Sleeper's Run

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The next morning, the University of Miami is alive with students coming and going, eating and hanging out, while a band murders a Radiohead cover. In the midst of this chaos, I spot Trishna walking, on time as usual. When I see her, I feel as if time has slowed down. She looks around expectantly, not realizing that I'm hiding in plain sight.

"Excuse me, do you mind catching up to that woman and giving her this?" I point out Trishna to a skater with an afro and a soft guitar case hanging from his back. "She left it at the food court."

"Sure, bro. No problem."

I watch as the kid hands Trishna the prepaid phone and the university map. She tries to find me in the crowd as the student explains something to her before taking off.

She picks up. "Hello?"

"Listen to me carefully and do as I say."

"Where are you?"

"Just trust me," I say. "There's no time. Go to the Ashe administration building and wait for my next call." I fold the campus map and get on the move.

It doesn't take me long to spot a man standing near a tree and talking into his hand as he watches Trishna cross the yard. These are intelligence gatherers, not paramilitary operators trying to kill me, so I need to tone down my methods. I pick up a newspaper, roll it up tightly, and walk among a throng of students until I'm close enough to my target. He doesn't pay attention to yet another student walking in the grass, wearing sunglasses and a hooded "Hurricanes" sweater.

"Excuse me, do you know where the School of Communications is?"

When the man turns around to wave me away, I poke his throat with the newspaper and elbow his temple, knocking him unconscious. I ease his body down the side of the tree to the ground. I throw the guy's gun in my backpack, take his money and wear the hidden microphone. I cover the spook's face with the newspaper to make it seem as if he is taking a nap.

When I disappear into the crowd, everybody seems too busy to pay much attention to the sleeping guy under the tree. I roll my sleeves up, unzip my sweater, and pull my hood back revealing a baseball hat, which I turn backwards. I even slouch to change my height. This is all about quick misdirection. Trishna has arrived at the next contact point.

"Th— pos— targ— ove—" I say in the hidden microphone to fake interference.

I catch a glimpse of two more spies discreetly touching their ears and talking to their fists trying to confirm the communication.

"Can I borrow a cigarette?" I say to a girl.

"Sure. Need a light?"

"I got my own, thanks," I say while walking toward my next target by the library grounds. One of the spies is talking into his mic, trying to raise his unconscious pal. I have to move fast.

My target looks around cautiously. I cover my face as I light the cigarette while still walking in his direction. Something catches his attention, making him give me a second glance. I spit the lighted cigarette at his face making him flinch long enough for me to apply a frontal chokehold.

"Get a room!" somebody yells before I lay the unconscious agent on a bench, cover his face with my hat and take his gun away. I dump the sweater behind some bushes.

"I'm here," Trishna says answering the phone.

"Go to the fountain on Memorial Drive. There's a taxi waiting for you. Hurry! Tell the driver to take you to the airport."

"The airport?"

"When you reach the information booth before exiting the campus, get out of the cab and go to the parking lot of the Art building as fast as you can."

"We have men down! Target is on the move! Engage!" the last spy says as Trishna rushes through the crowd.

He follows Trishna until he sees her walking to a taxi. Then he pretends to tie his shoe, while relaying the cab's information.

Whatever car tail they have prepared will soon be following an empty taxi, I think. But my heart sinks when I see another agent dash toward Trishna. Shit! I missed one!

I put the stolen microphone against my cell phone creating feedback. The agents cringe, giving me the chance to sneak behind the spy who was pretending to be tying his shoe. I punch him in the kidney nearly making him fall. With a good arm lock, I force him away from the crowd and choke him unconscious using his own shirt, but I'm out of luck, the last spook has reached Trishna.

The feedback had made her aware of the spy, but instead of running away, Trishna kicks him in the groin with intense fury and smashes his face with her knee. Then she hops inside the taxi, driving away.

My jaw must have dropped like one of those old Looney Tunescartoons. That's my girl! I think as I gather my senses long enough to pull anold football jersey and another cap from my backpack. Disguise in place, I makea hasty retreat as the stunned crowd continues to mull over what just happened.