She turned her head in the chill night breeze and her mouth watered: mint.
Mint was her good luck charm. Mint had never let her down.
One of the guards had wandered over either out of boredom or genuine interest and seen her with her arms outstretched, twirling in the night air like a mis-cast Maria discovering the hills alive – not with the sound of music, but the smell of EM spectrum. ‘Jesus,’ he’d muttered. He passed her and made up the slope for Rulio, disappearing into the night.
Stek inhaled deeply:
A sweet mint. A spearmint. A dedicated net. Not just any dedicated net, but ones associated with gov protocols. She had a stretch of about 10 houses to narrow it down to, she thought. She headed slightly up-slope, towards the edge of the park and a small side street, when she realized that Rulio had beaten her to it.