No exclamations of surprise or delight. No welcome.

Agatha looked around. It was a large living-room with an uncarpeted floor. Apart from the table and chair, there were a battered sofa and two armchairs, heavy with tarnished gilt on the woodwork, the kind of furniture called “Loo Kanz” in the Middle East.

“Drink?” he asked. “I don’t have any ice. The fridge isn’t working.”

She followed him into a narrow kitchen. She saw why the fridge wasn’t working. There was no plug on it. She opened the fridge door. It was filthy, encrusted with old food.

“Hardly luxury quarters,” said Agatha. “Looks like a rip-off.”

“It is,” said James, pouring two glasses of wine. “My old fixer, Mustafa, used to be on top form. Fix anything for me in the old days-accommodation, furniture, air flights-anything. I paid a month in advance for this place, too. I keep trying to get him on the phone but he’s always busy.”

“Where is he?”

“He owns some hotel called the Great Eastern in Nicosia. I’m going there tomorrow to ask him what he thinks he’s playing at. There aren’t even any sheets on the bed, just old curtains.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Two weeks.”

“I’m surprised you put up with it this long! Not like you.”

“I just wanted peace and quiet. Where are you staying?”

“The Dome.”

“Nice. I haven’t even got a phone. I have to use the phone up at the Onar Village Hotel. I asked the phone company to fix it up but they said they couldn’t do that until Mustafa paid the previous bill, and so far he hasn’t done that. Perhaps he’s ill. He was a great fellow in the old days. Bit of a rogue, but do anything for anyone.”

“He’s done you, that’s for sure,” said Agatha sourly. She wanted to talk to him about why he had left without seeing her but she realized he was putting up that old force field of his which repelled any intimate discussions.

“How long are you staying?” he asked.