Shadow Man (prologue)

My name is Jack Frost. No. Not the little frozen imp of winter. Not the stop-motion clay model in blue. I'm a man, average height. Average looks. Nothing horrible, but nothing fancy either. Nondescrpit.

And I like it that way.

I could be sitting next to you on the subway, or walking behind you down the alley, and most people wouldn't find me menacing or someone to fear. I just belong in any given scene, from hobos to royalty.

And I like it that way.

I dress purposefully simple. After all, I was trained by the best on how to fit in. How to get what I want without raising suspicions. Without getting caught. The CIA takes a dim view of a field agent getting caught. I know, because I got caught. And all records show that I was sumarily dispatched in China, 1982. How do I know? Because I put those records into the Chinese system.

It pays to have connections.

Leaving me the perfect alibi. The CIA disavows all records of your existence when an agent dies "in the field." They remove fingerprints from the system, and most records of your existence go away. So I technically don't exist. And for whatever records that they didn't delete, my secret is still quite safe. After all, the government fully believes that I'm dead.

I am now a ghost. A shadow. A non-entity, as we would call them in the office. Now, a silent rider on a night train. And as this subway car slips from under a moonlit sky and down into the tunnels, I see her. My next victim.
It was her blond hair that convinced me that she would be next. So perfect. So simple. So... fake.

I feel sad for each one, really. They never suspect me. The geek in the back, afraid to talk to the girls. But there's a spot. It's right under fifty-eighth street, where the lights flicker and the subway cameras go out for two full seconds. That's all the time I need.

In that dark moment, I will take what I want. She will be mine. My love. My heart. My prey. Just a few more seconds, my love. This will all be over.