Jan sat in a nondescript, late-nineties model Honda Accord, and waited. He'd drawn short straw for this rotation, and was posted about a half click from the entrance of Cullen's School for the Gifted. This was one of those low risk, low excitement rotations. It still paid $600 USD, tax free per day, so the Afrikaaner was certainly not complaining about it. He just wished that it was a little less uneventful.

Fortunately, he had a sleeve of CD's he'd brought for the day to keep his mind occupied. He couldn't afford any more distraction beyond that, since he still most certainly needed his eyes. Fortunately, his eyesight was better than anyone's with a few possible exceptions, most notably in that school.

As he maintained his dull reconaissance, he slipped in ABBA's Greatest Hits and kept the volume at a reasonable level. Any moment now, the mail truck would arrive. After that, garbage - maybe. Several faculty lived off campus, and those would turn up all throughout the early morning.