The Long Game

Introduction

I bolted out of bed at the sound—sharp, insistent. It was still dark, and I was disoriented. What was happening in the middle of the night?

And then I remembered.

It was 3:30 a.m., and the piercing sound was my alarm. I’d set it the night before, because I had a 5 a.m. flight to catch at JFK.

Downing two aspirin—I already had a headache—I tossed on the clothes I’d laid out on the dresser and summoned my Uber. Heading over the deserted Brooklyn Bridge, I stared at the hundreds of office building lights—left blazing all night—that twinkled against the lapping East River below. I had a mission to accomplish. All I needed to do was force my body to comply.

I could rest a little on the plane, then prep for my day of meetings in Los ...