“The money goes to Nano’s account,” said Jimmy. “As we agreed. And we have access to the company’s technical specifications. Officially. Then we can begin to make nanorobots and share with you in the future research.”

“And then we go back to the vicarage?”

“Unfortunately, that will not be possible.”

“But . . . Pia . . .” said Berman, stumbling over his words. And the worst part of what had just happened suddenly occurred to him.

•   •   •

THE MORE TIME that passed without a call from Harry, the nearer Burim Graziani was to the end of his rope. He had gone to Piccadilly Circus, the station on the underground that seemed best situated for access to anywhere in London. Burim figured the Underground was the way to go if he was in a hurry, as the Friday-night traffic in the center part of the city was impossible. It was almost eleven o’clock, and he had heard nothing for hours. If there was a fate worse than death, Burim had read about it that afternoon. He knew about the sex traffickers, and what the girls these men took were subjected to. He could barely contain his fury. Someone was going down for this and that someone was going to be Zachary Berman.

•   •   •

“YOU BASTARD.”

“Zachary, I am saving you from yourself. You have been useless these past two weeks. Miss Jones has been running Nano single-handedly while you have been monomaniacally obsessed with this Pia woman. You have spent your days and nights mooning over her. And I saw last night that she will never give herself to you voluntarily. As we have discussed, it is okay to have a weakness, but this woman is a fatal flaw in you. You’re like a character in a Greek tragedy.”

“I will see to it that you—”

“You will see to nothing. Yell and scream all you want. You have your money; we have the proprietary information. We have made arrangements for you to leave. Your plane is scheduled to depart from Stansted in ninety minutes to take you back to Boulder. By the time you get home, you will have seen the reason for what we have done and understand it.”

“But where is Pia?”

“Obviously I am not going to tell you anything. In fact, I don’t know where she is. In order to retain our . . . standing . . . we used an intermediary to tidy up your mess. I couldn’t tell you where she was if I wanted to. Now you will leave. Voluntarily or otherwise, it is all the same to me. Go home, Zachary! Go back to that castle of yours, and find another diversion. You deserve a rest.”

“I know I have been distracted,” said Berman. “But I beg you to reconsider what you are doing. I know that Pia will come around by the time of the marathon. That was our agreement. She told me herself she was changing her mind. Damn you, you bastard.”