Chapter One

New York, NY
Saturday, December 5, 1959
2:44 a.m.

Hanson’s shoes squeaked and as they ground against the grit of the city pavement. He was nervous; very nervous. He palmed a half-smoked cigarette and the closer he got to his destination, the next intersection, the faster he puffed it. He flicked it away as he peeked out around the corner of 52nd and 8th. It landed in the middle of the road, sprayed sparks, and was brushed aside by the cold breeze. A breeze that nearly dislodged his grey fedora.

Hanson took a second or two to take in the scene. Nothing out of the ordinary. The dew-kissed cars resting on the side of the streets took on an eerie air of menace in the dull orange glow of the sodium lights. The usual pods of pedestrians walked here and there. A few of the city’s homeless had made their beds near the doors of some of the locked entryways. Grabbing his coat collar with his thumbs, he turned it up to block the cold night wind.

Satisfied that the scene was relatively free of danger, he stepped out away from the building and leaned against the post of the traffic light. He even thought about pressing the “walk” button; but then thought better of it. He didn’t even need to cross anyway. He reached into his pocket, retrieved another cigarette and, placing it between his lips, he scanned the area again in whole, lit his cigarette, and waited.