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'Yes, please. They'd love them.'

"We're taking most of them home with us and we're leaving for Locarno in the morning. Come round before ten to pick them up.'

Isabella's father held her close when they danced, and she found his warmth and his familar smell comforting.

'Penny for your thoughts, Bella?'

'It's been a lovely day, Papa. I'm so happy for you and Maria. And I know Mama would be too.'

He smiled. 'You seem quiet.'

'I'm fine. It's nothing, Papa.'

He held her closer and guided her steps to the music. 'Then tell me about it.'

"You know I'm going to be a bridesmaid again in a few weeks?'

'No.'

'Phoebe's getting married.'

He raised his eyebrows. 'Is she?'

'It's been all over the press.'

He laughed gently. 'Sorry - you know I don't read papers or watch much TV, and over the last few weeks I've been concentrating on my own wedding. Who's she marrying?'

'Helmut Kappel, a Swiss banker old enough to be her father.'

He stopped dancing. 'Come outside and tell me all about it.'

OUTSIDE, IN THE GARDENS BEHIND THE RESTAURANT, CARLO BACCI listened with a heavy heart.

'After losing her father I can understand Phoebe being attracted to a kind older man. But Helmut Kappel's not that type, and she didn't get to know him, then learn to love him. You should have seen her when she first met him -- it was weird. She fell for him as soon as she set eyes on him -- like he was a young, good-looking guy. When they're together she can't stop staring at him. I've tried to speak to her, but she just smiles and says I should be happy for her. But she doesn't seem happy. It's like Helmut's cast a spell on her or something. I'm worried he's just using her.'

She waited for him to respond, and when he said nothing she laughed self-consciously. 'God, I sound so petty and jealous, but I do feel better to have got it off my chest.' She looked at him and grimaced, as if she expected him to laugh at her or to tell her to mind her own business.

He did neither. He just stood there, forehead creased in thought. All he could think about was the drug he had made up for Helmut Kappel and his wife. What had Max said? 'It's a delicate matter. My father and his wife are unhappy. They're contemplating divorce and wondered if you could help.' Bacci still had the request form signed by both Helmut and his wife, but how did he know it was her signature? He had only met her once, briefly, at the Kappel bicentennial celebration. Surely Helmut Kappel wouldn't have abused the drug. There was too much at stake.

A heavy feeling of dread formed in his stomach -- and must have shown on his face because Isabella was frowning now with concern. 'I'm sorry, Papa. I didn't mean to worry you with my troubles on your, wedding day. I'm just being selfish and jealous -- worried about losing my best friend.'

He wanted to tell her his fears, but he couldn't - if he began, he'd have to tell her everything, including his use of her as a guinea pig with Max in Antibes. He had got himself into this and he would get himself out. 'I'm sorry, Bella. I don't know what to say,' he said.

She led him back to his party. 'Just tell me not to worry -- and that if her wedding day is as happy as yours then everything will be fine.'

He smiled. 'Okay, Bella,' he said. 'Don't worry about it. Everything will be fine.' Then he turned away and the frown returned.

THE SAME NIGHT

THE BREEZE BLOWING INTO MONTE CARLO FROM NORTH AFRICA WAS unseasonably mild, but Helmut was glad of his woollen suit and silk waistcoat as he and Max sat on the deck of Warren Hudsucker's fifty-foot yacht. The American kept the boat moored in Monaco to use as a private bolt-hole whenever he came to Europe.

For the last hour Helmut and Max had gone through Hudsucker's personal accounts, presenting various tax-saving and investment opportunities. But, like the natural politician he was, Hudsucker had avoided committing to anything, including keeping his account with Kappel Privatbank. 'It's nothing personal,' he said, patting his thick silver-white hair, 'and I'm flattered you both came to see me. But you must appreciate my position. I'm scaling down all my investments outside the US and I need to be seen to be transparent. Maintaining a secret Swiss bank account doesn't fit.'

'It never bothered you before, Warren,' Helmut said pleasantly. 'In the past you were grateful for our help, whether it was financial, influence with the Mafia or in eliminating rivals.'

Hudsucker adopted his best Gregory Peck smile. 'But I'm on the US Senate now. And . . .'

'And you no longer trust our discretion when it comes to handling your personal finances?'

'No, no. It's not like that. Of course I trust you.'

'Without us you wouldn't be in the Senate,' Max said. Helmut watched his son twist the unfamiliar silver ring on his left index finger and wondered why he was nervous.

At that moment Hudsucker's personal assistant walked in with a bottle of champagne and three flutes. 'Ah,' Hudsucker said, with some relief. The young woman was attractive, with dark hair and long legs, and as she placed the tray on the table Hudsucker put his hand on her rear. 'Thanks, Ellie,' he said.

Helmut kept his face blank as he watched the woman leave. Hudsucker was a hypocrite. He'd got into the Senate on a family-values ticket, but he was screwing his personal assistant while his wife and kids were in the US.

'Enough business talk,' Hudsucker said. 'Tell you what, I promise not to decide anything until after your wedding, okay?'

It was obvious that the man had decided to move his account but Helmut consoled himself with what lay in store for the senator. He remembered when Trapani had tried to blackmail him and the pleasure he had taken in slitting the Sicilian's throat. Hudsucker's fate would be slower but no less devastating. He returned the senator's easy smile. Revenge would be sweet.

Hudsucker stretched towards the newspaper rack on the wall beside him and took down a copy of the International Herald Tribune. He opened it on the table to reveal two pictures: one of Helmut and Phoebe, and one of the four bridesmaids. 'Let's drink to you, Helmut,' Hudsucker said, raising a glass. 'I don't know how you managed it. Phoebe Davenport, for Christ's sake.' He reached across and touched Helmut's waistcoat in an over-familiar gesture. Helmut resisted the impulse to react. 'Fancy waistcoat. What's going on? With the new haircut and natty threads, you're becoming a real ladies' man.' Then Hudsucker leered at Max. 'How"did he pull it off? I like the ladies too, but Phoebe Davenport's in a class of her own. Not only is she young and beautiful, she's rich and famous, too.' He turned back to Helmut. What on earth did you offer her to get her to marry you? Whatever your secret is, I want to know it.'

Helmut clinked his glass against Hudsucker's. 'When you come to the wedding, Warren, perhaps I'll sell it to you.'

Hudsucker chortled. 'You know what? I'd buy it.'

Helmut tried to catch Max's eye as he drank, but his son was staring at the senator. Max had seemed preoccupied throughout muchof the meeting and, for a second, Helmut wondered if Joachim was right about an attachment to Isabella posing a conflict. But Max was family, Helmut reasoned, his elder son. He might have his mother's blood but Helmut had raised him to be pure Kappel. Once Ilium was out of the way and he had married Delphine Chevalier, Max would be fine. By then Project Venus would be in place and it wouldn't matter anyway. Nothing would matter.

MAX WAS AWARE OF HIS FATHER'S SEARCHING EYES AS HE LISTENED silently to the two men's conversation, but couldn't trust himself to meet his gaze. He felt so on edge he had to will himself not to toy with the hollow ring on his index finger in case he activated the tiny blood-extracting needle prematurely, or fired the drug secreted within.

What was happening to him? He never used to feel anxious. He had never felt anything except when he dived. Now, however hard he tried to control his emotions, they kept spilling out. Over the last few weeks Max had met the first three targeted clients -- Lysenko, Corbasson and Nadolny -- on his own, using the modified ring to inject the drug and extract a blood sample. But with Hudsucker - the client matched with Isabella - his father had insisted on attending. Max suspected that he wanted to find out whether Joachim's taunts had any basis in the truth.

What angered him most was that Joachim might be right. He only had to imagine Hudsucker with Isabella and his anxiety increased. He had to control himself. When the cellphone pulsed in his pocket, he welcomed the distraction. He checked the caller's number on the display. Why was Bacci calling him on his wedding night? 'Excuse me.' He rose and walked to the far end of the yacht, out of earshot. 'Carlo, congratulations. How was the wedding?'

'What have you done, Max?' Bacci hissed down the phone. He didn't sound like a man who had just got married: he sounded betrayed. Max could hear music in the background.

'What are you talking about?'

'Isabella told me about Phoebe and your father getting married and how they met. He used the drug, didn't he?'

Max's mind raced through possible responses. 'Calm down, Carlo. You're talking in riddles.'

'Max, I gave you a pair of nature-identical love drugs for your father and his wife. But he didn't use them to save his marriage, did he? He used the one with his facial imprint to snare Phoebe. This isn't what I created the drug for -- to allow old men to abuse beautiful young women. The deal's off. I want out.'

'Carlo, calm down. Let's talk this through. I'll come and see you. If my father's done anything wrong, I'll be as shocked as you are. Where are you?'

'At my wedding reception, but we're going home now.'

Max checked his watch. 'I can be at your house in Turin within two hours. Don't do anything until we've talked. If after our conversation you still think my father has abused your drug, I'll want it stopped as much as you do.'

There was a pause, and Max could almost hear Bacci's indecision. 'Two hours,' Bacci said, and hung up.

Max checked his watch and strode back to the table where Hudsucker and his father were still talking. All his indecision had gone. His mind was clear and cold, already running through the arguments he would use to keep Bacci on side. 'Excuse me, Senator, but I must go. Another client needs me urgently.' He reached out, squeezed the ring between his fingers, then shook Hudsucker's hand so tightly that the Senator didn't feel thirty milligrams of the NiL drug, coded with Isabella's facial imprint, explode through his skin, or the needle extract a minute blood sample.

Helmut frowned. 'Who is it, Max?'

'Professor Bacci. I can handle it.'

TWO HOURS LATER

IT WAS RAINING BY THE TIME MAX REACHED TURIN. HE FOUND BACCI sitting in the front room of his house, a crumpled piece of paper and a half-empty bottle of grappa on the coffee-table in front of him. The room was filled with flowers.

Where's Maria?'

'I sent her to bed.' His eyes were bloodshot and he held his head in his hands. "This isn't how I planned my wedding night. I want out of my deal with Kappel Privatbank, Max.'

Max thrust his hands into the pockets of his wet raincoat. 'Carlo, you don't know my father's done anything wrong.'

'I want out.'

'It's not that easy, Carlo. You've signed a contract.'

Bacci picked up the crumpled sheet of paper. 'Don't talk to me about signed pieces of paper. You said your father and his wife signed this request for treatment - but she knew nothing about it, did she? I won't let you abuse what I've discovered. If you won't let me out of the deal, then I'll go public with what's happened.'

'Think about what you're saying, Carlo. Even if my father has abused the drug," consider who you'll hurt by going public. Your daughter for a start. Don't forget you used it on her.'

'Only to prove to you that it worked.'

We didn't force you to do anything. You could have walked away. And what about your wife? You used the drug on Maria to make her love you.'

'But that was different. I took the drug first. We both fell in love. And when I tested it on Isabella, you took it too. It was equal. Fair.'

'Have you told Maria what you did? Did she willingly take the drug? And how will Isabella feel about you using her as an unwitting guinea pig? You gave your daughter to a stranger.'

'That was different. My intentions were good. I did it for love. Your father has abused the drug, Max. He used it to gain control. He's gone against everything I believe in.'

'You've no proof of that. And even if he did, why is it any different from what you did with Maria? Why should only you use the drug to find happiness? Phoebe may be younger than my father but she still believes she's in love with him. Where's the harm in that?'

Bacci looked confused. Then he shook his head. 'This is different. I never intended to abuse Maria, only to love her. I took the drug first. I want out of our deal.'

'You can't get out now.' Max looked Bacci in the eye, willing him to understand. 'It's too late for that.'

'Then I'll go public. And damn the consequences.'

'You're not listening to me, Carlo. You can't go public. For your own safety, you can't tell anybody anything, especially my father. Let me talk to him and sort this out.'

'You can't threaten me.'

'I'm not threatening you. Trust me. I'm warning you. Remember what happened to Trapani? You told him about the drug, didn't you?'