The aroma, if there was one, was unlike anything he’d known before. He was used to women who dabbed on hot musk to entice him, but this had a cool, restrained quality that was almost like winter. Winter about to become spring, he thought: sweet-smelling fires in the snow, the smoke blown hither and thither, always on the verge of vanishing, always lingering.

The phone rang and she answered quickly.

‘Sara? What’s the news?’

‘I’m in hospital,’ came Sara’s voice. ‘It’ll be months before I can work. I’m sorry, Olympia.’

‘Don’t worry about anything. If the baby’s all right, that’s what counts.’

‘Bless you.’

Olympia replaced the receiver thoughtfully. Primo was watching her face.

‘Your secretary’s not coming back?’ he asked.

‘It seems not. In which case-’

She looked up as a shadow appeared in the doorway and a neat young woman hurried in.

‘Miss Lincoln? I’m so sorry not to have got here earlier-’

‘Was I expecting you?’

‘Central Staff sent me. They said you needed a secretary.’

‘But-’ She gave a quick look at Primo, who let out his breath uneasily. ‘But you-’

‘It’s a bit complicated,’ he hedged.

‘Will you wait outside, please?’ she asked the newcomer pleasantly.

When the young woman had gone she faced him.

‘I think you have some explaining to do. Just who are you?’

‘I told you, my name is Jack Cayman.’

‘But who is Jack Cayman? And why did he claim to be my secretary when he wasn’t?’

‘Ah, be fair. I never actually said that’s who I was. You jumped to a conclusion.’

‘Which you did nothing to correct.’

‘You didn’t give me a chance. You informed me why I was there, snapped your fingers, and I said, “Yes, ma’am, anything you say, ma’am.” And let’s face it, that’s the kind of answer you prefer.’

He knew this was an exaggeration, but he was fighting with his back to the wall. Anything was better than the truth.