The attacks seemed to follow no logic, spanning vast distances.
The target might be spotted near an abandoned sewage pipe deep in the West Ninth District, and then just moments later, a new alert would blare from the edge of the East Sixth District, kilometers away.
He was like a ghost, an erratic shadow who played by no rules. Just as the encirclement was about to close, he would always slip away in the most incredible fashion. Then he would reappear in another unexpected location, leaving a few cold bodies in his wake.
"Damn rat…" Schiller cursed under his breath, his voice cold as ice.
A few strands of hair had fallen across the temples of his meticulously combed, perfect hairstyle, making him look slightly disheveled. The complete loss of control made him extremely uncomfortable, even angry.
