The phone rang and rang. Just as it switched to voice mail, however, the door of the old apartment building slammed open and the tall, lanky form of one Calvin Hobson stumbled through. He gripped the railing with both hands for a moment and then, with painstaking care, he descended the steps. His mouth moved as if he were counting silently to himself. When he reached the sidewalk, he paused and heaved a sigh before adjusting the strap of the duffel bag hanging from his shoulder.

Then he spotted the car and seemed to realize his phone had gone off. Moving with exaggerated care, he brought it from his pocket to his ear, eyes on the car as if he suspected it was the one summoning him. He fumbled to the call history and clicked "call back."