Night Victims

32

It would be tonight.

The weather report promised cloud cover and a sliver of moon. The Night Spider’s plans had been laid, the enemy measured. The resignation at last induced by constant fear. Soon would come the stupor of the prey in the grasp of the predator. The prey was waiting, afraid and impatient, secretly wishing to be possessed at last.

And he knew she was waiting for him, growing restless in her anticipation. They cooperated with him toward the end, in their surrender. He knew by their eyes. Sometimes they grew eager. Death was magnetic.

After double-checking to make sure he was fully prepared, he slipped into a light silk windbreaker, dark like his slacks.

Cap pulled down, collar up. Ready. He opened the door and went out into the night, part of the night. Hell on the hunt.

For the first time in weeks he felt wonderful!

“Maybe he’s got this figured,” Paula said. “Maybe he’s too smart for us this time and won’t show. If he wants to, he can just sit back and let Nina crow.”

Horn had expressed the same doubts that afternoon to Marla. Her confidence had remained unshaken.

“He can’t stay away from her much longer,” he said now to Paula, echoing Maria’s words. “He’s trying to outwait us, lull us into complacency so he can take advantage of our carelessness. He’ll show. If we’re patient, he’ll cooperate. He has no choice.”

Paula wasn’t so sure. But Horn was the boss.

This time she was glad she wasn’t in charge.

She went to her station on the apartment building’s roof, out of sight just inside the slanted and slightly opened service door. When she positioned herself just so, she had an unobstructed view of most of the roof ‘s dark expanse.

Getting as comfortable as possible, she settled down with her steel thermos full of coffee, her twelve-gauge shotgun, and her fear.

She found herself thinking about Harry Linnert, then tried not to.

A cop’s life. What am I doing here? Why me? How the hell did it happen?

A surflike rush of breeze flowed across the roof, warm as the night. Paula felt a bead of perspiration trickle down the side of her neck. She sighed and rested her hand closer to the gun.

Horn did his nightly inspection before settling down in his unmarked parked across the street, from which he directed the operation. Everyone was in place: undercover cops on the street, observers and sharpshooters on surrounding buildings, more undercover cops posing as building employees or tenants.

If the Night Spider appeared on the roof of Nina’s building, they would know. When he did his spider’s drop toward her window, he’d be observed every inch of the way. Gun sights would be trained on him in case anything went wrong. There was no way he could get close to Nina Count. But if he did, there was a cop in her apartment as a last line of defense, a borrowed SWAT martial arts expert who, on signal, would move into Nina’s bedroom and be waiting for whatever came through the window, while other cops closed in on the apartment fast.

Horn leaned back against the car’s soft cloth upholstery. From where he was parked, he had a clear view of Nina’s apartment building.

He couldn’t help a slight amount of complacency. Inevitably in situations like this, it edged in. Repetition was to blame. And this was another night exactly like the ones before. It was doubtful anything would occur. But he hadn’t let down his guard or weakened his defenses. The same precautions were in place tonight that had been here on the first night of the operation.

He tucked in his chin to speak into his two-way. “We’re up and running.”

Everyone acknowledged they’d heard.

Horn had the car’s windows down, so he lit a cigar and smoked it, using his cupped hand to conceal the glowing ember whenever he raised it above dashboard level. He was satisfied that Nina was safe.

Safe as anyone in her position could be.

Newsy, set up with his cameraman behind the window of the building across the street, waited and watched and smoked a filtered Camel. Like Horn, he had his hand cupped to conceal the glow of the ember.

He couldn’t help staring across the street at the face of Nina’s building as its lighted windows went dark one by one.

At 11:45 P.M., which was her usual bedtime, just after the news starring Nina, her own window went dark.

Newsy stepped back and to the side so he could light another cigarette off the one he’d smoked to a stub. His palms were moist. He wasn’t sure how he should feel or even how he did feel.

He wanted something to happen.

He was terrified that it might.