James Corey

She felt a strong urge to go put it on and then tell Thorsson where he could stick his attitude.

The hallways of the United Nations complex in the Hague were clean and wide, the décor a soft style that made everything look like a museum diorama of Portuguese colonies in the 1940s. She paused at an organics recycling unit and started digging the shells out of her bag.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Did you just instruct me to spy on Admiral Nguyen?”
“No, I just asked for a comprehensive audit of all network traffic, and I don’t give a fuck about any results besides Nguyen’s office.”