Agents, agents everywhere...

With her mind in turmoil, every eye cast her way was that of a potential assassin. She passed a businessman waiting at a taxi rank who dropped his newspaper to look at her as she passed. He could be a dark suited agent, earpiece secretly notifying him of her location. A red-headed woman at the cross-walk, tight lycra over a hard body, yoga matt slung under one arm looked her way, eyes peeking over reflective raybans. Could just be another New York yuppie on her way to a lunchtime workout. Or she could be a flame-haired femme fatale, ready to karate kick her mark into submission. An old man, bearded and scruffy, stood with an old guitar, hat on the floor ready for a dime or two. Just a busker or actually a cleverly disguised spy, veteran of the Cold War now on the Dark Blade payroll?

Stacy hurried past while trying her best to look like she wasn't hurrying. There was a hotel on her left just up ahead and she lost her nerve and half ran, half hustled the last few yards.

She checked her bag. She still had credit cards. She really wanted to get a room to clean herself up and rest, but if she signed in, didn't she risk putting herself back on Dark Blade's radar?

1. She took the risk and paid at the front desk
2. She tried to find a way to gain entry to a room without paying

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