B21C3 - Gull Eyes

<Oh! Oh! Fried chicken!> Marco said. <Hey, Tobias. If a seagull eats chicken, is that like cannibalism or something?>

<That depends. Extra crispy or regular?>

At last we were nearing the stucco wall. Seagull eyes aren’t as penetrating as bird-of-prey eyes, but they are still very good. I spotted a dark-suited man standing in the shadow of the row of tall trees. He wore dark sunglasses. He was talking into a handheld radio. He was staring in our direction, gazing out over the beach with a very serious amount of concentration.

<Gee, could that guy look any more like Secret Service?> Rachel said with a laugh. <And there’s another one just ten feet away, along the wall.>

(...)

<Okay, there is definitely some security on this place,> Marco said. <Guys on the roof, guys in the bushes, guys sitting in cars, guys out on the golf course pretending to play golf. It looks like Men in Black 2 around here. These guys all have the same suit.>

(...)

A truck was delivering food to the loading dock at the back of the hotel. No less than four guys in dark suits were checking the crates as they came off the truck. The Men in Black had earpieces, like people being interviewed on TV. And they seemed to talk to their wrists a lot. There were microphones barely visible just up in their sleeves.

(...)

The pain was gone, but my brain was still burning from the memory. I looked down, around, everywhere. What? What had caused … ?

There below me and ahead, not fifty feet away, stood a security man, like all the others. He had a bald patch on his head, something you notice when you’re a bird. He wore dark glasses, like all the others.

But unlike all the others, he was watching the birds.