PART 1: Heavy clouds smothered the sky above Eastbridge City as luxury sedans and yellow taxis crawled through the late afternoon traffic. Most Fridays, Augustine Harrow would have already been home in his mansion overlooking Harbor Bay. He preferred the coastal roads lined with glass storefronts and manicured parks. Today, however, an overturned tanker on the freeway had forced him into the backstreets. These streets were the kind he had spent years pretending did not exist.
