Colin Blake was not a man who considered himself handled. But the condescending voice at the other end of the phone line belonged to Howard E. Cobb, Colin’s handler. Cobb was letting Colin know that there had been a change of plans. MI6 wanted Colin to take on a quick New York job before returning to London. Blake groaned and argued, “I was ready to head back today. There’s no such thing as a quick New York job.”

“This one will be like a vacation.” Even buried in the hum of the long-distance line, Cobb’s voice sounded whiney.

Colin glanced across the room at his scowl in the mirror. Lifting his chin, he unconsciously took stock. He was a suave example of a confident 1960s jetsetter and fit the role of the consummate travel agent. Working for World Travel was the perfect cover. In some respects, a travel agent job would have been more thrilling than slogging back to London as a weary British undercover operative.

He shook his head, thinking about how much he was looking forward to that reclining airliner seat. Giving up that dream with a sigh, he said, “You’re wheedling, Cobb. Why bother? I can’t exactly refuse.”

“Don’t be so dismal, Colin. You certainly are not an easy man to work with.”

“Not easy?” Colin’s voice rose and he drew a long breath.

“Oh, don’t be aggravated.” Cobb tsked at him. “Listen to me. You’ll be spending time in a lovely cabin in the Adirondacks, and you’ll be with General Joshua Adam’s daughter. You’re familiar with General Adams, right?”

“Of course.”

“Well, his daughter is quite attractive—a socialite—and it’ll only be for five days. Sweet and painless.”

“Five days trapped in the middle of nowhere, doing nothing, with a woman I don’t know and don’t care to know.” Colin shook his head even though Cobb couldn’t see him. “Spoiled daughters and babysitting—not my cup of tea. Get someone else to do it.”

“You’re in New York, Colin, plus this matter needs to be handled with diplomacy. There have been credible threats against the general’s life and now against his daughter’s. She’s going to need protection while he tours assets in Korea. If the wrong people got ahold of his daughter during that time…Well, you understand the implications. It’s in the interests of both Britain and America to keep this girl safe.”

Colin didn’t answer.

“They’ll bring a car around to your hotel and the girl will be ready at four AM. A map will be in the auto. Got it?” Cobb sounded falsely cheerful, and Colin scoffed. “Got it?” Cobb repeated.

“Yes.”

“Oh, and, Colin.”

“Yes?”

“You’ll find everything you need in the cabin, but if you run into trouble and need backup, Alan Bradford will be staying about two miles southwest of you. You’ll see his place marked on the map.”

“Bradford? Then why isn’t Bradford doing this job?”

“Bradford is not…um…shall we say, discreet when it comes to women. We need someone who can keep their head about them.”

Colin sniffed. “That’s ridiculous. Why should I get punished because I don’t act like a schoolboy?”

“The difference in your maturity is reflected in your wages.”

Colin snorted, then hung up the phone. Wages? Colin knew he did well, certainly better than Bradford, but if an agent couldn’t keep his mind on his work, he shouldn’t be an agent, no matter how little he was paid. He kicked off his shoes and tried to get some sleep before it was time to go collect the girl.

*

True to his word, Cobb’s people had the car ready. It wasn’t as luxurious as Colin had hoped. Colin had expected to get a ‘62 coupe or something fast and fun. After all, this was General Adams’s daughter. But he got last year’s model, a ‘61. Well, it was too late to argue with Cobb now.

Driving towards the outskirts of the city to the general’s New York mansion, Colin thought about how this was just one of a few lavish homes the man owned in various upscale locations. From what Colin knew, the general had residences in Martha’s Vineyard and DC as well as here, in New York. The man was certainly wealthy.

Although only drunks and milkmen seemed to populate the street at this hour, Colin stayed aware of everything around him. Little things caught his attention. A burned-out streetlight, a garbage can knocked on its side, a wandering cat—not stray, wearing a collar—small details filed away or discarded. Colin had once been told that he was hyper-aware, but noting little details had often kept Colin alive.

When he reached the palatial neighborhood, the general’s house was the only one lit. He pulled into the circular driveway. Well-manicured bushes lined the pavement, and the lawn was lush and dark green under the lamp light. All seemed serene, no rustling in the bushes. He began to scan the area as he exited the car, but a petite figure emerged from the front door, tiny suitcase in hand. Colin assumed this must be Rose Adams. Sprinting up the walk, he chastised her for leaving the house before being certain of who was outside waiting. Rose looked up at him with wide eyes. She stammered out an apology and appeared so stricken that he toned down his annoyance.

“I’m trying to keep you safe, Miss Adams.” Grabbing her suitcase, he led her toward the car.

“I understand,” she said, following behind him. “It’s just, I’ve only worked with the Secret Service before, and even that has been rare. They do things a little differently.” She bit her lower lip, then stood by the passenger door hesitantly. Turning toward him, she asked, “Is it okay if I get in now?”

“Of course.” He moved to the passenger side and opened the door for her.