‘My first favorite part of you is your face. After all these years, you still are the prettiest girl I know, Betty. You look just like a doll, a rea... doll.’ ‘Oh…thank you. You’re pretty too, Eugenia…’ Betty said, pursing her lips and squirming. She sounded more insincere than she intended, but the residual feeling of her friend’s casual transgression weighed on her nerves. ‘Me? You think? I don’t hear that often. Maybe from some of the drunks down at my daddy’s pub, but not from petty girls. Hopefully, they would still consider me to be a passé clown with no lines of communication or organized support. The investigators at Interpol were nipping at my heels but were hindered by the terrorist threats and high levels of turnover in their own ranks. The Americans were a joke with their angst about this political consideration or that and endless elections that changed policy like straws in the wind. I had some insight into the MI-6 elements that operated field agents in my world but. More

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