Carl

Well, there he was. 7 feet tall, black hair, black suit, sunglasses, almost completely concealed earphone, neutral facial expression. When they thought up the stereotype secret agent, this is the man they were thinking of.
"My name is Carl. I'm looking for a friend of mine," he said in a deep voice with a slight Australian accent. "Here's a picture of him."
Carl held up a black and white photograph of a bald man.
"No," I said. "I've never seen him before."
Carl was looking steadily at my hand. I glanced down and realized that I was still holding my camera. I quickly hid it behind my back.
"Can I help you with anything else, Mr. Carl?" I asked. He gave me a sharp look.
"If I have any further use for you, I will certainly let you know." With that, he turned, got into the car and rode off.