Rain had been falling over Manhattan since before sunrise.
By eight o'clock in the morning, the sidewalks outside the Regent Hotel were slick and shining beneath the gray winter sky.
Taxis moved slowly through the traffic.
People hurried beneath umbrellas.
Steam rose from subway grates.
The cold wind pushed newspapers along the curb.
And beneath the massive golden sign of the Regent Hotel, an old homeless man sat quietly against the stone wall.
His name was Samuel Carter.
Most people simply called him Sam.
He was sixty-eight years old.
His gray hair fell across his forehead.
A long white beard covered most of his face.
His coat was torn at the sleeves.
His trousers were patched at the knees.
His boots were cracked.
And beside him sat a paper cup containing a handful of coins.
Sam had been there for almost three hours.
He wasn't shouting.
He wasn't begging loudly.
He wasn't bothering anyone.
He simply sat beneath the awning, trying to stay dry.
Every few minutes, he looked toward the hotel entrance.
Not because he wanted to go inside.
He knew he wasn't welcome there.
He simply liked watching people enter and leave.
Businessmen in expensive suits.
Families pulling luggage.
Couples dressed for meetings.
Hotel employees rushing through the revolving doors.
People who seemed to belong to a world Sam had once known.
A world he had lost years ago.
At 8:17 a.m., the hotel's general manager walked outside.
His name was Richard Blake.
Richard was fifty-two.
He wore a dark navy suit.
His shoes were polished so brightly that they reflected the gray morning light.
He carried a black leather briefcase.
He was the kind of man who believed appearances were everything.
At the Regent, Richard had built a reputation for efficiency.
He demanded perfection.
Employees were expected to arrive five minutes early.
Guests were expected to receive immediate service.
The lobby had to smell like fresh flowers.
The carpets had to be spotless.
The marble had to shine.
And nothing ugly was allowed to interfere with the hotel's image.
That included homeless people.
Richard had noticed Sam before.
Many times.
But that morning, something was different.
A wealthy investor was arriving at nine.
A private meeting was scheduled in the hotel's executive suite.
The investor was bringing three other executives.
Richard wanted everything perfect.
He stepped outside and saw Sam sitting beside the entrance.
His expression immediately hardened.
"You're still here?"
Sam looked up.
"Good morning."
Richard frowned.
"I asked you to leave yesterday."
"I remember."
"Then why are you back?"
Sam looked toward the rain.
"It's dry here."
"This is private property."
"I'm not inside."
"You're sitting on hotel property."
Sam nodded.
"I'll move when the rain stops."
Richard's jaw tightened.
"The rain isn't the issue."
Sam looked at him.
"What is?"
"You."
Sam was silent.
Richard pointed toward the sidewalk.
"Move."
Sam slowly gathered his paper cup.
"I'll go."
He started to stand.