I remember once in ___________

So if I was supposed to go on the 4th then I needed to have gone again on the 7th but wound up too busy cleaning the kitchen floor. How sad is that? So to pre-empt Chrissie, I'm going on the 8th, with the 7th topic whether anyone likes it or not ;-)
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"You'll get used to it. The shaky knees, the butterflies. They don't go away altogether but you learn how to incorporate them..." Morris's eyes caught sight of a man in a charcoal suit and gold tie leaving the subway entrance. "Follow me, keep up, be close enough to hear but above all, don't be seen, we don't want to spook him."

Morris folded his newspaper, put his sunglasses on and began walking briskly towards the man in the gold tie. Lee counted to fifteen as he was taught, never turning his head to look at Morris, merely memorizing people as they bustled past the brownstone steps they had been sitting on so he could retrace Morris's route.

"13...14...15..." it was go time. Now or never. Lee wanted, more than anything, to feel the reassuring bulge of the gun in his shoulder holster, but that might have drawn undue attention. He walked quickly past miss Teen red hat towards Mr. running late with briefcase. He inched past the newlyweds taking up more than their fair share of sidewalk. At noon in the city, the sidewalks were packed with people. He had completely lost sight of Morris and Mr. Gold tie.

In his gray hoodie's pockets, his fingers kept busy count of the 23 people who had passed him while waiting for go time. By Lee's estimation he was now only a quarter block behind Morris and a half block behind Mr. Gold tie.

Seconds later he came up on Morris and MGT at a news stand. Both had their backs to each other. Morris was flipping through a racing form. MGT set a copy of Vogue in the the slot of Time and began to walk on. Morris followed.

Lee hurried over to the newsstand just as a bus was discharging its passengers, a startlingly large number of them heading towards the magazines.

He picked up Vogue from the Time slot and began flipping through it.

"What's your interest in the magazine?" the newsie asked.

"What?"

"Guy like you, dressed like that.." the disdainful emphasis on 'that', "comes running over, picks up a copy of Vogue, what's so interesting? You're the second guy to come over in five seconds."

"I, uh. I like the model on the cover."

"Yeah? What's her name?" The newsie's eyes narrowed.

Lee looked at the cover only to find it was a group shot. "This one" he pointed lamely. The butterflies in his stomach started flapping harder. An envelope slipped from the magazine onto the ground.

"What's that?" the newsie asked eyebrow raised. "Is that drugs? Wat are you doing?"
"No" Lee said, apparently not convincingly enough wile stooping to pick up the envelope. It was thin. Too thin. This wasn't right. The envelope was supposed to be a manilla envelope. This was just a regular white one, although filled with at least 8 sheets of paper.
"I don't allow druggies or pushers around here. Police!"
Lee swore to himself and stuffed the envelope in his hoodie pocket.
"POLICE!" the newsie was now shouting.
"Shut up! It ain't drugs." Lee threw the magazine at him and began walking off, fast but not too fast he hoped. "Always walk, never run" Morris had said. "People remember a runner. No one remembers a walker."
Lee rounded the corner, put the envelope in his front jeans pocket and removed the hoodie which went into the nearest trash can. He was wearing a green flannel vest and black t-shirt underneath.
He was half way to the rendezvous point traveling down an alley when he felt the hard metal gun barrel slide up under his vest from behind. Lee stopped, hands, not up, but not anywhere that could be misconstrued.
"you call that subtle? A newsie shouting for police, at least 23 witnesses?" Lee couldn't place the voice with its thick Brooklyn accent. A quick sidelong glance back showed a beat cop staring back at him.
"That was awful." The policeman took the envelope out of Lee's front pocket and stashed it inside his shirt."
"I remember once in Prague I almost screwed up this bad. Almost had to shoot 4 KGB, but that was back in the 60s and I had to do it all in pitch perfect Czech. And I had just been placed the day before. Kids... I go up against the KGB, you're taken down by a beat cop. You're from Jersey, this should have been a walk in the..."
Lee spun around hoping to catch the man unaware. He heard the click of the firing pin, and in the corner of his eye saw the officer squeeze the trigger, barrel still pointed squarely at Lee's core, Lee hadn't moved enough. A billion thoughts racing through his head, not the least of which was the fact that he hadn't registered the pain yet... Or the sound of a firing gun."
The officer caught his roundhouse before it came within inches of his face.
"Its a good thing this was just a training exercise otherwise this gun might have been loaded. I don't see what Morris sees in you. Better luck next time if there is one."
Lee stood back dumbstruck to be alive, or at least not plus one bullet writhing on the ground waiting to bleed out. MGT and Morris both came around the alley corner, MGT an inscrutable mask. Morris looking disappointed.