The fortress of glass, white marble, and steel ugliness set itself apart from the gleaming spires that replaced the old World Trade Center, which had come to an abrupt end on September 11, 2001. He looked at the three Wall Street types next to him as they stepped off on the floor below his destination. He knew very few people ever rode the elevator to the topmost floor. He smiled as the doors closed at the haughty mannerisms the departed men had about them, which he found distinctly funny. After all, he mused, we are practically in the same business—the procurement of money and the acquisition of power. He punched in the private code on the keypad and the elevator continued upward one more flight. The doors opened and the small Russian stepped free of the richly paneled car and saw the two security guards flanking either side of the double glass doors. The first rose from his small desk and confronted the visitor. He held out his hand and the Russian smiled and held open his black coat and sport jacket to show the guards that he carried no firearms.
