Having a Plan Does Not Equal Knowing What You're Doing

Hitting full heroic stride as he reached his apartment, Renard was breathing heavily, his mind racing. After splashing cold water on his face he forced his breathing down to a regular rate. This took longer than he had hoped and several slaps to control the tics.

At last he did it and after double checking some numbers made his three phone calls. He hated the phone, as it was so hard to tell what people meant. There was no chance of seeing the eyes roll, the head bob, or any other of countless signs that he’d droned on long enough. But he did them, part 2 accomplished.

For part 3 he hurriedly tossed dishtowels, potholders, and some knick knacks from his apartment into a duffle bag. Slinging it over his shoulder he scurried across to Izzy’s apartment. Oh, how just the smell of the place was intoxicating! He could have lingered for hours, but instead it took him two minutes to check the window and dash back out.

With furtive glances Renard ventured into the street, hesitated, then ran due East.

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