The Cobra
“"The Cobra. I can't believe it." She smiled at Blake. "I always pictured the Cobra as a big ugly brute with scars. You look so clean-cut and . . . handsome." "Thanks," he said. He felt pleased and slightly embarrassed that she found him good-looking. More than that, he was relieved that she had bought his identity. Decker had told him that very few members of the People's Strike Force had ever seen the Cobra. The group's chief assassin worked alone, taking his orders straight from Carlos. Show her the pistol, Decker had said, and you're in. Thank goodness he was right.
"What were you doing in the restaurant?" Lana asked.
"Trying to eat. Then you walked in. Small world." "Are you in town for a hit?" she asked.
"I can't talk about that." "No," she said. "Of course not." "Look, we'd better get off the streets." "We've got a safe-house," Lana said. "Over on Taylor, just above North Beach. Let's go there. You can meet the others." Blake frowned, but his heart raced.
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