of putting his foot down.) "You will have many more opportunities. But for now, John Spurling is a key witness in the Hotchkins matter, and the other side will do anything to see that he does not testify. Halifax can wait. We need a trusted agent to keep a close watch on him, and make sure he reaches the hearing safely."

"What about holding him in protective custody?" she reasonably asked (although she guessed there would be some "reasonable" reason not to).

And sure enough, "Negative on that. He insists on his freedom, and might not be cooperative otherwise. Such is youth today," he opined, like a BBC commentator. "The lad barely agreed to a single companion, even. So we must accommodate. And you are in the perfect position to do the job. I promise you, Tara, a double holiday at the end of the assignment."

A particular point in this monologue caught her ear, and she followed up. To which he replied:

"I believe a month shy of his eighteenth."

"He's a seventeen year old boy?"

"A very intelligent and well-turned lad," Mother responded, with a touch of firmness. "And an equally fine young woman, such as yourself, should get on with him famously. I have authorized a generous expense account to your name, through Barclays, which should be available within the hour. And most important of all, the Crown will be eternally grateful for your service." With Mother, the line between high sarcasm, and true-blue sentiment, was sometimes hard to discern. But the expense account was welcome, at least. Such is life in the ranks.

She phoned her brother with the change of plans, although providing few details. (He knew not to inquire too closely into his young sister's work.) Then she met the MI-6 attaché at the New York consulate, for a briefing on the case and a review of known threats. Ninety minutes later, after wending through the usual absurdly redundant checkpoints, she knocked at the hotel room of young Mr. Spurling.

"Tara King," she presented herself, in her best civil servant tone.

"Please," the young man said, with an inviting gesture. "I was told you would be my guardian." His eyes glided from her feet upward, and Tara waited for the inevitable remark. It was like a formality, before business could begin. And she did discern a comment rising to his lips. But he nipped it, which impressed Tara more than any witticism could have. Perhaps, as Mother had suggested, this "lad" was a bit more mature than the usual lad of 17 (or 37, for that matter)

He politely seated her, and slipped into the small kitchen, from whence he returned with a plate of cakes and a pitcher of pulpy, ice-cold lemonade. The repast was quite delicious, and it was Tara, contrary to form, who paid the first compliment of the encounter.

Once finished, he put to her, "Have you ever been to an amusement park, Miss King?"

"You can call me Tara –" she began, and he quickly interjected, "Then you have to call me Johnny!" His grin showed him to be still the boy, as much as Mother's "well-turned lad." It was Tara's turn to be charmed.

"To answer your question," she continued, "yes, our parents would take us to Battersea Fun Fair during the summers. I haven't been there in quite awhile, but –"

"– but in that case," he took up her sentence in midflight, "you are the perfect person to come along today!" He reached over to an end table, for the morning edition of Newsday. On the front page, below the fold, was the story: "Last day for famed New Jersey landmark."

"Palisades Park..." she read aloud, from the first paragraph. "I think I've heard of that."

"Probably on the radio, from the song. It's legendary! And it's closing today, for the last time, after 70 years. There's just today, tonight, and then shutting down at midnight, forever."

She was starting to get the drift.

"Look – Johnny. You're safe here. The hearing is in three days. You've probably been to this park a hundred times..."

"At least! Well, close to."

"Then sit tight. We'll watch something on the telly, walk around the block, get some sandwiches, and I'll stay in the room right across the hallway."

"But I've never been to the park on its very last day...!" he explained. Tara touched her forehead.

An hour later they were crossing the George Washington Bridge, into New Jersey. Then from there, down the Fort Lee exit onto the 505, and up the Palisades cliffs. It was a gorgeous Sunday afternoon, early autumn; with just that brisk, melancholy edge in the air that foretells the future. As they motored along, Johnny regaled Tara with the park's history, dating back to 1898 – and she, almost in spite of herself, began to catch the Auld Lang Syne spirit of the occasion.

But in the busy westbound lanes behind, was another car following them from New York. Someone with seemingly the same destination... but not the same spirit.

Coming next...

CHAPTER 2: A Beretta lipstick mirror