IN THE London headquarters of Curtis Electronics tensions simmered. Employees hurried in, anxious not to be late, wondering who would be promoted and who pensioned off.

"They're not getting rid of me," Olympia Lincoln said firmly. "Not after all the work I've put into this firm, and the plans I've made."

"It is rotten luck, this happening now," Sara, her secretary, said sympathetically. "Mr Tandy was bound to retire soon, and then you'd have had his job."

"Grr!" Olympia said with feeling. "The worst thing is not knowing when the new people will be here." Sara sighed.

"Right. Even Mr Tandy doesn't know. "Some time soon" is all he can say. Maybe today, maybe next week."

"Surely not today," Sara objected. "It's Friday. What sort of person makes his first day a Friday?"

"Someone who's trying to catch us out," Olympia said at once. "I'm blowed if I'm going to let anyone take me by surprise."

"But today isn't just Friday," Sara objected. "It's Friday the thirteenth."

"Don't tell me you're superstitious." Olympia chuckled. "That's nonsense. People should make their own fate."

"But Friday the thirteenth is bad luck." 'It'll be bad luck for Primo Rinucci if he crosses me.

Now let's have some tea. I'll make it. You're looking queasy."

"I'm fine really," Sara said valiantly, if untruthfully. "You shouldn't be making tea. You're the boss."

"But you're the one who's pregnant," Olympia said with a warm smile that transformed her face from its usual severe lines. She cultivated that severity, determined to make the world believe it. But her natural kindness had a habit of breaking through, although usually only Sara saw this and she was sworn to secrecy.

"That's better." Sara sighed gratefully when she'd sipped the strong tea. "Did you ever want children?"

"Once I did. When I married David I was madly in love and all I wanted was to be his wife and the mother of his children. Which probably makes me a disgrace to modern womanhood. But I was eighteen at the time, so maybe there was some excuse for me."

"Did he appreciate this slavish devotion?" 'Did he, hell? He needed a working wife so that he could take courses and get diplomas that would help his career. When he moved onward and upward to the next promotion, plus the next wife, I was left with nothing. So I worked like the devil and made a career for myself."

"You were unlucky, but not all men are like him." 'Most of the ambitious ones are. They use us unless we use them first."

"So that's what you do," Sara agreed, regarding her boss sympathetically, and recalling various incidents in the last couple of years that now made more sense. "Are you happy?"

"What's happy? I'm not unhappy. I remember how I felt when David walked out, and that's never going to happen to me again. I'm going to get Tandy's job, you wait and see. I just have to work on — whoever turns up from Italy."

"How's your Italian?" 'Not bad. I've been learning hard, but I suppose everyone else here has done the same."

"None of the others will have prepared like you have, either in the head or the —" Sara made a gesture indicating Olympia's appearance, and Olympia laughed.

Both inside and out, her grooming was impeccable. Her mind was focused, steely. Her body was slender and elegant, clad in a blue linen dress.

She was tall for a woman, with long legs, a long neck and cleanly chiselled features. Her black hair was naturally luxuriant, but she wore it smoothed back against her head and twined into sleek braids behind.

In this she was illogical. The sensible thing would be to cut it off in a neat, boyish crop. But for once she couldn't make herself do the sensible thing. She wasn't sure why.

Her eyes were also dark, lustrous, with depths where humour still lurked occasionally, although she did her best to conceal it. She was a perfectly groomed creation, crafted to her own meticulous design.

In only one thing had she failed to achieve her own standards. At heart she knew that part of her was still the same girl she'd once been, the one she was trying to deny. That girl had been full of trust and eagerness, without a calculating bone in her body. She hadn't merely loved her husband, she'd worshipped him blindly. She'd also possessed a temper and an unruly tongue, which sometimes spoke before her mind was in gear.

All these things she'd striven to put right, and had mostly succeeded. Occasionally she was still betrayed by anger into rash speech, but she was working on that too.

Today was going to put all her skill to the test. "Do you know who's going to turn up to look us over?" Sara asked.

"Probably Primo Rinucci. I've tried to research the firm on-line but there isn't much. There's two partners, Enrico Leonate and Primo Rinucci. I managed to find Leonate's picture on-line, but unfortunately there was no picture for Rinucci."

"What does Signor Leonate look like?" 'Dull, middle-aged. Let's hope Primo Rinucci isn't the same."

But even as she spoke Olympia was giving Sara a worried look.

"You're not well," she said. "I'll be fine in a minute." 'Oh, no! You're going home. I don't want it on my conscience that anything went wrong with your baby." She picked up the phone, dialled reception and ordered a taxi on the firm.

"Go home and call the doctor," she said. "And don't come back until you're a lot better."

"But how will you manage without me?" Sara asked worriedly.

Olympia gave her a cheerful smile. "I'll just have to stagger along somehow. Don't worry."

She went down to reception, saw Sara into the waiting taxi and waved it off.

She was frowning as she returned to her office. She'd spoken reassuringly to Sara, but it was the worst possible time for this to happen.

She called Central Staff and explained that she urgently needed a temporary secretary, adding, "the best you have. And quickly, please."

"Someone will be there in five minutes." When she'd hung up Olympia took some deep breaths and closed her eyes.

"I will not let this get to me," she said to herself. "If things go wrong I will overcome them. I will. I will. I am strong. Nothing can defeat me."

She repeated this mantra several times before opening her eyes and getting the shock of her life.

A young man was standing there, watching her with interest.

He was very tall with slightly shaggy brown hair, dark brown eyes and a wide, firm mouth. He seemed to be regarding Olympia with some amusement, but perhaps that was only her imagination. She hoped desperately that her lips hadn't been moving.

"Can I help you?" she asked coolly. "I'm looking for Olympia Lincoln. They told me downstairs that I'd find her here."

The Central Staff Office was downstairs. After the first surprise Olympia recovered. Male secretaries were quite common these days.

"I am Olympia Lincoln," she said. "I'm glad you got here quickly. They said they'd send me a replacement in five minutes, but —" She shrugged.

"Replacement?" 'Well, not permanent replacement, of course. Just temporary until my regular secretary is feeling better. Have you been here long — with the firm, I mean?"

"No, a very short time," he said. He was watching her keenly and picking his words with caution.

"Never mind, you'll soon get the hang of it. We're in the middle of an upheaval at the moment. Curtis has been taken over by an Italian firm called Leonate Europa, and soon someone will arrive from Italy to make it official. We're all waiting in fear and trembling to learn our fate."

He raised his eyebrows. "Fear and trembling? You?" She gave a half smile, pleased by the implication. "Yes — well — I can do a good imitation of it if necessary."

"Will it be necessary?" 'I'll tell you that when I've met His Majesty." 'Who's he?" 'Primo Rinucci. The "great man" who's coming to whip us all into line. Damned cheek!"

"Isn't it a bit soon to blame him? He might be all right."

Suddenly her carefully cultivated pose fractured under the burden of her anger.

"He's not all right. He's a predator who thinks he can snatch whatever he wants and to hell with everyone else. Ooh, I wish he was here so that I can give him a piece of my mind!"

"It's only a moment ago you were going to pretend to fear and tremble."

"I'll do that first. Then I'll tell him what I think of him, coming here, disrupting my life, taking my promotion just when it's in my grasp, thinking his money can buy anything."

"Money has a way of doing that," he observed mildly. "It's one of its virtues."

"To hell with virtue, to hell with money and to hell with Primo Rinucci."

The sight of her eyes, blazing with indignation, held him entranced. Men had lost their heads for eyes like that, he thought. As he was in danger of doing. "I can see that this is going to be a meeting of Titans," he murmured.

She returned to sanity, and sighed. "Well, keep what you've just heard to yourself. I suppose I shouldn't have spoken so freely in front of you —"

"My lips are sealed," he promised. "I swear never to tell Primo Rinucci what you really think of him."

"Thank you, but be careful. Since we don't know what he looks like, you might find yourself talking to him without knowing it's him. He's probably the sort of low life who'd keep his identity secret just to be mean."

"Yes," he said, with a touch of guilt. "I suppose that's possible."

"But then, his being Italian would be a giveaway." 'Maybe not," he couldn't resist saying. "Not all Italians say Mamma mia! and wave their hands. In fact, I believe some of them are indistinguishable from normal human beings."

Try as he might, he couldn't keep a note of irony out of his voice. Luckily she was too preoccupied to notice.

"But he'd have an accent," she persisted. "He wouldn't sound English like you and me."

He cleared his throat, then seemed to go into a kind of trance. In truth he was struggling with a temptation more overwhelming than any he'd known in his life. A wise man would tell her the truth before it was too late.

But it was already too late, and never had he felt so reluctant to be wise.

"By the way, I should have asked your name," Olympia said.

He played for time. "What?" he asked vaguely. "Your name." 'My name." 'That's right. What is it — your name?" She spoke patiently, and her eyes showed that she thought she was dealing with a halfwit. Was that better than telling her that he was Primo Rinucci?

For one wild moment he teetered on the brink of the truth.

Tell her who you really are. Be honest. Play safe. He took a deep breath. To blazes with honesty! As for safety — nuts to it!

"Jack Cayman," he said.

It had been the name of his English father. It was many years now that he'd lived in Italy as a Rinucci. But his early years had left their mark, and he could still speak English without a trace of Italian accent. So it was easy for him, now, to look Olympia in the eye and claim to be Jack Cayman.

She extended her hand. "Well, Mr Cayman —" 'You can call me Jack." 'You can call me Miss Lincoln," she said firmly, feeling that it was time she reclaimed the ground she'd lost in that burst of frankness.

"Yes, ma'am," he said meekly. "Now, the sooner we get down to work the better." 'Would you just give me a few minutes first?" he asked hurriedly. "I'll be straight back."

"Of course. It's just down the corridor on the right." 'Thanks," he said, hurrying out of the door. It was several moments before it dawned on him that she'd directed him to the gentlemen's convenience.