Chapter 20

The air was crisp and cool and whispered of the false promises of spring.

In the streets, men who had dressed with the recent warm nights in mind hurried to their homes,

their thin coats huddled around them, their hands thrust deep into their pockets and their eyes on the ground.

If any of them had thought to look up, it is unlikely

they would have seen the man on the roof of the six-story office building. He clung to the

shadows and stood stock still, watching the street below, and waiting like a statue. It is entirely

possible that a passer-by, were they oblivious to the cold and staring dreamily at the moon,

might have noticed the sudden appearance of a dark shape, darting across the glower looning light

high above the same six-story office building.

But had they noticed such a thing as a lithe but very female shape in the midnight sky,

they would have put it down to wine imagination

or other follies of springtime. Ten seconds later, after a quick firing of her static shoes,

the flying squirrel landed noiselessly on the rooftop. She settled into a crouch atop the

small shed that housed the counterweights for the building's elevators and froze instantly.

She could just discern the shape of the Red Panda's back as he watched the dead-end street below,

and only because she knew what she was looking for. She waited a full minute until she was certain

that he had not heard her, and then promptly rejected the thought.

"'Of course he knows I'm here,' she thought, cupping her face in her hands as she watched

him.

He's just waiting for me to blink first."

Thirty more seconds passed.

...