”“Yes, but I don’t think I can stomach any solid food,” I replied.“Jump into bed and I’ll bring some soup up to you.”“Thanks Mum.”Mu...’s soup was her traditional first-choice treatment for when we were afflicted by minor childhood illnesses. It was really thick and gloopy, having been simmered until all the constituents were so tender they were easy for a sore throat to swallow. When she delivered it to me, she also had the foresight to bring a couple of paracetamol tablets. I devoured the soup. “May I use your pad and pen please?” She asked Denise. She slid it over to her and Lana wrote a name down.“Hanna Symanski?” David asked. “Who is she?”“She is an agent working in Washington DC as a high-end escort.” Lana told her.“I thought you didn’t know any of the other women that came into New York.” Denise asked.“Hanna was different. She was a genuinely nice girl and we got along well. She was in shock from seeing America for the first time, and it reminded me of myself when I first got. More

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