The first novel

Prologue


Alexander drummed his thick fingers on the table beside him. Patience had never been one of his better virtues if it had ever been in his personality make up to begin with, but this particular project had driven him to the brink of madness. The elder subject was quickly slipping from his grasp and the younger was not nearly old enough to approach. Another utter failure. He wasn’t going to be too pleased with his progress. Where had he gone wrong?
The indistinct waitress with the mousey brown quickly approached his table as if just realizing he was there. She had noted his tension and assumed that her lack of perception was to blame for his irritation. He had actually been there for over an hour needing to collect himself in the relative calm of the cozy café. The dark corner had suited him perfectly and the droning conversations were easily blocked from conscious attention.
She smiled nervously as she asked for his order.
He visibly relaxed after she placed the chopped steak in front of him. It was usually against government regulations to serve the dish to his specifications but he knew that money went a long way to people in this stratum of society, the desperately hopeful. Once his plate had been cleared and his glass of water refilled he went back to the illusion of nonexistence. No one wondered where he had gone because no one remembered he had ever been there, nor did they see him sitting there still.
With the illusion firmly in place Alexander returned once again to his contemplations. Apparently waiting for the elder to become approachable had not panned out. The few attempts he had made to broach the subject of the man’s place in battle were met with drunken fights and ended with much needed memory sweeps. No, patience was no longer a commodity that he could afford. He downed the glass of water, a sum of money on the table with the bill, and headed out into the cloudy Florida night to grab the bull by the nuts.