After he got a firm hold of the boy, it didn’t take long for their leader to show himself. The streets were strange like that, at first a place of weakling and cornered animals, but at a second glance, you could find strength. The boys would have scattered faster than blink of an eye if he had not trapped one of their own.

The leader postured, setting his back straight and jutting his jaw, arms crossed in rebellion. Larson merely looked down at the boy from under his glasses. Then with a sneer he let the boy go, a show of trust on his behalf.  With this the deal was sealed, now all that remained was to listen carefully.

The leader quickly took Larson’s ‘captive’ and hid the boy behind himself. A paltry effort, but admirable in some senses.  “Let me hear something good” said Larson, as he palmed a few coins and deftly played them between his fingers. “and these are your’s”

The leader eyed the coins hungrily, Larson could see the two 
forces of greed and fear play across the boy’s face. Children were so transparent sometimes. Eventually greed would win out, and with a small gulp the leader would speak.

"Well, y'see, that clock tower over there? There was a flash of light, from the top. Then, we heard the BANG, and the fancy-pants over there bought it." He said.

“Is that so” said Larson, flinging the coins in the boys’ direction. As the children scattered, Larson turned and began to walk away. His fingers were happily drumming on his side, if this intel panned out, Larson would be several steps closer to the identity of the assassin. The clock tower was about a kilometer away from the kill zone. It would take considerable skill to mark a target from that distance. Whoever this player was, he must have been quite expensive.

As Larson was about to make his way to the Clock Tower, he stopped by an Inquisitor. Immediately Larson had a subtle shift in persona, years of training setting in by reflex. He bowed his shoulders and hunched his back, several other small shifts in his demeanor. As he turned around to face the man, Larson looked like a proper clerk, complete with a meek smile, and the hunched over posture of a man who spent far too much time scribbling on paper hunched over a desk.

“Oh, I was merely enquiring if any of those boys had seen my wallet. I seem to have lost it on my way to the tailors. Ha ha, but seeing how absent minded I am at time, it could well be inside my drawer” he said.