‘‘Here’s your new identification documents; driving licence, social security number, bank and creditcards.’’ Sylvia handed me a small wallet as we sat to dinner courtesy of a local pizza delivery.
‘‘But these are for Madeleine Duval. That’s not me.’’
‘‘It is now.’’ She smiled. ‘‘It’s for your security.’’
‘‘But I’m not female.’’
‘‘You’re going to appear to be, then no one will recognize you.’’
‘‘I won’t agree to that.’’
‘‘We thought of male disguises but you’re so small it was easier to make you over into a female. That way you’re average.’’
‘‘Gee, thanks. I always wanted to be average.’’
‘‘Sorry. I think you’ll be a real looker; what I meant was average height and build for a girl.’’
‘‘You can’t be serious.’’
‘‘Listen, we need your co-operation,’’ she said. ‘‘Either that or your project gets shelved or you become unemployable anywhere outside of waiting tables.’’
‘‘You certainly have a way of appealing to new employees.’’
‘‘Take my advice and go with it,’’ she said, her voice quiet and serious. ‘‘We’re good at what we do; we won’t turn you into a monster and you may enjoy it more than you think.’’