Charlie had been sitting at the bar and was on his third Scotch when his phone rang. Luke had called to tell him about the earthquake. At Charlies request, the bartender changed the television to a twenty-four-hour news channel and the live pictures were streaming in. Of course, it was early morning in Sardinia. People had been getting started for the day. Here in New York, it was just after midnight.
He slugged back the rest of his drink, settled his tab, and headed out the door into the frigid early December night. He walked back across the street to the network offices, flashed his credentials at security, and headed up to the news division on the eighth floor.