Eileen woke up at her usual 5:30 A.M., glad she had been only three hours away from London the night before. No jet lag or time-zone change. She grabbed a jogging suit, donned a fanny pack similar to Sasha’s, then put her hair in a ponytail and pulled it through the opening in the back of her New York Yankees baseball cap. Aviator sunglasses hung from a Croakies strap around her neck. She snapped her fake Apple watch on her wrist. It looked like every one of them, but hers was different. It was a direct line of communication to Avery. She could call, record, and snap a small photo if necessary at the touch of a button.

She had memorized Julian Marcus’s home address and his face from the company’s website. He lived in the Plimsoll Building, so she headed in the direction of King’s Cross, the newest up-and-coming area of London. They had even gotten their own postcode—N1C. It was a bustling neighborhood, so it would be easy enough for her to blend in.

Eileen propped a leg on the curb and pretended to adjust her running shoes. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was seven o’clock. She wondered what time Marcus got up and left the building and how long she would have to remain in that pose before she looked like one of those street artists or mimes. Maybe if I put a tin cup by my feet, I’ll collect a few donations. She giggled at the thought.

The main entrance door opened, and several men wearing raincoats and carrying umbrellas came out. She glanced in their direction. No. Not yet. She was changing her pose to stretch her hamstrings when the door opened again. There he was. Shorter than she had expected, with a roundish face, pink cheeks, and thinning brownish hair. He looked a little rumpled. Almost as if he had not gotten a good night’s sleep. Yes, she thought, Photoshop can make anyone look good. She was surprised that for someone in the “ageless beauty/longevity” business, he would leave the house looking like he had slept in his clothes. Maybe he would shower somewhere in the office.

She maintained a distance of half a block between them. At one point he stopped at a coffee bar and ordered tea, bought a newspaper, and then he continued his short walk to the office. She wondered if she should go back to the apartment building and check on the wife but quickly dismissed the thought. As of now, Marcus was the target. She would wait for further instructions as to whether Mrs. Marcus was also a person of interest.

Once Marcus entered the office, Eileen strolled over to a café and ordered a double espresso. She feigned a Brooklyn accent. “Gimme a double espresso with a shot o’ milk.”

The barista politely asked, “Do you prefer a cappuccino?”