Chapter Eighteen
Outside the submarine sandwich shop I stood watch for Agent Emerson. Passers-by wearing sunglasses caught my attention. Would she be wearing a listening device disguised as simple earbuds? It occurred to me that Agent Emerson did not know what I looked like either. A dark-suited woman walked into the shop and my eyes followed as she paused at the order counter.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” I heard a voice say. “Do you have the time?” I turned to the petite woman by my side.
“Four thirty.” I scanned the interior of the sub shop for the suited woman, and then the parking lot for a likely individual. I shoved my hands deeply into my pants pockets and shifted my weight from one foot to the other.
The woman persisted. “That’s the time?” she asked in a smooth tone. The voice was fami
