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296 pages, Hardcover
First published February 17, 2015
That was how the young saw things. If that, then this. If this, then the next thing. Life, to the inexperienced, happened in straight lines.
Thoughts became rituals in themselves. You plodded the same course over and over, like any dumb beast or wind-up toy.
Undercover, after all, was what Bettany did when his own life failed him. Undercover meant dropping out of sight, leading somebody else's life in a succession of foreign cities. It meant leaving everything behind.
Long stretches of boredom interspersed with moments of panic. That too, summed up much of his own career.
He didn't often think about his past, but that too was the undercover mentality. The person you used to be was sealed off, boxed tight, locked shut, and you walked away. But nobody really walked.
[Tearney] resembled the more benevolent kind of witch, the type to dish out helpful potions when love let you down.
As for Dame Ingrid, nothing rattled her. The placidity of her ugliness—her iron-grey hairpiece, the putty-like growth on her nose’s left flank—was its own disguise, within which she could fume and scheme unnoticed. That would have been a lesson she learned long before the Secret Service beckoned her.

