Jonathan Drake, Fixer.

The fixer opened his umbrella and stepped out into the rain. Behind him, the brownstone stood silent and dark in the pre-dawn gloom. He got into the backseat of a car idling at the corner.

Inside, he handed three small black vials to a heavyset man. "He didn't see you?" The man asked gruffly

"Didn't even wake up." Jonathan replied. "I did it from the hall."

"And he won't be a problem anymore?"

Jonathan nodded. "I can't guarantee that. What I can tell you is that you currently hold his convictions, his memory of your client, and his ability to write. If he can cause problems without those, you'll have to deal with it."

The man tucked the vials into his coat pocket and motioned to the door.

"Not even a ride back to my apartment?"

"Money will be wired to you in three days. We'll be in touch if we need you again."

Drake walked back to his apartment in the rain. Before entering the doorway, he paused. When he entered his apartment, all wetness was gone from his clothes and his hair.