Split by Tara Moss

visible in patches.
    This pub was a prime hunting ground during the right season. And that season was now. It was September, the beginning of a new semester, and that meant a fresh crop of targets—girls from all over the country and some from overseas—smart girls, students, each one a challenge, all trying to findtheir way around, looking for new friends, looking for action.
    Perfect.
    He studied a group of average-looking men and women playing pool at the other end of the room. They were all wearing the same sort of clothes—jeans teamed with sneakers or hiking boots. The Hunter had got his look just right and he blended in well. But none of the women interested him.
    Patience.
    The pub was taking a while to fill up, but that was fine. No need to panic yet. He preferred to arrive early, secure a good position and get a feel for the growing activity in the room. He could become invisible. And if he sensed any unwanted attention he could leave.
    He was in control.
    The Hunter was smart. He knew the importance of planning. He had plans that were fluid enough to adapt to any unwanted elements, and he only ever made his move if things were perfect. He’d learned that lesson the hard way. Of course, after the catch it was different. Once you had won, you could do what you wanted.
    He had just about given up when a young woman entered and immediately caught his eye. Almost as if he had picked up on some kind of radar signal, he raised his head and there she was, moving towards the bartender—a brunette, fairly short and plain, but notunattractive. Her black, square-heeled leather boots were polished nicely, and she wore stretchy dark denim jeans with a grey fleece jacket. She looked like she might have a decent figure under all the clothes. The girl appeared a bit unsure of herself and her surroundings. A bit flustered. That interested him the most. He immediately pegged her as a new student starting her very first semester of university.
    A possible mark.
    He lifted his newspaper slightly to cover the lower half of his face and stared at the girl through non-prescription glasses. He watched her pause a few feet from the bar and look eagerly around the room, and he lowered his gaze to the paper when her eyes came his way. She took no notice of the bespectacled man in the corner, and continued to look around the room. At a glance he thought her eyes appeared red-rimmed and a little puffy.
    After a moment, the girl approached the bored bartender and asked where the phones were. The Hunter thought that was an interesting question, considering she had just walked past a bank of them on the way in. Obviously she hadn’t been paying much attention. She was preoccupied with something. Distressed.
    He felt the adrenalin surge. Conditions seemed good.
    The bartender pointed back toward the entrance, barely raising his eyes from the mug he was polishing.She thanked him politely—with no obvious accent—and off she went.
    The Hunter followed her, moving across the room quietly, one hand in his pocket and his head slightly slumped as if he were tired. He stuck close to the wall, inconspicuous.
    The restrooms were in the direction of the phones, and he knew he would be able to hear the young woman’s conversation if he listened through the men’s room door. When he rounded the corner he raised his eyes ever so briefly and caught a glimpse of the bank of phones and the woman dialling. He entered the men’s, which thankfully was empty. Good. He held his hands against the inside of the door, his ear flat against the hollow imitation wood panel.
    “Brian? Brian, if you’re there, pick up,” he heard her say. “Pick up, please.” Pause. “ Pleeease .” Pause. “Look, I’m at the pub. Where are you? Brian, I—” She stopped mid-sentence and let out a frustrated huff. The Hunter peeked around the door to see what she would do next. The girl hung up the receiver and fumbled in the pocket of her jeans for change. She had to pull