Author: Pescador del Valle
Title: Assassin
Part: Chapter 1 of 27
Summary: Ass, sass and sin. A young assassin does more
than befriend people when he tries to get close to his
targets.
Keywords: nosex
Language: English
Copyright: 2009
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* WARNING! *
* This text file contains sexually explicit *
* material. If you do not wish to read this *
* type of literature, or you are under age, *
* PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! *
*********************************************
Comments appreciated :
see Pescador del Valle on www.asstr.org/authors.html
*********************************************************
He was waiting for me as I climbed down off the bus but
he had to check the photo a couple of times before he
approached me as I waited for the driver to open the
luggage bays.
"Roger?" He tapped me on the shoulder and when I turned
and lifted the headphone from my ear he asked again,
"Roger Torrent?"
"Yeah." I reached beneath my jacket and paused the
music. I wasn't about to appear rebellious, a
troublemaker - just a kid, left for the state to look
after.
He introduced himself, showing matching credentials that
I could have run up in less than an hour myself with
little more than general office equipment and a passport
photo booth.
Al was sincere enough, even helping me with the two cases
- one old, one brand new containing my supposed worldly
possessions.
I didn't ignore him - you never ignored people in my
profession - but the signs were comforting rather than
alarming so I concentrated more on where we were going
and those outside us. I had memorised the route,
travelling over it two days earlier myself and there was
only one detour due to traffic to pique my interest.
Had we headed elsewhere the conversation about the nice
family - the Jamieson's - who were going to foster me
would have come to an abrupt end.
Once again I didn't ignore the story. I had my own brief
on the family and was sure I could have told them things
*THEY* didn't know, let alone Al.
Actually, I couldn't have unless it was really necessary
- the briefing process included some rather effective
blocking techniques to stop me accidentally revealing
things I "didn't" know.
That doesn't sound like a typical orphaned kid? Too
right. Oh, I was an orphan but that was because I made
plans for revenge on my deadbeat Dad while Mum lay dying
in a hospital at his hand. I guess I'm where I am now
because I didn't just find a gun or a knife or an axe and
try to surprise him.
>>>
Instead I fitted a cut-off switch in his car
together with a microphone and speaker, all radio-
controlled. I knew how he spoke, and how he could
be expected to react; I had ridden with him often
enough - too often for my liking.
About three times a week my father had to travel
between his office in the poorer end of the business
district to the sweat shop factories he ran in the
even poorer end of the town. That meant passing
through the gang populated streets where he stood
out and where he covered his fear with bravado - so
long as the doors were locked and they couldn't
hear.
Dressed more like one of father's employees, I found
a vacant apartment in a building that was ready to
be torn down and paid first, last and promise of
next month within a week with an ineffective
complaint. I didn't expect to be there long enough
to get the benefit of the money I forked out but I
didn't have anywhere much else to stay anyway. I
couldn't stay where Mum and I had lived and I
wouldn't live with him - not that he had offered.
Still, if I had needed to, I would have found more
money to give me more time there.
The first trip he made through the neighbourhood was
wasted. The transmitter in his car alerted me of
his approach but there were no suitable people
around. I spent over three hours waiting for the
telltale beeps to catch his return.
There were a couple of gang members lounging around
with some attentive girls. Dad must have seen them
as well since he made a comment about how he would
like to get into their pants. When the four of them
turned to look at him he made another remark about
the 'greasy losers' they were with. He had driven
on without seeing the outrage on their faces. If it
was one thing that upset them more than a slight on
their women (by anyone excepting themselves that is)
it was to have someone slight them; to "disrespect"
them - an awkward transformation of noun to verb
that had caught on amongst people who lacked self-
respect.
Much the same thing happened as his car passed
through on Wednesday and on Friday morning I made
*SURE* his car was noticed even if the people
sitting along the side of the street hadn't been set
there to pick up his passage.
One of them got on a motorbike and carefully
followed my father; the other got on his phone and
passed some message on. I wasn't too concerned, I
was sure - quite sure - that they were capable.
While they were getting organised I was already
heading out the back door and running on as short a
cut as I could manage. I would get there maybe
twenty minutes after my father arrived but well
before he would leave. The others might beat me
there as well but they would still be appraising the
situation and I would expect that they might hold
off taking any action until I was there.
I had my own spot to watch and made my way through a
gap in a link fence around a closed factory just
down the street from where my father's car was
parked. I climbed through a high window before
moving where I could see out over the roadway. One
car was suspiciously parked down a side street -
suspicious in that it seemed full of able-bodied
youths. If anyone other than me was aware that
the car was there though, they were probably busy
making sure their own doors and windows were secure.
Over the next five minutes three more cars pulled up
around the nearby streets.
We had a long wait, though it was kept interesting
by the creative way the gangs scoped out the area.
One actually entered the factory - whether to "apply
for a job" or with some other reason I will probably
never know.
What I do know is that they were waiting for my
father when he came out and when the first car
blocked the road ahead of him he complained
viperously - over the speaker.
Aware there was a problem brewing in front of him,
he put the car in reverse - and the engine died.
More swearing and he failed to notice the road
behind him similarly blocked or the young men
approaching to see if he needed assistance.
Locked in, he wasn't really any safer than if the
car had been a convertible with the top down. Still
it made him feel safe enough to say some more things
that served only to inflame hot spirits.
That was when he finally noticed his words coming
back to him - now there was no engine noise to mask
them.
"What the fuck?!" came clearly across to where I
waited for a result.
The menace seemed to be coming from the front of the
car and approached the driver's door. They seemed
happy to stand back however and my father was
equally eager for them to keep that distance. He
kept trying to get a response from the engine while
he watched - now in silence.
What he didn't see was the three youths who
approached from a blind spot on the passenger side.
Fuel spilled from the cans they carried, under the
car and out the other side where they spread a
couple of yards past my father's door.
Dad was still watching when those in front of him
turned and began to walk away. He could see them
laughing as they got back into their cars but
couldn't understand what the point of it all had
been. He heard a car revving behind his and it
appeared briefly in the mirror before driving slowly
past. The driver flipped him and so did the
passenger sitting behind.
No. The passenger didn't. He flipped a cigarette
instead as the car suddenly accelerated.
Poor old Dad. I felt sorry for him. Sorry he
wouldn't know what it would be like to spend months
in hospital before finally getting out and having
something else happen to put him back. I'd expected
a beating; I got a barbecue instead.
<<<
We pulled over to the curb outside a two-storey house in
a suburb that indicated a level of managerial-class
affluence rather than outright wealth. The sort of place
the owners had worked their way up to rather than had
inherited. The sort of person who remembered their roots
and who were willing to return some of their good fortune
to society by caring for the orphans around them rather
than merely making an annual donation to a photograph and
a letter from overseas.
They weren't totally altruistic and I could respect them
more for their careful self-interest. They didn't want
to commit to years of bringing up toddlers who might
easily find a home elsewhere. Much better was to be
assigned one of the older ones - recently orphaned like
me rather than someone who had been trouble for other
fosterers - someone who would be making their own way in
the world after a couple of years schooling.
If they got lucky then they would be able to speak with
pride of the engineer or accountant or lawyer or perhaps
even doctor who had been able to achieve his or her dream
through the stable home provided by the Jamiesons. If,
instead, they ended up with some psycho or pot head then
there were ways to have foster care converted to juvenile
detention - problem solved.
The house was fashionable but was old enough for the
trees in the garden to have a "been there forever" look
about them. The garden itself was, like all the others
around, open to the street but divided from the
neighbours with hedges towards the front and privacy
fences around the rear.
"Call me 'Ma'" Jamieson opened the door with a beaming
smile for both Al and myself in that order. I liked her;
the smile included her eyes and didn't seem pasted on.
It would make my job both easier and harder for different
reasons - easier to stay here, harder to leave. It was a
hardship I was used to and perhaps in a month's time I'd
have found enough sour notes to make leaving easier as
well. That was the time I'd estimated I'd need for the
job and then, hard or easy, I'd be going.
There was little paperwork involved; it was more a case
of Al repeating for Mrs Jamieson's ears his admonition to
me to keep out of trouble and apply myself at school; to
heed what the Jamiesons told me; and then to subtly warn
me that he would be keeping an eye out as well.
I behaved as expected. Wary; uncertain of what I was
being let in for; somewhat rebellious at some strangers
being put in charge of me - but not a trouble-maker;
someone in fact who was willing to wait and see before
complaining about matters that might prove pointless or
wasting my time fighting battles I could not yet win.
It was mid-afternoon when "Ma" left me to settle into my
room before inviting me back to the kitchen where we
could get to know each other over a coffee and home-made
cake.
She must have already had the rundown on my background
through Al but drew it out of me anyway. We traded facts
- or what passed for them.
* I was just 17. [I wasn't. Actually a youthful looking
19, I could pass for anything from probably 16 to 26
with only a little effort. Clothes really did make
more of the man than suspected.]
* Elsie and Doug had two children - both still at home -
Brent, 22 and Anna, 16. Elsie's "While you are here
I'll expect you to behave like a gentleman" talk was
repeated more forcefully later by Doug when we had our
man-to-man.
* My father had been an only child, he had his own
company - a lumber yard - that had been sold by the
bank that had accepted it as security. That had left
me with a small trust that covered me for college and
a reasonable allowance but I couldn't get the rest
until I was 25. [My actual father hadn't recognised
my existence legally though that hadn't stopped him
whomping me from time to time or worse.]
* Doug had a coffee shop franchise with two stores in
different shopping centres. One bonus was that Elsie
provided some of the nicest coffee I had had for a
while.
* My mother had lost her only sister in a car crash some
years earlier; we had lost track of the sister's ex-
husband - the closest I had to living kin. [My real
aunts hadn't been all that close when Mum had been
alive, I certainly hadn't bothered tracing them
afterwards.]
* Anna went to the same High School that I would be
attending; Brent was at College and hoped to become a
CPA.
* I confessed to an interest in electronics, especially
RC models. [Always handy for explaining various bits
and pieces and an interest I had had even "before".]
* Anna was good at Maths, weaker at History and
Chemistry.
I did actually read quite a bit of history - I often had
to wait and found it was the program that helped to tell
the players. It also demonstrated the truth of the
saying that those who fail to learn from the past are
committed to repeating it. I did also have some
practical Chemistry though toxins, incendiaries and
explosives were not likely to be on Anna's syllabus.
Still, the suggestion that we might be able to tutor each
other on our weaker subjects did not go astray.
Brent turned up shortly after, shook my hand and then
effectively ignored me when he found I wasn't at all
knowledgeable about the sports he favoured. So long as
we didn't clash over wanting the TV during a game, I
figured Brent and I would coast along.
It was the tack I decided upon when I realised Brent was
of no use to me in my forthcoming project. His age was
against him and his circle of friends didn't mesh with
the people I needed to meet. Anna was another matter -
hence my brushing up on just those subjects she was
weakest in. It just helped that I did enjoy those
particular areas of study though it wouldn't have
mattered if I had loathed them.
Anna turned up about an hour after her brother. She had
to wait for the end of a high school day rather than
dealing with his more flexible hours. She came in with a
clatter then stopped and blushed heavily as she saw me.
She was quite charming to watch and I had some difficulty
not smiling. She must have been dreading having her home
invaded by some jerk and I could see she was suddenly
aware that the jerk might be just a bit more attractive
than she had anticipated.
I've heard that a woman makes up her mind how she rates a
man within 30 seconds of meeting him. Perhaps that's why
they put up with real jerks like my unlamented Dad - he
only had to turn on the charm for half a minute.
At least my charm was relatively sincere. I could,
would, and did do whatever it took to achieve my goals
but Anna wasn't one of them. I was simply able to be me
for a change - or at least as I am beneath an ever-
changing fa‡ade.
"Ma" watched carefully as she introduced me. I suspected
Anna would be getting some sort of "behave like a lady"
talk later but Ma must have at least provisionally
decided I could safely be left to talk with her daughter
- in public spaces - where we might find ourselves
interrupted at any time - and could be overheard.
"What's the school like?" I asked.
"It's school. Not too bad but..."
I nodded. A teenager didn't express a positive interest
in a school even if it brought joy during every moment
they were there.
"Teachers okay?"
Anna found I would be a year ahead of her and I could see
the wheels turning. It would be socially advantageous
for her to move in the circles I would frequent rather
than being confined to her own year. I wasn't sure why
none of my soon-to-be class mates hadn't taken her on
already. Perhaps it was still too early in the social
year and they were all trying for the remaining "older"
girls who were in turn longing for the even older boys.
"Most of the teachers you'll have are okay. One or two
are creepy but you're not a girl so you'll be safe.
You'll be able to tell who they are though."
"No-one does anything about them?"
"They don't actually *DO* or say anything. Just act
creepy; looking all the time."
"Maybe they just have good taste."
I had to formally enrol though I had a place already - Al
had seen to that. My subjects were chosen to maximise my
useful contact with certain people - not all of them my
immediate "interests" but people who would bring me into
contact with them if I failed to build a relationship
with them directly.
And that was where Anne could help too. She could link
me to yet others who would proved a third avenue that
seemed less likely to succeed on the surface but, with my
background information, could speed things up
considerably.
Anna had homework to get out of the way and apologised as
she took over the kitchen table. I sat down and asked if
I could look at the History text she had placed with her
other things.
"Go for it." She was surprised *ANYBODY* would actually
want to look at it.
I skimmed the table of contents, already aware of what
the book contained, then opened it to a chapter and
quietly read a few pages. "Not too bad. It's light on
in some areas but that's to be expected at this level."
I tried not to sound pretentious.
"What do you mean?"
"Well here for instance. It talks of the move west
across America and the conflict with the tribes already
occupying the land but it makes no mention of the cases
where initial contact was quite peaceful and how later
settlers spoilt it all; how the government
representatives were at times even worse and how disease
and famine wiped out vast numbers of people. Does it
cover the forced resettlements in any detail later?" I
flipped over a few more pages.
"I don't think so, there was just something about
Reservations. Do you know anything about the
Philippines?"
"Magellan, War with Spain, General McArthur or Imelda's
shoes? What's your question and we'll see?"
By the time dinner was ready Anna had the outline of an
essay plotted out and plenty of notes to add flesh to the
bones. It would be her own work - I had merely guided
her to research material and given her a productive
direction. She would need an hour or two to finish it
but then she could expect to get a grade or two higher
than she normally did as well.
I set the table, learning my way around the kitchen in
the process and being clearly informed at the same time
that I was to be a family member rather than a guest.
(Both Brent and Anna took turns helping as a matter of
course with Brent showing me around this time.)
Doug got home while we were finishing up and we sat down
to eat together. Grace was omitted other than "This
smells great Ma" from Brent. I had already confessed to
being raised Episcopalian "but I guess it didn't take".
This fitted their own moral a-religious nature. It was
an advantage since I didn't have to make my plans around
Sundays.
The meal tasted as good as it smelled. Since I had my
own allowance from my trust, the Government Fostering
payment was ample to cover what I would be eating. I
didn't feel at all guilty taking seconds and was not
alone.
Doug took me aside after dinner for a quiet talk while
the others cleaned up. He thanked me for the help I had
already given Anna and used that for laying down the
house rules.
Anna was to be treated like my sister. I wasn't to go
into her room; she wasn't to be in mine without
permission. She had her bathroom at her end of the
house; Brent and I would share the one near our rooms.
It wasn't severe, nor would it have been unexpected in
any house with similarly aged teens thrown together. I
said that I understood. I made no other promises and
Doug didn't ask for any. I guess he understood that
matters of the heart were not strictly regulated and
that, in the event I proved worthy, he might not object
to Anna choosing me in the fullness of time - but that
didn't stop him looking on his daughter as a little girl
to be defended from the hormonal time bomb given shelter
under his roof.
I *COULD* have told him that an in-house romance would
only complicate my job but somehow I think that would
have only made things worse. "I could tell you but then
I'd have to kill you" wasn't always a joke.
Brent reluctantly agreed to drive me around the area to
give me a feel for my new home and Anna hopped in the
back to provide what she considered "more useful"
information as she leaned into the middle of the front
seats.
Was the cleavage something new? She *HAD* changed her
top. It distracted me as she intended while I looked
from side to side at the direction of my two guides - who
often had mutually antagonistic interests. Distracted in
appearance at least; I was very aware of what was
happening outside the car and fortunately all was
innocuous.
I was also aware that Doug's suggestion to Brent was an
excuse to give them a chance to carefully go through my
things. I had expected no less and, other than some
deliberately left dirty laundry there was absolutely
nothing to be found that they wouldn't be expecting -
including the carefully "hidden" Playboy - smutty enough
yet not so explicit as to rouse objections. Ideal for an
older couple unaware that the web provided all a young
man's inspiration without charge. As for the laundry, I
had worn that t-shirt for three warm days without
deodorant just as a reward for them.
I found Brent friendly enough once we actually started
talking and Anna's back seat became appropriate as she
was marginalised from the conversation for a while. It
wasn't rudeness but a careful "ignoring" after my
previous interest so she would be the one chasing my
company rather than have her decide to play harder to get
than I might need should circumstances change.
I was sending mixed signals. I was aware of her as a
person; I was obviously aware of her as a desirable
female; I was more interested in chatting to her brother
than to her. Where *DID* she stand?
We got out of the car back at the house and I thanked
them both. Brent went straight inside and I took my time
looking around the front and then the back yard and the
gardens while there was still light. Anna watched me for
a little while then went inside. She had been quiet and
thoughtful and I guess she figured I might need a little
time by myself to settle in without her being in my way.
It was a good sign.
What she didn't, couldn't have known, was that I was
reviewing likely locations where the house might be, or
could be, monitored from and where I might best "store"
anything I needed at hand but not in my possession.
The places I selected were not those which a person
looking for something would choose but rather they were
places that would be more likely dismissed as "nothing
could be there".
But none of that mattered quite yet - I had nothing to
hide except that which I carried and I had no intention
of ridding myself of my toys just yet.
---
Breakfast was nutritious *AND* satisfying. Before being
briefed I had worried that I might have tofu pancakes and
soy milk. It wasn't that I didn't like tofu or couldn't
drink the soy but having to forego other tastier
breakfasts, lunches and dinners would have been a shame.
Doug took us to school today - it being "less stressful
for the new boy" to be accompanied by a male than his
mummy. Anna made an appointment to meet me for lunch at
a prominent landmark and Doug and I met my new principal.
Since there was no hint of misbehaviour (other than some
carelessness in Junior High) I didn't have too much to
stress about and, when Doug left, Mr Peters organised a
subordinate to escort me to a classroom in time for the
second period. I was underway.
---
Kev was my "buddy". I had hoped it might have been one
of the others in the class but he was going to be in most
of my other classes on Tuesdays so it made some sense.
He smoothed my way into each class and I found myself
being quizzed briefly by teacher after teacher as each
tried to assess my "level". Unfortunately I had to be
careful not to rate too highly since I needed to be "one
of the guys."
Kev quite happily left me to Anna's care over lunch - he
did have his own life - and made sure I knew where to be
after the break when he would resume his duties as my
guide.
Anna introduced me in turn to some of her friends - all
girls - and there was a noticeable tension in the
introductions. She wanted to show me off - "look at the
hunk I've got living at my place; envy me" - while not
wanting me to find any of them too interesting while she
was still making up her mind whether to pursue me
herself.
Just because a woman can decide she doesn't want a man in
30 seconds doesn't mean she can necessarily make up her
mind that she wants him so easily. I was polite,
moderately witty without showing off and carefully
attentive all round, favouring no individual - including
Anna though there were a couple I would have easily
considered pursuing under different circumstances.
They collectively saw to it that I was familiar with the
campus and then Anna shook the others off and took me to
meet a couple of her classmates who were dating a couple
of mine. When you start playing Kevin Bacon within a
school (no relation to my guide Kev), you have to be very
unlucky to find six degrees of separation; even ignoring
the teachers, three is usually enough or sometimes four.
Anna to Stacey to Phil to *BINGO*.
Of course I could and would work on Phil myself but Anna
had made it easier for me to speak with him between
classes. I would have to reward her. Perhaps asking her
to accompany me on some outing with Stacey and Phil once
I was closer to *THEM*. It would depend on how other
matters worked out - I could already be spoken for by
then if that was necessary to achieve my goals.
---
All the bedrooms were upstairs. Brent's was to the front
of the house with mine matching at the rear. We had a
bathroom to ourselves, then there was a study with
computer and TV - essentially Brent's domain when he was
home though Anna and I had access to computer and net for
homework if we were quick or on weekends.
+-------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| Roof over |
| Lower Level |
| |
| |
| |
| |
+--+~~~+--+---+~~+--+~~~+--+-+--+~~~+-+~~~+---+--+~~~+--+
| | | | : | | |
| Roger | Bath | Comp | : Guest | Bath | Anna |
| | M | TV +-+ | F | |
| | | : | | | |
| | | : | | | |
+..+--+===+--+===+-----+===+-+===+----+===+---+===+--+..+
| | | | | |
+--+..+===+____+----+--===---------+---------+-===+..+--+
| |____:....| : WIR | |
| Brent |____:....| Parents |_________| Study |
| |____:....| : | & |
| |____:....| | Bath ES | Office |
| | | | | |
+--+~~~+--+--+~~~+--+-+~~~+---+~~~++---+~~~+-+---+~~~+--+
Upper Floor
+-------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| |
| Verandah |
| |
| |
| |
+--+~~~~~~~~~~~+--+~=~=~=~+--+~~~~~+--+~~~~~+-+===+-+---+
| | | | |
| + | |WC /
| Kitchen | | /
| Family/TV | +===+
| : Laundry |
| + + Informal : & /
| | | Dining +-+===+-+ Utility /
| | | | | |
| | +-----------+-------+-----+===+
+---------+ +-------+ | | |
| : + | |
| : | /
| Dining +====+____+ Lounge | Garages /
| | S :____| + | |
| | t :____| | | /
| | o :____| | | /
| | r :____| | | |
| | e +=====+ | |
+-+~~~~~+-+--+~~~+--+ +--+~~~~~+--+-----------------+
| |
+-----+ Lower Floor
Elsie and Doug's room was at the front, the staircase
separating it from Brent's so both had some privacy -
more than he and I actually shared! They had their own
en-suite and walk-in robe that together was equivalent to
Doug's Study on the other side of the house at the front.
That gave him plenty of distance from the noise of the
family room when he had to go over his business reports.
Between the Computer Room and Anna's bedroom was another
small guest room and the "girl's" bathroom - this one
with an actual bath in addition to the shower and toilet
we boys had to share. At least I didn't have to wait for
Brent to get out of the bath - showers tended to take him
long enough.
My bedroom window looked out over the expanse of roof
that covered the lower floor and my second night in the
house saw me making some modifications to it. There was
a sash window that drew up a fly screen as it was lifted
so all the bugs flying around at night were kept out when
I wanted ventilation.
It was a simple matter to loosen the screws which held it
in place and to use a file from my hobby kit to turn
holes into slots. Now the screen would lift as required
but a simple nudge would allow me to move it back into
the wall cavity or to replace it equally quickly.
Step two was a little trickier. I replaced the catch with
one that was modified so it didn't actually lock the
window unless I wanted it to. I had no intention of
being accidentally locked out of my room if I needed some
exercise.
Step three, once it was dark and everyone was asleep, was
to map out the safe spots on the roof. I had gear hidden
- appearing to be simply the lining of my other clothes -
that would allow me to blend into the shadows but, as I
was supposed to be a normal teenager, for now the only
special item I wore was a pair of Ninja slippers.
I wouldn't want to have jumped down onto broken glass or
boards with nails sticking up while wearing them but they
were padded enough so I could step onto the glass or
thorns with minimal damage; they allowed silent movement
and gripped most surfaces unless I stepped in oil or dog
crap first. As camouflage, the tops also resembled a
pair of dark sneakers and I could fit a normal sole to
them when I wasn't wearing them.
Keeping to the shadows was always going to be a better
option than walking out in plain view or crawling across
the tiles. I could drop down to the ground on my side of
the building but there was currently no easy way to get
back up - silently. If necessary I could get a pole
ladder - a light tube about 2 metres long that would hook
onto the roof and allow me to pull myself up on bumps
that resembled knots in a rope. I didn't want to add
that to my "arsenal" if there was an alternative and my
previous examination of the yard showed me there was,
provided I could cross the roof quietly enough.
The roof only sloped gently and came up to just below the
window sills. I would almost have to crawl under them if
the rooms were occupied!
The first bathroom window was frosted and dark. If the
door was open, the light from the landing would show
through so I would know I could ignore my own silhouette
provided Brent was asleep. The computer room was
trickier - I would have to duck under there since it was
harder to see if anyone was standing opposite the doorway
in the passage. Since the guest room door was normally
kept closed (if not actually shut) it was safer to pass
by than the previous room but still better to be careful
so I crept there as well.
Anna's bathroom duplicated the first as far as the window
went. No problems there and only one spot to be wary of
as far as noise went. That left Anna's room and here I
found I had been mistaken. Anna wasn't asleep - instead
she had a bedside light on and was reading while wearing
a pair of earphones. She had curtains drawn across her
window to match both mine and Brent's but there was a
slight gap which revealed all to me - not that much was
to be seen - she moved her lips and head to the song but
kept on reading.
The human eye or rather the visual part of the human
brain - like that of many other animals - is particularly
sensitive to movement. In situations like that I now
found myself in, there were three possible "acceptable"
solutions.
The first, and usually preferable, solution was to move
as slowly as possible out of the field of view. The
second was to provide a distraction so you were no longer
*IN* the field of view. The third was to rapidly remove
oneself from the field of view and then, because you had
probably alerted the person to your presence, from the
immediate area as well.
"Unacceptable" solutions tended to involve the disposal
of human remains.
I lowered myself very slowly, keeping an eye on Anna
until the sill blocked *MY* field of view.
I dropped down onto the concrete path along that side of
the house and made my way out to the footpath. I was out
late to be a jogger (and therefore hadn't dressed as one)
but still early enough to be returning from a friend's
house if one ignored the absence of wheels. It was
important for me to walk the streets like I belonged
rather than skulking and I circled the block both for
some light exercise and to check out all the neighbours.
It was a good thing we didn't live in one of the LA
canyons - this block was quite big enough!
I had a special music pod; pressing down specific
combinations of buttons allowed me to record my spoken
notes into a totally separate area of memory that would
be wiped as soon as the case was opened or the battery
removed. My own memory should suffice but it was worth
being doubly sure.
Returning home I gave the downstairs windows a more than
cursory check and then used the laundry window ledge as a
stepping stone back to the roof. Anna's light was out
and I made the mistake of lifting my head for a second
peek. I saw nothing but Anna was lying in bed, just
gazing at the thin slit of light on her wall and couldn't
help seeing it shrink and then grow from the bottom.
She turned and looked at the window, then climbed out of
bed and pulled one of the curtains aside. There was no
prowler, no cat, to be seen but she knew she hadn't been
asleep. She lifted her window carefully - coincidentally
with mine being raised as well - and listened.
I climbed into my room silently but there was a slight
bump as I closed my window - and of course Anna heard it
in the still night!
If someone had broken in they had done so far more
quickly than she believed possible. Conan Doyle got it a
bit ass-about; you don't eliminate the impossible to find
the possible, you start eliminating the most probable
first since there is a greater chance of getting to the
truth sooner.
Number one was a burglar; number two, that there was a
Peeping Tom and, since it involved a closing window and
followed my recent arrival, I was naturally a suspect.
Anna crept along the passage, putting her ear to the
doors of the "public" rooms. There was no sounds in the
guest room nor the computer room and the door of the
boys' bathroom was open. She could however make out the
sounds of my quiet undressing which confirmed theory
number two as far as Anna was concerned and she returned
to her room to consider matters.
She realised that she had no proof of course and decided
that she had to lay a trap for me. Then she spent quite
a while on what to do once she had me trapped.
---
I was still better off not having materials I couldn't
explain than being without them so Anna spent the next
two evenings waiting without any sign of me. Instead I
spent the days making friends with my classmates and she
didn't even get to spend her lunches with me.
It might have pissed her off slightly.
She was semi-cold walking home with me on the Wednesday.
Brent gave us a ride in the mornings but no-one was free
when we came out. Thursday was a little different as I
conned one of my classmates, Pete, into dropping us off
and, since he was already running a shuttle service, Anna
had to sit on my lap.
She seemed to like the extra attention from a carload of
boys. (Her mother would have killed her for "taking such
chances!") She certainly liked my arms around her waist
in lieu of a seatbelt; her hand rested over mine in a
casual yet inviting way and I had difficulty believing
the rubbing of Anna's butt on my lap was only due to the
movement of the car - was she really taking the
opportunity to check out my crotch though?
Once at home, and under Ma's eye, she behaved "properly"
as we did our assigned homework. I had a couple of extra
essay type projects to assist in validating my alleged
grades and she "helped" me with one in return for my
ongoing tutoring. After that it was the usual sitting
around watching TV with Ma and Doug. Anna was pushing
for her own TV since Brent had possession if not
ownership of the other but though they could easily have
afforded it, the Jamieson's preferred to minimise the
segmentation of their family into different TV rooms even
if their only conversation was going to be what to watch.
I went to bed pleased with my progress while Anna spent
another fruitless couple of hours waiting for me.
Friday changed that!
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