The Rogue is back . . .
I'm in Manhattan, walking down Broadway in the low 30s, high 20s, heading for the Flat Iron Building and a meeting with our publisher. It's drizzling, but I've hit it just right - every loader, roustabout, door watcher, construction worker and general flunky is out taking a cigarette break, affecting the bored nothin' happenin' late fall NY look. Every other car that passes is a Mercedes S sedan.
There's a siren in the distance, then another and another. Ten police cars steam by, flanked by an emergency services van and an ambulance.
The Rogue Warrior is back in town.