A yellow cab slammed on the brakes at the the corner of 63rd Street and Second Avenue in Manhattan, and a passenger climbed in. “Lincoln Center,” she ordered the driver. “Through the park.” She then got back to her cell phone conversation, not looking closely at the short, pudgy man driving the cab.
The Director shoved his foot down on the accelerator, throwing the passenger uncomfortably against the back seat, and pulled out into traffic. Another cab, which he had cut off, honked angrily, but he paid no attention. His mind, always active, wasn’t on his driving. It never was. He had plans to make, operations to oversee. He owed the Sheik a letter. He bit into his bagel and cream cheese and sped down Second Avenue toward his next date with destiny.
THE END
A professional journalist, Dan Rosenberg’s career includes stints writing for the Wall Street Journal and Barron’s. He currently writes about financial markets for a major trading website.
Rosenberg is married, has two sons, and lives in Highland Park, Illinois.
The Towers Still Stand Page 29
