“The seventh.”
“Lucky seven. Go to it,” Morger said. “We’ll get you into the Tens yet.”
Frelaine waved his hand and started out the door.
“Just don’t get careless,” warned Morger. “All it takes is a single slip and I’ll need a new partner. If you don’t mind, I like the one I’ve got now.”
“I’ll be careful,” Frelaine promised.
* * *
Instead of taking a bus, Frelaine walked to his apartment. He wanted time to cool off. There was no sense in acting like a kid on his first kill.
As he walked, Prelaine kept his eyes strictly to the front. Staring at anyone was practically asking for a bullet, if the man happened to be serving as Victim. Some Victims shot if you just glanced at them. Nervous fellows. Frelaine prudently looked above the heads of the people he passed.
Ahead of him was a huge billboard, offering J. F. O’Donovan’s services to the public.
“Victims!” the sign proclaimed in huge red letters. “Why take chances? Use an O’Donovan accredited Spotter. Let us, locate your assigned killer. Pay after you get him!”