Where Are You Now?

61

A t three o’clock on Wednesday morning, as he was driving around SoHo looking for a vulnerable target, his cell phone rang.

“Where are you?” a tense voice asked.

“Cruising in SoHo. Nothing special.” This was his favorite neighborhood. Lots of drunken young women stumbling home at this hour.

“Those streets are alive with cops. You wouldn’t try to pull anything stupid, would you?”

“Stupid, no. Exciting, yes,” he said, his eyes still scanning. “I need one more. I can’t help it.”

“Get home and go to bed. I have someone else for you, and she’ll make the biggest headlines of all.”

“Do I know her?”

“You know her.”

“Who is she?”

He listened as he heard the name. “Oh, that’s really good,” he exclaimed. “Did I ever tell you that you’re my favorite uncle?”