CHAPTER 2: ONE PHONE CALL
The driver leaned farther out of his window.
"People like you always think the road owes you something."
My son swallowed hard.
"You didn't even slow down."
The man tilted his head.
"And you're still standing, aren't you?"
I could feel my pulse pounding in my neck.
But I didn't yell.
I didn't threaten him.
I simply pulled out my phone.
One call.
That was all.
The driver noticed immediately.
"Calling the cops?" he sneered. "Good luck explaining why your kid's in traffic."
Eight minutes passed.
Then everything changed.
The first SUV appeared.
Then another.
Then another.
They arrived from both directions and quietly positioned themselves around the sedan.
Doors opened.
Engines idled.
No shouting.
No sirens.
No chaos.
Just control.
The sedan was boxed in.
The driver's smile disappeared.
"What the hell is this?"
He pushed open his door but stopped when a man in a dark suit calmly stepped into his path.
"Sir," the man said, "please stay where you are."
The driver laughed nervously.
"You can't do this. This is a public road."
Another suited man approached from behind.
"We're not doing anything. We're just here to talk."
My son looked up at me.
"Dad... who are they?"
I rested a hand on his shoulder.
"They work with me."
The driver's eyes snapped toward me.
For the first time, he wasn't looking at a cyclist.
May you like
He was looking at someone he hadn't bothered to identify before.
And suddenly, he wasn't nearly as confident as he had been eight minutes earlier.
