LITMIR.BIZ

       THREE

      I

       The Conference Pavilion, Eleusis

      Nico Chavakis had learned to recognise the symptoms of an incipient attack, the accentuated heel-and-toe cadence of his heartbeat, the hot sticky flush of his cheeks and forehead, the nausea low in his gut and throat, and then, most unpleasant of all, that sudden light-headed rush that had toppled him more than once. He loosened his tie, popped his top button. ‘A chair,’ he said.

      The girl Gaille Bonnard didn’t hesitate, bless her. She hurried over to the massed ranks of wooden folding chairs in the pavilion, grabbed the two nearest and returned to place them side-by-side behind him, then helped lower him onto them, a buttock upon each. He sat there with his legs spread and his hands upon his knees and breathed as he’d been taught, deep and regular, expanding his lungs, letting time do its usual nursing.

      ‘Are you all right?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Do you need anything?’

      ‘I’ll be fine,’ he assured her. ‘Just give me another minute.’

      ‘I’ll get you a doctor.’

      ‘No need,’ he said. It was true enough. He was still in the tunnel, yes, but the darkness was lessening, he could glimpse the other end; and the last thing he wanted was to make himself conspicuous in front of all these people, as they sipped their drinks at the back of the conference pavilion. ‘Your news came as a shock, that’s all.’ No understatement there. Tragedies for Augustin Pascal and Roland Petitier, of course; but not so good for him either. Shameful to acknowledge such self-interest so soon after dreadful tidings, but he was only human, after all, and he had a conference to run. ‘My two main speakers for tomorrow, you see.’

      All sympathy instantly left Gaille’s expression. ‘So?’ she asked tersely. ‘You’ll just have to cancel.’

      ‘You don’t understand.’ He looked bleakly up at her. He knew all too well what would happen if he did. The delegates would sympathise with his predicament, sure, but he didn’t need their sympathy, he needed their money. Those who hadn’t yet coughed up never would, and everyone else would demand refunds—to which, unfortunately, they’d be entitled. ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I just can’t.’

      She winced as though she’d read his mind. ‘You’re not bankrolling this yourself, are you?’

      He closed his eyes. ‘You know what things are like. My sponsors pulled out. No one else would step in. What was I supposed to do? Call it off?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘I’ve never had a failure,’ he said. ‘My reputation is all I have.’

      ‘Look,’ said Gaille. ‘I’m really sorry, honestly I am, but I only came over to pass on what Claire told me, so that you can do what you have to about tomorrow. But I have to head back to Athens now. It’s not just Augustin—Daniel’s been arrested. Claire says they’ve put him in gaol, the bastards. So I really have to go.’ She touched the back of his hand. ‘You do understand?’

      Nico was only half listening, his mind already working on contingency plans. He could take Petitier’s slot himself. He’d been intending to give his talk on grain-goddess iconography anyway before Petitier had got in touch. It would be simple to resurrect. That left Augustin’s talk. He looked up at Gaille, still standing there, waiting for explicit permission to leave. ‘They’ve put Knox in gaol, you say?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘My sister-in-law’s a criminal lawyer,’ he said. ‘The finest in Athens. All the police here are terrified of her. She’s exactly who he needs right now. I’ll call her if you like.’

      ‘Would you? That would be fantastic.’

      Another little thump of his heart. He held up his hand to ask her to wait it out with him, then kept it up to pre-empt the indignation to which she’d be entitled, once she’d heard what he was about to say next. ‘There is one thing,’ he said. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’ll call Charissa anyway, even if you say no…’

      ‘Say no to what?’

      ‘Augustin’s speech and slides are already loaded onto the teleprompter,’ he told her. ‘All it really needs is someone to read it out. Someone familiar with the topic. Someone who knows Alexandria well enough to have credibility with the audience and to answer questions intelligently. Someone the delegates will accept as a suitable replacement.’

      ‘Me?’ asked Gaille in surprise. ‘But I don’t know Alexandria anything like well enough. Honestly, I don’t.’

      Nico stared blankly at her for a moment. The equality of women was a part of modern life he’d never quite got used to. ‘I wasn’t thinking about you so much,’ he said carefully. ‘I was thinking more about Knox.’

      Her expression flickered, as though she’d read his mind; but then

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