‘They’ll only have finger food,’ said Arthur. ‘Not filling at all. At things like this you’re much better off sneaking in a protein bar or a muesli bar, something that can be easily eaten behind a curtain.’

  Friday liked the sound of this.

  ‘I actually have two protein bars in my pocket,’ confessed Arthur. ‘You can have one if you like.’

  ‘You are a very strange boy,’ said Friday.

  ‘I know,’ said Arthur. ‘I try to hide it, but everyone sees right through me.’

  They stood, eating their protein bars and watching the dancing. Friday realised she was actually enjoying the ball. Her eyes swept the room, taking in the sea of dancers and people standing around chatting in groups. It wasn’t as awful as she had imagined. People were still arriving at the top of the stairs. Friday supposed it was fashionable to be late.

  That was when Friday saw something that made her heart stop. It didn’t literally stop, because that’s not the way heart rhythms work, but it felt like it stopped or accelerated. Something. Definitely some sort of cardiac event. Because there was Ian, wearing a tuxedo and looking even more stunningly handsome than she had ever seen him.

  Friday was excited for about three nano-seconds. That was how long it took her brain to register that Ian had a girl’s arm looped over his elbow. Then she felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head, ripped out her heart and stomped on it. The girl was gorgeous. She was as tall as Ian, so very tall for a girl. She had long dark hair and dark olive skin, and she was wearing an eye-catching canary-yellow party dress. Hi-viz workwear was more subtle than this garment. And yet, on her, it wasn’t garish – it was spectacular.

  Friday must have made some sort of involuntary whimpering noise, because Arthur looked concerned. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ breathed Friday, her voice barely making sound. She was watching as Ian leaned in towards his date to say something. The beautiful girl laughed. Ian turned away, still smiling at his own joke, and that’s when he noticed Friday. The smile fell from his face. He turned back to the stunning girl and evidently excused himself, because he let go of her arm and started making his way across the room towards Friday.

  ‘I’ve got to go!’ said Friday.

  ‘You can’t abandon me now!’ said Arthur. ‘Dad will hit the roof if I hide behind the curtain again.’

  Friday handed her half-eaten protein bar to Arthur. ‘I can’t be here.’ She glanced about, looking for an escape route. There were double doors to the kitchen behind them. Friday took a step towards them, but the doors burst open as four waiters wheeled in a huge trolley full of Norwegian waffles covered in jam, cream and brown cheese. There was no escape that way. When Friday turned around it was too late. Like a panther seeking out its prey, Ian had cornered her.

  ‘Friday,’ said Ian.

  ‘Hello,’ said Friday. There was an awkward pause. ‘Have you met the Prince of Denmark?’

  ‘No,’ said Ian. He now noticed the gangly youth holding two half-eaten protein bars.

  ‘This is Arthur,’ said Friday. ‘He’s only one of them, though. Princes, that is. There’s his father too. And . . .’ she addressed Arthur, ‘do you have any brothers?’

  ‘Yes, I have a brother,’ said Arthur. ‘And two uncles, so there are five of us.’

  Ian looked at Arthur, then decided to ignore him. ‘Friday, I want to talk to you,’ he said.

  ‘Really? Will it be a nice conversation?’ asked Friday.

  ‘Come on,’ said Ian, taking her hand. ‘Let’s duck behind the curtains.’

  ‘No, I’m not doing that,’ said Friday. ‘You’re here with another girl.’

  ‘Yes, that’s why we need to go behind the curtains,’ said Ian. ‘Her father is a cabinet minister in Spain. It will create an international incident if she sees me kissing you.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Arthur. ‘I’m the Prince of Denmark. It’ll create an international incident if I see you kissing the girl I was just dancing with.’

  ‘Hence the need for the curtains,’ said Ian.

  ‘What if I don’t want to kiss you?’ said Friday.

  ‘You don’t?’ asked Ian.

  Friday considered this for a moment, then gave in. ‘Of course I do,’ she confessed. ‘But I’m not going to when you’re here with another girl. That would just be rude.’

  ‘But it’s a cover,’ said Ian. ‘I’m working on an investigation.’

  ‘Really? You used that excuse in Florence,’ said Friday.

  ‘It was true that time too!’ said Ian.

  ‘Well, it’s no excuse for being rude,’ said Friday.

  ‘I’d forgotten just how annoying you could be,’ said Ian.

  Friday noticed Ian glance at her mouth. ‘Are you thinking about kissing me now?’

  ‘I don’t want to, but you look very pretty in that dress!’ snapped Ian.

  ‘This conversation is making me uncomfortable,’ said Arthur.

  Just then, the music stopped. Ingrid left the dance floor and hurried over. ‘Ian, what are you doing here?!’ she asked. ‘You didn’t RSVP to your invitation.’

  ‘You sent him another invitation?’ asked Friday. ‘You didn’t tell me!’

  ‘You were panicking enough already,’ explained Ingrid.

  ‘It was a last-minute decision,’ said Ian. ‘I’m escorting Cassandra Mendoza. I’m here as her plus-one.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Ingrid. She looked over her shoulder at Cassandra, who was flirting with Sir Eirik while Dr Finsberg stood by, looking grumpy.

  ‘Gross,’ said Friday. ‘Why is she flirting with someone so old?’

  ‘She’s a socialite,’ said Ian. ‘That’s what they do. They flirt. It’s what makes the world of European diplomacy go round. That and enormous bribes.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Friday,’ said Ingrid. ‘I should never have invited someone so beautiful, but Sir Eirik insisted.’

  ‘It makes sense. Her father is the minister for agriculture from Spain,’ said Ian. ‘He’s here for a series of discussions with Scandinavian leaders on genetically modified, drought-tolerant wheat. It’s all about trade deals.’

  Binky joined them, carrying a bowl of dessert.

  ‘Ingrid,’ said Binky, ‘I got your favourite. Waffles and brown cheese.’

  ‘Oh, Binky,’ said Ingrid, taking the bowl. ‘You are so good to me.’

  Binky smiled proudly. ‘I brought you a spoon too,’ he added.

  ‘Oh no, I must eat it the traditional Norwegian way,’ said Ingrid. ‘With my hands.’ She picked up the waffle and took a big bite.

  Binky had started to sink down on one knee. When he looked up and realised what Ingrid was doing, he was horrified. ‘Wait, don’t . . .!’ cried Binky.

  Ingrid tried to swallow, but couldn’t. She was turning red in the face and making weird, muted guttural noises.

  ‘She’s choking!’ said Friday.

  It was as if Ingrid was trying to cough, but she couldn’t.

  ‘Oh no!’ said Binky. ‘What do I do?’

  The music hadn’t started for the next song. All conversation in the ballroom fell silent as everyone turned to see what the commotion was about.

  ‘Gravity!’ said Friday. ‘Get her upside down. It will fall out.’

  Binky might not be a great thinker, but he was a man of action. He grabbed hold of Ingrid and spun her upside down. Her dress tipped up, so everyone in the room got a glimpse of her underwear.

  ‘Ingrid!’ cried the king from the far side of the ballroom.

  Then, with a total lack of elegance or gentility, Binky gave her a good, hard shake. Ingrid choked out a big cough and waffle, jam, cream and brown cheese spattered out on the floor. Finally, Ingrid was able to gasp for breath. Binky turned her right way up and Ingrid collapsed against him.

  ‘You saved me,’ she whispered hoarsely.

  Binky knelt so that Ingrid could sit while still holding on to him.

  ‘Oh, Ingrid,’ said Binky. ‘That was terrifying. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  Friday noticed Binky reach down and pick something small out of the waffle residue on the floor, then put it in his pocket. She suspected that Ingrid had just been choking on her own engagement ring.

  Ingrid’s father rushed over. ‘My darling, are you all right?’ asked the king, grabbing hold of Ingrid’s hands.

  ‘What did you do, din store tull?’ demanded Sir Eirik. He had followed the king over.

  ‘Well . . . er . . .’ began Binky.

  ‘Binky saved my life,’ said Ingrid.

  She looked up into Binky’s eyes with pure love.

  ‘Oh, Ingrid,’ said Binky. He wanted to say so much more. Perhaps a confession of what had really happened, but he had never been good with words.

  ‘Thank you, thank you,’ said the king, grasping Binky by the hand. There were tears in the older man’s eyes. ‘I know I have undervalued you. It was wrong of me. Selfish.’ He turned back to Ingrid. ‘But no one could ever be good enough for my little girl.’

  ‘Oh yes, I quite agree,’ said Binky. ‘I don’t think I’m good enough either.’

  But the king was not really listening. ‘Although, she is no longer little. She is a woman, who I am so proud of. If she loves you, I love you.’

  The king wrapped Binky in a big hug.

  ‘Oh, okay,’ said Binky, patting the king on the back soothingly as he returned the hug. ‘I love you too, sir.’

  The rest of the party was much less dramatic. It soon degenerated into formal toasts and speeches, which Friday much preferred to dancing. The speeches were painfully boring, but it was a type of pain she could much more easily endure. The highlight of the evening was when the king presented Ingrid with her birthday present – an eighty-five-inch widescreen TV. Apparently, Sir Eirik was supposed to arrange the purchase of a painting by Norwegian artist Sol Kjøk, but the seller was arrested for money laundering, so that gift had fallen through. And the TV was the only thing he could get at short notice that fit the same space on the wall.

  ‘So, that’s why he was being so shady, scurrying about and measuring things!’ said Binky.

  ‘He was looking for ways to get rid of you too,’ said Melanie.

  ‘But that’s fair enough,’ said Binky. ‘He was only doing his job.’

  When it was all over, and Friday, Melanie and Ingrid finally went back to the apartment to sleep, Ingrid couldn’t keep the smile off her face, she was so happy. Friday wasn’t sure whether this was because of, or in spite of, her near-death experience.

  ‘What a night!’ exclaimed Ingrid. ‘My father finally appreciates Binky.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Friday, not revealing that Binky had most likely caused the choking incident in the first place.

  ‘And I have arranged for us all to go and see where Binky works at Svalbard,’ said Ingrid.

  ‘We’re going to get to visit the Seed Vault?’ asked Friday. Her inner nerd couldn’t help but be excited. She had planned to travel to Bilbao the following day, but another twenty-four hours couldn’t hurt. Uncle Bernie would understand. Actually, he probably wouldn’t understand, but he would be understanding. Uncle Bernie always was.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ingrid. ‘It is one of my diplomatic duties. I’m to accompany Minister Mendoza on his tour. Since his daughter is with him, I thought it would be nice for her if I was to bring some people her own age.’

  ‘It would stop Ian getting ideas too,’ said Melanie.

  ‘I did foresee that benefit,’ admitted Ingrid. She turned to Friday, ‘I feel bad that coming to Norway to help Binky has caused a rift between you and Ian.’

  ‘Don’t,’ said Friday. ‘We fight all the time.’

  ‘You don’t really fight. Not much,’ said Melanie. ‘There’s just a lot of glowering and brooding.’

  Just then, there was a knock at the door.

  ‘Who could that be at this hour?’ asked Ingrid.

  A footman was standing outside, holding a silver tray with a mobile phone in the middle. ‘A phone call for Ms Barnes, ma’am,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you, Reidar,’ said Ingrid, taking the phone. She handed it to Friday.

  ‘Hello?’ said Friday.

  ‘Friday, it’s me, Bernie,’ said Uncle Bernie.

  ‘Thank you for identifying yourself,’ said Friday. ‘You see, it makes things so much easier.’

  ‘I’m flying to Oslo,’ said Bernie.

  ‘Why?’ asked Friday.

  ‘I want to interview your old lady,’ said Bernie.

  ‘I don’t have an old lady,’ said Friday.

  ‘The one from the Munch, that you sent me a text about,’ said Bernie. ‘Agent Olsen sent me the file and the transcript of her interview. Something is going on.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Friday. ‘When will you get here?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Bernie. ‘I’m on my way to the airport now. I’ve got something else I need to talk to you about too.’

  ‘What?’ asked Friday.

  ‘We shouldn’t discuss it on the phone,’ said Bernie. ‘Just promise me you’ll be careful.’

  ‘I always am,’ said Friday.

  ‘The fact that you think that is true is unnerving,’ said Bernie. ‘Don’t do anything silly till I get there.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ said Friday.

  They all met at Oslo airport the following morning. Binky was in his army fatigues and carrying his duffel bag, ready to return to his post. Friday and Ingrid waited with Melanie. They had to hang on to her – she didn’t like early starts. If they took their eyes off her for a moment, Melanie would find somewhere to lie down and go back to sleep, which wasn’t safe in the sub-zero temperature. Magnus hung back, glowering as usual, while Dr Finsberg sulked as far away from the group as possible.

  ‘Here comes the minister,’ said Ingrid.

  A stretch limousine drove through the security checkpoint and glided to a halt next to the hangar. The car had two little Spanish flags fluttering above the headlights. Ian was the first to get out, then he stood back and held the door open for Cassandra. She emerged with the elegance of a cheetah – a cheetah that was too relaxed to kill you, but might think about doing it later. Her father was more portly and made a less picturesque exit. Ingrid went over to formally greet them. Ian walked across to talk to Friday.

  ‘Nice coat,’ he said, smirking wryly. Friday was wearing Ingrid’s clothes again. It was a huge coat suitable for extreme weather conditions, but it was still more elegant than anything Friday owned herself.

  ‘Why are you here?’ Friday asked.

  ‘To tour the Seed Vault,’ said Ian.

  ‘Since when have you been interested in seeds?’ asked Friday.

  ‘Since they were stored on a remote arctic island,’ said Ian. ‘I might get to see a polar bear.’

  ‘I hope not,’ said Melanie, sleepily. ‘I don’t want to have to run anywhere.’

  ‘Have you seen the paper this morning?’ Ian asked Friday.

  ‘No,’ said Friday. ‘Why?’

  ‘There was a lovely photo of you,’ said Ian.

  ‘Again?’ asked Melanie. This woke her up a bit.

  ‘Yes, you do seem to be popping up in print a lot lately,’ said Ian.

  Friday blushed. She had hoped Ian hadn’t seen the photo of her and Binky.

  ‘May I see?’ asked Friday.

  Ian handed her the paper. It was already folded to the relevant page. There was a big colour photograph of her dancing with Arthur. Her bright red strapless dress looked stunning in contrast with his black tuxedo, but it was the look on her face that made the picture stand out. Friday remembered the exact moment. She had looked up at Arthur in wide-eyed wonder because she couldn’t believe she was actually dancing. But that’s not what it looked like here on the page. She looked like a love-struck girl in a passionate embrace.

  ‘You’re very photogenic these days,’ said Ian.

  ‘Shut up,’ said Friday. She was too mortified to construct a more complex sentence.

  The headline read ‘Danish Prince Finds Love with Mystery Vixen’. There was a reprint of the photo of her and Binky below, so that readers would know she was the same girl.

  ‘Vixen?’ said Friday.

  ‘That’s so cool,’ said Melanie.

  ‘Do you think it’s a reindeer reference?’ asked Ian. ‘You know – Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen?’

  Friday elbowed him in the ribs.

  Ingrid was still talking to Minister Mendoza, but Cassandra came over to join them.

  ‘Did you meet Cassandra last night?’ asked Ian.

  ‘No,’ said Friday.

  ‘No, I suppose you were too busy,’ said Ian. ‘Cassandra, come and meet my friends from school. This is Friday and Melanie.’

  ‘Delighted,’ said Cassandra.

  ‘Wainscott!’ Binky called over from by the small plane. ‘Help me load the bags on the plane.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Ian.

  ‘Magnus isn’t allowed to help,’ Binky explained loudly, pointing to Magnus in case anyone didn’t know who he was talking about. ‘He needs to keep his hands free in case Ingrid is attacked by an assassin.’

  Magnus glowered extra especially hard at Binky as Ian jogged over to help, leaving the three girls together.

  ‘So, you’re Ian’s girlfriend?’ Melanie asked Cassandra casually.

  Friday closed her eyes. She wanted the ground to open up so she could sink into a pit of magma rather than listen to this conversation.

  ‘Yes,’ said Cassandra. ‘We met at the Bilbao. There was a cocktail party. We were the only two people under the age of forty there.’

  Melanie squinted at Cassandra. ‘I can tell you’re lying.’

  ‘Melanie!’ said Friday, her eyes flying open. ‘Even I am not that rude!’

  ‘But I’m not sure which part she’s lying about,’ said Melanie, tilting her head as if this would help her read Cassandra’s mind.

  ‘I can assure you I did attend the party,’ said Cassandra. ‘I was wearing my blue Armani. There were photos in the social pages.’

  ‘Okay, you’re not lying about that,’ said Melanie. ‘So the lie must be – that you’re Ian’s girlfriend! You don’t care for him at all.’