The words simply broke off, but they had a poetic impact on both the men. The pasta was forgotten as the one looked to the other for enlightenment; but Alex knew no more than Simon. Perched lightly above his brother’s close friend, he was shaking his head to signify that he hadn’t the least idea what Will was thinking of. And then suddenly, breaking into the hush, Simon noticed a flashing icon at the bottom of the screen.

“Alex, someone’s trying to hack into us. It’s as if they’ve been waiting for us to go online…” His voice trailed off, and he and Alex stared at the alert together. The screen was dissolving through several colors, and the anti-Spyware had produced a map showing hackers were attacking from somewhere right here in the UK. The screen went into a loop, with a green wheel revolving in the center, then settling into a square.

S A T O R
A R E P O
T E N E T
O P E R A
R O T A S

11

LUCY’S STRESS LEVELS WERE RISING; NOT GOOD FOR HER HEART. BUT WHAT help was there for it? She had to be at Cadogan Pier at five o’clock. It was already four-thirty, and she was still at home with her hair unfinished, shoes undecided.

“Get it together, girl,” she told herself firmly. “This time it’s a proper date with Alex Stafford. Why should that worry you?”

It had been eleven days ago, first thing on a Monday morning: the phone call that followed the appointment with Mr. Denham. He had quite casually invited her out for an express lunch, ostensibly to have an informal chat about her problems settling with the medication, but beyond a few minutes spent on steroids and mood swings, they hadn’t talked shop at all. In many ways this lunch had been her first venture back into the real world. It was the “please call me Alex” lunch; and she felt it crossed the line, surely, between work and a touch of play? She thought it a success. He’d sat, smiled, listened attentively to her, revealed nothing about himself. But it was a sociable starting point.