Instead he surprised me. An early-afternoon meet, at a place I’d only heard about in street rumors—the Hole in the Wall, a tavern out in Renton near the intersection of Maple Valley Road and Jones Road. Buzz on the street claims the Hole’s a hangout for shadowrunners—mainly burn-outs and wannabes, according to some, but with a few of the "A-list" names putting in an appearance from time to time. (But if that’s the case, you say, why the frag hasn’t Lone Star closed the place down? Because street buzz isn’t proof, chum-merino. Apparently the Hole’s one of the grottiest places you’d ever go a long way to avoid, but the owner—one Jean Trudel, according to the streets—keeps it just inside the limits of the health codes. Other than that? Well, frag, say the Star’s after some shadow scum perp, and she ducks into the Hole. In come the boys in blue ... and everyone and their fragging dog swears up and down that the perp hasn’t been here in months. Meanwhile she’s bugging out the back way or maybe hiding out in the basement. Sure, you could probably put surveillance on the place, but that means diverting resources from other work. So the Hole—and other places like it throughout the sprawl—stay in business. That’s life in the big city, priyatel.)