Even the light was different in Athens, soft and golden, sweet as the morning dew blessed by Athena herself. Vorsack sat alone at his computer in his pajamas. ‘I am glad it is you, because you can help me. “Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded. And nowhere could I obtain the slightest information. The danger or difficulty of an exploit never appalled him. ‘Who in the name of heaven is this Leonardo? And why did he kiss you?’ ‘He was an Italian soldier, and he wanted to kiss me,’ Melusine said, goaded. He would have some sport with Mr.
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