Manny slipped back into the recess of the doorway to the apartment across from Taylor’s. He’d been at the john in a café several doors down, forced by nature to abandon the watch he’d placed himself on after stirring up Taylor’s home. It was a hazard in carrying out a stake-out alone: there was always the risk of missing something important when nature called.
As he settled back into place, hidden by the shade cast from the overhanging canopy, a middle-age man emerged from Taylor’s apartment block hefting a bulging suitcase. Any douchebag would recognise the man’s agitation. His body was hunched over, his glance furtive, even as he strode towards a parked cab. Manny cursed, then ground his teeth. The guy was connected to Taylor in some way, he was certain. Moving into daylight, Manny crossed the street with the aim of picking up the cab’s registration. ‘Gotcha!’ A second later and he’d have missed the opportunity. As the cab pulled onto the road and disappeared along it, Manny muttered, ‘Gotta think this through.’ If the taxi driver was associated with Taylor then it was a waste of time hanging around her home. Manny wasn’t about to loiter on the off chance that either she or this guy might return. As Manny strolled back down the street a smile spread across his face. It wouldn’t be hard to track the cab down. Worse case, if he got stuck, he’d call in some favours from acquaintances. All it meant was a small change in plans, but that was something Harry had prepared him for. Plans were made for changing.
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