The flat, on Elizabeth Street off Eaton Square, was utterly luxurious. It consisted of a large entrance hall, a beautifully furnished drawing room with a crystal chandelier, a paneled library, a kitchen stocked with food, three attractively furnished bedrooms, and servants' quarters.
Catherine was greeted at the door by a woman in her forties wearing a black dress. "Good afternoon, Miss Alexander. I am Anna. I am your housekeeper."
Of course. My housekeeper. Catherine was beginning to take it all in stride. "How do you do?"
The chauffeur brought Catherine's suitcases in and placed them in her bedroom. "The limousine is at your disposal," he told her. "Just tell Anna when you're ready to go to the office, and I will pick you up."
The limousine is at my disposal. Naturally. "Thank you."
Anna said, "I'll unpack your bags. If there's anything else you need, just let me know."
"I can't think of a thing," Catherine said honestly.
Catherine wandered around the flat until Anna had finished unpacking. She went into the bedroom and looked at the beautiful new dresses that Demiris had bought her, and thought: All this is like a wonderful dream. There was a feeling of total unreality about it. Forty-eight hours ago, she had been watering rose bushes at the convent. Now she was living the life of a duchess. She wondered what the job would be like. I'll work hard. I don't want to let him down. He's been so wonderful. She felt suddenly tired. She lay down on the soft, comfortable bed. I'll just rest a minute, she thought. She closed her eyes.
She was drowning, and screaming for help. And Larry was swimming toward her, and when he reached her he pushed her under water. And she was in a dark cave, and bats were coming at her, tearing at her hair, beating their clammy wings against her face. Catherine awakened with a shuddering start and sat up in bed, trembling.
She took deep breaths to steady herself. That's enough, she thought. It's over. That was yesterday. This is today. No one's going to hurt you. No one. Not anymore.
Outside Catherine's bedroom, Anna, the housekeeper, had been listening to the screams. She waited a moment, and when there was silence she walked down the hall and picked up the telephone to report to Constantin Demiris.
The Hellenic Trade Corporation was located at 217 Bond Street, off Piccadilly, in an old government building that had been converted years earlier to an office building. The exterior of the building was a masterpiece of architecture, elegant and graceful.
When Catherine arrived, the office staff was waiting for her. There were half a dozen people near the door to greet her.
"Welcome, Miss Alexander. I'm Evelyn Kaye. This is Carl...Tucker...Matthew...Jennie..."
The names and faces became a blur.
"How do you do?"
"Your office is ready for you. I'll show you the way."
"Thank you."
The reception room was tastefully furnished, with a large Chesterfield sofa, flanked by two Chippendale chairs and a tapestry. They walked down a long carpeted corridor and passed a conference room with heavy pine paneling and leather chairs along a highly polished table.
Catherine was ushered into an attractive office with worn, comfortable furniture and a leather couch.
"It's all yours."
"It's lovely," she murmured.
There were fresh flowers on the desk.
"From Mr. Demiris."
He's so thoughtful.
Evelyn Kaye, the woman who had shown her into the office, was a stocky middle-aged woman with a pleasant face and a comfortable manner. "It will take you a few days to get used to the place, but the operation is really quite simple. We're one of the nerve centers of the Demiris empire. We coordinate the reports from the overseas divisions, and send them on to headquarters in Athens. I'm the office manager. You'll be my assistant."
"Oh." So I'm the assistant to the office manager. Catherine had no idea what was expected of her. She had been thrown into a fantasy world. Private planes, limousines, a beautiful flat with servants...
"Wim Vandeen is our resident mathematical genius. He computes all the statements and puts them into a master financial-analysis chart. His mind works faster than most calculating machines. Come along to his office and meet him."
They walked down the corridor to an office at the end of the hall. Evelyn opened the door without knocking.
"Wim, this is my new assistant."
Catherine stepped into the office and stood there, riveted. Wim Vandeen appeared to be in his early thirties, a thin man with a slack-jawed mouth and a dull, vacant expression. He was staring out the window.
"Wim. Wim! This is Catherine Alexander."
He turned around. "Catherine the First's real name was Marta Skowronka she was a servant girl born in 1684 who was captured by the Russians she married Peter I and was empress of Russia from 1725 to 1727; Catherine the Great was the daughter of a German prince she was born in 1729 and she married Peter, who became Emperor Peter III in 1762, and she succeeded to his throne that same year after she had him murdered. Under her reign there were three divisions of Poland and two wars against Turkey..." The information poured out like a fountain, in a monotone.
Catherine was listening, stunned. "That's...that's very interesting," she managed.
Wim Vandeen looked away.
Evelyn said, "Wim is shy when he meets people."
Shy? Catherine thought. The man is weird. And he's a genius? What kind of job is this going to be?
In Athens, in his offices on Aghiou Geronda Street, Constantin Demiris was listening to a telephone report from Alfred in London.
"I drove Miss Alexander directly from the airport to the flat, Mr. Demiris. I asked her if she wished me to take her anywhere else, as you suggested, and she said no.