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A pair of light brown aviator sunglasses was the redhead’s only disguise. An amateur, Edwin thought. She didn’t even bother to dye her cherry-red hair. The woman’s attitude disappointed Edwin. People didn’t take this stuff seriously anymore. A serious woman knew when she was being followed, and a serious woman would have dyed her hair. Steele and Edwin had trailed her from New York’s Penn Station to Baltimore’s Penn Station, but something didn’t seem right. Steele never took amateur gigs. That’s why Edwin worked so closely with Steele—he was one of the last big-time professionals. Slung over the woman’s shoulder