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filled with desks and bustling with
     people. This was the crime section. Jenna led her to an office
     at the perimeter of the room; it was large but not luxuriously
     so, and its glass windows were equipped with blinds, open now to
     permit a view of the interior. James sat there in his shirt
     sleeves at a small conference table with two other men. She
     noticed that they held lowball glasses and a bottle stood on the
     table. When he saw her, he nodded and spoke to the men, wrapping
     up the meeting. He opened the door, and as they filed out, he
     took her hand. "Laura! Thank you, Hicks. Would you get Annie to
     clear this up for me?"

 
    Laura looked
     around the office. It was surprisingly neat, quite different
     from the disordered desk in her flat with its stacks of papers
     and books. Although her work was meticulous, she never found the
     time to file everything on her desk properly. The filing system
     in her head was well-organized, but nobody visiting her flat
     would have known it. James' desk had a computer with two large
     monitors, some legal pads with pens lined up beside them, and a
     couple of trays of papers. On a shelf beside the desk, she
     noticed a picture of a woman with two little girls aged about
     seven. The woman looked Indian or perhaps Pakistani. She had
     golden brown skin, shining black hair in a very thick braid that
     flowed around her neck and down her chest, and striking, clear
     green eyes. The girls looked like smaller versions of their
     mother, though with lighter complexions.

 
    "We're off,
     then," James said to Jenna. "I'll see you tomorrow morning. And
     tell Hartley to get his arse into my office first thing or he'll
     rue it." He sounded different at work, Laura thought. His voice
     was louder and deeper, and he seemed quite comfortable ordering
     people about. Jenna turned away with a last assessing look at
     Laura, and James picked up his jacket and guided her out of the
     office and down the hallway, his hand at her back. Today he had
     a navy suit with a white shirt and a pink paisley tie.

 
    As they
     approached the tube stop, he said, "You look very striking this
     evening-- that green necklace on your white skin, and with your
     hair." She had auburn hair cut in a bob; there was enough red in
     it to complement green clothes and jewelry, as long as the green
     was the right shade. Tonight she had added some red lipstick,
     but she wore little other makeup. They were going to an Italian
     restaurant, Leonardo. According to James, it was excellent and
     not very expensive. It turned out to be a smallish place with
     lots of tables for two and dark wood paneling accented by
     nineteenth-century prints of Roman city scenes. Each table had a
     green cloth and a small brass holder for a votive candle.
     Examining the menu, she chuckled when she spotted carciofi alla giudia ,
     fried artichokes. "I'd love to start with these," she told
     James.

 
    "That's an
     excellent choice," he said. "For you I can recommend the
     tonarelli with black pepper, lemon and pecorino. The pasta here
     is fresh and made in-house. I'll try the bollito misto with
     gorgonzola. I think a white could work with that."

 
    "If you'd prefer
     a red, we can order by the glass."

 
    "But a bottle is
     more companionable, don't you agree?" he said, and she nodded.
     With luck it would not be an expensive one. She was determined
     to split the check this time. They decided on an Orvieto that
     was reasonably priced, and it arrived at the same time as the
     artichokes.

 
    She speared a
     piping hot, crispy morsel of artichoke, dusted with grated,
     sharp cheese and sprinkled with lemon. She paused to enjoy it,
     closing her eyes in reverent appreciation. It was perfect, and a
     slight involuntary moan escaped her. She opened her eyes; James
     was regarding her with amusement.

 
    "I have this
     theory that every person is like a food," she said. "And this is
     the dish you most remind me