Lockwood complained, and then tossed the travel folders back across Hilda’s desk. Hilda smiled her sullen smile, not an expression that relaxed anyone. “I keep thinking I’ve seen you somewhere before, Mr. Parker,” she said. “Were you in Paris last fall?” Lockwood asked. “No.” “In the Alps—skiing?” She shook her head. Her eyes shone. Lockwood frowned. “Perhaps last spring—Costa del Sol?” Hilda sighed heavily. She could work here at the embassy amid those who moved elegantly through the larger world, but none of it was for her. “No, I’m afraid my work keeps me at this desk.” Lockwood gestured towards the travel folders. “And these are the best that Argentina’s got?” “We have a new resort going up near Mar del Plata,”
