The race is chaotic, which serves Claymore well, as usual. Deniz finishes in third place, followed by Sandro in fourth. Oliveira, the new world champion from Mori Motors, is going to end his career, and Faith views him as an interesting candidate when it comes to replacing Tom. Mori might be thinking so, too, however, and she is not going to interfere.

  Sunday night is the night of the gala. This time, she is okay with it. For her, personally, it might have been a catastrophic time, but for her team, it has been sensational. An event like this one, to close it off, is probably not the worst idea.

  She shares a limo with Tom. It takes them to the hotel on Ocean Boulevard, where the event was being held. At the entrance, they meet Sandro and Deniz and their girlfriends. The three couples also share a table. After dinner, Mike Carter walks up to them, Tom offers him his seat and goes to the bar, and Carter and Faith have some small talk.

  After that, she looks around for Mori. He is sitting two tables away. She joins him, congratulating him on the titles his team has swept up. Then they sit in silence, which is not at all uncomfortable.

  “Where are you going to spend your free weeks?”, Mori asks at last.

  “In Scotland. Over Christmas, anyway. After that I don’t know. I have no plans.”

  “I would be delighted if you came to visit me”, Mori says solemnly. “Over New Year’s Eve, if you like.”

  He must have worked himself up to this invitation the whole evening. Faith feels humiliated once more. To her surprise, she finds it easier to accept than to refuse. She is not going to suffer in Japan. It is not going to help the chaos in her life, but there is nothing to fear. Only then she thinks that she also owes it to him. “I will be happy to do that. And you must promise to me that you will get some rest.”

  Mori only acknowledges the first part of her reply. He kisses her hand once more. Again that tremor. “You make me very happy. Please contact me as to when you are planning to arrive.”

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  Faith watches him go. Then a familiar voice addresses her from behind. “There you are, babe.”

  She turns around and jumps from her chair, instinctively trying to get some distance between herself and her husband. He reaches for her, saying, “I’ve come to take you home.”

  She moves backwards, knocking over a chair. People are starting to notice. There is a hush when Kenny closes in on her, champagne in one hand. Faith cannot speak, she just raises her hands as if to ward him off.

  “You are my wife, Faith. I want you to come with me.”

  She shakes her head. Everything happens as if in slow motion. Her throat is so tight that she can neither speak nor breathe.

  Kenny is coming towards her, putting his glass down on a table. There is absolute silence. Everyone can hear him speak. “We have so much to discuss, don’t you think? You have so much to make up for, babe.” Then he reaches out and touches her arm, grabbing her and trying to pull her towards himself. At last she comes out of her paralysis, cries out, a shrill sound, alien in her own ears, and shakes his hand off.

  Kenny grins an evil grin, she knows this face, she has seen it in Wake Hall, and approaches her again, until he suddenly stumbles backwards. Faith hears the sound of the three shots only when he is already lying on the floor. People are crying and shouting, and when she looks around, she sees Mori walking from the room, dropping a hand gun. Nobody tries to stop him. A security guard picks up the weapon.

  Faith realises that everybody is staring at her. Everybody is in evening dress, but they are all looking as if something terrible has happened. Then she sees her husband lying at her feet. Would it not be good if someone did something? Anything? She herself maybe? This is bizarre. She kneels down beside Kenny, putting her hand on his chest, where there are red spots, three of them, on his shirt. The spots do not get any bigger. She tries to feel it, but there is no heart beating under these spots any more. She pulls the body towards her, closing his eyes, cradling his head in her lap. Then she looks up, into a lot of faces, and among them she recognizes Tom. At last. Him she can talk to.

  “Tom, Mr Mori has killed my husband. Would you be so kind as to call a doctor, and the police?”