The Stone of Archimedes

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Jake Adams ran through the dark, narrow alleys of The Medina, the old town section of the Tunisian capital, his tired legs propelling him toward his target less than a block ahead. Just minutes ago, at one in the morning, Jake had encountered the man coming out of an apartment two blocks from Rue Sidi Mahrez, where one white-washed structure with their flat tops looked like the next. He had observed the man day and night for two days, making damn sure it was the man he had been seeking for the past six months. Now he was sure.

The man running from him looked back for a second and then scooted down an even narrower alley. Nearly out of breath now, Jake slowed a bit and retrieved his .40 caliber Sig semi-auto pistol from the holster at the small of his back. Before turning down the alley, where he could touch both sides with his outstretched arms, he hesitated and listened for the man’s footfalls in the night air.

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