The low purr of an engine didn’t cut through the usual nighttime sounds so much as smother them. A long, black sedan slid to a smooth halt at the curb directly opposite your doorway. The passenger window was tinted, impenetrable.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then the driver’s door opened. A man in a perfectly tailored overcoat stepped out. He didn’t look at the empty streets, or the flickering neon sign above the pawn shop. He looked directly at you.