I snort, and shove those thoughts into the "To Obsess About Later" file. It’s 0251 and the rain’s stopped, but there’s a nasty, thin wind blowing from the east across Lake Washington and Union Bay, and I’m fragging freezing. At least Layton chose a good spot for the pickup. There are a dozen good overwatch positions from which I can see the south end of Montlake Bridge without being spotted myself. (Too often, desk jockeys pick spots that offer one and only one place you can hang. If the meet gets hosed, that single spot turns into a death trap.)