The Tangled Webb Read Online Free Page A

James turned into one of the alleys, passed fences and garages of several homes and came to a stop next to a secluded wood line. He wore a disguise and presented himself to the owner; an elderly man whose property Kate had discovered in her research had been in foreclosure for eight months. He accepted a year’s rent in cash, agreeing to respect his new tenant’s privacy. A vegetated area separated the main house from a small cottage that sat above covered parking along the alley.
    Having left the Chevy beneath the cottage, James inspected the gear and Kate booted up a laptop, studying a file on Alec Specter she had put together. First, there was the photograph; mid-fifties, cruel eyes and a sharp, useless look about him.
    Then there was a newspaper article describing in detail how Specter had nearly trampled a woman to death while escaping a mob of angry homeowners gathered outside his office building in New York. As he ran the gauntlet, Specter had used his briefcase as a battering ram. He pushed the woman to the ground and, stomping across her, broke her wrist and a collar bone while running for safety in an awaiting limousine.
    Kate felt a chill run along her spine.
    James studied maps and aerial photos of Specter’s neighborhood, laying out the best routes for getting in and out—and avoiding detection. He packed his gear and the maps into a backpack, went into the bedroom, kicked off his shoes and sprawled on his back.
    In the kitchenette, Kate jotted some grocery items on a notepad.
    “I’m going to head over to the market.”
    “Good idea.”
    He heard the door close as she left for the store, then set an alarm clock for midnight and began to stare at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts.
    When Kate returned to the cottage, James had fallen asleep. She put the groceries away and fell into bed herself.
    James woke a few minutes before the alarm clock and then he woke Kate. Fifteen minutes later, they jumped in the Chevy with gear in tow. Kate drove them through the winding roads of Greenwich, slowed and stopped.
    A quarter-mile away the Specter estate, she dropped James off. He walked the remaining distance as she returned to the cottage.
    Dressed in black clothing, James walked to the center of the street, observing the Specter property; an imposing facade, security cameras hidden beneath small black domes at the corners of the upper level, new landscaping and a gated driveway. As seen from the road, the house itself was almost completely visible. He probed the entire perimeter of the property.
    Then he waited.
    Given there was no police response, he assumed the security cameras reached only to the property boundary. James enjoyed this aspect of a covert operation: he felt as though he owned the night. He closed his eyes, trying to get his mind to relax. In the stillness, even the faintest sounds could be heard—a dog barking in the distance, a neighbor’s garage door opening down the street, a car moving nearby along the pavement. He moved as a panther does, quietly and stealthily. Circling the estate, he made mental notes, scrutinized the smallest details. He peered through night-vision binoculars, scanned adjacent homes, memorized window locations and sightlines.
    Recalling a section in the file Kate had prepared, he drew closer to inspect the home next door, occupied by a single woman in her seventies who lived alone and had no relatives living in the area. None of the windows faced the street, and the bedrooms were situated in a rear wing. Judging from an overgrown landscape, the woman was a recluse.
    Set between Specter and the woman’s property, a narrow strip of woodland ran beside the two driveways, extending out to the road. Twenty feet in from the edge of the road, James discovered an ideal hiding spot. It was nestled beneath a canopy of trees, the underbrush sufficiently thick for providing cover. From this vantage point, both the Specter estate and the entire street could be seen. But the “hide”