Nothing could have prepared me for that moment. I found myself face to face with the imposing villain. He stood several feet above me, staring into the very eyes that had witnessed the worst he had to offer—shooting, killing, maiming all those who stood in his way. I couldn’t question his identity; I was positive it was him, even without his namesake feature.
The elevator doors closed, removing any chance of escape. I stared at him, noting his distinctive yet aged face hovering near the ceiling. Whatever tension filled the chamber, I ventured to shatter by speaking first.
“You’re Richard, aren’t you?” He had no choice but to admit it. He knew I knew and he was trapped. The tables had turned. My anxiety suppressed, the hunter had become my target. He nodded . . . and smiled?
His enormous hand quickly enveloped mine. The giant, whose anger I’d seen unleashed countless times, was surprisingly cordial. Gone were the days of rooftop gunfights, sky-high grand escapes and frightening molars; this was not the same man I’d seen. He spoke in a friendly manner, asking where I’d come from and how my day had gone.
The elevator doors opened and we said goodbye. Satisfied, I had succeeded where so many had failed. I shared a moment with “Jaws” and lived to tell.
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