“So, she’s been turned.”
“Certainly looks that way.”
“So be it. Leave the gift. Don’t lose her.”
“Oh, I don’t think she’ll be hard to find, John.”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
She ended the call and her heels clacked across the street as she flicked the cigarette into the snow. She checked the contents of the box—a lovely black bird taking its final rest in a bed of red tissue paper. Closing the lid, and adjusting the bow, she laid it down in front of the door to the apartment. Her keen hearing picked up the sounds of breathy moans and fevered curses from upstairs. She slid her hands into the pockets of her jacket and smiled as she started down the sidewalk.