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 ********************************************* * 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! *********************************************************