The new moon barely cracked the darkness that swallowed Tacoma except for the occasional pockets of neon advertising running the length of several skyscrapers and the illumination necessary in the around-the-clock dock areas. Wet salt air rushed over him, propelled by the easterly winds coming in off Puget Sound not far away. The smell of the sea was almost stringent enough to claw the scent of the new tar roof underfoot from his nostrils.