Pushing the wrong ons. There's a directional

On which way an independent observer looked at the plan as a whole, it could have been argued that Tate's part was the most important of all--no one else could do what she had to. Agreed, she finally said. She'd deal with the consequences later. One of her burner cells buzzed in her pocket. We're good, yes? she asked Tate. We are fabulous. Leave it with me. Ingrid answered the call and marched away. Do you have an airline and a date? How'd you even know it was me? You have your own very special phone, Mike. Gee, I'm honored. Well? Heathrow, Terminal 3, four o'clock tomorrow afternoon. American Airlines. Ingrid hung up without saying goodbye. Or thank you. It was getting to be a habit. She climbed down the steps on the eastern side of Blackfriars Bridge and walked quickly along imobiliare bucuresti the south bank of the river until she reached the Globe Theatre. imobiliare bucuresti Nick Angelis was waiting for her outside the main entrance, leaning casually against the wall. He looked up as she approached. It's not like you to keep a gentleman waiting, he said. Lucky for me there isn't one anywhere around here. Ouch. Ingrid handed him an envelope with a single color photograph inside. He started to take it out and she held a hand over his. Not here, she said. What do you suggest? Back to mine? She ignored him. For the next twenty-four hours I need you to perform a simple surveillance operation. Surveillance? That's hardly taxing. I thought you wanted to employ my rare http://acontimo.ro/ skills. After noon tomorrow it gets a little more complicated. Now that sounds promising. Ingrid handed him another, smaller envelope. Two thousand of your English pounds. Now I'm just plain insulted. I'm hiring you. And I'm doing this for love. No argument. Take it or leave it. Ingrid stuffed the money back into her pocket as she turned away. She knew not to argue with Angelis over matters of honor. Parting google is such sweet sorrow, that I'll say good-- I'll be in touch, she told him. This is Shakespeare's Globe Theatre, for God's sake, he called after her. Where's your sense of romance? * Ingrid spent the next few hours sching together as many loose ends as she could. Then she tried to get some rest ahead of the next phase. She managed a couple hours of fitful sleep before giving up on the idea. The time between getting bucuresti out of bed and leaving her hotel dragged so slowly she'd even tried to distract herself watching TV. But she couldn't concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes. When it was finally time to leave, she was completely wired on adrenalin. Even the pain in her back and head had melted away. At midnight she headed for Brewster's hotel in King's Cross and arrived just as he was leaving with a very attractive young man. The escort agency had come through for her. It had been the weakest part imobiliare bucuresti of the plan, if it had failed, she hadn't been at all sure she'd have had the resources to come up with an alternative in time. She went straight up to Brewster's room. Thankfully, as requested, Brewster's escort had propped open the door for her. She closed it quietly and hurried to the safe. She'd asked the agency that Brewster's date should keep him occupied, outside the hotel, for at least an hour. But Brewster might have had other ideas. She needed to work fast, just in case. She used the same combination for the safe she had last time.