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VMSO GLAD TO SEE YOU GUYS,' PHOEBE SAID. SHE WAITED FOR Joachim to leave the room then ushered Isabella and the others into a small antechamber by the reception hall. 'Isn't this place incredible?'

Gisele looked through the glass wall at the other guests. 'It's like a fairy-tale, Phoebe.'

'Helmut arranged everything.'

'It's stunning,' said Claire.

Phoebe hugged her sister. 'I only wish Mummy was coming.'

Isabella saw Claire lower her eyes. 'I know,' she said, 'but it's a long way and you know how she feels about flying.'

Isabella hugged her friend. 'You look fantastic, Phoebe.'

'So do you guys in your furs.'

As the others embraced Phoebe, Isabella looked up at the ceiling: the wooden beams were carved into spear shapes with crystal tips. To their right was a plaque, which explained that Valhalla was named after the great hall of Odin, the chief god in Norse mythology. The Valkyries, Odin's flaxen-haired warrior maidens, flew over battlefields and selected only the bravest slain warriors to take with them to Valhalla, where they would eat and drink at Odin's table as they waited for Ragnarok, the final conflict between good and evil. Isabella wondered if Odin was his real name. She doubted that even the most doting parent would christen their child after the chief of the gods.

Isabella turned back to Phoebe. 'How do you feel? Excited?'

'Of course. But a little nervous too.'

Isabella studied her friend for a sign that she had been given the drug, but there was nothing. The only clue was that Phoebe seemed totally in Helmut Kappel's thrall and appeared to have surrendered her fiery independence. The old Phoebe would never have allowed someone else to organize every aspect of her wedding, however much she loved him.

'Welcome.' The door to the lobby opened and Helmut Kappel entered with a tray of four glasses. Phoebe's face lit up. 'Joachim told me your journey was smooth.'

'It was great, thanks,' said Gisele.

'The sleigh ride was fantastic,' said Claire.

'Good. I thought you'd prefer that to a helicopter. Phoebe, pass these to your bridesmaids, but be careful -- the glasses are made of ice.'

Obediently Phoebe handed them round.

'It's one of Odin's concoctions,' Helmut said. 'A blend of the local aquavit and mead -- a kind of vodka and honey liqueur.' He held Isabella's gaze briefly, then flashed a cool, knowing smile. 'Odin's christened it the Perfect Marriage in our honour. I'm told it's best to down it in one.'

Isabella drank the sweet, yet fiery cocktail as she observed the hall. She recognized Klaus Kappel when he arrived with yet more guests. Then Max entered with Delphine, their arms linked, and an older, distinguished-looking couple, who were clearly her parents. She felt an irrational stab of jealousy. After what she had discovered about her father's drug and his Antibes experiment, she no longer trusted Max. If his father had abused Phoebe then Max might have been involved. But however much she wanted to hate him, she missed his strength.

As she watched Max, she became aware that Helmut was staring at her, with a small, cruel smile. 'Phoebe,' he said, 'why don't you show the ladies to their rooms? I must greet our other guests.'

SHEDIDN'TKNOW WHETHER IT WAS DOWN TO HELMUT KAPPEL'S welcome drink or the journey, but Isabella felt suddenly fatigued as Phoebe showed her the bedroom plan by the main stairs. Isabella recognized some of the names: minor royalty, politicians, captains of industry. She estimated that around a hundred guests would occupy sixty rooms, located mainly on the outer perimeters of the three upper tiers. The two main rooms, high in the tower, had been allocated to Helmut Kappel and Phoebe. A separate section marked 'Private' was presumably Odin's quarters.

Isabella's room was on the second tier. She searched the plan and saw that Joachim's room was four doors away. Good. She hadn't forgotten about the contents of his aluminium case.

As she used the DNA face-recognition sensor to enter her room, she noted that her hospital used the same system -- the InterFace 3000. In her room she found a printed social schedule on the table beside the bed and a mask hanging on the door. It had two eye slits and was designed to cover the top half of the face. It was painted gold and gilded feathers hung on each side like flaxen hair. The top of the mask resembled the front of a Viking helmet with two mother-of-pearl horns. According to its tag, it had been moulded in a stylized likeness of Freya, the wife of Odin, chief of the gods.

Fighting off sleep, Isabella collapsed on the bed and read the schedule, which was printed in eight languages and began with a champagne reception that evening. Tomorrow there would be sleigh rides and helicopter trips to the Arctic Circle, followed by a New Year's Eve masked ball in the great hall. The wedding ceremony was scheduled for New Year's Day in the ice chapel. She changed her watch to local time, just after three o'clock.

Suddenly she thought of her father. His betrayal made her miss him more, not less. When he had died, her one consolation was that everything between them had been resolved. They loved each other and that was all that mattered. But now that he had made her doubt his love, her anger stopped her grieving properly. If only he had spoken to her about his project, perhaps she could have helped and guided him.

She set the alarm clock to wake her in three hours' time, then checked her luggage, which stood neatly by the door to the adjoining bathroom. She opened her suitcase, reached for her sponge-bag and looked inside. There were the foil strips of sleeping tablets she had used occasionally since her father's death, and the canister she had taken from the hospital. She unscrewed the cap and looked inside. The contents were a last resort and might not work, but if her worst fears were justified they were all she had. Then she lay on the bed and surrendered to sleep.

ELSEWHEREIN ODIN'S CRYSTAL PALACE, THE OTHERBRIDESMAIDS also slept, dreaming of strangers. The subjects of their dreams sat alone in their rooms, obsessing over photographs of the women they had been dreaming of recently. In a matter of hours they would meet the objects of their desire.

FOUR HOURS LATER

THE GREAT HALL AT VALHALLA HAD BEEN MODELLED ON AN upturned Viking ship, but as Helmut Kappel looked up at the huge ribs that formed the sweeping arched vault that supported the roof's curved glass panes he felt as if he was standing in the belly of a vast crystal whale. Tables laden with glasses and salvers of food lined the hall while staff in full Viking livery served food and drink to the guests.

A corpulent figure approached him through the throng and Helmut opened his arms in greeting. 'Feliks, good to see you.' He embraced the Russian, then steered the man towards a far corner of the room. 'There's someone I want you to meet.'

Fifty-eight-year-old Feliks Lysenko's expensively cut dinner-suit couldn't disguise his obesity. He had thick eyebrows and a thin moustache, and his bald, tanned head gleamed under the crystal chandeliers. His haunted dark eyes searched the room and finally settled on Kathryn Walker's face. Immediately an ecstatic smile wreathed his features.

Helmut smiled to himself. Love's poison weakened even the most ruthless mind. Soon he would teach the world how dangerous it could be.

'May I introduce one of Phoebe's bridesmaids? Kathryn's one of the New York Walkers.'

'I know,' Lysenko said, barely able to contain himself. 'Kathryn, may I introduce a friend of mine? Feliks Lysenko.' Helmut watched her step away from Isabella and Phoebe to greet the Russian. It was no surprise that Lysenko was delighted to meet her: even if he hadn't been under the influence of the drug Lysenko, the social pariah, would have drooled at the prospect of hobnobbing with a beautiful young socialite like Kathryn. But it was her reaction that made Helmut laugh inwardly. Normally, he was sure, she would have greeted the arms dealer politely, then moved back to people of her own age and class. But now she looked at the short, bald, obese Russian with the shocked wonder that Phoebe had displayed when she had first seen himself at Odin's fashion show in Milan.

Helmut stepped back and watched one of the official photographers take a picture of the couple, with himself in the background. He had briefed all the photographers to ensure that his face appeared in at least half of the pictures. He turned to see Giscard Corbasson, the French pornography baron, striding through the crowd towards Gisele Steele, who had joined Isabella and Phoebe. From the look on Corbasson's face and the startled expression on Gisele's, no introductions would be necessary.

Helmut lit a cigarette and inhaled. Earlier, after talking to Hudsucker, he had primed the other target clients. Now each one was walking headlong into his dream, unaware of the nightmare to come. Nadolny was deep in conversation with Claire and after Helmut had steered Hudsucker to Isabella, Project Ilium would be poised for the final act.

When the time came he was sure they would pay whatever he asked. The fear of losing the greatest happines they had ever known would be too compelling to resist. He looked across at Max, who was talking animatedly with Delphine. It was reassuring to know that his prodigal son had returned to the fold. Everything was back under his control. He was the puppet master and his blood sang.

Two guests approached and offered their congratulations on his marriage. He smiled graciously, although he knew they had only come to see Phoebe. But that would change. After the wedding everything would change. Joachim and his wife Anna were talking with the Chevaliers. He beckoned to his son. "Venus?'

'It's all prepared, but we must finalize some minor details.'

'Good. You can tell me about them tonorrow.' He saw Warren

Hudsucker approaching. 'Thank you, Joachim. You can go now. I want to introduce someone to Isabella Bacci.'

As he watched Joachim walk away, Helmut's heart swelled with anticipation. Ilium had made him Cupid, but Venus would give him the world.

SOMETHINGWAS VERY WRONG. ISABELLAFELT DISLOCATED, AS IF she was in a disturbing dream. The ball had come straight out of a fairy-tale: all the men were resplendent in evening dress, and the women wore the most exclusive designer gowns with jewels that threatened to eclipse the vast chandeliers hanging from the glittering crystal roof. Phoebe outshone them all in a figure-hugging, ankle-length cream dress, a gold necklace and gold slippers. Isabella had been observing her friend, and as they talked, Phoebe had kept looking over her shoulder to make sure Helmut was near.

It wasn't Phoebe's behaviour, however, that had made the hairs stand up on the back of Isabella's neck. It was the way Kathryn was mooning over the short fat Russian, who, if he stood any closer, would soon smother her. It reminded Isabella of Phoebe's first meeting with Helmut. And Gisele seemed similarly captivated by a leering Frenchman, who stroked her arm with the familiarity of a lover. Even Claire was giggling like a schoolgirl with a man old enough to be her grandfather.

Her fears increased when she noticed Klaus Kappel turn away from his wife and look directly at her. His cold eyes narrowed. Did he suspect that she had discovered something?

Then Max appeared with Delphine on his arm. 'You remember Delphine?' he asked.

'Yes, of course.' Isabella extended her hand. She imagined she saw a triumphant smile hover on Delphine's lips.

'How was your flight, Isabella?' Delphine asked.

'Fine. Yours?'

Delphine looked up at Max and smiled. "We came together.'

Their apparent intimacy added to Isabella's sense of isolation. Suddenly she felt cold. Max must have been involved in his father's abuse of the drug. All his recent kindness had been motivated by the need to keep an eye on her so that she didn't interfere in the smooth passage of her father's technology to Kappel Privatbank. Everything, including his claimed break-up with Delphine, had been a lie.

As she processed this, Helmut appeared with a handsome man who seemed familiar. He was in his fifties, had a film star's tanned looks, thick silver hair, which was almost Kappel-white, and smiled at her as if she was the only person in the world.

Helmut turned to his son. 'Max, perhaps you'd like to make the introductions.'

'Certainly,' said Max. 'Isabella, let me introduce you to Warren Hudsucker. He's a senator for Nevada.' As Max spoke, Isabella noticed that Helmut was watching his son intently with a satisfied smile.

She smiled at Hudsucker. 'I thought I recognized your face. How nice to meet you.'

'I definitely recognized you.' He took her hand and kissed it. He had a small birthmark in the shape of Australia on the back of his hand.

Helmut touched Phoebe's forearm. 'Come, Phoebe,' he said. 'I want to show you off to some of our other guests.'

Hudsucker was charming and attentive, but as Isabella talked to him she had the uncomfortable sensation that she was being watched. She glanced away from him and saw Max looking in her direction. Then she caught Klaus, Joachim and Helmut staring at her. As Helmut's eyes met hers, she felt suddenly alone in the crowded room, a vulnerable deer in the cross hairs of four hunters' rifles. Seconds 'later he shifted his focus in turn to Kathryn, to Gisele, Claire and finally Phoebe. It was then, as she followed his gaze and saw what he was seeing, that she almost dropped her glass. They hadn't only used the drug on Phoebe. They had used it on all of her bridesmaids. They had used it on herself.

She looked into Hudsucker's eyes, saw his hunger, and a rush of nausea threatened to overcome her.