The streets of New York stretched before Lymond, seemingly as limitless as the possibilities that brewed in his mind. The bruises were nearly gone, unable to resist his penchant for healing quickly. But he had little to call his own outside of the qualities and talents he carried- a ripped silk shirt, trousers, and sturdy leather boots were the extent of his worldly possessions, with the letter and his drunk lost in the desperate escape from the ship.

The letter had been from an American lawyer, and it mentioned a lockbox bequeathed to him by an anonymous benefactor. The address, filed safely away in his memory, was instantly recalled as he glanced at the map in from of him. He absorbed New York during the 20 minute walk- truly a melting pot of people and cultures and a strong contrast to the streets of Edinburgh with which he'd been so familiar. Smatterings of languages heard in passing alleys brought memories of his travels to the surface of his mind. Sublimating them, he focused on the task at hand.

The law office soon appeared and he was greeted with the forced smile of a secretary as she appraised his ripped clothing. But his demeanor was unflinching as he rattled off the name of the man who'd written him and was soon directed down the hall. Samuel Harvey was a small man, fidgeting with his spectacles as he rose to his feet, clutching a safe deposit box.

"Good... uh... morning, Mr. Crawford. Lets get this over with, shall we?"

Lymond wordlessly accepted the box and opened it, staring at the contents. A dagger, obviously of oriental origin and far from a decorative piece, still gripping its fatal edge. This was no mere antique. Nonchalantly, he tucked the dagger under his waistband, bound in its black drawstring bag.

"What can you tell me about the person who left these for me? You said it was a woman?"

Fumbling, Harvey flicked through his small stack of papers.

"There seems to be a clerical error... I'm sorry but there's just no name attached to it. Only instructions on how to find you."

Lymond held the man's gaze for a moment, before a few signatures finished the business and he was soon returned to the streets. As he began walking down the sidewalk he imagined the motions required for him to quickly draw and use the dagger, just in case, closing his eyes momentarily and visualizing his movements. And as his eyes opened he was staring at the fattest woman he'd ever seen. Round, but mean looking, she was leaning against a newspaper stand and catching her breath. And as she reached down for her fallen hat, her purse popped open and he saw it, if just for a moment. A huge stack of bills, half concealed in an envelope. And white powder.

He started walking towards her immediately, his predatory smile shifting into a concerned look as she raised her head to his shining blue eyes. Breathing heavily, she accepted his arm as he helped her towards the nearest bus stop. Clutching the handle of her purse with a death grip, she felt nothing as a few expert dagger cuts sliced through the straps as she was deposited on the bench. She thanked him as he quickly pivoted and was down an alley before any uproar could be raised. A homeless man, wisely faking sleep at the first sight of the blond head bobbing in the dusk, heard the stranger murmur to himself as he turned the corner.

"And miles to go before I sleep.."