Pressure Point
From Part One
Thursday, June 18, 1992,
6:00 PM -- Vancouver, British Columbia
The man standing near the corner was indistinguishable from the commuters waiting for the 6:05 bus. The Vancouver evening rush hour was nearly over, but the streets were still crowded. Those who waited did so patiently, reading the newspaper or staring vacantly at the passing traffic. There was little conversation. The man held a newspaper, head bent over the newsprint, but his eyes continually moved over the street in front of him. He wore light cotton trousers, a short-sleeved polo shirt, and woven leather shoes. His skin was a smooth olive color, and he could easily have been taken for a member of British Columbia's large Indian community, but his features were too angular and his dark, close-cropped hair much too coarse.
"Excuse me there, buddy," said a commuter with a briefcase as he stepped past the man toward the curb and an approaching bus. The man's head snapped up from the paper and his eyes flashed. Then, as if by an act of will, ... read full excerpt from: Pressure Point ebook
