I no longer have the 1st scan result notification I sent out.
Here's the remainder, beginning with the second. This includes a different notification for the BLOCKED scan.
Second wrote:On your way out of the restaurant, you hear a strange sound. Orangutans? Bonobos? No-- there in the shadow near the gate: It's TARGET!
Hiding nearby in the shelter of a recessed doorway, you clearly hear him report into his sleeve:
CLUE
Suddenly, a resident opens the door and you fall backward into the flat. By the time you rise and peer outside, your target has moved on.
Third wrote:Such a lovely morning! Nothing lifts your spirits like a nice walk in the wee hours as darkness gives way to the first light of day.
Here the breeze unsettles a leaf from some tree. There a bird begins to twitter.
How strange! Another early riser sitting on a bench at the edge of the park!
Sneaking up behind him, you peer over his shoulder. He's using a pencil to write a message on a slip of paper-- the sort one might find coiled around the leg of a homing pigeon in some dated film.
CLUE
Stepping back, you suddenly find yourself falling into the sewer through a loose grating. By the time you find a way out of the acrid tunnels, the sun is high in the morning sky. The park is full. And the bench is empty.
Fourth wrote:The night seemed to go on forever. And a bit more. As you were making your way back to the hotel for a couple of hours of sleep, you happened upon your prey and heard him mumble to himself:
CLUE
Then a car passed between you and when it had passed, he was gone.
Fifth wrote:You're making your way through the city to your favorite sidewalk cafe. As you approach, a customer rises from a table and hastens away. But you notice that something has fallen from his pocket-- a piece of paper folded in quarters. Your first thought it to chase after him and return it, but he's already lost in the crowd. You unfold the paper and read its contents:
CLUE
Sixth wrote:You trail him... for a week. It seems as if surveillance will never end. Finally, he jots something on a pad of paper, and you discern his message from the motion of his pencil:
CLUE
Seventh wrote:You're walking down the avenue when a young woman approaches.
"Did you drop this?" she asks, handing you an envelope.
"Er... yes!" you reply since, hey, free envelope!
As she walks away, you examine the contents and find a note carefully typed, not printed, on your target's letterhead:
CLUE
Eighth wrote:As you stare at him from across the cafe, you grow impatient. Why is he fiddling with his soup instead of eating it? What's taking so long?
He rises to make his way to the counter, and you hear him ask for the manager. While he's distracted, you make your move. Sidling up to his table as you head casually toward the door, you glance down at his bowl. It's alphabet soup, and floating atop the shallow pool of fluid are some letters arranged into words:
CLUE
Ninth - SUCCESSFUL wrote:You see him, and you're pretty sure he hasn't seen you. Perfect.
He's seated on a park bench, and he's feeding the pigeons. Although walkers are walking and children are playing, nobody but you pays attention to him as he pulls a cloth sack from his overcoat pocket, carefully removes a homing pigeon, and rolls a narrow strip of paper around its leg.
All at once, he rises from the bench and scatters the crowd of birds with his rapid gait. Under cover of their boisterous flapping, he releases his bird, throwing it high in the air. Then he walks away into the heart of the park.
You follow his pigeon with your gaze as it rides the wind, as it soars high over the street, and as it flies right into a window. The stunned bird drops like a rock.
Rushing to its side, you remove the misfortune cookie from its leg, confirm that it's unharmed, and send it on its way. Then you unroll the little scroll and read its contents.
CLUE
Ninth - BLOCKED wrote:You see him, and you're pretty sure he hasn't seen you. Perfect.
He's seated on a park bench, and he's feeding the pigeons. Although walkers are walking and children are playing, nobody but you pays attention to him as he pulls a cloth sack from his overcoat pocket, carefully removes a homing pigeon, and rolls a narrow strip of paper around its leg.
All at once, he rises from the bench and scatters the crowd of birds with his rapid gait. Under cover of their boisterous flapping, he releases his bird, throwing it high in the air. Then he walks away into the heart of the park.
You follow his pigeon with your gaze as it rides the wind, as it soars high over the street, and as it flies right into a window. The stunned bird drops like a rock.
Rushing to its side, you remove the misfortune cookie from its leg, confirm that it's unharmed, and send it on its way. Then you unroll the little scroll and read its contents.
Just then, a woman in a red dress kneels down and pokes an unlit cigarette toward your face.
"Got a light?"
"Sorry. I don't smoke."
"Buy me a drink?"
"Sorry. I don't drink."
"What are you doing to that bird?"
Looking down, you see that the bird has passed away. Also, the secret message it once carried is now gone. When you look up, there's no sign of the woman in red.
You've been thwarted!
Tenth wrote:You sidle up to him at a bus stop and pick his pocket. He gets on the bus, but you walk away. Once the bus departs, you inspect the slip of paper you managed to snag. It's a note-to-self:
CLUE
):
