{In this story, the passenger is the danger, perhaps}

I sank into the seat and closed the door. Leaning my head back against the headrest, I heaved a sigh. That couple might have been the chattiest passengers I've ever had. They spoke nonstop with each other and me for the entire 70 minute trip from the airport. Truly exhausting, they were. Nice pair though, and rich for sure. The Ballantine is the most expensive hotel in the downtown area; or anywhere really. Everyone who came here was practically made of money.

I picked up the clipboard from the passenger seat and recorded an entry for the last fare.

"Airport --> Ballantine. 70 min. 217 Credits. Chatty couple. Honeymoon?"

Twelve rides so far today, and it was only 3 PM. Not bad for a weekday. I tossed the clipboard back onto the passenger seat and grabbed the falafel sandwich that was supposed to have been my lunch 3 hours ago. No rest for the weary, I thought as I unwrapped it, savoring the fragrance of the herbs and spices within. Dimitri's Kitchen is hands-down the best food establishment in the city. No-nonsense all-vegan menu, local ingredients, excellent service, great atmosphere. I raised the sandwich to take my first bite, but was interrupted by a sharp knocking on the window.

"Y'can't park here, sir," the valet kid scowled.

Before I could respond, I heard a deep, smooth voice say, "It's alright, kid. He's waiting for me."

The rear passenger door opened and in slid the owner of that velvety voice, an immacuately dressed gentleman with apparently no luggage. Black sports jacket, black shirt, black bowtie. Not exactly my style, but he wore it well; not a single fiber out of place.

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry sir," the valet stammered before scurrying off to attend to a waiting hotel patron.

I stared at my new passenger through the rearview. My lunch was millimeters from my mouth which now hung open in confused disbelief.

"Let's go," the man said firmly, meeting my gaze in the mirror.

I blinked several times, trying to bring reality into focus. After a second or two I shook the confusion out of my head and blurted out, "Mister, I'm on my lunch break."

The man narrowed his eyes, continuing to glare at me through the mirror. His eyes were not unkind, but there was a darkness in them that conveyed absolute seriousness and a "don't-f___-with-me" confidence that I definitely lacked. Without shifting his gaze, he reached a hand into his jacket. I felt a moment of panic. He's got a gun! I started to protest and plead for my life but before I could make a sound he threw something at me. It landed precisely between my hands, knocking my overdue lunch into my lap, from where it tumbled onto the floor.

"Hey! What the --" I started, then saw what the mystery man had tossed at me.

It was a stack of cash, complete with currency strap. The denomination on the bills said 500, and the currency strap indicated the value of the bundle at 50,000 Credits. The 500 Cr bill, known as the Quint, did not often come my way. Occasionally some clueless foreign tourist would use it to pay for a quick 20 Cr ride and I would have to give back a ridiculous stack of change. This guy, though, did not look like a clueless tourist. 50,000 Cr was nearly what I made in a whole year. And here it was. A full year's pay right in my hands! I glanced back at at him in the mirror. His piercing eyes seemed to nudge me telepathically.

"Drive," he said, more gently this time but with an air of expectation.

I pulled my eyes aways from his and looked down at the bundle in my hands. For a split second I contemplated my options, but this was a decision that made itself. I tucked the cash under the clipboard beside me. Quietly lamenting the bits of dust, dirt, grime, and grit that now adhered to its surface, I collected my former lunch off the floorboard and tossed it onto the wrapper that lay in the passenger seat.

"Where to, sir?" I asked automatically, shifting into gear.

"North Valley."

I felt a slight shiver in the back of my neck. North Valley was situated on the outskirts of the city. Despite its bourgeois sounding name, it was a notoriously rough neighborhood; car-jackings, robberies, kidnappings, murders occurred there at more than 3 times the national average. Most cabbies, myself included, avoided this area like the plague. On the other hand, 50k might be worth the risk. Just this one time.

I pulled out of the hotel driveway, glancing in the rearview again. I heard a clacking sound and saw that he had pulled out a gun from the other side of his jacket. So he *did* have a gun!

"Hey, look, I'm doing like you asked. I'm driving, ok?" I strained to get my words out, my throat tight with panic.

"Relax, it's not for you," the man said gruffly. "Keep your eyes on the road." More clacking sounds as he loaded the magazine.

We drove in silence for some time. Every so often he looked down at a small device that occasionally emitted some beeping noises.

"Left here," he said, indicating a small alley.

I turned into the alley as instructed, and saw there was a black SUV in the middle of the street. Lights on, facing us. I started to put on the brakes.

"Uh ..."

"Keep going. Drive right up to them," the man urged, racking his gun.

I swallowed nervously, dreading what was about to go down. I let the cab slowly roll forward until we were almost bumper to bumper with the SUV. I turned around to look at my passenger for the first time.

"What ... what is this?"

Ignoring my question he reached into his jacked once more and produced another stack of Quints. This time he handed it directly to me.

"You're mine for the day," he said with a smile. He paused with the door half open, turning back to look at me. "Go back to the Ballantine and wait for me there. Tell Sammy at the bar you need a suit. He'll take care of you."

It looked like he was about to say something more, but just nodded and stepped out of the cab. He closed the door and stood casually facing the other car, hands (and gun) behind his back. I hastily shifted into reverse and started backing out of the alley. Through the glare of the headlights I saw three people step out of the SUV, all dressed in black. Nope, I didn't want to stay for that. I made it out of the alley without hitting any of the dumpsters, turned toward the city, and floored it. As I neared the end of the block, I thought I could hear, over the groan of my weary engine, 5 or 6 faint popping sounds. Did he just kill them? No matter. They'll get lost in the sea of North Valley victims. I pushed my foot down, willing the cab to go faster. I felt a sudden urge to sit in the Ballantine bar and order everything on the menu. I could afford it now, at least.

{

self-criticisms:

Plot holes:

- why would he take a cab

- how is he going to get back to hotel

- why not just have cabbie wait

}