Fifteen minutes before the taxi, my six-year-old put her arms round my waist and whispered that when I travel, her stepmother puts something in her juice and then films her. I looked at the kitchen. Cora was standing in the doorway smiling, still holding the glass.
PART 1 — FIFTEEN MINUTES The case was by the front door. I had my jacket over one arm and I was going over a presentation in my head that I was supposed to give…









