* * *
Look at this.
From behind, he saw the slender form shuffling along, head bowed. No confidence there. And as he drew closer, he spotted the walkman clipped to her waistband. This one would be so easy…
No. It was too easy. And he hadn’t planned for it. Best to stick to the plan. That was how he’d had success so far.
Still…
He cruised past her as slowly as he dared without attracting attention. He angled his head to get a good look at her while pretending to adjust his radio.
She was pretty.
And she looked scared.
He continued onward, his internal debate raging.
* * *
“How about that one?” Tower asked aloud, even though he knew MacLeod couldn’t hear him. The wire was a one-way transmitter.
Even so, she spoke aloud as if anticipating his question. “Nothing there. Silver four door Tempo or Topaz. Guy didn’t even look at me. He was fiddling with his radio.”
Tower cursed. He broadcasted the information to Sully and Battaglia, who answered him with a dismissive click of the mike.
He sighed. It was going to be a long and fruitless night, he could tell.
* * *
He turned onto Post and drove north for a block, his mind racing. The arguments played themselves out in his head, one concern at a time.
There were plenty of trees all along that street. Only a couple of houses over the entire three blocks and all of them were dark.
But she might continue on across Post. Or she might even turn up the steep hill, especially if she’s out for exercise.
She might. But she might turn around and head back along Mona Street. If she did, the site was too perfect to pass up.
There’s too many people.
No. It was almost eleven at night. It’s cold, dark and the tail end of a rainy day. There’s hardly anyone else out.
No. It’s not smart. You’ve got to plan.
He set his jaw. Planning was important, but sometimes opportunities occurred that weren’t part of the plan. A smart man took advantage of these opportunities.
That’s the cognac talking.
No, he decided. It wasn’t.
It wasn’t the cognac at all. It was the new him. And that unlucky bitch just made his new self one lucky man.
He turned onto Glass Street and pulled his car to the curb just around the corner. A half block up the street was one lonely, dark house. Below him lay a tumble of bushes and a few scattered trees before the small thicket of trees that lined Mona Street.
At first, he reached for the glove compartment for his ski mask. Then he stopped. He wouldn’t need that precaution any more, would he? He looked down at his hands, flexing them wide open and back into fists. No, he wasn’t going to have to worry about this one telling tales on him. Not once he laid these hands on her.
He exited the car. The fresh air filled his lungs. He smiled because even the world smelled new to him.
2249 hours
“My fingers are getting cold,” Katie murmured, knowing Tower could hear her on the other end of the transmitter. She imagined him sitting in the truck with Chisolm, the white plug stuck in his ear.
Warm and cozy in that truck, she corrected herself. While she was out here like a worm dangling on a hook, hoping that a shark came along to take a bite.
And on top of that, she had cold fingers.
“I’m going to have to start jogging to keep warm,” she said in to the transmitter.
Of course, that was hardly true. The street took a decidedly uphill swing as she approached Post. The effort she expended climbing up the rise kept her core warm enough. It was just her fingers that didn’t benefit from the exertion.
Katie raised her hands to her mouth and blew on them. When she reached Post, she paused and looked around. It took her several moments to spot Tower’s Toyota truck. He’d picked a good spot, nestled between two other parked cars on the side of the street. From there, she figured they had a good view of her for most of her route along Mona Street. The only blind spot might be the area she’d just trekked up, but Sully and Batts would be able to see her from their end.
“One more pass,” she said quietly. “Then we’re going for some more coffee.”
Tower flashed his headlights, indicating he’d heard her transmission.
Katie turned and started back west on Mona Street.
2250 hours
Walking through the bushes soaked his clothing with a freezing wetness, causing him to shiver. He ignored the sensation and pressed on. The cognac kept him warm inside. He’d be taking a hot shower soon enough, anyway.
He spotted her coming back westbound from crest of the rise to Post Street. A thrill shot through his limbs, causing a sudden erection.
He’d been right.
He crept past a leafy bush and stepped behind a wide pine tree near the base of the small rise.
He crouched and watched her shuffle toward him.
He waited.
2251 hours
Katie breathed onto her frigid fingers again. She decided that she didn’t want coffee, after all. On a night like tonight, some hot cocoa was in order. She’d forgo any marshmallows or whipped cream in the interests of not appearing too girlish in the presence of her platoon mates, but secretly she was glad that she could do girl things like that on occasion.
Right now, she marveled at the absolute reverse chivalry at work in this operation. All four men were sitting in dry, warm cars while the sole woman on the team was trudging back and forth on wet pavement in the cold.
Well, Katie thought, we wanted equality. If this is how it feels, then I guess this is how it feels.
As she shuffled down the rise, she leaned back slightly to slow her descent. Her bruised quadriceps protested with small yelps of soreness.
There’s another point for equality, she thought. That Russian hadn’t even hesitated before blasting her in the leg. Even the criminals had left chivalry by the wayside in favor of equality.
Katie caught her toe in a crack in the asphalt, causing her to stumble. She windmilled her arms and regained her balance before she fell to the ground. She winced as the sudden movement put all of her weight momentarily on her injured leg.
She stopped and took a moment to catch her breath. Flexing and stretching her left leg, she thought about asking Chisolm for another dose of his magic juice.
* * *
Why was she stopping?
He watched her intently from twenty yards away. His body pressed against the tree in front of him. The odor of wet bark filled his nostrils, but he was already imagining the smell of her fear.
She’d stumbled and almost fell. Now she stood in the street, working her left leg as if testing the muscle. He admired her athletic form, resenting it at the same time. She probably thought she was something special, this one. She definitely needed to be knocked down a notch or two.
Still, what about the leg? Did she pull something when she tripped? It didn’t look like that bad of a stumble, but you never knew.
A weak leg meant a weak runner.
This was going to be easier than he thought.
* * *
“That didn’t sound good,” Tower said.
“What did it sound like?”
“Like she fell down or something,” Tower said. He raised the field glasses to his eyes and scanned the dark street in front of him. “I can’t see her, either.”
“Those aren’t worth much of a damn at night,” Chisolm told him.
“I don’t care if all I see is a shadow, as long as I know it’s her.” Tower lowered the glasses and shook his head. “I’m not seeing anything.”
“Check with the others.”
Tower raised the radio to his mouth. “Ida-409 to Adam-122.”
“Go ahead.”