Following Mr. Smith’s bogus data led me down gloomy and tortuous paths to an illegal smoke-filled basement casino in Chinatown at 3 AM. The place was packed, but this time I at least had a photo:
Mr. Smith’s unblinking psychotic gaze mocked me from behind his unfashionable Harry-Potter eyewear, and his left hand seemed eternally poised to strike anyone who stood athwart his evil plans. I figured he wouldn’t be hard to spot ….