Our book continues; My efforts!
It was a cold evening in March. Bill Townsend tried to open the door of his car, but the lock was frozen.
"Damn!" he muttered to himself.
Already late, he gave the key a couple more jiggles, hoping to loosen it up. Nothing happened. If only he hadn't given up smoking, he'd at least have matches in his pocket to heat the key. In frustration, he gave it one more turn only to feel it snap off in his hand. "Great, just great! That's all I need." Turning away from the car he threw away the piece of key remaining in his hand. He had an important appointment in the office and he was already late. Going by bus would take too much time.
"I should have stayed in bed" he muttered.
This day could not get worse! He thought about calling a cab or his brother. His brother was too unreliable. A cab would be expensive, but at least he'd get there. No other alternative, really.
Reaching into his pocket for his cellphone, he started walking absently down the block. As he finished punching the last few digits for the cab company, he looked up and was startled to see a big black limousine coming on the road from the north.
"Well, well" he thought "Here he goes, always at the same time, every day, every week, every month, every year ... but today he does not come from the south". Why is he slowing down today though? It is the first time he ever seems to want to stop around here...
To his amazement, the car came to a halt right next to him. He was tempted to make haste, but he didn't want to act like a coward. He had a feeling that the man behind the wheel, with his bad skin, square jaws and sunglasses, had a deep hatred for cowardice... So instead he stands waiting beside his car until the black limousine stops in front of him. In this second he thinks about the rumors about the driver - Vietnam veteran, special forces, ... but as usual nobody have REAL information about this person.
The black, reflecting window of the limousine is slowly pulled down and an unfriendly face turns toward him.
"Mr Townsend" said the man in a low voice, "please, come in, I'll give you a lift to your office, and in the meanwhile, we will be able to chitchat..."
"I'm late and don't have time for small talk!" muttered Bill Townsend, feeling cold sweat running down his spine and hoping that the fear couldn't be heard in his voice. How the hell did the man know his name...?
"Mr Townsend..."
Bill felt that a discussion would not bring him into a better position. For a short moment he thought about just running away, but the black limousine suddenly screamed away from the kerb, and sped off into the horizon.
Bills eyes dialated as he stared blankly, amazed. He watched the car disappear from view and wondered why he hadn’t seized the opportunity presented him. Yes there had been fear, a fear of the unknown, perhaps the story of his life. He had never taken a chance never gone that extra mile; never been recognized, but this stranger knew him, How? He had been noticed now and the possible reasons behind such recognition now plagued his mind. Who was this driver and why had he stopped at this moment in time, coincidence? Surely not.
A sudden unseen voice interrupted his thoughts, ‘Hello, hello,’ it was his cellphone; he remembered dialling the number but events had distracted him, lifting the phone to his face he answered, ‘sorry, I was held up, can I get a cab
for downtown? It’s urgent.’ The cold tips of spectral fingers caressed his reluctant spine as the voice replied, ‘you had your chance mr Townsend, you should have got in the limo.’
