The Global War on Morris by Steve Israel

particular. But away from Long Island.
    He was annoyed. Not because he had to terminate his Long Island operation. He would be back. But because of the lost opportunity with the blonde. Sitting across from her at Murphy’s Steakhouse, he could tell how much she wanted him. He only needed another two hours.
    Now, instead of getting laid he had to lay low. He’d spend the day letting law enforcement chase their tails, and now he knew he could leave Long Island. Find a new pharmaceutical front away from Uncle Sam’s prying eyes. Where he could continue the free flow of medicines to his processing facilities.
    Near the end of the bridge he saw a National Guardsmanclutching an M-16 and eyeing every driver. Looking for the next terrorist who might harm Americans.
    Not knowing they should look in their medicine cabinets.
    Montoyez rolled down his window. A wave of heavy warm air flowed into the car. The soldier looked at him.
    â€œThanks for keeping us safe!” Montoyez said as his car rolled past.
    The soldier nodded.
    WELCOME TO THE BRONX , said a huge green sign.

THE SUNRISE DINER
    FRIDAY, AUGUST 13, 2004
    T hey ate lunch together the next day, sitting in a red vinyl booth at the Sunrise Diner. The wait staff scurried around them like a circus act, weaving between tables while balancing tire-sized trays of deluxe hamburger platters, turkey club sandwiches, and diet plates heaped with wobbly scoops of cottage cheese and chunks of canned fruit. At every table patrons had to shout above the din. The entire diner sounded like a practice session of Toastmasters.
    Victoria glanced at the news on an overhead television and rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, another politician in a sex scandal. What do you think of it all, Morris Feldstein?”
    The Feldstein Anxiety Anticipation Index—the one that had hit DEFCON 1 in Dr. Kirleski’s office the day before—suddenly nudged. Morris could comfortably carry three types of conversations: Celfex products, baseball, and movie trivia. Any discussion involvingwords such as scandal, sex, sexual, sexuality, gay, politics, governor, government, Democrats, Republicans , or “What’s your opinion, Morris?” set off a variety of warning signals exhibited by a nervous tapping of his foot, an anxious biting of his lower lip, a twirling of his pocket change, or in this case, an exaggerated stirring of his coffee. His spoon clanked loudly against the inside of the cup, forming a whirlpool that crested over the lip and flowed down the sides, leaving a messy brown puddle on the saucer.
    â€œOhhh, I’m not really an expert on these things. I leave that to Rona. And my daughter, Caryn. She’s studying documentary film.” And then he thought, Nice, invite your wife and daughter to the table.
    Victoria shrugged. “Guess I’m the same way. So I met this guy the other night.”
    Morris wasn’t sure whether Victoria was telling a joke or not, so he assumed his customary joke-receiving position. He leaned forward, folded his hands on the gray Formica table, widened his eyes in exaggerated anticipation, pasted a smile on his face, and nodded his head eagerly. He had practiced this posture through countless Celfex sales retreats and Men’s Club breakfasts. It had two benefits. First, it offered courteous encouragement to the joke teller. And second, it ensured that should the punch line befuddle Morris (a frequent occurrence) he would still be smiling so as not to offend. Morris Feldstein couldn’t tell a joke to save his life. But he sure could take one.
    â€œHis name was Ricardo,” Victoria continued. And the way she pronounced it—a sigh that bordered between forlorn and embittered—demonstrated to Morris that this wasn’t turning into a joke at all.
    â€œRicardo Xavier Montoyez. My post-divorce inaugural one-night stand! We didn’t even make it to the cheesecake!” She giggled.
    Another nudge of the