Living in New York, working for the people who wanted to kill me, I was in the pit of the lion's den and preferred not to be their next meal, so I started carrying a knife. Clutching my purse housing my blade closely and replaying the self defense skills Sam had taught me in Paris through my mind, I felt relatively safe. They hadn't failed me yet, although a six foot man would be much harder to take down than a five foot woman. I wasn't going without a fight. I kept my purse close. Doing my best to hide my nervousness I asked, "Do you have an appointment sir?"
He placed his paper on the chair beside him and stood up. I braced myself. Then he spoke. "Yes, I'm Mitchel Strat I spoke with William this morning and he asked me to meet him here at one o'clock." The left side of his lips turned up in a quirky sly smile giving away his recognition of me.