Robles was up with the sun, drinking coffee and checking his gear. He’d only gotten two hours of sleep, but it would do. Thirty minutes later, he was walking across a soccer field, stiff with morning frost. Robles hefted the bag slung across his shoulders and grunted. The sky was just starting to lighten over the lake, and he could see the cold bil ow as he breathed. A woman and her dog materialized, maybe twenty yards away, jogging slowly down one side of the field. Robles kept his head down as their paths crossed. The jogger moved off the field and disappeared beneath an overpass. Robles waited five minutes. The jogger didn’t return and the field was empty. He moved up a smal incline and down the other side, to a sheltered stretch of ground. Spread out before him were eight lanes of highway, flowing north and south. Lake Shore Drive, dark and quiet, maybe forty-five minutes from rush hour.
Robles zipped open his duffel and pul ed out a tripod. A couple of cars cruised by, headlights stil on, heading toward the Loop. Robles took out a Nikon D300 SLR camera, fitted it to the tripod, and screwed on a zoom lens. Then he zipped up the bag and stashed it behind a stand of trees to his left. Robles looked through the viewfinder and adjusted the focus. A woman and a smal child popped into view. Robles glanced up. They were coming straight at him, driving an SUV down a nice, long stretch of road. Robles looked back through the viewfinder and counted off the seconds in his head. One, two, three… The woman was smiling and drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. Four, five, six… Robles could just make out the top of the kid’s head above the dashboard. Seven, eight… He looked up again. The SUV blew past in a puff of morning mist. Robles smiled. Perfect. He lensed a few more cars. Got timings for al eight lanes, but focused mostly on the traffic coming toward him. When he was done, Robles snapped a few general photos, wide-angle stuff, just in case anyone happened by and wondered why he was there. A photo documentary project. Then Robles crouched back among the trees and waited. For the traffic to build. And his cel phone to buzz.