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sharing that with me.’ She can hear laughter in his voice.
    ‘You don’t understand. I’m free, Mr Searle.’
    ‘Ben.’
    ‘Ben. Are you still looking…?’
    ‘Yes. And I’m glad. Hang on a second.’ A minute later she is still holding on. A female voice comes on the line.
    ‘I’m Jean Morton, Mr Searle’s secretary. Please hold, Miss Winters. Is that convenient, or should we call you back? Ben’s gone to make you an appointment with our managing partner.’
    ‘I’ll wait.’ Cold trepidation creeps from her feet upwards as she hangs on. The seconds loiter while she imagines this coveted job vanishing like a shooting star.
    ‘Hi Chris. You still there? Rowan’s attending a three-day conference shortly. He’d like to see you before he goes. Can you make ten-thirty tomorrow morning?’
    Only by shuffling around a whole lot of appointments.
    ‘Sure. See you then.’
     
    Rowan Metcalf, managing partner of Financial Investigations, has a voice befitting his position; it is deep and authoritative, but the rest of him lets him down. He’s short, slight and rather insipid with his ash-blond hair and pale grey eyes. Chris can’t help resenting his boring hour-long interrogation, which has turned into a personal eulogy.
    ‘By now you must have grasped that each of us takes full responsibility for whatever we’re working on,’ Rowan Metcalf is saying, looking pompous.‘I’m only interested in results. If you need to spend three months in Kathmandu, that’s your affair. Charge all living costs to your company credit card when you’re out of the country on a job. The point is, you have to win. If you fail, you’re out.’
    This is something Ben hasn’t mentioned. Rowan is frowning at her. She has the feeling that he’s trying to scare her off.
    He tries again. ‘Obviously we don’t have a hundred per cent success rating. What I’m trying to say is that each case is strictly confidential so you have to work alone. You have to be creative when you’re planning your strategy.’
    What exactly is she taking on here? ‘I thought I was going to be Ben’s PA.’
    ‘Initially, yes. Ben has to choose between his family and his job. He’s undecided, but we all know which choice he will make.’
    A pang of disappointment leaves Chris feeling unsettled.
    ‘We’ve been pretty well briefed by Ben and various headhunters and we’ve checked around. You have a reputation in the city for intelligence and integrity. You win more cases than you lose. If you have any more questions, keep them for Ben. He’ll show you the ropes. Later you’ll be on your own. Are you with us?’ Metcalf asks.
    ‘Yes.’ They shake hands and Rowan relaxes and seems almost human.
    Ben arrives to introduce Chris to everyone. ‘They all like you,’ he says.
    Chris interrupts his congratulatory flow. ‘Ben, thank you. I’m thrilled to get the job.’

CHAPTER FIVE
    Since Bertram moved in, Chris’ bedroom has doubled as her office. It’s warm and sunny, with high ceilings and big windows, has plenty of space, and it overlooks the garden. It’s Sunday. Chris is sitting cross-legged on the floor searching the newspaper for news of Sienna. This morning her mind is all over the place, like an unschooled horse, perhaps because she’s tired. There’s still no news of Sienna and Chris’ fears for her friend are preventing her from sleeping well. Just about every kidnapping film Chris has seen comes to mind in unguarded moments.
    Then there’s Bertram, whose presence is an ongoing irritation. She can forgive him for his long, grey, unwashed locks, the dandruff on his shoulders, his browning teeth, and even his stained fingers, but does he have to look so damned humble? Even worse, Bertram has laid a guilt trip on her. She feels mean and that’s not how she likes to see herself.
    ‘I’ll get used to him,’ she mutters. ‘Madness to resent him. Hasn’t he just unlocked the door of my prison. Free…at last.’
    Forcing herself to