As he followed Morgan down the long featureless hallway, Wilson
couldnt help but wonder why he was chasing Morgan instead of the
other way around. Morgan had just arrived in D.C. that morning;
Wilson had been cooped up in that second-rate Washington hotel for
the past three weeks. But no, Morgan must lead.
Wilson had felt impotent from the start, follower, not leader, his
common sense bought off by a promise of a once-in-a lifetime
opportunity. Hed followed sheepishly after Morgans vintage car in his
own battered Yugo into and through a seldom-visited part of town. Hed
parked next to him amid shards of concrete in a almost empty lot, then
followed passively step after step (slightly out of breath, but unwilling to
admit it) up three flights of stairs in a seemingly-abandoned building.
Ensconced with a dozen others on the buildings top floor, hed listened
to Morgans proposition, and found it absurd, his own role in the plan
impossible of fulfillment. Why me, hed asked himself then. Perhaps he
ought to have asked himself this two or even three times before he
made a commitment.