Jed had his family ensconced in a large four-bedroom house over in Madison Park. Back in 2003 it had been leased by Arthur Andersen on behalf of one of their executives who was working in-house with Boeing. The place itself had been owned by a two-dollar shelf company, the ownership of which receded in clarity through a series of property trusts, holding companies and increasingly obscure corporate entities. The executive, and Arthur Andersen for that matter, had both Disappeared. For all intents and purposes then, the house had no owner. Under the Real Property Act of 2005, it had become an asset of the state, and from there the family home of the Chief of Staff of the President of the United States. It wasn’t a sweetheart deal. He was paying full market price for the lease.

Marilyn and the kids loved the house. Unfortunately, for Culver’s purposes, it was just too far away. There were weeks when he virtually lived in his office, and to save time he had taken a small one-bedroom apartment two minutes away from Dearborn House. His wife, his third wife actually, who loved, loved, loved to socialise, was waiting for him in her underwear when he rushed up from the town car. Sadly, Marilyn had no hi-jinks in mind. She was simply suffering from option paralysis, unable to decide what to wear to the fundraiser.

‘Jedi Master!’ she squealed when he hurried in through the door.

Marilyn Culver was not going to be bothering the selection committee at Mensa anytime soon. But Jed had not married her for her brains. He had been attracted by her smokin’ hot bod and well-preserved looks – unashamedly so. She was one of those women other women hate, the sort who looked better as they got older. Having been drawn to his previous wives because of their looks, however, that had not been enough to put a ring on her finger. In Marilyn, Jed found an innocent soul, possessed of a naïve faith in humanity that was entirely uplifting after having to spend his working day dealing with the worst aspects of his fellow man. Some of which aspects, he had to confess, he himself possessed in full measure.

He knew, as soon as he saw her standing all but naked in front of the full-length mirror at the end of the hallway, holding three formal dresses under her chin, what had been going on. She had been trying to choose an outfit for hours. The bed would be piled high with them. Even though this was just their bolthole in the city, Marilyn maintained a full wardrobe here. Some men would’ve lost patience, but he felt his spirits lifting and his eyes crinkling with a delighted smile.

‘There will be a great disturbance in the Force if you do not wear the glittery silver one that shows off your boobs, sweetheart,’ he called out down the hall.