It’s 0300 on the button—the exact middle of the specified time-span—when I see headlights coming south across the bridge. It’s a single car, cruising slowly, moving not much faster than a person at a walk. As it hits the end of the bridge, the headlights flick off, leaving only the sidelights. Under the cold blue-white of the streetlamps, I see the bulbous and unmistakable shape of a Leyland-Zil Tsarina pull over to the curb at the corner of Montlake Boulevard and Shelby. It flashes its headlights once, then all the lights go out. I hear the high-pitched whine of its multifuel turbine spooling down, then a hydraulic hiss as the front and rear canopies open.