A hint of spring wafted in through the vents and the cracks of the back door of the truck. Jake, facing a wall of monitors, speakers and other surveillance equipment, tilted his head back and breathed in deep. He could imagine a gentle breeze playing peek-a-boo with young girls’ thighs and tugging at the edges of bald men’s toupees. His kidneys ached, as did his knees. “I’m getting too old for this racket”, he whined to no one in particular. He stood and stretched just as Mr. G’s lady friend exited the building and hailed a cab. Racing after subjects was his least favorite part of the job.