By the time Anatoly finally emerged from the bathroom, Florence was deep in a heated conversation over the phone. "No, the car has to be here at twelve. No. Twelve. Well, I don't know who told you that time, but they're wrong. That car needs to be here at twelve or you and I will be having some words, mister."

She hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh. "God, these people. I don't know where they find them. This is a five-star hotel, you'd think the service would be a little better."