Shouting a hurried thank you to my driver with pity, I bolted from the passenger seat. I heard the door slam and ran toward the inclined steps of Angel Hall: the Roman columns the tall bronze doors bouncing in my field of vision, keeping perfect time with the rise and fall of my boots on the marble steps taking two, three steps at a time upward toward the great doors.
Then all I saw were the bronze doors and I was focused, I was intent, I was desperate. Panic hit me like I had been punched in the chest by an unseen fist.
As I pulled on the handle of the massive bronze door fear wrapped its hand around me; held me tightly in its grasp.
Passing into the bright light inside a red arrow pointed to the left. I glanced at my watch. Less than one minute before seven thirty!
I rounded the corner and began to run. My whole life was trapped between the passage of time and the thirty yards it would take to arrive at another set of double doors next to a doorman casually looking at the watch on his wrist, in stark contrast to my desperate race with time.
I was sprinting for my life! The only sound I heard were my boots pounding against the marble floor… heel and toe… heel and toe… heel and toe, the sound of army canvas, the tinkling sound of change in my pocket the roar of blood pounding inside my head … continued …