Chapter 7 - The Clear Horizon
The night air on Fifth Avenue was thirty-four degrees, sharp and smelling of cold stone, roasted chestnuts from the corner cart, and the clean, salt breeze blowing off the East River.
A black town car was idling by the canopy.
Grant Miller opened the rear door for me, his large hand resting against the roof frame so the silk of my gown wouldn't brush the cold steel.
"Where to, Commander?" he asked.
I stood on the sidewalk for five seconds.
The street was quiet. The traffic on Fifth Avenue was a long, red-and-white ribbon of light moving south toward Midtown. Across the street, the trees of Central Park stood bare against the purple night sky, their branches like delicate ironwork against the stars.
I reached up with my left hand.
I took the five-carat diamond ring from my finger.
The ring had cost thirty-two thousand dollars. It had represented ten years of swallowed pride, ten years of playing the silent sentry at the gates of another man's ambition, ten years of apologizing for being too strong for a family of cowards.
I looked down at the drain grate beside the curb.
The water was rushing four feet below, heading toward the East River, toward the harbor, toward the deep Atlantic channel where the tide was running six knots to the south.
I opened my fingers.
The platinum band didn't bounce. It fell straight through the iron bars, disappearing into the dark rush with a tiny, liquid plink that was swallowed instantly by the city.
"To the docks, Grant," I said, sliding into the leather seat of the car. "We have three container ships arriving from Rotterdam at zero-six-hundred."
Grant smiled—a slow, rare, magnificent grin that showed a chipped tooth from his days in the Second Reconnaissance Battalion.
He closed the door with a solid, airtight thud, walked around the hood, and climbed behind the wheel.
As the car pulled away from the curb, leaving the Grand St. Regis behind us in the mirrors, I leaned my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes.
My heart was beating sixty times a minute.
May you like
My hands were warm.
And for the first time in ten years, the ledger was completely, beautifully balanced.
