Jack Walker had to die. The two men in the faded blue sedan didn't know why. They don't care. They followed orders – and that meant they waited in front of his house. Ten minutes later, he came out into bright morning sunshine, hurrying down the front steps. A battered black leather jacket slung over his broad shoulders and an oversized duffel bag in one hand. Like he was in a rush. Maybe like he was aware they covertly w...