The men each sat in their own cars in a Buffalo, New York motel parking lot and watched the door of Room number 163, where a person of considerable interest to them had just entered.
Two of the men watched the room directly through their windshields. The others, who were parked in the same row, but facing away from the motel, observed through their rearview or side mirrors. Their reversed position, however, did not reduce their intense surveillance.
Their fixation with the motel room was only broken by an occasional, quick, and nervous glance to one or more of the other men in the car queue. Unsure of the protocol, they sought a clue from the others, although each was careful to avoid any direct eye contact.
The automobiles ran the gamut from new and luxurious to sporty, to mid-sized, and in one case, twelve years old and showing its vintage.
The men were different from each other in age and personal circumstances, but in spite of the differences, their focus and their reason for being here were exactly the same.
What common denominator had brought them to this place at the same time from their diverse individual backgrounds and different points of origin earlier in the day?
This was not a stakeout. These were not cops or detectives about to launch a drug bust or nab a fleeing criminal.
Nor were they about to commit a crime themselves.
They were there because circumstances earlier that afternoon had left them no other acceptable or valid choice. They believed blindly, and almost completely, that they had to be there and seek resolution of a demanding dilemma within each of them.
Finally, after only two minutes, which seemed more like an hour, a car door opened and a casually dressed, clean cut man in his late thirties got out of his vehicle and moved, somewhat tentatively, towards room 163.
In spite of his hesitancy he was drawn to that room as certainly as the moth is drawn to the flame.