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They were seated in the rotating restaurant of Sydney Tower, surrounded by blonde wood and glass. The room was almost empty. In the elevator on the way up a camera had showed a view of the descending elevator which was crammed full of people.
The only other diners were an old Jewish couple, who the director greeted with, “Shalom,” as they passed. The first course of duck crepes had been ordered and Alex explained that everything said at the table would be off the record. She said they were trusting Tom with information they felt he needed to know before he discounted their offer.
Tom sipped his wine and hardened his mind. The city of Sydney—the bridges, the ports, the freeways leading to the mountains—circled them. He sensed that the city, the world even, was being offered to him, bu
