FORTY
The dark of the night brought with it a biting wind from the west. The city was silent, or as quiet as it could be at midnight. Cabs drove slowly here and there, hoping for lost tourists or anyone who had missed the last train. The Bronx at night was not the place to be, especially alone, but he paid it no mind. The figure dressed in black made its way through dimly lit streets towards the address on the piece of paper. Steel stopped and took note of the street names. Earlier, he had looked up the route on the computer and memorised details such as street names, at least as much as he could. He was heading for a house that belonged to some player named Bulldog. He had checked on this Bulldog to see what he could expect. The man was twenty-six and spent most of his time running aroun
