Pool_2

papa. I want you bad." There were reassuring facts. "Come on you rat's ass. Come to papa." John O'Brien's nearly nonstop receiving line of Irish guests for his ongoing magazine and public relations projects, which he carried on out of his house, would pretty much squelch any intruder inroads at that location. "Steve, baby, have I got something for you." O'Brien's huge and very loud dog was also an asset. No, Shannon was probably OK, but there was no way, right now, to know that for sure. "Come on you ass hole. I don't have time for this. I have plans for you." His mind raced and was stalled both at the same time. He became one with an infinity of futures all branching from this singularity in a singleness of purpose. "Come to papa." He had already settled on the guy in the car out front, in a multitude of ways. He won't wait forever. Certainly won't go home alone. Can't risk a shoot out in the front yard. "I know where you live. Come and get it." About time. Foot steps on the ladder! "Hey Mick, when we whack this guy, can I keep his.." Piff piff. Dropping electronics made more noise than the muffled gun. "No. You may not keep anything." Ducking below the windows, Marcus dragged two bodies toward the basement stairs then to the garage. Both men's wallets were studied, especially, their business cards. Venture Electronics. Bethdale? He noted some phone numbers, and driver's descriptions which matched the two men, except that they were even less perky looking now than in the photo IDs. He laughed. "Time to go jogging." His sweat suit nearly tripped him as he hurried getting it on. Head band. Too much? He wondered, maybe, but then he kept it and downstairs out the back, across the rear lawn to the tree hidden back street, and down the hill three blocks. Sitting in the car, watching for trouble did not include paying much attention to a lone tired jogger running up the hill from three blocks away. Anyway this guy was not