In the corner of a dark and mostly empty parking garage in downtown Kansas City, a figure stood in the shadows behind a van. A navy blue hood covered his head, his pale nose and chin the only visible parts of his face. The man checks his watch, then looks around.
Finally, he heard something. The mild growl of a Toyota Rav4, echoing about the concrete of the parking garage. It soon comes into sight, a forgettable grey, its fenders and doors dulled with dirt and salt from the roads. The man’s contact had indeed followed his instructions to come inconspicuously.