The detective finally stops the car in front of a rundown apartment building in one of the city's quieter back alleys.
I reach into the briefcase with the money, and pull out my gun, tuck it behind my belt.
"I do not think you will need that," the detective says, eying me warily.
"I like to be prepared."
He leads us up a creaking staircase, then along an open-air hallway on the first floor. He knocks loudly on the last door causing a baby to start screaming somewhere.
"Come in," a man yells, and the detective opens the door.
The apartment we enter is so decrepit, I'm sure it's a health hazard even here. It smells of stale cigarette smoke and rotten food, the paint is peeling off every single wall, and our footsteps leave tracks in the dirt on the floor.
In the living room, which mus
