The ringing of Bannister’s alarm announced Friday’s arrival. Last night he’d planned a four mile run for this morning, followed by a half hour of karate kicks and hand thrusts to the punching bags in the garage. He left at 5:30 a.m. despite the crisp twenty-nine degree temperature. He used the first mile to warm up and mull over the events of the day before. It had not been a good day.
Someone had gotten away with five million dollars belonging to Global Waters. But getting away and getting away with it were two different things. And then the Bureau had found Cal Williamson’s car at DC’s Dulles airport where someone, maybe his killer, had dumped it. Bannister was impatiently waiting to see if the lab guys came up with anything.
He kept up a steady pace as he ran past what used to be the
