Stephen knocked out a quick rhythm with his hands on the desktop, then pushed himself out of his chair and walked out into the narrow glassed corridor that separated their offices. He gave a token knock on her door and entered.

“All right if I come in?”

Jackie looked up, nodded, then continued to write.

Stephen sat himself down in a chair opposite her. He folded his arms and crossed one foot over the other, but remained silent.

Jackie looked up again. She tilted her head questioningly to the side. “Is anything wrong?”

Stephen shrugged his shoulders. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Jackie held her pen six inches above the desk and let it go. It clattered down on the dark veneered surface. “Listen, I’m sorry if I didn’t seem very communicative at the meeting this morning.”

“There’s no need to apologize. It couldn’t have gone any better. They seemed more than happy with the way things are going.”

“As long as things keep going the way we’ve planned them.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that if Tom Headwick doesn’t come up with the modifications for the set design, then we’ve got a real problem on our hands.”

“But you spoke to him this morning. I was under the impression that he told you they were all but finished.”

Jackie scoffed dismissively. “Well, that’s what he says.”

“Have you spoken to Rebecca about it?”

“I haven’t been able to get hold of her. She’s been with a fabric supplier all morning and has her mobile switched off.”

Stephen raised his eyebrows. “What’s new?”

“And take a look at this, as well,” Jackie said, spinning a sheet of paper across the desk towards him. Stephen bent forward and picked it up.

“It’s the schedule.”

“Yes. I’ve just taken it off the Internet.”

Stephen studied it for a moment. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Quite a lot, actually. We have a slot at one o’clock on Wednesday in the Bourdelle Museum.”

Stephen shrugged. “That seems a good time. Means we don’t have to get up at sparrowfart.”

“Yes, but look who’s showing in the Louvre at exactly the same time.”

Stephen studied the schedule once more. “Ah. Gaultier.”

“Exactly. So where’s the press going to be?”

“Oh, hell!” Stephen muttered as he floated the schedule back onto Jackie’s desk. “And there’s nothing that we can do about it?”

“Not a thing. The Chambre Syndicale set that schedule in stone. Do you want to hear more?”

Stephen groaned and scrunched up his eyes, as if preparing himself for a stinging blow to the face. “If you insist.”

“Three of our star models have backed out. I would hazard a guess that they’re probably going with him.”

“Can they do that?”