My main comfort is, while I might not feel great in the heat, Hoodie must feel worse. If I fail at this, I suffer a little embarrassment. If he fails, the best he can hope for is the rest of his life in a cage.
It's a comforting thought.
Reducing my pace to a jog, I concentrate on watching and listening, simply following the lane, eyeing the assorted passages and ginnels I pass, but see nothing of my target. Eventually, I emerge back into the city-centre.
Late afternoon, in a sky stabbed by skyscrapers, office and apartment blocks are mere silhouettes against a backdrop seared from blue to white. Heat shimmers up from the sidewalk, striking through the soles of my shoes. The torrid air blasts my face, even with the slight breeze caused by my jogging.