Angeline sasshayed into the restaurant and sat down at the bar. “Gin and tonic,” she said, fingernails clinking on the bartop.

The woman on her right turned slowly to look at her. “So Timmy sent you again.”

“Of course,” said Angeline, picking up her just-arrived glass. “He doesn't believe I'm in any danger. But he does believe you are a good contact.” She paused to take a sip. “Even if I haven't told him who you really are.”

“Ah, men,” giggled Carla Frazetti. “If only they knew what we're up to.”

Angeline laughed and raised her glass. “To underestimation.”