Calvin’s eyes now met Alex’s, and he nodded his head, thinking almost to himself. “I’ll have to find Guy—or Fitzalan Walters, who’s the real power occupying the throne. Yes, Alex, I admit, I do have an interest in what’s been happening; but not for myself. There are others who are deeply concerned…” He looked at Alex, whose expression was a surprising comfort to him—made him feel as though he weren’t entirely alone. “I’d like to be able to tell you.”

Alex smiled at him, and tilted his head slightly. “But you can’t. And yet, I think perhaps you just have.”

Calvin looked at the man beside him with an expression very near to relief.

“You’re birdliming,” Alex said unequivocally. “But, why Boston?”

“The people who paid for my European studies need to be kept…informed. About crucial developments.”

“So they can be controlled before they get out of hand?”

Calvin nodded, his eyes watching his hands nervously. He indicated—with a motion of his head back down the hall—that he was unable, or unwilling, to speak further with others so close at hand. “But I’m honestly out of my depth, so I arranged to meet one of them in Boston. Alex,” Calvin whispered, “that’s all I can say, except you know I’m very fond of Siân and would never knowingly let anything happen to any one of you. I think Will’s death might have been avoided if I had been a little quicker off the mark.”

Taut emotions hung between the two men, but Alex had reached an important decision. He was about to speak when he heard a Scottish voice intone his name.

“Dr. Stafford?” The figure of a younger man occupied the threshold where Calvin had been quarter of an hour earlier. “I am DI McPherson, or antiterrorism James, if you like!” he said far less formally. His warmly humorous voice was a welcome relief for the swirling current of emotions that Alex and Calvin had unleashed in each other, and both men smiled at the newcomer, Alex extending his hand. “We spoke on the phone last night, and I can see I’ve come to the right place. This will be Mr. Calvin Petersen, whom you mentioned in our conversation.”

All three men were now on their feet, and James McPherson looked at the others directly. “Let’s talk quickly, as we all have other places we need to be shortly. And, Dr. Stafford, you remember that I, in fact, am not here at all. Nor are you, Mr. Petersen. So, if you can find a mug in all this mess, any chance of a quick coffee?”

Alex laughed, and they both followed him into the small kitchen.