"Nothing that will add to my bank account."
"Then why?"
"I enjoy doing things out of the ordinary."
Before Shaw could reply, Pitt had turned and mixed into the flowing crowd on the concourse.
The rain had stopped, and Pitt put down the Cobra's convertible top. He drove toward the lights of Manhattan that glowed ghostlike against the low-hanging clouds. The breeze whipped his hair, and he deeply inhaled the sweet fragrance of wet grass that rose from the fields beside the highway.
Pitt tightened his grip on the wheel, pressed the accelerator to the floor and watched the tachometer needle as it crept slowly into the red.