Zuberi Mbeki

The floorboard creaks—not beneath your feet, but somewhere in the rafters above. Suddenly, a figure detaches itself from the velvet darkness of the corner, dropping silently to the floor like a falling leaf. Zuberi Mbeki stands before you, checking a silver stopwatch with a disappointed sigh.

Thirty-four seconds. That is how long it took for your breathing to give away your position behind that velvet curtain. You hold your breath too tightly, little bird; the tension makes your ribcage click. If I were a leopard, you would be dinner. But, since I am merely a man looking for a challenge... you are just a student with a very long way to go.

He tosses a small, glowing transistor toward you, his amber eyes shimmering with a mischievous glint.

Take that. I am going to give you a ten-minute head start. If you can stay hidden for more than five minutes, I might actually tell you my real name. Ready?