Page 61 of The Dark Mirror

‘Verca is back.’

‘Great.’ I took the glass. ‘Will I see you downstairs, then?’

‘Take your time. The concierge said you hadn’t called for any meals.’

‘I’ll have something today.’

‘You look a little better,’ Nick said. ‘Did you get any sleep?’

‘As much as I could.’

‘Good. Pivot has asked me to remove the tracker Cordier put in,’ he said. ‘It’s disabled, but better it’s out. Come and see me in the medical room later.’ I nodded. ‘Your results are back. You have mild anaemia and a couple of vitamin deficiencies. You’re also dehydrated.’

‘I’m always dehydrated.’

‘I suppose I can only blame Scion for that.’ He folded his arms. ‘At least your teeth are in good shape, against the odds. I can’t believe Colin didn’t let you see a dentist for twelve years.’

‘He was probably afraid I’d be detected,’ I said. ‘I appreciate you caring, Nick.’

‘Always.’

When he left, I folded back the wooden shutters, letting in the light of another golden day in Venice. I stood by the balcony for a long while, trying to snap out of my torpor.

The Isola di San Michele was close enough that I would sense Terebell if she arrived there. It was unsettling to not know whether or not she had received the message, or how long it would take. I distracted myself by showering, which always demanded my full attention.

Verca was in the bar with the others. I ordered breakfast and went to join them.

‘You dyed your hair.’ Verca smiled. ‘I like it.’

‘Thanks. I needed a change.’ I had wrestled my curls into a low bun. ‘Did you get the files?’

‘Yes. Pivot gave me permission to show you.’ She placed a hand on a dossier. ‘This one belongs to the medical officer assigned to Mannequin as Eléonore Cordier.’

‘I can’t believe Domino has people carry files around,’ Maria said. ‘What happens if you drop them?’

‘You don’t.’

She opened the dossier and slid it towards me. The picture was of a woman in her twenties, with styled brown curls, high cheekbones and green eyes. The lines of her face were familiar.

‘She would have dyed her hair,’ Verca said. ‘And this photograph was taken seven years ago.’

Maria glanced at me. ‘Is it her, Paige?’

I kept looking at the photograph, seeing more and more of Cordier.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It’s her.’

‘Her real name is Aysel Ekren. A qualified paramedic, fluent in French, which she claimed to have learned from her Belgian father,’ Verca said. ‘She was signed up in Istanbul and sent to Prague for training. She wanted to work in London, but her skillset meant she was assigned to Paris, since Mannequin needed a medical officer. Her appeal was rejected.’

‘Did you or Pivot notice anything amiss?’

‘One thing.’ She turned a couple of pages. ‘This dossier includes transcripts from her linguistic proficiency tests. When I ran these past a Belgian colleague, he noticed two oddities. As it turns out, they are specific to Québécois.’

Maria raised her eyebrows. ‘So she could be Canadian?’

‘Yes, which would be unusual. Most agents come from countries that fund Domino, and Canada is not one of them. Aysel claimed she was born in Istanbul, studied in Ghent and had never lived anywhere else. Domino is rigorous about background checks, to make sure there are no conflicting loyalties or undeclared motives, but the examiner failed to flag the discrepancy.’

‘She could have bribed them to ignore it.’

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