Cheyne Walk, Chelsea Embankment, London
St. Cyprian yawned and knocked back the last swallow of coffee in his mug. Through the window, he could see that the sun was rising over the Embankment, and the Thames reflected the sunlight like a mirror. It wouldn’t last. There were clouds already gathering to spring a pall of grey over the January morning.
He set his cup aside and leaned back in his chair. His desk, carved from teak, was covered in heaps of paper. Some of it, mostly the lower strata,...