Gregg Hurwitz - The Tower

"Hey, fuck you, Homes!" he heard from behind him. "Yeah, that's right. You'd better keep walking." He heard the kid's hands slap to his thighs after he finished each sentence.

Jade approached the group of boys slowly. There were five of them, four sitting with their shoulders angled toward the fifth, who stood with one foot in the bucket of a swing. If you check the body posture, you can always find the ringleader, he thought.

The boy's thickly freckled face squinted up at Jade. He had reddish-brown hair flipped defiantly to one side. "Yeah? Whaddya want?" he sneered.

Jade sighed and shifted his jaw forward. "You kids from around here?"

"No," the boy replied. "Are you?" His friends guffawed, sinking their mouths into their hands to cover their giggles. Definitely private-school material, Jade thought.

"Look, you self-righteous little cocksucker," Jade said. The smirk on the boy's face vanished. "I don't really care where you're from. This is a dangerous park and you're gonna get hurt if you hang around here. What are you doing here?"

The boys all looked at each other. Finally, a pudgy kid who was sitting cross-legged spoke. "We have a debate today at St. Bellarmine's," he said, digging at his sneaker with a stick. "It doesn't start till eight, though. Our parents dropped us off early."

St. Bellarmine's was the all-boys private school across the street. A junior high school in downtown San Jose, it was in a league with some of the top schools in the Bay Area. These kids were probably from San Francisco or across town, Jade decided. They didn't know what a dangerous neighborhood was yet. They'd probably never seen one before.

Jade checked his watch: 7:50. "You'd better wait over at the school," he said.

The ringleader let his breath out through his teeth. "Yeah. Whatever. I don't think we have to listen to you." The other kids looked scared, but they wouldn't move against their leader's will. "Just keep running," the boy said. "You're not in charge of us."

Jade scowled. "You're right. You're not my responsibility. Get yourself knifed. I don't give a shit."

He walked off, a nervous silence lingering behind him, and started jogging when he passed the front gate of the park. He ran for a few blocks, then stopped, cursing. He turned around and ran back to the park, stopping on a side street.

He watched the kids through a chain-link fence, keeping an eye out for gang members. No signs of trouble. After a few minutes, the kids got up and went across the street to St. Bellarmine's. Jade watched them until they'd safely entered the school, then turned to finish his run, cursing himself for stopping mid workout.

He felt the sun warming his shoulders as he made his way home. Jade always ran without a shirt, and as he passed, women watched his chest and stomach muscles flex with each step. They would stop walking and stare until their dogs pulled their leashes; they'd gaze through their kitchen windows and turn around in their cars.

But Jade didn't notice. He didn't think about anything except where his next seven steps were landing, and he didn't hear anything except the rush of his breath as he inhaled and exhaled.

As he came up on his house, Jade saw a shadow behind the front curtain. He kept jogging with his head forward, straining his eyes to the side to watch the figure in his house. He noticed a black Oldsmobile parked well up the street.

After passing his house, Jade circled back around to his driveway, carefully lifting the latch on the gate. His backyard was spacious, a lawn stretching from one fence to the other, broken only by a small cement path. A rectangular patio stood out from the back of the house, edging the lawn. Running along part of the back wall of the house, underneath the kitchen window, was a thin, tiled counter.

He tiptoed across the back patio and peeked through the glass sliding door. He could see over the kitchen's countertops and into the dining room at the front of the house.

A figure stood in his dining room, facing the window.

Jade reached under the tiled counter and removed a Glock, which he had kept from his training days in the FBI. Access to a pistol, he thought. First and foremost.

After checking through the other windows in the house, Jade carefully approached the glass sliding door, holding his breath as he eased it open. He slipped inside and moved cautiously to the doorway directly behind the stranger, who stood gazing out the window through the blinds. Because the room was unlit, Jade couldn't clearly make out much more than a figure, but he did see the blond hair spilling over the back of the man's collar.

Keeping his eyes trained on the stranger, Jade let his right hand wander over to the desk by the doorway. He brushed a glass paperweight that sat next to the phone, and his muscles tensed as it started to slip. His fingers closed over it swiftly as it balanced on the edge, just about to fall.

He allowed himself a deep exhale, pacing the rush of air through his mouth as his shoulders dropped. The calmness returned to him after he waited for a few seconds, and he felt his vision narrow to the target. Then, he threw the paperweight to the left side of the stranger and stepped silently up behind his right shoulder.

It hit the floor and the stranger jerked to the left, his hand expertly diving inside his jacket. He was good, Jade thought. Gun motion-like reflex.

Jade wrapped an arm around the stranger's neck and picked him up off the ground, twirling him 180 degrees to slam his head against the dining room table. He pressed the metal tip of his pistol firmly to the stranger's temple.

"Relax. Let's see your hands."

The stranger put his hands next to his face, which was pressed flat against the table. From the muffled voice, Jade realized that the stranger was a woman. She wore slacks and a loose-fitting jacket over a white shirt.

"Jesus Christ, Marlow. Calm down. I'm FBI." She turned her head and Jade saw the delicate line of her cheek.

Although Jade believed her (who the fuck else but an FBI agent dressed up to break into your house?), his hand went to her pocket and fished out a badge. He flipped it open and held it up to read, "Agent Jennifer Travers. Top Clearance." He snickered. "Evidently. Boy, I really had my hands full with you."

He realized he still held Travers's face pressed against the dining room table and he let go of her, flaring his hand apologetically. Travers stood up and straightened her slacks, running her palms over her hips to smooth the wrinkles.

He tossed the badge on the table and walked back into the kitchen. "You people need to learn how to use a doorbell," he called over his shoulder. "Now what, exactly, can I help you with?"

"We want you on-"

"Atlasia. I know. I've been waiting."

Jade took a few gulps of orange juice from the carton. "I hope you brought the file and retainer. You can leave them on the dining room table. Same rules as always. I work alone and have unrestricted access to all privileged information, labs, forensics, all that shit. And I'll need a badge-one that doesn't say 'temporary' across the front of it. If I need a partner, I want an experienced agent, not a rookie." He poked his head back around the corner. "It's been a bad week for rookies," he said.

It was the first time he'd really looked at her face, and he was startled by her beauty. Her features were simple, yet stunning. Her high, proud cheeks were still red from the struggle. He turned away before she could read anything in his eyes.

"Marlow, you understand that this is a larger case than you've handled in the past."

"So pay me more."

"We've taken care of that. But we need you to stay in line with the press. Handle them gracefully and we'll keep all pertinent resources open."

Jade smiled sweetly. "I already have been handling the press."