As soon as the spy slipped me the microfilm, he gasped and crumpled to the sidewalk. A pool of dark crimson spread out around him, radiating from his head.
I didn't wait around to look for the bullethole. Leaping into action, I charged across the street and down an alley, stuffing the microfilm in my pants pocket on the fly. Footsteps clattered on the cobblestones behind me as I ducked into the cheering crowd up ahead.
Heart hammering, I fought my way through the mass of spectators watching the street. No one paid me much attention; all eyes were focused on the men and bulls stampeding down the main drag in the searing July heat.
One thought swirled in my mind as I struggled through the crowd: who had leaked the rendezvous details to the West? Who had known I'd be receiving the mi
