Kathryn Lasky - Faceless

For evil to flourish, it only requires good men to do nothing.

often attributed to Simon Wiesenthal

Within five years I, with his majestys blessing, had created a new secret agency, the most adept in the world of intelligence and counterintelligence. Thus far the Rasas, as in tabula rasa in reference to their completely forgettable, nearly blank faces, have endured. We of course refer to the agency now only as the Company. God willing and the empire be blessed, we shall endure for centuries to come. Our greatest triumph was a few day ago, July 29, 1588. The defeat of the Spanish Armada!

from the 1588 diary of William Morfitt, spymaster to King Henry VIII

How are we this morning, Louise? It seemed odd that the doctor should be speaking to this great lumpy head swaddled in bandages.

Good, I think. The three disembodied words flowed out of the dark hole. Alice felt a peculiar queasiness wash through her at the sound of her sisters voice. She regretted now that she and her mother had gone to the British Museum yesterday. There had been a mummy there, wrapped in burlap. Tufts of ginger hair sprang from the top of its head, escaping the cloth. And now she felt as though she was standing at the bedside of another mummy. Her sister, Louise Eleanor Winfield.

Her mother, Posie Winfield, held Alices hand in a hot, sweaty grip. Alice wondered if she was thinking of that same mummy from the museumwhat had it been called, Clarissa? Yes, Clarissa. How stupid. How British! If the mummy was Egyptian royalty, why would the archaeologists use such typically English names? But they didClarissa, Peregrine, Derek. All cozy in galleries sixty-two to sixty-three.

Louise, sweetie, its me, Mum. And Alice.

Im not blind. Louise lifted her hand from the bedcovers and pointed toward the two eye slits in the bandages. Her hand was a welcome sight. It looked the same.

How are you feeling? Alice asked.

Excited.

As well you should be! the doctor said buoyantly. The unveiling is always an exciting moment. Or moments, I should say, as we do take our time. Never rush, the doctor added softly. Now Sister Agatha will help me snip the bandages. As Sister Agatha entered, it was as if an immense seagull had flown into the room. Nurses at St. Albans belonged to a Catholic order that shunned ordinary nurses caps for voluminous wimples, cloth headdresses last in fashion during the Great War of 19141918.

Youll see some stitches, of course, Dr. Harding continued. But not as many as you would have, say, a year or two ago. We are now using a new dissolvable thread for a lot of the sutures.

What Alice saw first was not stitches but bruising. Splotches of metallic gray tinged with rose. Her sister looked tarnished like old silver. It wasnt the shock she had expected, but there was something, despite the bruising and the swelling, that was essentially different about Louisas face. Alice couldnt help but wonder if she would ever do this herself. Would this be like a kind of divorce from ones self? Would you have to get to know yourself all over again?

Excellent! Dr. Hardings voice cooed like a dove as he admired his handiwork. Very little swelling considering this stage of the game. Alice saw her mother wince at the word game.

Game. Thats all it is for hima game!

Alice thought back to the conversation they had had in the doctors office less than half an hour before. The preparation conference, he called it, four days following the surgery. This way they might all be ready at the unveiling.

Her mother had popped up from her chair the moment Dr. Harding entered the room. Everything all right, doctor? She was a veteran agent for the Rasa division, called the Company, under the authority of MI6, Britains Secret Intelligence Service. But of course the Winfield family was not undercover with Dr. Harding. He was one of perhaps four or five plastic surgeons who worked on these special agents when they decided they no longer wanted to serve. And that was what Alices sister Louise had decided. She no longer wanted to be part of the most elusive and secret of all the branches of the British intelligence agencies.

But why? Alice had asked herself this a dozen times every day since Louise had announced this decision. Louise was six years older than Alice, and she was celebrated as much as a spy could be. Two years ago, Louise had been advanced to level A missions. Her work had been impeccable. Her renown was not public, of course, but her reward had been increasingly sophisticated missions. Why would she give all that up?

The Winfield family was part of an ancient tradition dating back to the court of Henry VIII and William Morfitt, the spymaster for the king. It was Morfitt who had, over a short stretch of time, come in contact with two people whose faces were completely forgettable. Nonfaces that were like tabulae rasas, or blank slates. These void-like faces haunted him. They were not officially spies when he first encountered them. Indeed, many of these people were petty criminals. But what perfect spies they would make, he thought. No one would ever remember them. The king agreed. And thus the division later called Rasas was formed.

The Winfields came from a long line of Rasas. The Rasas had served kings, queens, and country for hundreds of years, through countless wars. And now Alices big sister was leaving. She and Louise had done so many missions together. Not level A for Alice yet, just B and C levels. But Louise had promised to be her guide. Now she felt abandoned. And yes, shocked. Not by this new tarnished face that Louise had been given, but because of the promise she had broken.

Everything is perfect, Dr. Harding was saying. No, not everything! thought Alice. Im sure youll be pleased with the results, and more importantly, I think Louise will be too. Shes been very clear in what she wanted all along. Definitely not film-star looks, like Greer Garson or Vivien Leigh. Ever since the movie Gone with the Wind, everybody is going for the Vivien lookthe delicate little nose. But no film stars for our Louise... Alice winced as he called her our Louise and waved his hand dismissively. In one simple gesture, he was banishing some of the most beautiful and talented women in the world.

My ideal patient. Together Louise and I worked to create something highly original. That was the first time the queasiness had seeped into Alices stomach.

The doctor had cracked a rather toothy smile. It seemed to Alice that he had about five too many teeth crammed into his mouth. He continued, Ive never enjoyed being a copyist. He paused briefly. Now before we go in for the unveiling, let me show you something.

He rose from his desk and, reaching for a cord, pulled down a diagram of a human face, its features and the underlying musculature. Thishe gestured at the diagramhelps me explain the procedure that I performed on Louise and other cases like this. By cases, he meant other Rasa agents who wanted to leave the service and acquire a unique and memorable face.

He then pointed to a poster on the wall with twelve digits, 1.61803398875. Do you know the significance of that series of numbers? he asked. Alice and her mother shook their heads. Its a ratio. He paused briefly. A very particular ratio thats known as the Golden Mean.