Her expression was no longer amused.
“She says she began studying in Granada, continues her education in Paris, and spent this morning reviewing international investment models.”
Antoine tried to laugh.
“Well, then. Perhaps our waitress has taken a few university courses.”
Elena remained silent.
But the investor didn't smile.
She was looking at the young woman's face with growing recognition.
“Elena,” she said slowly. “Elena Marković?”
The waitress nodded.
“Yes, señora.”
The investor set down her glass.
Then whispered something that made Antoine's expression darken.
“I believe I've read your work.”
For one terrible moment, Antoine Delcourt realized that the evening might not end the way he'd planned.
But the truly dangerous part of Elena's answer wasn't her Spanish.
It was the fact that she knew exactly what his financial projections were supposed to conceal.
And somebody at the table had just recognized her.
Eight hours earlier, Elena's day had begun in a cramped apartment above a laundry on the eastern side of Paris.
The radiator clicked constantly but barely warmed the room.
A small desk stood beside the window, covered with textbooks, research articles, a secondhand laptop, and handwritten notes in three languages.
Her phone alarm sounded at six-thirty.
Elena reached across the pillow, switched it off, and lay still for another ten seconds.
Then she got up.
She had slept less than five hours.
The previous evening, a wedding reception at La Verrière had lasted nearly until midnight. After returning home, she'd spent another hour finishing revisions to a research memorandum due that morning.
Her legs ached.
Her eyes burned.
And the weather forecast promised rain.
But the rent was due in four days.
So she made coffee, opened her laptop, and reread the conclusion of her memorandum before getting dressed.
The document examined the risks created when major infrastructure investors treated preliminary commercial agreements as though they were guaranteed future revenue.
Its subject was a proposed network of logistics hubs linking Spanish ports with agricultural producers and shipping businesses in several Latin American countries.
The project was called Corredor Azul.
Its supporters described it as an ambitious transformation of transatlantic trade.
Modern cold-storage facilities would reduce waste.
Improved distribution systems would help producers reach European markets.
And new freight partnerships would create jobs in Spain and across several exporting regions.
The idea was not inherently bad.
Elena understood that better than most.