When I asked for the time and venue, Tarek's voice turned full of excitement as he rambled on.
"Seven thirty, Forni's, downtown. Dress nice. Please dress nice."
"I'll be there."
I hung up before Tarek could drown me in thanks. Mira plucked the phone from my fingers and set it neatly atop the battery on the nightstand, like she was filing two problems away for later.
"Good boy."
I rolled my eyes at her, "Don't 'good boy' me. You ambushed me."
"I encouraged you," she said, smiling like the devil herself.
She rolled off the bed in one smooth, impossible motion and picked up her own phone, already dialing as she moved.
"the Italian charcoal, black shirt, Bremmel watch, dark overcoat. Black card from the safe and a hundred in cash. Get here in thirty. Thank you, darling."
She hung up and turned to me with the satisfied expression of a general who had just set an entire operation in motion.
...
The gate buzzed exactly twenty-eight minutes later.
