10
Day felt that he too would benefit from a siesta after lunch, and slept with the heaviness that the August heat instilled despite the air-conditioning in his room. When he woke, an image lingered in his mind, the remnants of a dream. It was the figure of a headless man, tall, slender and unrecognisable, honed down to the essentials of the human form. Its head was on the floor beside it, regarding its former body sadly.
It was no fantasy. It was an echo of Konstantinos’s account of his broken figurine, the single piece of damage to occur during the break-in. Once Day’s imagination had shown it to him so vividly he realised that the decapitated model at the Saris atelier had not been broken by accident. On the contrary, it seemed very much like a threat. It was either a threat to Konsta
