The Lion

I continued on, and Bob Stark's voice in my earphone said, "Hunter, SO One here-you read?"

I spoke to my condenser mic under my shirt, "Hunter five by five."

"Okay, we're with you, but I think you're alone."

"All right. But I'll stop at the park entrance and you'll see if anyone seems interested in me."

"Right. We have two people there-a man and a woman-right inside the park."

He described their clothing, and I said, "Try to keep your people away from me once I get deep into the park. I do not want you to spook any tails."

"We're pretty good at this."

"I know. I'm just saying I can protect myself."

"Good. Next time you can go by yourself."

I replied, "Don't get pissy."

"Copy."

FYI, if you're walking along the street in New York talking to yourself, no one notices-except maybe other people who are talking to themselves.

Anyway, I crossed Fifth Avenue and stood near the low stone wall that surrounds the entire park. There were still a few pushcart vendors around the park entrance, and remembering that I needed to linger here, I took the opportunity to buy a chili dog. In fact, make it two. Hey, this could be my last meal.

I sat on a wet bench and ate my hot dogs, trying to look like a dejected widower, which is not easy when you have two magnificent dogs in your hands.

Anyway, I finished dinner and walked into the park.

I spotted the surveillance couple sitting on a bench, looking for all the world like lovers-not husband and wife, because they were holding hands and talking. Okay, that was not nice. More importantly, they did not look at me, and I sensed they were pros.

I kept walking, and as I got deeper into the park, away from Fifth Avenue, I was struck by how the mood and feeling changed-it was almost as though I'd stepped back in time to when Manhattan Island was all forest, meadows, and rock outcrops.

You can, however, see the lighted skyscrapers around the park, and in the park are paved paths lined with ornamental post lights. I followed one of those paths north toward my first stopping point, which was the Kerbs Boathouse.

The drizzle had kept the big crowds of promenaders away, and also kept people off the lawns. In fact, there weren't many people around tonight, and this was good.

I made my way north, then followed a sign and a path that took me toward the Kerbs Boathouse on the pond.

I tried to spot my surveillance people, but other than the couple, who were walking fifty yards behind me holding hands, I couldn't ID anyone.

I also tried to spot anyone else who was following me, but no one looked particularly interested in me.

In fact, a voice in my ear said, "Hunter, this is SO One-you seem to be alone. Copy?"

I replied, "Copy."

And that was it. Nothing more to be said.

I got to the boathouse, which was used to house model boats for geeks, and I stood on the stone patio between the house and the pond and looked out over the water.

Somewhere across the pond was a SWAT team with sniper rifles, and they could shoot the chewing gum out of a guy's mouth and not chip his teeth. But it seemed that I was the only one here.

There were benches near the shore and I sat on one of them, looking despondent, which isn't hard to do when your ass is wet and the rain is getting colder.

I gave it ten minutes, and I was about to move on when Stark said, "Someone approaching from the north."

"Copy."

I drew my Glock and held it in my lap.

I heard footsteps coming from my right and I glanced at the far corner of the boathouse.

A male figure-tall-stood in the glare of a lamppost. He was watching me, then took a few steps forward and walked slowly across the patio toward me.

He wore a long black topcoat that was too heavy for this time of year, and he was carrying a big bag, the way homeless people do, and as he got closer I could start to make out his features.

I kept an eye on him as he approached, but it was not Asad Khalil-though it could have been one of his pals.

He sat on the bench next to mine and said to me, "How ya doin'?"

"My wife is dead and I'm going to drown myself in the pond."

"Yeah? Sorry 'bout that, man." He added, "Hey, it ain't that bad."

Stark said to me, "Who are you talking to?"

I replied, "I don't know. Hold on." I asked the gentleman, "What's your name?"

"Skip. What's yours?"

"Tom Walsh. Hold on." I said to my condenser mic, "It's Skip."

"Skip who?"

Before I could ask Skip for more info, he asked me, "Who you talkin' to?"

"Myself. Don't you talk to yourself?"

"Hell, no. Crazy people talk to theirselves."

"Hunter," asked Stark, "who is that?"

I asked Skip, "Are you an Arab terrorist?"

He replied, "Yeah. I'm an Arab terrorist."

I said to my mic, "He says he's an Arab terrorist."

"What the hell are you doing? Get rid of that guy."

"Ten-four." I said to Skip, "You gotta leave."

"Says who?"

"The voice in my head."

"Can you spare a few bucks?"

I said to Stark, "I'll give him a few bucks, but you might want to check him out when he leaves." I added, "Get my money back."

I heard a few laughs from the surveillance team in my earphone.

Skip asked again, "Who ya talkin' to, man?"

"Aliens." I pulled two dollars out of my pocket, but Skip was up and gone.

I decided to do the same, and I said, "SO One, Hunter is mobile."

"Copy."

I headed toward another body of water, Belvedere Lake, which was about a third of a mile farther north and west.

I walked slowly across the area called the Ramble, which is heavily treed, and a good place for an ambush, though I seemed to be the only person around. But, you know, sometimes you get that feeling you're being watched.

I reached Belvedere Lake, and Stark said to me, "Take a walk around the lake."

So I took a slow walk around Belvedere Lake, also known as Turtle Pond, or perhaps tonight as Sitting Duck Lake.

I completed the walk without meeting anyone interesting, and I stopped near a building called Belvedere Castle, where I sat on a wet bench and looked at the pond.

I said, "Hunter at rest."

Stark replied, "We have visual." He added, "No one followed you. But sit awhile."

So I sat for fifteen or twenty minutes, then Stark said, "We're thinking that if you had company, we'd know by now. So maybe we'll cancel the Reservoir."

I replied, "I'm having too much fun."

I thought I heard a few groans in my earpiece, then Stark said, "Your call."

I stood and replied, "Hunter mobile." I asked, "How do you want me to go?"

He replied, "Around the Great Lawn, to the west."

"Copy."

I began walking, skirting the Great Lawn along a path that passed beside a treed area. There was no one around except a guy on a bicycle coming toward me. I kept walking and as he got closer I could see he was looking at me, and I put my hand on the Smith Wesson.

A voice in my earphone said, "Hunter, I'm the guy on the bike."

"Ten-four."

He passed me, gave a quick nod, and continued on.

I, too, continued on. Off to my left, in the trees, I saw a guy walking his dog. The dog was sniffing around, the way dogs do when they're supposed to be taking a crap, and the guy was talking on his cell phone, probably saying to his wife or significant other, "Why do I have to walk the dog every time it rains? It's your dog." And so forth. Been there, done that.

I continued on, but I glanced back at the dog walker to be sure he and the dog were not terrorists.

I could see the apartment buildings on Central Park West, and I pictured Vince Paresi sitting in his nice warm apartment having a glass of vino and trying to remember what was happening tonight that was keeping him on call. Actually, Paresi had a base station in his apartment, and he could monitor all radio traffic, including my wire, so I said, "Captain, I can see your house from here. Wave."