Ghostwalker 03 - Night Game

taillight of the motorcycle galvanized him into action. He slapped on the gas cap before throwing himself into the driver’s seat. The motorcycle had already made a turn, but he noted the street.

    He kept a good distance from her, running a couple of streets parallel to her at times to keep her from catching a glimpse of the Jeep. He ran without headlights, relying on sound and sonar to keep from an accident. It was obvious he had the advantage of knowing the terrain. She knew where she was going, but didn’t know the alleyways and shortcuts he did. If she slowed down at all, he turned onto a side street immediately. He followed her through the business district and through the residential areas until they were in the very high-end estates, many with high fences and electrical gates.

    The woman parked her motorcycle deep in the shadows of a park, the bushes and trees concealing her from his vision. He nearly missed her. There was nothing, no whisper of movement, no barking of dogs, not a single footstep. Gator didn’t spot her, but he felt her. He allowed his GhostWalker instincts to take over, trusting his highly developed senses to guide him when he had absolutely nothing but a gut feeling to go on.

    He moved in silence past the first brick-walled estate with its wrought-iron front gate.
    Two large mastiffs stood near the fence staring down the street. He whispered to them without conscious thought, calming them so they wouldn’t alert anyone to his presence.
    He’d taken two steps before it sunk in that she must have done the same. The dogs were obviously on guard, yet neither had raised an alarm and both whined softly, looking eagerly in the direction she had taken.

    He knew where in the shadows to look for a GhostWalker, but even with that knowledge, it took several long minutes of trying to pierce the darkness to spot her. She moved with stealth, flitting from shadow to shadow, bush to tree, avoiding the spill of light pouring from the overhead lamps. She stayed small, arms and hands in close to the body, clothes tight to avoid the whisper of sound. She wore a skullcap to keep any hair from being left behind at the scene. She knew what she was doing as she surveyed the tall wall surrounding the estate.

    As she moved along the base of the north-facing wall, a dog roared a challenge. She froze, turning her head toward the sound. Abruptly the barking turned to a soft, eager whine. Raoul smiled. Definitely a GhostWalker. He stayed back, careful not to stare at her, not wanting her instincts to detect his presence. He found himself utterly fascinated by her.

    The woman stared up at the wall, glanced left and right and moved back a few feet. To be safe he sank low, his movements slow so he wouldn’t draw her gaze. His breath exploded out of his lungs as she leapt over the wall. There was no doubt left in his mind.
    She had to be a GhostWalker. Dr. Whitney had used genetic enhancement on her. It was impossible to clear the height of the wall with a straight-up jump. His physical capabilities were enhanced and he hadn’t been positive he could take the wall, yet she had gone over it with ease.

    Gator hurried across the street and waited in the darkness, “feeling” with his mind. She was leery, probably sensing him, but unable to determine just what was tripping her alarms. He waited patiently, frozen in place. He was highly trained, and there were times he’d been locked into position for hours waiting for a target. He could outwait her if necessary. Whatever she was up to had to be time sensitive. The longer she was inside the estate walls, the more danger she was in. Hit, scatter, and run. Even as a child it would have been drilled into her.

    The moment he sensed she was on the move, he cleared the fence in the exact same spot she had. He hadn’t cased the place so it was the only safe spot to go over when he was landing blind on the other side. He landed in a crouch, just in the shadows of the hedges on the other side, automatically calming the guard dog with his mind. He took a cautious look around.

    The rolling lawns were well manicured, and flowers and plants were grouped in a small area complete with fountains and statues, giving the appearance of a small private park.
    The house was enormous, two stories with numerous balconies and lots of brick and fancy, scrolled wrought iron. The house even boasted a jutting tower.

    “Flame, what are you up to?” He whispered the words to himself,