“Calvin, anything you know, I want to know. Everything you can tell me, you will tell me. Never in my life have I wanted to hurt a man. If anything happens to Lucy, that will change.” Alex met Calvin’s gaze with such justified anger that the latter was forced to look away. Alex now glanced at the floor where Max had been sitting a little earlier, and saw for the first time that his son had made a kind of jigsaw out of the reverse sides of some of the leftover sheets he himself had not been engaged with. He’d never paid much attention to this pattern on them. He smiled, then winked at his son—who seemed relieved to have his more familiar father back with him again. Alex then scooped together the bundle of parchments, put them in their protective dossier bag again, and as quickly into a briefcase, grabbed his medical kit, and put his overcoat on one-handed.

“Be very good for Siân. I love you.” He kissed the boy and hugged him vigorously. “You’re a very clever boy.” He turned with almost as much feeling to Siân and embraced her. “Thank you.” He mouthed the words. Then the two men were gone.

AMONG SOME SILHOUETTED TREES IN THE MOST INAPPROPRIATELY beautiful space in the hills above the Chartres plain, the car stopped. Lucy was pulled roughly from the vehicle by the driver—feeling nauseous, though not actually hurt, she admitted to herself, determined to hang on to the positives. But she was numb with cold. She’d dragged on her light spring trench coat as she’d left the cathedral, but it was no match for the chill evening air; the temperature was dropping while the weak March sun disappeared. She noticed a building in the last light; quite beautiful. It was a partially ruined farmhouse, she could see, but she wasn’t interested in the architectural features. Strange how you could experience such terror in the midst of beauty. She was bundled through the door by both men, and found herself in a damp room with a wan fire, where yet another man was sitting reading at a table some distance from it. He seemed, she thought, almost unconcerned with the intrusion.

Oh God, what is happening? she wondered, incredulous, and her spirits sank completely. This didn’t seem like an attack on a single woman now. Fear gripped her firmly; she had no notion at all how to approach this—or what in fact she was approaching.

“I trust you haven’t been hurt, Miss King?” The sole custodian of the old farmhouse looked up from his book. “Heart surgery is a serious matter. It changes you.”