The three spymasters sat innocuously at their dining table in the restaurant. The place was quiet,
but with a lively emugh crowd to distract anyone from snatching any details from their conversa-
tion. Ms. Fenstone was in the centre, an ageing black face and overlong fingernails, and just about
the most well connected power broker in these United States. She was eating steak, rare. She liked
the slight tinge of blood in her mouth after each bite, it felt like the only natural thing in her diet,
which otherwise composed of nutrient shakes and constant pain pills.