"Is it done?"
A short suspense filled the phone line.
Then, pronouncing each word with emphasis, "It . . . is . . . done."
"You are absolutely certain no one saw you? There's no possibility of your being traced?"
"I never guaranteed that. Anything is a possibility."
"True, that is very true. Then, would you say you are confident you were not noticed?"
"That is something I would say, yes."
Another extended silence separated the speakers. Then, a chuckle.
"You are an excellent anarchist."
"I strive to be." A long pause. Then, an intake of breath. "Except . . ."
"I . . . enjoyed it. I did not expect that."
"Don't let it become a fascination for you. It's supposed to be an act of subversion, nothing more."
A pause. Then, "I do not think it was the murder that excited me so much as . . ."
"The astonishment in her eyes?"
Another pause. To give that comment some thought.
"Yes. Astonishment. That was it. She was astonished. I found that part very . . . stimulating."
"Let me tell you something. If you are not careful, the thrill of the ambush can become more addictive than heroin."
"I am always careful."
"Good. Make sure of that."
There was a click, then silence.