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Monday, 4:55 p.m. Madrid, Spain
“You were way out of line,” Martha Mackal said.
She was openly disgusted with the young woman standing
beside her and it took a moment for her to calm down. Then she
bent close to Aideen’s ear so the other passengers wouldn’t
hear. “You were out of line and reckless. You know what’s at
stake here. To be distracted like that is inexcusable.” The
statuesque Martha and her slight assistant, Aideen Marley were
holding a pole in the aisle near the front door of the bus.
Aideen’s ful , round cheeks nearly as red as her long hair, she
tore absently at the moist towelette she clutched in her right
“Do you disagree?” Martha asked.
“I mean, good lord!” “I said no,” Aideen repeated. “I don’t disagree. I was wrong. Total y and completely wrong.” Aideen
believed it, too. She had behaved impulsively in a situation that
she probably should have ignored. But like Aideen’s own
overreaction a few minutes before, this dressing-down from
Martha was excessive and punitive. In the two months since
Aideen had joined Op-Center’s Political and Economics Office,
she’d been warned more than once by the other three staff
members to avoid crossing the boss.
“I don’t know what you needed to prove,” Martha went on. She
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