Rogers tightened his grip slightly. “Where?” He tightened his grip a bit more.

“Where?” he said again. The modulation of his voice was unchanged but his

tightening grip around the neck told the old man of his urgency.

 

Ballard shook his head. “Where?” The old man shook his head.

 

Rogers squeezed the neck, but only for a second. The old man’s eyes fluttered

and then closed.

 

He had not killed, but merely incapacitated. He knew the difference.

 

He silently praised himself for not losing control and just killing the man. He

checked the carotid pulse, just to be sure.

 

Life beat there, if but feebly.

 

He rose from the bed and listened intently.

 

He could hear nothing.

 

He looked back at the man and rubbed the back of his head.

 

The night had not turned out like he had wanted, but at least he had found

Ballard.