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... ssa Laurent—one of the agents assigned to the Paris lair case. I studied her for hours: the cadence of her speech, the lazy confidence in her walk, the way her fingers hovered before touching anything, as if everything offended her. It wasn’t perfect, but perfection isn’t required. Only believability—for a few minutes.
They were keeping the real Larissa alive. Sedated. Quiet. Useful.
The air inside the lair still smelled of scorched plastic and ionized metal. The server room had ...
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