The night was dark and cold as Frederick Burgough walked down the dark and stony streets of Pulkock Town. A faraway church steeple announced the dark hour of four o’clock in the morning. As Frederick approached the corner of Muldeick Street he was stopped by the sound of approaching steps. With precise swiftness he hid behind a mailbox. A shadow stopped inches away from him. “Fred?” A shaky voice asked. Frederick slowly showed himself and gave a sigh of relief. “Thank Heaven it’s you Smith.” He said. “Who were you expecting?” The lad asked looking around suspiciously. “I best not tell you. Now quick, on with the message.” Frederick said turning around making sure nobody was around. He turned to Smith and nodded. Slowly the young man pulled a sheet of paper that glowed in the moonlight. Burgough snatched it and read it with a grunt. Taking a match out of his pocket he burnt it and let the ashes fly in the night breeze. “That bad?” Smith asked. “As I said...