It was something at which he excelled, this waiting business. Dog could never have put up with it. In fact, the last time Dog had waited in the pickup, he had tested his teeth on the steering wheel. A disgusted Pauley Mac had covered it with one of those leather sheaths that laced up. The truck was parked in an alley which gave Pauley Mac a view of the stage entrance of Powell Symphony Hall. Inside there was a performance going on, a ballet Pauley Mac did not know the name of and did not care about. The focus of his attention was the guest performer, a man named Ilya Vanitzky, whose picture he had seen in the paper. He was handsome, blonde, lithe, and skilled in an area of the arts yet untapped by Pauley Mac. The last item was the one that interested him. Pauley Mac was not concerned with the appearance of his victims, their charm or lack of, or their sex. He was on a shopping trip to acquire a set of skills, and their packaging was inconsequential to him as the labels on soup cans. The newspaper article said that Vanitzky was known worldwide for his aerial abilities, leaps of uncommon height and grace.
