" She struggled for another minute, then relaxed suddenly. I smiled. What a tough bitch. Now she'll try to con me.She had a little accent. It sounded ...aybe mexican, anyway spanish. "Who sent you? CIA? I spit on the fucking CIA. How are your balls?" I grinned. "Sore Baby. Too bad, 'cuz you got a nice butt. Listen, your next move will be to try to get me to relax, and then hit me or whatever you do. Well it won't work. I spit on the CIA too. Why don't you tell me whats going on?"She twisted her. He could see the petite girl coming down the road, and she couldn't see him. A few drunk football fans had wandered past earlier, still talking about some penalty miss and stumbling into the highway. Clearly 1990 was not to be England's year either but he was not worrying about football, he was concerned about the beautiful barmaid who had served him the day before and whose movements he had followed.He scanned the road again. It was a busy road out of Bromsgrove, as it went towards. More

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