I put my right thumb up, moving it slowly from side to side.

“You had to hitchhike? Are you kidding me?”

I put my hands up. No choice, guys.

“You look like shit,” the first man said. “Do you need to take a shower or something?”

That sounded like a great idea to me. So I took a shower and rummaged through my bag for some clean clothes. I felt almost human again when I was done. When I stepped back into the room, I could tell that they had been talking about me.

“Tonight’s our last chance,” Manhattan said. That was the nickname I’d already settled on for the leader. If they had brought three more guys with them, we could have covered all five boroughs. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“Our man comes back home tomorrow morning,” Brooklyn said. “If we don’t hit him now, this whole trip’s a fucking waste.”

I nodded. I understand, guys. What else do you want from me?

“You really don’t talk,” Manhattan said. “I mean, they weren’t pulling my chain. You really don’t say one freaking word.”

I shook my head.

“Can you open the man’s safe?”

I nodded.

“That’s all we need to know.”

Brooklyn didn’t look quite as convinced, but for now he didn’t have much choice. They had been waiting for their boxman. And their boxman was me.

About three hours later, after the sun had gone, I was sitting in the back of a panel van marked ELITE RENOVATIONS. Manhattan was driving. Brooklyn was riding shotgun, turning every few minutes or so to look at me. It was something I knew I’d have to get accustomed to. It was like the Ghost had said, these guys had already done all of the legwork, had scouted out their target, had watched their man’s every move, had planned the whole operation from beginning to end. Me, I was just the specialist, brought in at the last minute to do my part. It didn’t help that I looked like I hadn’t even started shaving yet, and that beyond that I was some kind of mutant freak who couldn’t even say one word out loud.