Aye-Aye sat down at the outdoor table of the café he reconnoitered earlier and signaled the waiter to come over. He carefully lay the violin case on the table with the fine arts magazine he had bought for cover and ordered café au lait with beignets, “and take your time. I am in no rush.”
Aye-Aye idly stirred his coffee at the cafe table and waited for traffic to die down. Assassinations should never be rushed.