Actually, she thought, we haven’t fully discussed them. I never got to the part where I told you I needed a big score to cover what I lost by not covering my bet on the DAX.

“It’s a great opportunity,” she said.

“I believe you. I do. And I personally don’t give a shit if the dictator there shoots a few protesters now and then. Or tosses them in a dungeon. Or roasts them alive and eats them for dinner. But Compliance has become so chickenshit.”

“We’re traders. We’re supposed to be allowed to trade.”

“Up to a point. Corporate responsibility, blah, blah, blah.” He shrugged and looked around at the other traders at the other desks. No one was paying any attention to him and Catherine. There was no money to be made by looking at them.

“Anyway,” Barnstable said, “that’s not what I came to talk to you about.” She saw his eyes move down to the curve of her neck disappearing under her dress.

“The thing is, Catherine . . .” He paused, visualizing where that curve went. His wife was at a rehearsal for Charley’s Aunt tonight. She was playing the aunt. “It’s just . . . we still can’t locate your offsetting DAX trade.”

Catherine shrugged. “So it’s an IT issue.”

“If I take it to IT, paperwork gets generated. And that doesn’t look good for the department. Or for you. The call doesn’t expire until the thirtieth, so there’s still time. You did make both trades, didn’t you?”

“Of course. I’ll track the other one down. I’m sure somebody just hit a wrong key.”

“Right,” he said. “Good girl.” And smiled again.

Jesus, Catherine thought, what does this guy want from me?

She knew what he wanted.

Shit.

Bisse du Ro

BISSE DU RO

Two days later, to his own surprise, Majid fell in love.

He was on a hike with Catherine, a weekend date they had made days before, and Catherine didn’t want to break it. She was done with Rafe, again, for good, so there was no reason to break it, no reason she could think of.

The only change was the destination. Catherine had originally planned on taking Majid up the ridge of the Vuache, a ten-kilometer jaunt (if you stretched it) with a panoramic view of vineyards in the Rhône Valley and the ruined chateau of a Duke of Savoy. But that wasn’t much more than a ramble, with a negligible five hundred-meter rise and fall and a pretty café in the village of Chaumont waiting at the end. Much too gentle for what the moment required. After Barnstable, and the DAX, and Rafe, Catherine wanted the satisfaction, and the distraction, of tackling something harder.

Majid didn’t know where they were going, and he really didn’t care, as long as it took his mind off bodies floating off the coast of Africa.