He surveyed the street he intended to cross. There was no rush; the runner he was to meet was not scheduled to arrive for another half-hour. Plenty of time to check out the site. Here in this maze of tenements, the crowd was a mix of working types, homebodies, and the SINless. Ordinary people. Only a few looked out of place. Sam spotted a pair of Indian salarymen—did they call them that here?—passing through on business, and then a block down, he saw a pack of teenage corporates hanging out in their pseudo-tough leathers, studs, and chrome. No doubt they were sprawling for the thrill of it. They were faint shadows of the predators who would appear once the kids had gone home. It was too early in the evening for the night life to come crawling out, though the signs of their presence were clear in the burn marks and bullet holes that scarred the buildings.