The air inside the brightly lit room smelled of chalk and turpentine. He’d never had art at school, and no memory of making mud pies or finger-painting as a child. For as long as he could remember, it was the world of chemistry and biology, and the workings of the brain that set his curiosity on fire. Numbers and patterns, the circuitry of perception. And the sheer wonder of the neuronal axon potential, without which complex life forms would not exist. Across the room on a low shelf, a row of seashells and fossils and minerals glinted in the morning light.

Neither Gessen nor Dr Lindstrom had explained how art therapy might improve his mental health. Whatever it took to get back home, he was willing to try. With an extensive report on his current research findings due at the Worthington Foundation by mid-December, he could only hope that Farzan, or one of his other graduate students, had taken over the task. If he missed the deadline, he could lose millions in funding. Surely that man he’d attacked in Copenhagen had been back home for weeks now, and no harm done. So why shouldn’t he return to his work as if nothing had happened? In his absence, that idiot Dodson was surely plotting to usurp Vidor’s position as department chair. A young Machiavelli, not to mention a whiny bastard. Just the thought of that man running rampant over his domain made the bile rise in his throat.

* * *

A woman in a hand-knit sweater the colour of dried leaves appeared from the depths of a supply cupboard. ‘You are Vidor, yes?’ She strode forward and clasped his hand. ‘I am Isabelle. Welcome.’ Her red-and-orange embroidered skirt swished around her legs. Gold earrings swung in her ears.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ She gestured at the window. ‘Wonderful light. A good day to make art. Come.’ She took his arm and led him to a large table by the window. In the currents of air he caught a whiff of her perfume. A musky odour of cardamom and cloves that made his head spin. An exotic scent… he’d smelled it before, but where? An old-world fragrance, reminiscent of incense, or something from an Asian bazaar.