The driver braked and turned and accelerated through the downtown streets, his eyes constantly darting to the mirror. I sat with my right arm braced against the back of the passenger seat, frowning so hard my forehead hurt. The package on the seat beside me thumped against my leg with every turn. At last the taxi slowed and straightened and merged in with the evening traffic headed into the downtown tunnel.

“Who are you?” I asked, my throat suddenly dry.

The driver turned to me with a serious look. He had short black hair and a five-o’clock shadow. “You were contacted tonight by someone calling himself Nightwatcher, were you not?”

I made no response. He obviously already knew that.

“We have reason to believe that this man is setting you up as a pawn in a very serious crime.”

“I work for a computer company,” I said. “How serious could it be?”

He turned to me again. “Assassination.”

I felt disbelief, but I swallowed hard. “Are you the police?”

He gave me a wry smile. “No. The police couldn’t help you.”