EXOSKELETON II: Tympanum Read Online Free PDF Page B

filling the towel with ice. She finished by twisting it to form a makeshift icepack.
    “This should do it,” she said and handed it to him.
    Will put it on his arm and thanked her as she exited the kitchen. The busy cooks seemed to hardly notice him as he looked for an exit. He walked into the small room from which the barista had retrieved the ice, and discovered an ice machine and a door with an illuminated exit sign above it. This one had the same warning sign as the first one he’d encountered, but a sliver of light shone between the door and its frame. It was propped open.
    He pushed it open and peered out. It led to a narrow alley between the café and the adjacent building. He set the icepack on the ice machine, put on his jacket, and stepped out, onto a small concrete porch. His nose alerted him to a bucket of sand mixed with hundreds of cigarette butts located just off the stoop, next to the building. To his left, the alley terminated with a red brick building: a dead end. In the direction of the storefront, a dingy green dumpster partially blocked the view of the street. The sweet-sour stench of its leaking contents nearly overwhelmed him as he stepped off the porch and crouched behind it, keeping his eye in the direction of the street.
    A clicking sound alerted him that the door had closed behind him. Big mistake. He should’ve made sure it remained propped. Now he was trapped.
    He pulled out his targeting device and started the “snapping” program. At that instant, his stalker stepped into view and looked down the alley. Well concealed, Will remained perfectly still and held his breath. He hoped his pursuer wouldn’t decide to check out the dead end.
    To his relief, the hooded figure continued toward the store entrance and was soon out of view. When Will was confident that the man wouldn’t double back, he stood and walked quickly toward the street, stopping at the edge of the building. He peered around the corner to the right just as the man removed his hood and peered into the window of the café.
    Will held the device around the corner and, through its view-screen, centered cross hairs on the side of the man’s head. He pushed a button, withdrew the device, and looked at the screen – a perfect headshot. He waited for a few seconds and then looked around the corner just as the man entered the café. Perfect , he thought. Got him without being seen.
    Will turned left out of the alley, and walked quickly. At the next block he turned right, crossed the street, and entered a small public park. He sat on a bench and used his phone to send the picture to his instructor.
    A minute later, he got a call.
    “Well done, Thompson,” the gruff-voiced man said with a tone of approval. “Now I’ve got one for you.”
    Will’s phone vibrated, indicating that a message had arrived. He pushed a button and opened the incoming file. His heart sank. It was a picture of him with cross hairs superimposed on his head.
    “What the hell?” Will asked, annoyed.
    The man chuckled. “There were two this time,” the man explained. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
    Will hung up. He slapped his knee and cursed under his breath.
    Five minutes later, a gray SUV pulled up. Its brakes squeaked as it stopped.
    Will climbed into the back seat and sat next to the man he recognized as Renaldo, his pursuer from the café. One of his pursuers . Someone he didn’t recognize, a fit man in his mid fifties with short gray hair and sunglasses, sat in the passenger seat.
    The man turned around and extended his hand behind the seat. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Thompson. I’m Roy,” he said. “I got you at the art building on the corner of Milwaukee and Kimball.”
    Will remembered the six-way intersection. “Call me Will,” he said and shook the man’s hand.
    “This was an important exercise,” Will’s instructor, Perry Dunlap, said from the driver’s seat. “Never overlook the possibility of there being more than one