Vraiment! The Witness Cries.

Tick. Tock. His hard soles on the stone echoed like knocks at the door. Repetetive and unending, boucing off the dark hallway like a fading ghost. Silence now, as he stopped to check his wristwatch and gaze through the columns at the thin crescent of moon. A few more steps led to a great wooden door, smoothed by the ages. The hard wood was the color of sunlight through maple syrup. Muffled voices behind the door rose, but the language was too faint to comprehend.
His full body weight did nothing but wrinkle his coat against the massive door. Undaunted, he cut a path down the front steps and around the facade and through some bushes into the rear courtyard. A twig snapping behind him froze the man mid-step, and he cocked his ears to the right scanning for the origin of the noise. Wind. Insects. Nothing to betray a tail, and yet he still felt uneasy. The blackness of hit tux would hide him from most in the shadow of the bushes, but a dedicated tracker would notice the body shape immediately. Still frozen, a silent movement from the end of the hedgerow drew his eye. Not the shape of a man. A blackness crept past the sidewalk and into the facing shadow of the building. Its movement was unsteady like a drunken insect, and the grass in its wake was crushed in an asymmetric horseshoe pattern.
The smell of hospitals and an immenant nausea washed over him causing an unconcious backpedaling into the bush. The sudden contact panicked him and the tuxedo, startled, tried to suppress a yelp. The presence of the noise brought him back to the situation, and the man dropped to a knee surveying the courtyard. Just crickets. Brushing the leaves off his vestment with a wave of the hand, the man started forward toward the row of gas lamps. As he passed, unseen movement behind him brought a spark and a waft of smoke from the shadow of the building’s southern tower. A pair of darkened eyes surveyed the man’s  movement from the deepest night of the shadow.

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