places: where to go now

Larkin's satchel had three more identities and more cash in each package.  This was the only up side to my dilemma.  My private war was financed by my enemy.  As long as I could move forward, I would pick dead men's pockets along the way.

But where to next?  During my brief hiatus, had I lost the trail?

I pulled out Clayton's black book.  I opened it.  It was a book of contacts.  There were addresses - some that I'd been to.  As I thumbed through the pages, I knew that many of these people would be dead soon.  Their names had been safely hidden in a secret compartment of Clayton's desk.  Their names were listed in there for no good reason.  These men would regret they had ever had dealings with Clayton.  I'm not taking any chances.  They might not be reds - but I'm going to be crossing out names in this little book.

All I have to go on now are these names and addresses.  The police are involved - the Feds are involved.  I'm sure that the Russians have changed locations.  I know already there's going to be plenty of dead ends.  I have to go with what I've got and watch each step.  If the police or federal police nab me - I'm cooked.  If the reds get me - I'm dead.

My chances are slim, so I'll try not to slip up - and go as far as I can.

These identities may or may not help me stay under cover.  The money will buy me what I need.  These contacts give me somewhere to go.

And...

...and I also have another lead...Larkin's place!

There was that day a month ago that I saw him coming out of a soda shop.  He didn't see me. I was just curious at the time - wondering where my quiet co-worker lived.  I watched him as he walked down the sidewalk. I started my car as he crossed the street to the next block. I started my car and slowly drove down the street, but kept my distance. He only stopped to pick up a paper. He walked into a small house at the corner of the next block.

Maybe the late Rod Larkin has something else for me.