An Audi stopped slowly near Hoston Park, east of the Ritz apartment in Manhattan. Only a few people were crossing the road in front of the park. The rest are just garden lights, and the condition of the park is tranquil; no one is there. It was dim and a bit creepy.

Grey braked the car slowly and kept his eyes on the surroundings. Meanwhile, it clicked the sound of James' revolver magazine had put on, as he cocked it. His eyes were also skimming across the garden.

"There's the ...