
By Eugene Henderson
ON THE 50TH floor at 40 Wall Street in New York City, Nicholas Liakas stares out the window of his corner office as a slow-moving, gray layer of fog wraps around the downtown skyscrapers looming across a city block. Nicholas wears a nice suit, nice watch, nice shoes. The “Man in the Area” poster on the wall is nice. Even his office mini-fridge is nice. At the touch of a button, the clear glass interior windows can turn into a frosted, privacy curtain, turning his office into a cloaked private bunker like in some sci-fi film.
Very nice.
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