That moment never comes. I find myself standing next to the driver’s window without incident. The entire time I’m carefully edging toward the car, he simply sits there and looks at me.
I know this isn’t just some local dude out for a scenic drive in the middle of a raging storm on the only road leading in and out of this gargantuan estate. He’s got some business here, whatever it is. But his eerie calm at having an armed man in full combat fatigues and body armor approach him borders on unnerving.
I shout, “Get out of the car!”
He nods to acknowledge the command, then lifts his hands slowly from the wheel and shows them to me, palms up, to indicate he’s unarmed. He points at the door handle with a question in his gaze, wanting permission to reach for it.
I nod, stepping back a few pace
