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The taxi ride

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In a taxi in New York, many things can happen. You can get mugged, shot, kid napped, or even killed. One thing that you would never expect to happen is getting abducted by the CIA, in a taxi, in New York. Well it happens, and it happened to me. Today, I'm going to tell you about my taxi ride on December 15, 2003.


It was, sort of, a nice day. The snow wasn't coming down to hard, the snow plows were working pretty good, and the sun was almost out enough to melt some of it. On my way to work, I stopped to a coffee and the morning newspaper, like always, got into the same taxi, just like every other day. When I sat down, I noticed something was off. First of all, the regular driver, Gary, wasn't driving. Second of all, there was a suitcase in the seat next to me, with no one there. And even after I shut the door, we didn’t start going, despite the fact that there was no traffic. “Good morning ma'am, how is your day going?” Asked the man driving the taxi. “My day is going great, where's Gary?” “He wont be joining us today, he's on... vacation.” 'Okay, this is weird. What does he want? Is he going to kill me? Put me in the trunk and drive off a bridge. I'm so confused!' “What do you want with me?” “I have a, special mission, for you.” He started to drive, and turned into a neighborhood I didn't recognize. “We are here” He told me. That was the day I started working for the CIA.


It has been 3 years sense that day, and everyday sense then, I wonder 'why?'. 'Why did they pick me? What did I do that was so special?' I went on mentally babbling. 'I mean, it's not like I'm not good at what I do. It's just I don't understand how they would know I'm good without even one training session. They just sent me straight into the field that day. I hadn't a clue what I was doing, but apparently, I was good. They have been calling me ever sense then, every time a bad guy needs to fall off the thrown, or one gang is getting to powerful. Or even when there are threats to the president, like the Secret Service can't handle it, right? It's kind of a fun job, and it pays very well.' Then the tornado in side my head quit because the front door just opened.


Mr. Fitzsimmons walked out the front door. I didn't know that I was taking down this guy. I never do. They never tell me. The 3rd rule of the CIA: Don't ask, don't tell. As Mr. Fitzsimmons walked into the car of his stretch limo, I started slowly moving in my car so when they drove by, all they saw was a broke down car on the side of the road. After they turned down the road I started the car. 'Time to get to work.' I thought while pushing the button to start my car. As I drove off after them, I kept my distance. They pulled up to the front of the motel, and I pretended to get gas at the gas station on the other side of the road. When Mr. Fitzsimmons walked into the hotel and the car drove off was my Que.


I ran off to the side of the road, jumped into some tree's and kept running towards the motel. I got there right in time to see what room he went into. 42. I went to the top floor, walked to room 42, stuck a cam line under the door to see what was going on, when I froze. It had been 16 long years sense I've seen that man, the one sitting in the chair opposite of Mr. Fitzsimmons. The one that abandoned me. Dad





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