It was a foggy morning on the 28th of July 1945. The urban noise of New York City life seemed louder than normal. Miss Josephine Flaigan, a trading company typist was sitting at her desk, sipping on a cup of black coffee. She looked up and stared at the never ending pile of work in her inbox. Feeling disgusted, she put her coffee cup down, and unfrivolously wrote a memo on her desk calendar, reminding herself to pick up a Sunday paper to look for employment elsewhere. Her office was on the 75th floor of the tallest building in the world, the Empire State Building. Her friend Ersila, who sat at a desk across from her, stood up abruptly and grabbed her purse.
“Hey Joe, you want another bagel with cream cheese?” she asked walking past her desk. “I’m heading down to the café.”
“My name’s Josephine, and no—I’m trying to lose weight,” she said discontentedly. “Do you remember the red one piece bathing suit I wore last year?” she asked not wanting a response. “I plan on wearing it next week to Coney Island.”
Ersila glanced back and mumbled. “That ass is going to need more than a week.” John, her supervisor ran past Josephine’s desk in a hurry. His eyes never lost sight of Ersila.
“Wait up, Mrs. Harrington!” he yelled across the office. “I’ll join you.” She slowed her pace as he past her and opened the exit door.
The two of them stood quietly at the elevator door and stared at the arrow pointer as it rose to their floor. It reached the 75th floor and the doors split open slowly. John raised his arm like a gentleman. “After you, madam,” he said politely.
“Thank you, sir,” she whispered in a sexy voice.
The elevator attendant stepped out of the car as they entered. The doors closed and Ersila started undoing the buttons on John’s shirt. He pushed the down button and began passionately kissing her. “Hit the stop switch,” she said breathing heavily. “I’ve been thinking about you all morning.” The elevator stopped between the 71st and 72nd floor. Ersila took off her shirt and suddenly they heard a loud explosion, then the elevator shook. “What the fuck was that?” she asked loudly as both of them looked up at the ceiling of the elevator.
“I think the Germans are attacking,” John replied nervously, knowing the war ended in Europe. He put his shirt back on, reset the emergency stop switch, and then pressed the down button for the lobby. They heard a second explosion and then the lights went out. Ersila started to panic. “Stop your screaming—we’re going to be alright,” John said calmly.
The elevator started jerking, and then plummeted almost one thousand feet to the sub-basement floor.
Around 10:00 a.m. eastern standard time, an Army B-25 bomber crashed into the 79th floor of the Empire State Building. Visibility was zero that morning on the New York skyline when the bomber hit. Fourteen people lost their lives because of the bomber pilot making a bad decision to dive below heavy fog. The bomber’s fuel and parts crashed into the building, destroying elevators on one side. Witnesses reported hearing the sound of cables snapping in the elevator shafts from the stairway. More than one elevator was on fire, and later in the investigation by the fire department, they had no reasonable explanation as to what happened to the bodies. They determined that the missing occupants free fell and were incinerated in the elevator compartment.
That tragic day in 1945 would not be forgotten by the people in the skyscraper as well as the people on the busy streets who witnessed the horrific crash.
Sixty five years later, Kyle Jameson is about to become another victim of that tragic day and doesn’t know it. After graduating from NYU in 1998, he entered into the Army Reserves. He successfully completed training at the Army officer Cadet School at Fort Benning, Georgia and was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant. He loved the Army Reserves, and a year later after successfully completed Special Operations Recruitment Training at Fort Bragg; he volunteered for full time Reserve duty in 2001. He commanded an elite SFU (Special Forces Unit) in Iraq, and later in 2004 was transferred to Afghanistan. Some missions were so secret that he was given authorization to kill any or all of his team members if they were about to be captured. He was honorably discharged from reserve duty in 2006 and was hired as a stockbroker at the Brokerage Firm of New York on Hanover Street. It is located in the Wall Street financial district of lower Manhattan. The four years he’s worked with the firm have been lucrative thanks to his killer instincts he acquired while serving in the Army, and his drive to make money for his clients as well as for himself. His routine life changed in July of 2011 when a coincidence of coinciding events leads him on an adventure that would change his perspective on life.