Judith Gray sat behind her immaculate desk, pen between her fingers, her expression perfectly composed. The deafening noise of the fans failed to mask the commotion in the embassy corridors. She looked up at the man in front of her, a Congolese government official who had come, once again, to demand an explanation.

"You understand, Ms. Gray, that we can't turn a blind eye indefinitely. This woman, Georgia Wells... She asks too many questions."

A polite, tiny smile touched Judith's lips.

"I understand your concern, of course. But believe me, Mr. Kabeya, Ms. Wells is not a problem. She's simply... a widow lost in a country she doesn't understand."

"She digs too deep," the man replied, leaning forward slightly.

Judith took a deep breath, placing her pen on a closed file. Then she folded her hands.

"And who do you think she'll believe if she finds out anything? You, me... or what she wants to see?"

A silence hung between them. The civil servant got the message. Judith, for her part, already knew that it wasn't about containing Georgia Wells. No, the real art was letting her sink into her own illusions.

So, with a cordial nod, Judith picked up her pen again and pretended to be interested in the papers in front of her, already moved on.

"Good day, Mr. Kabeya."