Chapter 1

New York on a rain-filled fall night is not a pleasant place to be. This was beyond rainy ... it was torrential. In desperation to get to shelter, I dashed into a doorway of a bar across the street. The place was empty, with the exception of a solitary barman reading a book at the bar. I whipped the rain from my hair and face and sat on a barstool.

“What’ll be your pleasure?” the barkeep asked as he came to face me.

“What kinds of scotch do you have?”

He recited a litany of unremarkable brands. “That’s it?” I asked.

“Well, we have the expensive stuff, but there’s not much demand for it in this area.”

“What’s your most expensive?”

“Macallan, I think.”

“Show me the bottle, please.”

He reached to the top shelf and pulled down a dusty bottle which he offered for my inspection.

“I’ve been here ten years and no one has ever asked for this.”

“No one?”

“Nope, I’d love to get rid of it.”

The bottle was almost untouched. I pulled out my wallet and pulled out two C-notes. “I’ll buy the whole bottle.”

“Mr. I can’t sell by the bottle.”

I pulled out another 100. “Will this cover it?” I asked.

He smirked as he pocketed the bills, poured me a double and put the bottle in a plain paper bag.

I smiled at what I had just pulled off. I had just purchased a bottle of Macallan Anniversary Malt 25-Year-Old Single Malt Scotch whisky for three hundred dollars. Some high-end bars would charge that for a double.

Finally, my luck seemed to have changed on this trip. I was in New York to finalize a deal that I had worked on for six months. Tomorrow I would be meeting with the President of Vanguard Holdings, who I had never met and after the meetings we would have supper at his penthouse.

It had not been an auspicious start. I’d had a date planned with an old flame that she could not keep due to a family problem. Rather than sit in my hotel room, I went out for a walk and ended up in the village. When the rain had started, I looked around and saw a vintage movie theater. I had treated myself to a double feature Casablanca followed by Pulp Fiction. When I got out, I faced the deluge.

’Well,’ I thought to myself, ‘the Scotch makes up for the lousy evening.’

I was feeling a warm glow of satisfaction as this elixir of the gods warmed me up and chased the chill from my body when the bar doors opened and a couple walked in. The reflection in the bar mirror showed a tall, long-legged blond on the arm of an elegantly dressed man.

They crossed the floor and sat to my left. The bartender came over and much to my amusement after inquiring what scotch was available they ended up ordering a couple of Johnny Walker Blacks.

They spoke in hushed tones and I did not pay much attention till the blonde pulled out a cigarette and searched through her purse for a light. Not finding one she asked me if I would mind reaching over and giving her a pack of matches that was lying on the bar.

I reached for the matches and striking one lit her cigarette. This was in the days when it was still socially acceptable to smoke in bars.

For the first time, I was looking at her in the face. I had noticed that she was pretty when she had walked in, but looking at her face, I saw that not only was she pretty she was stunning. Long blond hair framed a face that was close to perfection.

“Hi there, I’m Issy and this is my husband, Bill.”

“Hi to you, Issy and Bill,” I said, shaking hands with Bill and then with Issy.

“I’m Roger.”

When I shook her hand, she held on to it for longer than I expected. I looked at Bill, but he was oblivious. He had already ordered a refill, which was already half-finished.

Issy smiled at me and rearranged her dress, revealing an expanse of appealing thigh to my eyes. She saw me looking and I quickly averted my eyes. She smiled at me and ran her tongue seductively over her lips.