James BeauSeigneur - In His Image James

"We have a tip that Hansen is going to recommend that unless Israel agrees to halt construction of the Temple, the U.N. should withdraw its remaining 13,000 man force from around Israel's borders immediately. If the U.N. removes its troops, war is almost certain."

"How many people know about this?" Decker asked, as he felt his resistance slipping away.

"There are a lot of rumors and suspicions, but no one knows the facts. Hansen refuses to talk to the press, except for… " Asher paused.

"Except for me!" Decker said, completing Asher's sentence for him. "So that's it. And I thought you were just concerned about my well being."

"I am concerned about your well being, and I think this would be good therapy for you."

This time it was Decker's turn to respond with silence.

'Well… will you do it or not?" Asher finally asked.

"Yeah, I'll do it." Decker looked over at Christopher who had been listening quietly to Decker's end of the conversation. "But, I'll need two tickets instead of one." Christopher understood and nodded with great enthusiasm. "And can you set up a tour of the U.N. for Christopher?"

"That's a great idea," Asher said. "The kid must be going crazy with cabin fever by now. I'll even make reservations for you in the Delegates Dining Room for lunch. Your appointment with Hansen is set for 2:00 Monday afternoon."

New York

"Where to?" the cabby asked.

"The U.N. building," Decker answered. Christopher got in first. When Decker joined him he noticed a very strange look on the boy's face. Something was not quite right. It took only an instant for Decker to understand. Sealed in the cab, a strange but familiar smell made its way into their lungs. It was not overpowering, but it was definitely there and it wasn't pleasant. Decker thought about getting out and hailing another cab, but it was too late. The driver punched the gas pedal and pulled his cab across two lanes of traffic and was off.

Decker and Christopher looked at each other. Christopher silently mouthed, "May I roll down the window?"

Decker held up his hand with his thumb and forefinger spread apart, indicating that about three inches would be acceptable. It was pretty cold outside but that seemed a good compromise with the smell.

After a few minutes, Decker cracked his window as well. It was then that he noticed the driver looking at them in his rear view mirror. He seemed to be studying them. If he asks me to roll up my window, Decker thought, I'll make him stop and let us out. In a moment their eyes met in the mirror and the cabby realized that Decker had been watching him looking at them. He quickly reached up, as if he had been checking the adjustment on the mirror.

"So what ya goin' to the U.N. for?" he asked a moment later.

"Just a visit," Decker answered.

"Oh, yeah?" he said. "Ain't been too many tourists around here lately."

Decker chose not to respond.

A moment later the driver added, "Well, ya wanna be careful over there."

"Why do you say that?" Decker asked.

"Call me paranoid but I wouldn't go in there widdout a gas mask on."

Decker found it almost impossible not to respond with a crack about needing one to ride in his cab. "I don't follow you," he answered instead.

"Well, the way I see it, it was probably some kinda Arab or Russian nerve gas or sumthin' that caused the Disaster, 'cause no way you're gonna tell me all those people just dropped dead for no reason. And, well, I don't know if you ever been to the U.N. before, but they got foreigners crawlin' all over the place over there. 'Course, I guess that's true everywhere in New York, only especially at the U.N."

"If the Russians are responsible for the Disaster," Decker responded, "why would they release it on their own people? I understand that there were nearly 40 million deaths in Russia, almost as many as died in the U.S."

"Yeah, that's what they say, but that don't prove nuthin'. Maybe they wuz just gettin' rid o' their undesirables. And that don't say nuthin' about the Arabs. I heard only about a hundred thousand of them died."

Decker realized that there was no sense in trying to reason with the driver so he settled back in his seat for the ride and kept silent. The cabby, however, didn't need an active partner to carry on a conversation.

'"Course, I don't mean to be cruel or nuthin'," the cabby said as he drove, "but if ya ask me, I'd tell ya we wuz better off widdout so many people in the world. 'Course, there ain't near as many fares on the streets nowadays. Not live ones, anyway. But an entrepreneur like me, well I figure there's a 'green linin' to every cloud. So I asked myself, how can a guy like me make some money when the fares're down. An' it didn't take no time 'til it comes to me. If there ain't as many live ones around: haul the dead ones. So I called up this guy I know who works at a landfill in Jersey. And next thing ya know, I'm in business."

If Decker needed any confirmation of what the smell was, he now had it.

"Yeah, I figured it was a great idea," the cabby said, continuing his discourse. "The wife says it makes the car stink. So, I just stopped at the 7-11 and bought this air freshener," the cabby pointed to a cardboard pine tree dangling from the rearview mirror, "and I ain't had no more problem with it. 'Course it was a little creepy at first, but I can make up ta two hundred dollars a head for haulin' off bodies, dependin' on how bad a shape they're in. 'Course, most of the stiffs from the Disaster have been hauled off by now. Still, I get a call maybe two or three times a day, mostly to haul off suicides, folks that lost everybody in the Disaster and decide ta join 'em. But for a while there, I was rakin' it in. One time I got twelve stiffs in here all at the same time."

The cabby paused just long enough for Decker to get his hopes up that he would remain silent. "And then there's another thing," he said, after catching his breath, "it's a helluva lot easier to get a apartment around here now. 'Course, most of the apartments that ya find still smell like dead folks, but hey, ya just let it air out a few hours an' it's jus' like home."

The cabby looked over and nodded toward a pawn shop as they passed. "I tell ya another guy that's makin' a buck on the dead besides the grave digger and me: the pawn broker. Ya see this ring," he said holding his right hand up for them to see. "Pretty nice, huh? I picked this up dirt cheap from a pawn shop last week. But I bet I paid four times what the pawn broker had ta give for it. An' the guy he got it from probably got it for free off some stiff. Some people don't like wearin' dead folk's stuff, but I figure, hell, they don't need it no more."

"Was there a lot of looting?" Christopher asked the driver, apparently unaware that Decker was hoping the driver would just be quiet and drive.

"Oh, yeah, plenty. Let me tell ya, the looters wuz breakin' windows an' rippin' off stores left and right. A bunch of 'em got shot by shop owners but then pretty soon the looters started shootin' back. But that only lasted a few days. Then Mizzoner, the mayor, declared open season on anyone on the streets after curfew. So far, I hear the cops have shot more than 300 of 'em."

"Well, here we are," the cabby said as he pulled up to the U.N. General Assembly building.

Decker paid quickly, not wanting to spend an extra moment in that car. The driver thanked him and warned them again to 'be careful.'

"I hope you know that that cabby didn't know his head from a hole in the ground," Decker told Christopher as the two walked toward the entrance of the U.N.

"You mean about the Russians and Arabs?" Christopher asked.

"Well, yes, that too. But not just that."

"Sure, Mr. Hawthorne, I know that. But still, it was an interesting experience."

Decker laughed to himself. "You'd make a good reporter," he said.