"From Russia
With love.....
I'd fly to you.
Much Wiser than...."
The tinny Bond song crooned over the radio overhead as Ginger sat silently in the small cafe. Her orange scone sat half-eaten in front of her, next to a small espresso cup and a glass of water with melting ice cubes. Her appetite for the scone had ceased a bit as she looked around at the other patrons.
Ginger Levi always held herself in a high degree. Classy, clean, and elegant, she could light up a room with a single look. Her pitch black eyes hid behind a pair of Ray Band sunglasses, which conveniently was a present from a friend in America. Her head was shaved clean, but was also hidden under a modern cloche, which drew basically no attention.
From behind the sunglasses, Ginger observed the crowd which was dining around her. Scruffy men with loosely buttoned shirts and stained faces chattered noisily and chewed with their mouthes gaping wide. The women, although more cleaned up than the men, gossiped and giggled to themselves as they informed others of the "scoop" in the neighborhood. So-and-so's grandson did this! Margie's daughter did that! Hehehehehe!
Ginger rolled her eyes beneath her sunglasses. Luckily, no one could really see her do it. The waiter came over with the dish bin, picked up her scone plate, and left the tab binder on the table for her. She looked down at it and smiled. She never really needed to pay, at least. But when she got the binder, she knew what was next.
She picked it up and opened it. Inside, a small, sealed envelope with the words "For the Fox, from the Hound" scribbled on it laid invitingly. She plucked it out of the binder and stuffed it into her handbag. A new mission was afoot, and now it was time to get prepared....