Day Three

The day started out so well. I awoke refreshed and ready to face the day. I did my morning work-out routine while watching the video feeds from Ping's place. I showered, sharpened my knives, and painted my nails, all while watching Ping. I made peace with the landlord by giving him some cookies I'd bought at the bakery.

And then, it happened. Ping had a visitor interrupt him when he was just about to beat Level 9 of "Killer Death Commandoes of Blood" (I don't play that game, it's not graphic enough). Anyhow, the visitor took him aside, whispered something in his ear that was too low for my mics to pick up, then the two of them hurriedly left. I watched where they were going on the monitors, ran out of the safehouse and down three blocks to where Ping's street meets town, but there was no sign of them. I totally lost him, and even when I got out my portable monitor and hunkered down in the bushes, there was no sign of him for 5 hours.

When he finally got back, he did something very odd. I don't know what exactly he said, but the next thing I know, every one of his servants is cleaning the house REALLY thoroughly. I mean, they are dusting the BACKS of every painting! This can mean only one thing.

He's on to me.

I don't think they found any of my equipment, I was the top in my class at concealing technology. I can't be sure, it's hard to watch the feeds from 29 different cameras all at once. But I'm still getting a signal from everything, so I think I'm in the clear.

Plus, Ping called in the guy who visited him earlier, and had him shot. So, I guess he thinks the guy was a liar.

So, it all turned out okay, but I'm not looking forward to telling HQ that I lost Ping for 5 hours. He could have been doing anything in that time! I'll have to go over there tonight and bug the cars. I would have done it before, but Ping wasn't home at the time.

As punishment tonight, I made myself do twice the number of pushups, only without using my hands. I had soup for dinner, my tongue was kind of swollen. Then I took out my frustration on my "Whistler's Mother" protrait. Since the bullet holes had already weakened the wall, it was child's play to knock it down with my bare hands (and feet). Also, very therapeutic.

Well, I'm all worn out, and I'm not sure the soup agreed with me, so I'm going to turn in for the night.

Until next time.....