KEEGAN LOITERED AT the corner of Fifth and Hill, where he could keep an eye on Lusk’s newsstand over on the edge of the park. It was a little after five, and sunrise was more than an hour away. It wasn’t cold out, but the streets were sunk in the color-muted gloom of the wee hours. The Pershing Square palms were dwarfed by the dark buildings that loomed all around. The early, empty MTA busses were running, but otherwise the city still slept. Keegan kept close to the building on the corner, ready to duck out of sight if need be. Someone, wrapped in a grubby newspaper, snored in the alcove of the Owl Drugs across the way, a shambled shape that was only vaguely human. Keegan wondered how many times his own writing had served as a blanket against the chill. Maybe his doomed career as a newsman had accomplished something after all.

A white box truck rumbled up Hill Street with its high beams on, and Keegan ducked closer to the corner alcove. At Lusk’s corner, the truck pulled across lanes and parked, facing the wrong way. Lusk got out, jingling keys, and went to his newsstand. He unlocked the padlock on the plywood back door and went back to the truck.

Keegan looked both ways and jogged across the street against the light.

Lusk pulled on a pair of leather work gloves and wiggled his fingers to loosen them up. When he saw Keegan coming, he straightened up and grinned. “Kind of early for the likes of you,” he said. He rolled up the back door of the truck.

“At least it’s cool,” Keegan said.

“Seventy-two degrees never felt so good,” Lusk admitted. “But it’s all uphill from here. They say it’s going to break a hundred today.” He grunted and lifted a stack of newspapers out of the truck by the twine that bound them. “What has you out and about at this ungodly hour?” Lusk lugged the papers over to the back of his stall, listing to one side with the burden, and disappeared inside.

Keegan followed him.

“Shouldn’t you still be in bed?” Lusk asked. His voice was muffled by the plywood.

Keegan stood in the shed’s doorway. “Kip, I need a big favor,” he said, keeping his voice low.

Lusk emerged, clapping imaginary dust from his gloves. “I’ve done you enough favors, buddy.” He brushed past Keegan and headed for the truck. “I’m starting to think you take me for granted.”

“I’ll pay for this one.”