The couple sitting at the table in the Queen's Grill are people I've never seen before, who don't even vaguely resemble the Wallaces. The man glowering at me is much older than Stephen; and the woman, confused, looking down at her plate, is much dowdier and plainer than Lorrie.
Marina has turned her head away so her face is just a blur.
I'm the only one smiling and relaxed, which amazes me since the only things that look even remotely familiar are the small mound of caviar on my plate and the carafes of the wine Stephen ordered and the Japanese women, in shadows, at the next table.
The original and the three copies I requested are spread out on a desk I'm chain-smoking at, and it's so cold in the room I'm half-frozen, wearing two J. Crew sweaters under the giant Versace overcoat, and the remains of today's hangover linger, insistent, like some kind of reminder. I'm vaguely aware that tomorrow the QE2 docks in Southampton.
"So you're not going to Paris?" Palakon asks. "So you'll be in London after all?"
A long stretch of silence that I'm responsible for causes Palakon to snap, "Hello? Hello?"
"Yes," I say hollowly. "How did you figure that... out?"
"I just sensed a change of heart," Palakon says.
"How did you manage that?"
"Let's just say I know these precocious moments of yours usually come to an end," I hear him say. "Let's just say I concentrate intensely on you and what you have to say and do." A pause. "I'm also viewing everything from a different angle."
"I'm a lover, not a fighter, Palakon," I sigh.
"We've located Jamie Fields," Paiakon says.
Briefly, I glance up. "So my job's over, right?"
"No," Palakon says. "Just made easier."
"What are you doing right now, Palakon?" I'm asking. "Some lackey's giving you a pedicure while you're eating a giant box of mints? That's what I'm picturing."
"Jamie Fields is in London," Palakon says. "You'll find her the day after tomorrow on the set of the movie she's shooting. All the information you need will be waiting for you at the hotel. A driver will pick you up-"
"A limo?" I ask, interrupting.
A pause, then Palakon gently says, "Yes, Mr. Ward, a limo-"
"Thank you."