“Okay, what’s your problem?” said Sonya, coming to a dead stop on the sidewalk and wheeling around.
A tall guy in a black trench coat, five paces behind her, pointed at his chest, looked over his shoulder and then back again. The universal “Who me?”
“Don’t come the innocent,” she said. “I clocked you ages ago, been following me all night.”
He shrugged.
She stepped forward. “And this isn’t the first time, is it? I saw you last night.”
The look of puzzlement on his face gave way to a smirk. “Extraordinary,” he said.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means you.” He just stood there, smiling at her. Vacant.
“What are you? Some kind of God botherer?”
He laughed. “Sort of.”
“Why are you following me?” she said.
“It’s my job.”
