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Prologue

Snowed In

One

There were snowdrifts at the curbs and snow-buried benches in the parks and snowcaps on the street signs and fire hydrants and on the newel posts for the subway entrances There were four inches so far, and they were thinking maybe ten when all was said and done

Four inches was laughable somewhere like Maine, but in Manhattan on a dark early Nove, it cancels plans and sends people indoors

The two black-clad figures on the BMW R 1200 RT sport motorcycle that rolled slowly north up Amsterdam Avenue near 135th Street not only knew that; they had planned on it They’d been waiting on the cold snowy conditions for the last month

The Beee of New York caly, s Then the older, original, Harry Potter–like Gothic ones

The driver did controlled swerves froet a pile of road salt under the motorcycle’s studded snow tires An experienced winter biker, he knew that even with the studs, salt was slicker than ice

He and the rider behind him were dressed identically in the latest in cold weather riding gear Gore-Tex Tour pants over EDZ therlossy Scorpion snow hel visors firmly down

Every ounce of gear was specific to the mission They had even specifically selected the heavy BMW for its low center of gravity, which aided in stability and traction

Then finally there it was, two blocks ahead

The corner of West 141st Street