“Because,” she says, pulling back and looking me square in the eye, “my maddening, wonderful, arrogant, amazing wife, they deserve it too. They didn’t create a vaccine but they helped you. They made stepping-stones you walked over on the way to the ultimate prize.”
“You know how I always said I didn’t understand your instinct for fairness?” She nods, smiling softly. “Well, I still don’t.” She barks out a laugh and we are happy.
I mean, I’d be happier if I’d won it on my own but we’re still happy.
DAWN
Paris, France
Day 1,702
Tea! I’m drinking tea. I want to cry with happiness. It’s not hot enough—it never is on the Continent—and it’s got too much milk in it, but it’s perfect. I feel eight thousand times more able to do my job thanks to this mug of joy. I’m cradling it like a child holds milk; it’s precious and bringing more comfort than any of the European people in this room could ever understand.
Ah, Interpol. How I look forward to your meetings. So much amazing food. Croissants. Beautifully cooked duck. Tea. Although it doesn’t seem fair that the French have tea and we, the English, don’t. I must bring it up with Marianne. What’s the point in dedicating your life to public service and the protection of your fellow countrywomen if you can’t get some good tea out of it?
“This meeting is being called to order.”
The terrifyingly chic French woman heading up the meeting, Sophie, holds the room’s attention very easily. The slideshow starts, we’re kicking off with the Moldova situation. Ah, joy of joys, the army of crackpots are still in charge. Before the Plague, Moldova was one of the prime sources of sex trafficking in the world. A stagnant economy and rampant poverty meant Moldovan girls and women were highly vulnerable to trafficking, often being sold into forced prostitution in Russia and the Middle East on the basis of false promises of work. I’ve sat in many meetings over the years where sex trafficking and slavery have been discussed in the same sentence as “Moldova.” Since the Plague there’s been something of an overcorrection.
“The situation in Moldova continues to be in the high-risk category. Political sensitivity is high as their wheat, corn and rapeseed exports are crucial. The government is prioritizing a return to being ‘the breadbasket of Europe.’ However, the all-female, anti-men Freedom Party that took control in 2026 is still in power, remains the only legal political party and has refused to hold elections. Following the roundup of all men in March 2026 “for their own safety” and their detention in police stations and prisons, thousands of men are still imprisoned awaiting trial on sex trafficking charges with an indefinite waiting period before trial. There are still over eight thousand men who are unaccounted for. The death penalty is being widely used. We propose maintaining advice that men do not travel to Moldova for any reason, including those who would otherwise have diplomatic immunity.”
I have questions to ask about Moldova but none of them are pertinent to my job. They’re personal. How does someone recover from sex slavery and become a senior politician? How do you resist the urge to wage war on those who have hurt you? All questions for historians to answer in the future, no doubt. For now, the UK’s policy of keeping all men out of Moldova will continue, indefinitely.
“Next, Saudi Arabia. We continue to struggle with information supply. There are strict limits on sharing material outside of the country but we are confident that the regime change is complete. All male members of the Saudi royal family are either in hiding in Jordan and Egypt, or dead. We don’t have clarity as to their survival. There continue to be clashes between rebels and the new government. We’re in discussions with Middle Eastern allies to obtain more information.” The Middle Eastern allies we have left, that is. Almost all of my spies were men. If I’m getting only the tiniest slivers of information out of Iraq, Iran, Jordan and the UAE, I struggle to see how Sophie is getting much more.
Sophie clicks to the next slide.