She drove for a couple of miles, barely missing three pedestrians, two dogs and a chipmunk before realizing she couldn’t see a darn thing with those glasses on.

Sighing, she pulled over to the side of the road, her target was probably over on the other side of the Mexican border by now.

“Oh bother,” she said, in that cute little British accent that had American males dropping at her feet.

“Lost your mark?” Ptolemy’s voice hissed out over the cell. Not that this really was Ptolemy, no, she may have been blonde but Patricia knew Ptolemy’s brother when she saw him.

“Well, you try wearing this daft makeup and playing spygirl,” Patricia replied, pouting. “Why couldn’t I just change into a bird or a bug or something. I’d have no trouble finding him then.”

“Patsy, lass.” Ptolemy used the phrase as a well known signal when he was about to be smarmy and superior. “I know lush, well endowed girls like yourself, find it hard to understand. But Humans don’t like us to change like that.”

“I don’t care.”