Carl’s contact yelled directions from the back of the bike and, to Carl’s surprise, motioned for him to slow down. As the UP patrolman got closer, Carl’s passenger shouted, “Turn right!” Carl swung the bike sharply to the right and down a narrow alley. Then his passenger shoved Carl’s head forward and shouted, “Duck down!” as they sped down the alley.

The patrolman saw the glint of piano wire that had been stretched across the path just as it caught him in the neck and threw him hard to the ground. He broke his neck and died instantly. His motorcycle slammed to the ground and skidded another fifty feet before coming to a stop against a wall. As instructed, Carl had stopped at the end of the alley. His contact jumped off the bike and ran over to the dead man.

“Quick! Give me a hand!” Carl, who had been looking on in amazement, got off his bike. His contact pushed open the door of an abandoned shed, and the two of them rolled both cycles inside.

Next, they brought in the body of the fallen trooper and closed the door behind them. The contact quickly stripped off the dead man’s helmet, boots, and uniform, and then rolled the body under a tarpaulin beside one wall.

As Carl watched, the cyclist stood, pulled off his own helmet, and a cascade of long brown hair tumbled out. Carl saw that it was not a young man at all. In fact, he was a woman!

“Where’s Larry?” Carl asked, winded and shaken by what had just taken place.

“They were on to him,” the woman answered. “It was too dangerous, so he sent me to fill in.” She held out her hand. “My name is Nicole, and I used to work with Larry. Now I’m a sort of freelance, you might say.”

“Nicole.” Carl smiled. “I must say, I’ve never seen anyone handle themselves the way you just did. You’re pretty tough. Where did you learn . . . well . . . this . . . ?” he asked, pointing to the body of the slain UP officer and the motorcycle in the corner.

“That’s a long story,” she said. “I was in the army for a while, and that’s where I learned to ‘trap a monkey,’ as we used to say. The gas, the wire, the whole thing was a set-up—the best way I could come up with to lure the patrolman off his beat so I could get his uniform and his motorcycle.”