Thin gloves, clean and black, activated a computer in a dark office. Through the window the figure glimpsed the traditional flashes of light and heard the thunderous explosions, but he resisted the urge to turn and watch the fireworks. He had a job to do, and he was least likely to be interrupted—well, caught—if he accomplished it during the show. The manager of this establishment had an irritating habit of coming in after hours to catch up on unfinished work.
The computer screen lit up at last, and the figure directed the system to open a familiar database, one that would display both recent rentals and reservations yet to be fulfilled. A long list of cars and their renters filled the screen. The figure scrolled down through it, scanning it thoroughly and efficiently. He noted each name, seeking any that seemed familiar.
None were. The man who could thwart his plan had not yet returned, nor had set up a reservation.
That was what the figure had anticipated, but he found himself releasing a long, relieved breath all the same. The later that man returned, the better—the more likely that the man would be helpless to foil the figure's plan for the boy. Sooner or later the man would come, but later would be better.
The figure shut off the computer and exited the building. He reached the center of the parking lot outside and froze. Fireworks blossomed across the sky a couple of miles away, dozens suddenly exploding one atop another in rapid sequence—the grand finale. Somewhere in the city, Zechariah was likely watching them. That was good.
When the brilliant embers finally faded away, the figure remained in place, dazzled by the magnificence of the display. Then he came to himself, glanced about to make sure no one had noticed him, and jogged off into the night.
The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain Page 59