Time: 6:30 pm

Place New York City...Waldorf Astoria, room 539

After stopping off at NSA headquarters for debriefing, Maxwell (or
Max as she was referred to by family and friends), codename Stiletto, then hustled herself onto another private jet headed to New York.

She leaned back in the plush seat of the private jet, eyes closed. She had had really no time to sleep and was doing a meditation execise to ward off fatigue. She had been rather looking foreward to joining her sometimes partner in mayhem and best friend for a long spa weekend in some little resort town in Northern California, but business came up and her plans were all shot to hell.

The jet landed without incident at a private airstrip in New Jersey where the NSA had a car waiting to drive her to the Waldorf. She watched the urban landscape slip by, her face a mask of cool preoccupation as her eyes took in every nuance of her surroundings. The car pulled smoothly into the drive of the hotel and she gave a charming smile to the doorman who openned the door of the car and helped her out. She had a bellman get her bags from the trunk and then strode into the elegant hotel-lobby with grace and confidence.

After getting settled into her room at the Astoria and taking a brief nap (Two hours), she went on a quick shopping trip to a certain exclusive boutique on Fifth Avenue for something suitable to wear to dinner. Her father had made reservations for dinner at the Tavern On The Green located in Central Park.

She spent a liesurely few hours shopping. She smirked a few times as she caught a familar face now and again during her shopping trip. "Well, well." She murmured to herself. "At least my back's covered..." Shopping concluded after she picked up a pair of shoes and some jewelry. She headed back to the hotel after noting the time. Time to get this show on the road.

She stepped into her room and stowed away her purchases. After a quick shower, Max dried off and dressed. She paused to briefly admire the
choice she made for dinner. The sleeveless, clingy, burgundy, silk,
cocktail dress displayed her trim figure without revealing too
much flesh. The skirt ended two inches below the knee and was roomy
enough (thanks to a tasteful slit in the back of the skirt that
travelled to midthigh) to allow her to do a side kick without
damaging the dress. She also found that she could conceal
weaponry within the dress (Max had the dubious honour of being one of
the few agents who knew how to conceal a pistol while wearing a
bikini) always an important consideration in her line of work.

Sheer, black, silk stockings, a pair of three-inch, spike-heeled, black evening sandals and a tasteful silver, marcasite and onyx choker, bracelet and earrings rounded out her ensemble. After applying light make up and doing her argent hair up in an elegant, French twist, she grabbed up a tailored, black, silk tuxedo jacket with a stylised silver, marcasite and garnet 'stiletto' pinned to one of the lapels, put it on, grabbed her clutch purse and stepped out the door, heading to the lobby to await her father......