LUCY WAS TRANSFIXED BY THE SUNFLOWERS ON THE DESK. THEY GAVE HER something to look at while she waited nervously; and she considered whether they indicated a private joke, if Alex had brought them in for Emma. When he appeared around the corner in response to his pager, she stifled a laugh at their mirrored appearance. His dark linen suit was relieved by a light gray shirt and gray silk tie. He stopped in his tracks, seeing it too: they were Whistler’s Symphony in Grey.

“Hello! You’re suited! I’ve never seen you like this.” He threw down some files next to the flowers, his lively eyes appraising his unexpected visitor. She exuded poise and control in an immaculate gun-metal satin jacket and trousers, kitten heel boots. Her leisure wardrobe drew on a palette of watercolors, feminine and unstructured. But this crisp, professional Lucy was new and mysterious to him.

“Is there somewhere we can talk?” She accepted the compliment his eyes paid her, but felt awkward in front of Alex’s secretary. He waved her into his office with an unfamiliar boyishness, then perched respectably on his desk, the expanse of glass denying them proper privacy.

“You’ve heard from them.”

“It’s all in place. Can you get this batch of prints to Calvin?” She offered him an envelope. “He’s to play courier, and they’ve given me one week to find the originals. I asked for more, but that was their limit. With luck, Roland will have the documents and whatever else Will sent on—the other key, I hope. I can make copies from those.”

That Lucy seemed to be taking all this on herself had not escaped Alex’s notice, and he exhaled heavily. “Calvin still hasn’t surfaced. I’m somewhat loath to depend on him as the liaison. Did you say when he’d deliver?”

“I wasn’t specific—but I suppose I gave the impression it would be fairly swiftly. Surely, Alex, they must know his movements? He was the suggested contact.”

“Presumably.” Alex wasn’t entirely assuaged by this, but let it go. “I should speak to Roland then.”

“Simon has it covered. They’ve apparently met a few times in New York.” Lucy tentatively took Alex’s hand, shy of being seen by the passing world outside his office. She was unclear as to the ethical considerations of their relationship, although he was technically no longer her doctor. “I can’t make dinner tonight. I’m on a flight to JFK in a few hours.”

“Oh, Lucy…” Alex’s eyes flashed sudden alarm at her. He started to voice a more coherent protest. “I know theoretically you have clearance to travel now, but a long haul isn’t really advisable, unless it’s for a holiday. Stressful trips should be avoided. I’ll go.”