Apollo

I stepped out of the hotel and was immediately greeted by the familiar gleam of the black car waiting at the curb.

Austin, my secretary, stood at the front of the vehicle, right where I expected him. He was always ten steps ahead. He gave a slight bow. “Good morning, Mr. Apollo.”

I gave him a single nod in return.

He moved quickly, opening the rear passenger door. I slid in, adjusting my shirt cuff and crossing one leg over the other. A cup of hot coffee sat in the center console, beside a neatly arranged folder with today’s briefings.

As the car pulled away from the hotel, I...