Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four.

This morning, 6:53 am: Harry awoke to the cold.

Iridescent bits of glass covered his lap and hands.

Pain radiated from his cheek. One sliver of window hung awkwardly in the jamb. He stared at the green and white webs; his mind moving in many places.

His right hand fished into his front pants-pocket. The keys were there. Jesus Christ.

—

Three days ago: An email slid across Wylie’s desk and into the basket.

‘This is big. I hope I’m not right. Terminal 105 park 7 pm Fri.’

Two ropes of smoke rose dreamily from Harry’s cigarette towards the ventilation fan.

‘Could be a setup’ Wylie said.

‘Could be. Harry said leaning back. Maybe 20% on that. I’m not hearing much.’

‘You’re full of shit with numbers, Harry’ Wylie said.

Harry realized this was probably true (maybe 80%). The past few weeks had been filling the office with fear and exhilaration:

City politics…Harry’s coffee was cold.

‘Let’s take it. Someone’s gotta take it’ Harry broke the silence.

‘Your call’ Wylie smiled a small, enigmatic smile, lifting his feet from the floor and placing them back down.

One day ago: Five ties meant bad news. Probably the worst news….