Freeman arrived at King and Birch just before four in the afternoon the next day. He saw nothing that even resembled a trash can. Freeman scanned his surroundings. There was a seafood place, some office buildings, and a taco truck in a parking lot, but no trash can. He went around the back of the taco truck, and there it was. Freeman started digging in the trash can, taking out piles of half-eaten tacos, the remains of sushi, and even a condom.

What am I doing? This is gross!

But he was determined to look for that donut bag, prepared to examine every piece of trash in this stinking bin if he had to. An Asian man started yelling at him; he couldn’t make out the language. Then he saw the donut. It was dancing with a cup of coffee. Underneath the dancing donut was a name: “Tim Hattie’s Famous Donuts and Coffee.” Freeman grabbed the bag. He felt something hard inside. He took out an old-school flip phone. The Asian man went back inside his shop. He turned it on, and within minutes, it rang.

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“Is this Freeman?” a voice said when he answered.

“Yeah, who’s this?” Freeman asked.

“Lord Aldoor. Who else would it be?”

Freeman’s mouth went dry.

“Hmm . . . sorry, this cloak-and-dagger bullshit is getting on my nerves,” Freeman said.

Lord Aldoor roared with laughter.

“I like you, son. I will enjoy our partnership. Now, listen very carefully . . .”