A BALMY DAY

A BALMY DAY

 

It was a balmy day in New York City, rare for this time of year. It was a springtime treat in December; a welcome respite from the cold and slush of winter; a day cherished by New Yorkers and tourists alike.

Lawrence Levonshire III, a highly successful hedge fund manager, was sitting on a park bench, outside Central Park at the intersection of Central Park West and ninety-second Street. In addition to his hedge fund millions, Lawrence was the scion of an ultra-wealthy family. He often sat in the exact same spot, sunning himself – anything to get away from the rat-race that haunted his very existence.

He also frequented this spot to escape from his wife, who spent his hard-earned money like it was going out of style, and his three totally obnoxious kids, spoiled to their core. They basically ignored him, which was fine with him. The only time they talked to him was to ask for more money that he gladly gave just to keep them out of his hair.

On this particular day, December fifteenth, his Fit-Bit announced that there was an emergency at his penthouse co-op. It urged him to return home immediately. Larry felt a moment of paralyzing fear, overcame it and proceeded home.

When he got there, the luxurious digs were empty of life. Strange. The kids should have been home from school by now. They probably had some function they never told him about – naturally. His wife was no doubt shopping as usual. Then he spotted it, a large box, wrapped in red paper and tied with a large white bow. He assumed it was a Christmas present until he read the attached card that instructed him to unwrap the “present” immediately.

Larry (Only his closest friends called him by that name. All others addressed him as Mr. Levonshire.) quickly opened the box, revealing nothing but a sealed envelope. Larry ripped open the envelope. The note contained inside was a demand for ransom! It read: “Gather fifty million in cash. We have your wife. She is in safe hands – for now. Wait for our instructions Do not contact the police or the FBI. Follow our instructions to the letter or your wife will die a painful death!”

Larry waited nervously for their contact.

The phone rang. He picked up the receiver. It was the kidnappers! “Is this the residence of Lawrence Levonshire?”

“You must have the wrong number. There is no one by that name living here!”

He hung up the phone – smiling!