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imagination is tickled by the idea of a monastery and a lost masterpiece. How incredible if I was among the first people to see this painting since its discovery – assuming it’s the real deal, of course. I’m sure Mark will have the expertise to know.
    The butler is opening a door, indicating that this is my room, and I step inside. It’s like a plush, luxurious hotel room, everything perfectly nice but without character. My case is already in there; in fact, it’s been unpacked and everything tidied away. I wonder if the kind soul who unpacked it will mind redoing it for me in the morning, seeing as we’re off again first thing. A wash of relief passes over me when I think that I almost brought my vibrator with me in case the glamour of my surroundings awakened that kind of a mood.
    Thank goodness I didn’t! Imagine the embarrassment... I shudder inwardly. I don’t have the insouciance to carry off that sort of thing very well.
    ‘Why don’t you stay here and have your supper in your room?’ Mark suggests. ‘I’ll take on Dubrovski on my own over dinner. I think it would be tiring for you.’
    ‘Good idea,’ I say, gratefully. I’ve had enough excitement for one day. I don’t know if I can take Dubrovski’s fierce energy for a couple more hours, especially as we’re heading off for more adventures tomorrow. Now that I’m here, my silly fantasy that Dominic might be waiting for me with open arms is revealed for what it is. I need to get on with reality. ‘I’ll start on that research for you and find out all I can about any lost Fra Anglicos.’
    ‘Excellent. I’ll see you in the morning. Set your alarm good and early. Dubrovski barely sleeps. He’ll want to be on the road sharpish.’ Mark smiles. ‘Sleep well.’
    ‘You too.’ I close the door behind him. The butler is taking him to his suite nearby. I lean against the door and sigh. Then I say out loud, ‘Dominic, I’m running out of patience. You’d better keep your promise soon, or I’m going to consider us over.’ It sounds strange spoken out loud but the minute I do, I feel happier. It’s the waiting that’s been killing me. Well, how about if I just stop waiting?
    Seems like a good idea to me. And I’ve got plenty of other things to be getting on with.
    I unpack my laptop so I can get started.

Chapter Four
     
    If I thought yesterday marked a high point in my life experiences, I’ll have to rethink.
    Oh my goodness. This is incredible.
    We’re in a helicopter, soaring out over Italy and onwards to Croatia. It’s a beautiful craft, cherry red and as sweet and round as a bell pepper. I’m in the back, next to Mark, buckled firmly into my seat by an X-shaped belt and with a pair of headphones that block out some of the engine’s roar yet still transmit the conversation between Dubrovski, Mark and, occasionally, the pilot. I have a mic attached to my headphones, but I don’t expect to be using it. I’m too busy drinking in all the impressions I’m getting. This is my first helicopter ride, and it’s amazing. It’s not like being in a plane, where you look out on the outside world through those little oval windows, well insulated from the outside by the dense fuselage. I think this might be as close as it’s possible to get to feeling as though I’m actually flying. The view curves from above our heads to below our feet and the world seems astoundingly close. The craft is so nimble and responsive as it dips and turns and noses up and down that it’s almost as though we’ve been sprinkled with fairy dust so that we can fly like Peter Pan himself.
    Mark, next to me, seems calm as usual. All this must be old hat to him. He’s read the report I emailed him late last night, the one that said that actually there is a likelihood of unknown Fra Angelicos being discovered. Mark already knows that only a few years ago, a pair of lost panels was found; they’d been hanging on the wall of a modest Oxford house since the sixties,