The ring stopped and he answered,
“Burrows,”
“It’s me, I’m on my way.” I answered. The limo driver stopped at the intersection. I noticed him looking back at me through the mirror. It was a trap.
“It’s a trap.” Burrows said repeating my assumption.
“All be there.” I said and hung up the phone. Almost on cue, the driver shut the glass window separating us. The locks clicked shut and a gas was released into the air tight container. Calmly, I put my cell phone to the lock and pressed the keys in order 789-09034. With a shutter the phone broke the lock. Kicking the door open, I rolled out into the busy city street.
The driver swerved to a stop, opening the driver’s window and pulling a gun. By then it as too late. I had already shot him in the forehead. As he slumped out of the window, I brushed the dirt off my tuxedo and walked into the Friday-night crowd. My phone rang.
“Are you still coming?”
“Of course.”