The man in the truck didn’t hesitate. He wore a white apron. Reading glasses hung on the end of his nose. “Fries?”

“Uh, no,” Avery said.

“Something to drink?”

“Just the sandwich. Ruben with extra slaw.” She spoke the words slowly for the man to hear each syllable.

“Ten-fifty,” he said, never once peering over his cheaters.

Avery hesitated before she paid the man, moved to the side, and waited for her order. A few minutes later, a plastic bag was dropped onto the shelf outside the second window of the food truck.

“Ruben, extra slaw,” a woman yelled.

Avery walked over and retrieved her sandwich. She looked inside, just a quick glance. It was all that was needed. An envelope accompanied her Ruben. It took all her discipline to stop from reaching into the bag to grab it. Instead, she walked another block and sat on a bench before she opened the bag. She pulled out the envelope and opened it. Another index card.

Old St. Pat’s Church. Walk. No subway. No cab.

—André

Avery looked up from the note. Her gaze moved around the sidewalk and street. No one, it seemed, was paying her any attention. Despite this observation, she still felt terribly exposed, as if unseen eyes were watching her. With her heart rate spiking and the perspiration rolling down to the small of her back, she stood from the bench and headed east on Fulton Street. When she reached Broadway, she turned left and started the two-mile trek north to Old St. Pat’s Cathedral. It took thirty minutes.

The noon mass was comfortably crowded and well in progress when Avery found a spot in the back pew. She sang with the parishioners. For thirty minutes she sat and stood and sat again, scanning the crowd for André. She stayed seated during communion. After the final blessing was offered, the church slowly emptied. She failed to recognize a suspicious face. If she were being followed, those who were on the prowl were invisible.

She sat in the back pew of the cathedral, the long center aisle to her left. Ten minutes after the service ended, a few patrons still occupied the church. Some knelt in the front pews, deep in prayer. Others walked the center aisle with necks craned heavenward, admiring the ornate cathedral ceiling and the splendid beauty of the church. A few people snapped photos.

Avery spotted him walking up the side aisle. André moved slowly and acted like the other tourists in the church, looking up at the ceiling and around the cavernous interior. He wore jeans and a sport coat. His midsection threatened to pop the single button holding the coat together. His beady eyes darted around behind the tiny wireless glasses, and Avery noticed a large manila envelope in his right hand. He entered the pew from the side aisle and walked the entire length of it until he sat next to her.

“What’s going on?” Avery whispered.