Poisons hadn’t been a large part of Grace’s training as a mole—she hadn’t been sent to murder anyone at Edwards Air Force Base, after all, just inveigle diagnostics and logistics out of them for the Bell X-2. But the use of certain quick compounds to gripe the guts, that was a standard tool of the trade. What better way to get access to a man’s office or a woman’s handbag than if they had to suddenly excuse themselves to the bathroom with a churning stomach? Simplicity itself to drop a double dose into Mrs. Nilsson’s orange juice
