Heroes, p.21
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       Heroes, p.21

           Leigh Barker
Across the bridge on the Upper East Side, a black guy the size of a dumper truck squeezed his gut in behind the wheel of a twenty-year-old white panel van and crashed it into gear.

  He wiped sweat from his face on his blue overalls straining drum-skin tight over his arms and looked back over his shoulder at the four fifty-gallon fuel drums. But all he saw was the cell phone and block of Semtex wedged between them.

  For the first time since he’d taken the cash for this, he began to wonder if it was worth the risk.

  Too late now.

  He nosed the van into the downtown traffic and prayed no fool ran into him.


  The Orpheus Directive

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