inner city?â asked Luther, trying to hurry this conclusion.
âFive, but only one that wasnât in Baltimore or D.C. It was in Philadelphia.â
âThatâs him,â said Luther. âLetâs get out of here.â
âBut donât you think itâsâ¦?â Hampton paused and thought a second about what he wanted to say. âThe car, itâs a solid clue, but itâs too solid, too clean. I might even say itâs sloppy.â
Luther had to agree. Alex could have destroyed the plates and the vehicleâs VIN number, switched it or used any number of other methods to throw them off the track. It was like he wanted them to follow.
âI see your point,â said Luther, âbut all we can do is go after him and anticipate that he knows weâre coming. Since we know heâs baiting us, we now have the upper hand.â
âNot necessarily,â said Hampton. âIf he knows weâre coming, then heâll anticipate that we know and that weâll try to counter him. Heâll have a plan.â
âBut it wonât be as good as oursâ¦I hope,â said Luther.
Luther and Hampton went to Veteransâ Hall in Baltimore first. Hampton confirmed that the building had been a former CIA drop point in the seventies and eighties. After accessing old data files, Luther found what he was looking for. In a basement utility room, he discovered a lockbox built in to a wall. It was plastered over but had been recently uncovered. The box was empty. Alex had taken something from it and gone.
âWhy leave Kraemer and the recording?â Luther said.
âFor you, it would seem,â said Hampton.
âI donât know how to feel about that.â
âHeâs not going down easy,â said Hampton. âI think we should consider getting some help on this.â
Luther thought about Frank and Sharon and their offer. âNo, we can do this,â he said.
âI hate it when you use that tone,â said Hampton.
âWhat tone?â asked Luther.
âThe black-Clint Eastwood tone.â
âIf I were the sensitive type, Iâd object to the use of my ethnicity as an adjective.â Luther smiled a little at his own joke. âAnd if Iâm a black anything, it would be Charles Bronson.â
âBronson?â said Hampton. âGimme a break.â
âHe was an assassin, no false sense of nobility, a stone-cold killer. Thatâs me.â Luther smiled broadly.
âSick, sick, man,â said Hampton, laughing softly.
Luther and Hampton set off for Philadelphia, which was a quick drive away on 1-95. They headed straight for South Philly, where the stolen car had been found. Luther was again reminded of his days on the streets in Detroit. The neighborhood around Seventh Street was run-down, filled with the usual devastation. But it was the faces that really got to Luther, scarred with the plague of hopelessness, haunting.
Luther and Hampton parked on a side street in a very dangerous-looking neighborhood.
âOkay,â said Hampton. âThis is where the stolen car was found.â
âAlex wouldnât be here,â said Luther. âHeâs too smart for that.â
âUnless he wants us to think that and stayed here to hit us.â
It was a troubling proposition to try to predict the actions of a wolf, Luther thought, especially when he might be functionally insane.
âSo you ready?â asked Hampton.
Instead of reading the tea leaves an E-1 agent left behind, theywould use some of the tactics the wolf himself had used. Luther was going to hit the streets in order to find him directly.
âI think Alex is on a mission,â said Luther. âWhether or not itâs inspired by insanity, he has an agenda, and thatâs how weâre going to catch him. We just have to figure out what heâs up to.â
âWell, we know he took something out of Baltimore,â said
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
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