See the hole in the skyline?" I leaned forward and followed the finger of the driver. He was a rotund guy named Frank. Neck too big for his collar, hands too thick to wrap around the steering wheel. He pointed through the windshield at the forest of buildings called Lower Manhattan. "The towers used to sit right there." He could tell that I couldn't see the spot. "See the hole to the left of the one with the spire? Three...