Harry Benjamin blinked rapidly when he spied Dave coming through the French Doors leading to the dining room. Hans Mueller just stared slack-jawed. ...artin Fletcher simply wore a look of concern. There were few patrons at this early hour, but Dave felt the surreptitious stares as he made his way slowly to the table. The bartender frowned. The homeless were not welcome here. His frown changed to a look of puzzlement as this western wastrel was welcomed by the three trekkers. Shrugging, he. I was given an address in the middle of a nondescript block, belonging to a nondescript house. But, like i said, i knew what this was. I circled a 12 block radius, doubled back, and moved in one row of blocks. As i scanned the neighborhood i noticed amped up police presence all over. It was sloppy. They were lazing around like they were obviously waiting for something, not engaged in their normal activities, oppressing the poplace. I was in a rental car so by the time i neared the house i could. More

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