NARRATIVE of WARD COURIER

March, 2012

RUSKIN, NY

I started the half-hour drive from the library to my cottage, processing what could have happened in the big world to drive the local FBI director to a bushwhack meeting well after the end of his own working day. Clearly, things were no longer just in the realm of theory.

As I crested the Chestnut Ridge, I looked at the sprawling lights of Buffalo and its eastern burbs, spread below me to my left and ...