He smiled, a polite smile, like a short, insincere handshake. He invited her in, and once again made her feel that the invitation had come from a sudden inspiration. "And you"re Sarah," he said as he led her down the central great hall. “Sarah Bancroft, curator at the prestigious Phillips museum. Sarah Bancroft, who bravely applied to work with us but was rejected on the grounds that she was not needed. How"s your father?"
She was surprised by the sudden change of subject. "Do you know my father?"
"Actually, I"ve never met him. Does he work for Citicorp?
“He knew exactly who my father was working for. Why are you asking about my father?"
“Where has he been lately? London? Brussels? Or Hong Kong?"
"Paris," she replied. “This was my father"s last job. Next year he will retire.”
“Will h
