Jacqueline kept to the shadows, sliding along a long book case in the dark room. Ahead, James Ashford stood in front of a large multi-paned window. Bright lights from the Paris streets turned him into a broad shouldered silhoutte. Jacqueline couldn’t believe her luck. She paused, drawing a diamond-shaped throwing knife free from its sheath.

“That’s far enough.” James said without moving. “Lights.”

Every lamp in the room winked on, revealing a wide-eyed Jacqueline, knife in hand.

“How did you-” Jacqueline began. She faltered as James turned and seeing Jacqueline for the first time, did a double take at her appearance. His eyes followed every contour of her dress appreciatively.

“Does your government have access to an endless supply of good looking people? For once, I’d like to be assaulted by a drunk hobo, you know, just to mix it up a bit.”

“I’m five mojitos deep, does that count?” Jacqueline asked.

“Hardly.”

“Good, because I think I threw up most of them in the hallway outside.”

“That’s disgusting.”