You sat at the table in your nicest outfit, sipping from a martini glass. Price was across from you, a glass of whiskey in hand, but his eyes were darting around the room.

"Laswell said he'd be here any minute," he muttered to you, and you nodded, scanning the room as well.

"Your three o'clock, don't be obvious," you whispered, and with a subtle turn of his head, he spotted your target.

You shared a knowing glance, and then he got up, reaching to give your hand a squeeze.

"Stay here, wait."