I didn't really think I was fooling anyone—I knew where the trail was—but I had to get out of that SnoCat. Away from her.
Years ago, in Helsinki, she had made me believe—and then had disappeared with the documents I had been couriering. Left me feeling like the fool I was, to go back to the Department in failure with nothing to show for the trip but a pocketful of matchbooks.
I hated her for her lies, but I hated myself more because I knew, if she had asked me, I would have just given them to her.