Author: Pescador del Valle
Title: Assassin
Part: Chapter 1 of 27
Summary: Ass, sass and sin.  A young assassin does more 
than befriend people when he tries to get close to his 
targets.
Keywords: nosex
Language: English
Copyright: 2009

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*                 WARNING!                  *
* This text file contains sexually explicit *
* material. If you do not wish to read this *
* type of literature, or you are under age, *
*      PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!      *
*********************************************

Comments appreciated : 
  see Pescador del Valle on www.asstr.org/authors.html
*********************************************************

He was waiting for me as I climbed down off the bus but 
he had to check the photo a couple of times before he 
approached me as I waited for the driver to open the 
luggage bays.

"Roger?"  He tapped me on the shoulder and when I turned 
and lifted the headphone from my ear he asked again, 
"Roger Torrent?"

"Yeah."  I reached beneath my jacket and paused the 
music.  I wasn't about to appear rebellious, a 
troublemaker - just a kid, left for the state to look 
after.

He introduced himself, showing matching credentials that 
I could have run up in less than an hour myself with 
little more than general office equipment and a passport 
photo booth.

Al was sincere enough, even helping me with the two cases 
- one old, one brand new containing my supposed worldly 
possessions.

I didn't ignore him - you never ignored people in my 
profession - but the signs were comforting rather than 
alarming so I concentrated more on where we were going 
and those outside us.  I had memorised the route, 
travelling over it two days earlier myself and there was 
only one detour due to traffic to pique my interest.

Had we headed elsewhere the conversation about the nice 
family - the Jamieson's - who were going to foster me 
would have come to an abrupt end.

Once again I didn't ignore the story.  I had my own brief 
on the family and was sure I could have told them things 
*THEY* didn't know, let alone Al.

Actually, I couldn't have unless it was really necessary 
- the briefing process included some rather effective 
blocking techniques to stop me accidentally revealing 
things I "didn't" know.

That doesn't sound like a typical orphaned kid?  Too 
right.  Oh, I was an orphan but that was because I made 
plans for revenge on my deadbeat Dad while Mum lay dying 
in a hospital at his hand.  I guess I'm where I am now 
because I didn't just find a gun or a knife or an axe and 
try to surprise him.

>>>
     Instead I fitted a cut-off switch in his car
     together with a microphone and speaker, all radio-
     controlled.  I knew how he spoke, and how he could
     be expected to react; I had ridden with him often
     enough - too often for my liking.

     About three times a week my father had to travel
     between his office in the poorer end of the business
     district to the sweat shop factories he ran in the
     even poorer end of the town.  That meant passing
     through the gang populated streets where he stood
     out and where he covered his fear with bravado - so
     long as the doors were locked and they couldn't
     hear.

     Dressed more like one of father's employees, I found
     a vacant apartment in a building that was ready to
     be torn down and paid first, last and promise of
     next month within a week with an ineffective
     complaint.  I didn't expect to be there long enough
     to get the benefit of the money I forked out but I
     didn't have anywhere much else to stay anyway.  I
     couldn't stay where Mum and I had lived and I
     wouldn't live with him - not that he had offered.
     Still, if I had needed to, I would have found more
     money to give me more time there.

     The first trip he made through the neighbourhood was
     wasted.  The transmitter in his car alerted me of
     his approach but there were no suitable people
     around.  I spent over three hours waiting for the
     telltale beeps to catch his return.

     There were a couple of gang members lounging around
     with some attentive girls.  Dad must have seen them
     as well since he made a comment about how he would
     like to get into their pants.  When the four of them
     turned to look at him he made another remark about
     the 'greasy losers' they were with.  He had driven
     on without seeing the outrage on their faces.  If it
     was one thing that upset them more than a slight on
     their women (by anyone excepting themselves that is)
     it was to have someone slight them; to "disrespect"
     them - an awkward transformation of noun to verb
     that had caught on amongst people who lacked self-
     respect.

     Much the same thing happened as his car passed
     through on Wednesday and on Friday morning I made
     *SURE* his car was noticed even if the people
     sitting along the side of the street hadn't been set
     there to pick up his passage.

     One of them got on a motorbike and carefully
     followed my father; the other got on his phone and
     passed some message on.  I wasn't too concerned, I
     was sure - quite sure - that they were capable.

     While they were getting organised I was already
     heading out the back door and running on as short a
     cut as I could manage.  I would get there maybe
     twenty minutes after my father arrived but well
     before he would leave.  The others might beat me
     there as well but they would still be appraising the
     situation and I would expect that they might hold
     off taking any action until I was there.

     I had my own spot to watch and made my way through a
     gap in a link fence around a closed factory just
     down the street from where my father's car was
     parked.  I climbed through a high window before
     moving where I could see out over the roadway.  One
     car was suspiciously parked down a side street -
     suspicious in that it seemed full of able-bodied
     youths.  If anyone other than me was aware that
     the car was there though, they were probably busy
     making sure their own doors and windows were secure.
     Over the next five minutes three more cars pulled up
     around the nearby streets.

     We had a long wait, though it was kept interesting
     by the creative way the gangs scoped out the area.
     One actually entered the factory - whether to "apply
     for a job" or with some other reason I will probably
     never know.

     What I do know is that they were waiting for my
     father when he came out and when the first car
     blocked the road ahead of him he complained
     viperously - over the speaker.

     Aware there was a problem brewing in front of him,
     he put the car in reverse - and the engine died.
     More swearing and he failed to notice the road
     behind him similarly blocked or the young men
     approaching to see if he needed assistance.

     Locked in, he wasn't really any safer than if the
     car had been a convertible with the top down.  Still
     it made him feel safe enough to say some more things
     that served only to inflame hot spirits.

     That was when he finally noticed his words coming
     back to him - now there was no engine noise to mask
     them.

     "What the fuck?!" came clearly across to where I
     waited for a result.

     The menace seemed to be coming from the front of the
     car and approached the driver's door.  They seemed
     happy to stand back however and my father was
     equally eager for them to keep that distance.  He
     kept trying to get a response from the engine while
     he watched - now in silence.

     What he didn't see was the three youths who
     approached from a blind spot on the passenger side.
     Fuel spilled from the cans they carried, under the
     car and out the other side where they spread a
     couple of yards past my father's door.

     Dad was still watching when those in front of him
     turned and began to walk away.  He could see them
     laughing as they got back into their cars but
     couldn't understand what the point of it all had
     been.  He heard a car revving behind his and it
     appeared briefly in the mirror before driving slowly
     past.  The driver flipped him and so did the
     passenger sitting behind.

     No.  The passenger didn't.  He flipped a cigarette
     instead as the car suddenly accelerated.

     Poor old Dad.  I felt sorry for him.  Sorry he
     wouldn't know what it would be like to spend months
     in hospital before finally getting out and having
     something else happen to put him back.  I'd expected
     a beating; I got a barbecue instead.
<<<

We pulled over to the curb outside a two-storey house in 
a suburb that indicated a level of managerial-class 
affluence rather than outright wealth.  The sort of place 
the owners had worked their way up to rather than had 
inherited.  The sort of person who remembered their roots 
and who were willing to return some of their good fortune 
to society by caring for the orphans around them rather 
than merely making an annual donation to a photograph and 
a letter from overseas.

They weren't totally altruistic and I could respect them 
more for their careful self-interest.  They didn't want 
to commit to years of bringing up toddlers who might 
easily find a home elsewhere.  Much better was to be 
assigned one of the older ones - recently orphaned like 
me rather than someone who had been trouble for other 
fosterers - someone who would be making their own way in 
the world after a couple of years schooling.

If they got lucky then they would be able to speak with 
pride of the engineer or accountant or lawyer or perhaps 
even doctor who had been able to achieve his or her dream 
through the stable home provided by the Jamiesons.  If, 
instead, they ended up with some psycho or pot head then 
there were ways to have foster care converted to juvenile 
detention - problem solved.

The house was fashionable but was old enough for the 
trees in the garden to have a "been there forever" look 
about them.  The garden itself was, like all the others 
around, open to the street but divided from the 
neighbours with hedges towards the front and privacy 
fences around the rear.

"Call me 'Ma'" Jamieson opened the door with a beaming 
smile for both Al and myself in that order.  I liked her; 
the smile included her eyes and didn't seem pasted on.  
It would make my job both easier and harder for different 
reasons - easier to stay here, harder to leave.  It was a 
hardship I was used to and perhaps in a month's time I'd 
have found enough sour notes to make leaving easier as 
well.  That was the time I'd estimated I'd need for the 
job and then, hard or easy, I'd be going.

There was little paperwork involved; it was more a case 
of Al repeating for Mrs Jamieson's ears his admonition to 
me to keep out of trouble and apply myself at school; to 
heed what the Jamiesons told me; and then to subtly warn 
me that he would be keeping an eye out as well.

I behaved as expected.  Wary; uncertain of what I was 
being let in for; somewhat rebellious at some strangers 
being put in charge of me - but not a trouble-maker; 
someone in fact who was willing to wait and see before 
complaining about matters that might prove pointless or 
wasting my time fighting battles I could not yet win.

It was mid-afternoon when "Ma" left me to settle into my 
room before inviting me back to the kitchen where we 
could get to know each other over a coffee and home-made 
cake.

She must have already had the rundown on my background 
through Al but drew it out of me anyway.  We traded facts 
- or what passed for them.

 * I was just 17. [I wasn't.  Actually a youthful looking
   19, I could pass for anything from probably 16 to 26
   with only a little effort.  Clothes really did make
   more of the man than suspected.]

 * Elsie and Doug had two children - both still at home -
   Brent, 22 and Anna, 16.  Elsie's "While you are here
   I'll expect you to behave like a gentleman" talk was
   repeated more forcefully later by Doug when we had our
   man-to-man.

 * My father had been an only child, he had his own
   company - a lumber yard - that had been sold by the
   bank that had accepted it as security.  That had left
   me with a small trust that covered me for college and
   a reasonable allowance but I couldn't get the rest
   until I was 25.  [My actual father hadn't recognised
   my existence legally though that hadn't stopped him
   whomping me from time to time or worse.]

 * Doug had a coffee shop franchise with two stores in
   different shopping centres.  One bonus was that Elsie
   provided some of the nicest coffee I had had for a
   while.

 * My mother had lost her only sister in a car crash some
   years earlier; we had lost track of the sister's ex-
   husband - the closest I had to living kin.  [My real
   aunts hadn't been all that close when Mum had been
   alive, I certainly hadn't bothered tracing them
   afterwards.]

 * Anna went to the same High School that I would be
   attending; Brent was at College and hoped to become a
   CPA.

 * I confessed to an interest in electronics, especially
   RC models.  [Always handy for explaining various bits
   and pieces and an interest I had had even "before".]

 * Anna was good at Maths, weaker at History and
   Chemistry.

I did actually read quite a bit of history - I often had 
to wait and found it was the program that helped to tell 
the players.  It also demonstrated the truth of the 
saying that those who fail to learn from the past are 
committed to repeating it.  I did also have some 
practical Chemistry though toxins, incendiaries and 
explosives were not likely to be on Anna's syllabus.  
Still, the suggestion that we might be able to tutor each 
other on our weaker subjects did not go astray.

Brent turned up shortly after, shook my hand and then 
effectively ignored me when he found I wasn't at all 
knowledgeable about the sports he favoured.  So long as 
we didn't clash over wanting the TV during a game, I 
figured Brent and I would coast along.

It was the tack I decided upon when I realised Brent was 
of no use to me in my forthcoming project.  His age was 
against him and his circle of friends didn't mesh with 
the people I needed to meet.  Anna was another matter - 
hence my brushing up on just those subjects she was 
weakest in.  It just helped that I did enjoy those 
particular areas of study though it wouldn't have 
mattered if I had loathed them.

Anna turned up about an hour after her brother.  She had 
to wait for the end of a high school day rather than 
dealing with his more flexible hours.  She came in with a 
clatter then stopped and blushed heavily as she saw me.  
She was quite charming to watch and I had some difficulty 
not smiling.  She must have been dreading having her home 
invaded by some jerk and I could see she was suddenly 
aware that the jerk might be just a bit more attractive 
than she had anticipated.

I've heard that a woman makes up her mind how she rates a 
man within 30 seconds of meeting him.  Perhaps that's why 
they put up with real jerks like my unlamented Dad - he 
only had to turn on the charm for half a minute.

At least my charm was relatively sincere.  I could, 
would, and did do whatever it took to achieve my goals 
but Anna wasn't one of them.  I was simply able to be me 
for a change - or at least as I am beneath an ever-
changing fa‡ade.

"Ma" watched carefully as she introduced me.  I suspected 
Anna would be getting some sort of "behave like a lady" 
talk later but Ma must have at least provisionally 
decided I could safely be left to talk with her daughter 
- in public spaces - where we might find ourselves 
interrupted at any time - and could be overheard.

"What's the school like?" I asked.

"It's school.  Not too bad but..."

I nodded.  A teenager didn't express a positive interest 
in a school even if it brought joy during every moment 
they were there.

"Teachers okay?"

Anna found I would be a year ahead of her and I could see 
the wheels turning.  It would be socially advantageous 
for her to move in the circles I would frequent rather 
than being confined to her own year.  I wasn't sure why 
none of my soon-to-be class mates hadn't taken her on 
already.  Perhaps it was still too early in the social 
year and they were all trying for the remaining "older" 
girls who were in turn longing for the even older boys.

"Most of the teachers you'll have are okay.  One or two 
are creepy but you're not a girl so you'll be safe.  
You'll be able to tell who they are though."

"No-one does anything about them?"

"They don't actually *DO* or say anything.  Just act 
creepy; looking all the time."

"Maybe they just have good taste."

I had to formally enrol though I had a place already - Al 
had seen to that.  My subjects were chosen to maximise my 
useful contact with certain people - not all of them my 
immediate "interests" but people who would bring me into 
contact with them if I failed to build a relationship 
with them directly.

And that was where Anne could help too.  She could link 
me to yet others who would proved a third avenue that 
seemed less likely to succeed on the surface but, with my 
background information, could speed things up 
considerably.

Anna had homework to get out of the way and apologised as 
she took over the kitchen table.  I sat down and asked if 
I could look at the History text she had placed with her 
other things.

"Go for it."  She was surprised *ANYBODY* would actually 
want to look at it.

I skimmed the table of contents, already aware of what 
the book contained, then opened it to a chapter and 
quietly read a few pages.  "Not too bad.  It's light on 
in some areas but that's to be expected at this level."  
I tried not to sound pretentious.

"What do you mean?"

"Well here for instance.  It talks of the move west 
across America and the conflict with the tribes already 
occupying the land but it makes no mention of the cases 
where initial contact was quite peaceful and how later 
settlers spoilt it all; how the government 
representatives were at times even worse and how disease 
and famine wiped out vast numbers of people.  Does it 
cover the forced resettlements in any detail later?"  I 
flipped over a few more pages.

"I don't think so, there was just something about 
Reservations.  Do you know anything about the 
Philippines?"

"Magellan, War with Spain, General McArthur or Imelda's 
shoes?  What's your question and we'll see?"

By the time dinner was ready Anna had the outline of an 
essay plotted out and plenty of notes to add flesh to the 
bones.  It would be her own work - I had merely guided 
her to research material and given her a productive 
direction.  She would need an hour or two to finish it 
but then she could expect to get a grade or two higher 
than she normally did as well.

I set the table, learning my way around the kitchen in 
the process and being clearly informed at the same time 
that I was to be a family member rather than a guest.  
(Both Brent and Anna took turns helping as a matter of 
course with Brent showing me around this time.)

Doug got home while we were finishing up and we sat down 
to eat together.  Grace was omitted other than "This 
smells great Ma" from Brent.  I had already confessed to 
being raised Episcopalian "but I guess it didn't take".  
This fitted their own moral a-religious nature.  It was 
an advantage since I didn't have to make my plans around 
Sundays.

The meal tasted as good as it smelled.  Since I had my 
own allowance from my trust, the Government Fostering 
payment was ample to cover what I would be eating.  I 
didn't feel at all guilty taking seconds and was not 
alone.

Doug took me aside after dinner for a quiet talk while 
the others cleaned up.  He thanked me for the help I had 
already given Anna and used that for laying down the 
house rules.

Anna was to be treated like my sister.  I wasn't to go 
into her room; she wasn't to be in mine without 
permission.  She had her bathroom at her end of the 
house; Brent and I would share the one near our rooms.

It wasn't severe, nor would it have been unexpected in 
any house with similarly aged teens thrown together.  I 
said that I understood.  I made no other promises and 
Doug didn't ask for any.  I guess he understood that 
matters of the heart were not strictly regulated and 
that, in the event I proved worthy, he might not object 
to Anna choosing me in the fullness of time - but that 
didn't stop him looking on his daughter as a little girl 
to be defended from the hormonal time bomb given shelter 
under his roof.

I *COULD* have told him that an in-house romance would 
only complicate my job but somehow I think that would 
have only made things worse.  "I could tell you but then 
I'd have to kill you" wasn't always a joke.

Brent reluctantly agreed to drive me around the area to 
give me a feel for my new home and Anna hopped in the 
back to provide what she considered "more useful" 
information as she leaned into the middle of the front 
seats.

Was the cleavage something new?  She *HAD* changed her 
top.  It distracted me as she intended while I looked 
from side to side at the direction of my two guides - who 
often had mutually antagonistic interests.  Distracted in 
appearance at least; I was very aware of what was 
happening outside the car and fortunately all was 
innocuous.

I was also aware that Doug's suggestion to Brent was an 
excuse to give them a chance to carefully go through my 
things.  I had expected no less and, other than some 
deliberately left dirty laundry there was absolutely 
nothing to be found that they wouldn't be expecting - 
including the carefully "hidden" Playboy - smutty enough 
yet not so explicit as to rouse objections.  Ideal for an 
older couple unaware that the web provided all a young 
man's inspiration without charge.  As for the laundry, I 
had worn that t-shirt for three warm days without 
deodorant just as a reward for them.

I found Brent friendly enough once we actually started 
talking and Anna's back seat became appropriate as she 
was marginalised from the conversation for a while.  It 
wasn't rudeness but a careful "ignoring" after my 
previous interest so she would be the one chasing my 
company rather than have her decide to play harder to get 
than I might need should circumstances change.

I was sending mixed signals.  I was aware of her as a 
person; I was obviously aware of her as a desirable 
female; I was more interested in chatting to her brother 
than to her.  Where *DID* she stand?

We got out of the car back at the house and I thanked 
them both.  Brent went straight inside and I took my time 
looking around the front and then the back yard and the 
gardens while there was still light.  Anna watched me for 
a little while then went inside.  She had been quiet and 
thoughtful and I guess she figured I might need a little 
time by myself to settle in without her being in my way.

It was a good sign.

What she didn't, couldn't have known, was that I was 
reviewing likely locations where the house might be, or 
could be, monitored from and where I might best "store" 
anything I needed at hand but not in my possession.

The places I selected were not those which a person 
looking for something would choose but rather they were 
places that would be more likely dismissed as "nothing 
could be there".

But none of that mattered quite yet - I had nothing to 
hide except that which I carried and I had no intention 
of ridding myself of my toys just yet.

---

Breakfast was nutritious *AND* satisfying.  Before being 
briefed I had worried that I might have tofu pancakes and 
soy milk.  It wasn't that I didn't like tofu or couldn't 
drink the soy but having to forego other tastier 
breakfasts, lunches and dinners would have been a shame.

Doug took us to school today - it being "less stressful 
for the new boy" to be accompanied by a male than his 
mummy.  Anna made an appointment to meet me for lunch at 
a prominent landmark and Doug and I met my new principal.

Since there was no hint of misbehaviour (other than some 
carelessness in Junior High) I didn't have too much to 
stress about and, when Doug left, Mr Peters organised a 
subordinate to escort me to a classroom in time for the 
second period.  I was underway.

---

Kev was my "buddy".  I had hoped it might have been one 
of the others in the class but he was going to be in most 
of my other classes on Tuesdays so it made some sense.

He smoothed my way into each class and I found myself 
being quizzed briefly by teacher after teacher as each 
tried to assess my "level".  Unfortunately I had to be 
careful not to rate too highly since I needed to be "one 
of the guys."

Kev quite happily left me to Anna's care over lunch - he 
did have his own life - and made sure I knew where to be 
after the break when he would resume his duties as my 
guide.

Anna introduced me in turn to some of her friends - all 
girls - and there was a noticeable tension in the 
introductions.  She wanted to show me off - "look at the 
hunk I've got living at my place; envy me" - while not 
wanting me to find any of them too interesting while she 
was still making up her mind whether to pursue me 
herself.

Just because a woman can decide she doesn't want a man in 
30 seconds doesn't mean she can necessarily make up her 
mind that she wants him so easily.  I was polite, 
moderately witty without showing off and carefully 
attentive all round, favouring no individual - including 
Anna though there were a couple I would have easily 
considered pursuing under different circumstances.

They collectively saw to it that I was familiar with the 
campus and then Anna shook the others off and took me to 
meet a couple of her classmates who were dating a couple 
of mine.  When you start playing Kevin Bacon within a 
school (no relation to my guide Kev), you have to be very 
unlucky to find six degrees of separation; even ignoring 
the teachers, three is usually enough or sometimes four.  
Anna to Stacey to Phil to *BINGO*.

Of course I could and would work on Phil myself but Anna 
had made it easier for me to speak with him between 
classes.  I would have to reward her.  Perhaps asking her 
to accompany me on some outing with Stacey and Phil once 
I was closer to *THEM*.  It would depend on how other 
matters worked out - I could already be spoken for by 
then if that was necessary to achieve my goals.

---

All the bedrooms were upstairs.  Brent's was to the front 
of the house with mine matching at the rear.  We had a 
bathroom to ourselves, then there was a study with 
computer and TV - essentially Brent's domain when he was 
home though Anna and I had access to computer and net for 
homework if we were quick or on weekends.


+-------------------------------------------------------+
|                                                       |
|                                                       |
|                                                       |
|                                                       |
|                                                       |
|                       Roof over                       |
|                      Lower Level                      |
|                                                       |
|                                                       |
|                                                       |
|                                                       |
+--+~~~+--+---+~~+--+~~~+--+-+--+~~~+-+~~~+---+--+~~~+--+
|         |      |         | :        |       |         |
|  Roger  | Bath |  Comp   | :  Guest |  Bath |  Anna   |
|         |  M   |    TV   +-+        |   F   |         |
|         |      |         : |        |       |         |
|         |      |         : |        |       |         |
+..+--+===+--+===+-----+===+-+===+----+===+---+===+--+..+
|  |  |                                           |  |  |
+--+..+===+____+----+--===---------+---------+-===+..+--+
|         |____:....|              :   WIR   |          |
|  Brent  |____:....|    Parents   |_________|  Study   |
|         |____:....|              :         |    &     |
|         |____:....|              | Bath ES |  Office  |
|         |         |              |         |          |
+--+~~~+--+--+~~~+--+-+~~~+---+~~~++---+~~~+-+---+~~~+--+

                                         Upper Floor

+-------------------------------------------------------+
|                                                       |
|                                                       |
|                     Verandah                          |
|                                                       |
|                                                       |
|                                                       |
+--+~~~~~~~~~~~+--+~=~=~=~+--+~~~~~+--+~~~~~+-+===+-+---+
|                         |                   |     |   |
|                         +                   |     |WC /
|                                   Kitchen   |     |   /
|      Family/TV                              |     +===+
|                                             : Laundry |
|                     +   +  Informal         :    &    /
|                     |   |   Dining  +-+===+-+ Utility /
|                     |   |           |       |         |
|                     |   +-----------+-------+-----+===+
+---------+   +-------+   |           |                 |
|         :               +           |                 |
|         :                           |                 /
| Dining  +====+____+         Lounge  |     Garages     /
|         | S  :____|     +           |                 |
|         | t  :____|     |           |                 /
|         | o  :____|     |           |                 /
|         | r  :____|     |           |                 |
|         | e       +=====+           |                 |
+-+~~~~~+-+--+~~~+--+     +--+~~~~~+--+-----------------+
                    |     |
                    +-----+              Lower Floor



Elsie and Doug's room was at the front, the staircase 
separating it from Brent's so both had some privacy - 
more than he and I actually shared!  They had their own 
en-suite and walk-in robe that together was equivalent to 
Doug's Study on the other side of the house at the front.  
That gave him plenty of distance from the noise of the 
family room when he had to go over his business reports.

Between the Computer Room and Anna's bedroom was another 
small guest room and the "girl's" bathroom - this one 
with an actual bath in addition to the shower and toilet 
we boys had to share.  At least I didn't have to wait for 
Brent to get out of the bath - showers tended to take him 
long enough.

My bedroom window looked out over the expanse of roof 
that covered the lower floor and my second night in the 
house saw me making some modifications to it.  There was 
a sash window that drew up a fly screen as it was lifted 
so all the bugs flying around at night were kept out when 
I wanted ventilation.

It was a simple matter to loosen the screws which held it 
in place and to use a file from my hobby kit to turn 
holes into slots.  Now the screen would lift as required 
but a simple nudge would allow me to move it back into 
the wall cavity or to replace it equally quickly.

Step two was a little trickier. I replaced the catch with 
one that was modified so it didn't actually lock the 
window unless I wanted it to.  I had no intention of 
being accidentally locked out of my room if I needed some 
exercise.

Step three, once it was dark and everyone was asleep, was 
to map out the safe spots on the roof.  I had gear hidden 
- appearing to be simply the lining of my other clothes - 
that would allow me to blend into the shadows but, as I 
was supposed to be a normal teenager, for now the only 
special item I wore was a pair of Ninja slippers.

I wouldn't want to have jumped down onto broken glass or 
boards with nails sticking up while wearing them but they 
were padded enough so I could step onto the glass or 
thorns with minimal damage; they allowed silent movement 
and gripped most surfaces unless I stepped in oil or dog 
crap first.  As camouflage, the tops also resembled a 
pair of dark sneakers and I could fit a normal sole to 
them when I wasn't wearing them.

Keeping to the shadows was always going to be a better 
option than walking out in plain view or crawling across 
the tiles.  I could drop down to the ground on my side of 
the building but there was currently no easy way to get 
back up - silently.  If necessary I could get a pole 
ladder - a light tube about 2 metres long that would hook 
onto the roof and allow me to pull myself up on bumps 
that resembled knots in a rope.  I didn't want to add 
that to my "arsenal" if there was an alternative and my 
previous examination of the yard showed me there was, 
provided I could cross the roof quietly enough.

The roof only sloped gently and came up to just below the 
window sills.  I would almost have to crawl under them if 
the rooms were occupied!

The first bathroom window was frosted and dark.  If the 
door was open, the light from the landing would show 
through so I would know I could ignore my own silhouette 
provided Brent was asleep.  The computer room was 
trickier - I would have to duck under there since it was 
harder to see if anyone was standing opposite the doorway 
in the passage.  Since the guest room door was normally 
kept closed (if not actually shut) it was safer to pass 
by than the previous room but still better to be careful 
so I crept there as well.

Anna's bathroom duplicated the first as far as the window 
went.  No problems there and only one spot to be wary of 
as far as noise went.  That left Anna's room and here I 
found I had been mistaken.  Anna wasn't asleep - instead 
she had a bedside light on and was reading while wearing 
a pair of earphones.  She had curtains drawn across her 
window to match both mine and Brent's but there was a 
slight gap which revealed all to me - not that much was 
to be seen - she moved her lips and head to the song but 
kept on reading.

The human eye or rather the visual part of the human 
brain - like that of many other animals - is particularly 
sensitive to movement.  In situations like that I now 
found myself in, there were three possible "acceptable" 
solutions.

The first, and usually preferable, solution was to move 
as slowly as possible out of the field of view.  The 
second was to provide a distraction so you were no longer 
*IN* the field of view.  The third was to rapidly remove 
oneself from the field of view and then, because you had 
probably alerted the person to your presence, from the 
immediate area as well.

"Unacceptable" solutions tended to involve the disposal 
of human remains.

I lowered myself very slowly, keeping an eye on Anna 
until the sill blocked *MY* field of view.

I dropped down onto the concrete path along that side of 
the house and made my way out to the footpath.  I was out 
late to be a jogger (and therefore hadn't dressed as one) 
but still early enough to be returning from a friend's 
house if one ignored the absence of wheels.  It was 
important for me to walk the streets like I belonged 
rather than skulking and I circled the block both for 
some light exercise and to check out all the neighbours.  
It was a good thing we didn't live in one of the LA 
canyons - this block was quite big enough!

I had a special music pod; pressing down specific 
combinations of buttons allowed me to record my spoken 
notes into a totally separate area of memory that would 
be wiped as soon as the case was opened or the battery 
removed.  My own memory should suffice but it was worth 
being doubly sure.

Returning home I gave the downstairs windows a more than 
cursory check and then used the laundry window ledge as a 
stepping stone back to the roof.  Anna's light was out 
and I made the mistake of lifting my head for a second 
peek.  I saw nothing but Anna was lying in bed, just 
gazing at the thin slit of light on her wall and couldn't 
help seeing it shrink and then grow from the bottom.

She turned and looked at the window, then climbed out of 
bed and pulled one of the curtains aside.  There was no 
prowler, no cat, to be seen but she knew she hadn't been 
asleep.  She lifted her window carefully - coincidentally 
with mine being raised as well - and listened.

I climbed into my room silently but there was a slight 
bump as I closed my window - and of course Anna heard it 
in the still night!

If someone had broken in they had done so far more 
quickly than she believed possible.  Conan Doyle got it a 
bit ass-about; you don't eliminate the impossible to find 
the possible, you start eliminating the most probable 
first since there is a greater chance of getting to the 
truth sooner.

Number one was a burglar; number two, that there was a 
Peeping Tom and, since it involved a closing window and 
followed my recent arrival, I was naturally a suspect.

Anna crept along the passage, putting her ear to the 
doors of the "public" rooms.  There was no sounds in the 
guest room nor the computer room and the door of the 
boys' bathroom was open.  She could however make out the 
sounds of my quiet undressing which confirmed theory 
number two as far as Anna was concerned and she returned 
to her room to consider matters.

She realised that she had no proof of course and decided 
that she had to lay a trap for me.  Then she spent quite 
a while on what to do once she had me trapped.

---

I was still better off not having materials I couldn't 
explain than being without them so Anna spent the next 
two evenings waiting without any sign of me.  Instead I 
spent the days making friends with my classmates and she 
didn't even get to spend her lunches with me.

It might have pissed her off slightly.

She was semi-cold walking home with me on the Wednesday.  
Brent gave us a ride in the mornings but no-one was free 
when we came out.  Thursday was a little different as I 
conned one of my classmates, Pete, into dropping us off 
and, since he was already running a shuttle service, Anna 
had to sit on my lap.

She seemed to like the extra attention from a carload of 
boys.  (Her mother would have killed her for "taking such 
chances!")  She certainly liked my arms around her waist 
in lieu of a seatbelt; her hand rested over mine in a 
casual yet inviting way and I had difficulty believing 
the rubbing of Anna's butt on my lap was only due to the 
movement of the car - was she really taking the 
opportunity to check out my crotch though?

Once at home, and under Ma's eye, she behaved "properly" 
as we did our assigned homework.  I had a couple of extra 
essay type projects to assist in validating my alleged 
grades and she "helped" me with one in return for my 
ongoing tutoring.  After that it was the usual sitting 
around watching TV with Ma and Doug.  Anna was pushing 
for her own TV since Brent had possession if not 
ownership of the other but though they could easily have 
afforded it, the Jamieson's preferred to minimise the 
segmentation of their family into different TV rooms even 
if their only conversation was going to be what to watch.

I went to bed pleased with my progress while Anna spent 
another fruitless couple of hours waiting for me.

Friday changed that!

*********************************************************
