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“Just like clockwork,” I said and left through the big double doors. The following Sunday I was back at Lake Merit. It had been a very productive week. The wife swappers were going to get a big surprise—we had penetrated their operations in the Sierra Club and it was only a matter of time until we’d spring the trap. So, anyway, there I was, sitting on the same bench watching the female joggers, thinking that maybe I’d get the jump on another pervert. But after about an hour it was looking like the weirdos were laying low. Then a pair of really built blondes came around the bend in the jogging path. I recognized the one on the left— it was Riggonowsski’s secretary. She spotted me and said, “Just can’t leave your work at the office, huh, Agent Rainey? All you WCDD guys are alike.” I stood and had to adjust my pants with a quick move of my right hand. She apparently noticed and smiled at her friend. “We’re going to Dance Fever, the nightclub over on Fifth Avenue, at about eight. Why don’t you join us?” “Is Riggonowsski going to be there?” I wanted to know. “Of course not, weekends are reserved for his wife.” 37

The Metric Issue 08 - Literary Magazine  
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