Full Circle by Davis Bunn Page B

heads of state from all around the globe. She walked him through the Covered Market, past dis-plays of pheasants nailed to the butchers’ doorposts by their tail feathers, and pig trotters stuffed with smoked bacon, and forest mushrooms pickled in dark ale. Adam emerged at the other end and was blinded by the sun, such that all his senses were filled with light and the scent of Kayla’s hair.
    Relationships had never come easy to him. His connections to women were shallow. Yet here, in a world removed from any he had known, at a time when everything in his life was either shattered or uncertain, Adam found himself unwinding. The prospect of deepening mysteries beckoned within the sunlit lanes.
    He drew her to one side and declared, “I want to help.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou. Your father. The company. I want to be part of solving this crisis.”
    â€œThere might be nothing anyone can do.”
    â€œStill, Kayla, I’d like to try.”
    She nodded thoughtfully and slipped her hand around his arm. “You make me feel a little ashamed.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œDaddy gave me a check this morning. Fifty thousand pounds from his own savings. It’s to help me try and sort through the mess we’re facing in Africa.” Their walk was slower now, but purposeful. Adam let her guide him to the door of a barber-shop. “All I could think of was, four months. This gives me four more months to find a way out. And here you are, broke, a stranger, four thousand miles from home, maybe no job in a week’s time, and you want to help.”
    The bell over the door jangled as they entered. Kayla put his name on the list, then guided him to the waiting area. When they were seated, Adam leaned in very close and said, “Give me the money.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œFifty thousand pounds gives you four months, that’s what you said. So take twelve and a half for the next month and let me invest the rest. I’ll set you up a couple of investments that feed your project a regular income.”
    â€œYou have no idea what you’re asking.”
    â€œI’m trying to give your project some extra breathing space.”
    Kayla shook her head so vehemently it carried through her entire body. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” she repeated.
    â€œI know your father’s gone to bat for me. A stranger he has no reason to trust. Especially when his firm is facing something pretty awful. Okay. So I owe him big-time. And he’s concerned enough about what you’re doing in Tanzania that he’s covered his walls with your photographs.” Adam leaned in closer still. “I’m good at what I do, Kayla. Very, very good.”

    After the barber, Kayla first led him to the bank the company used. Once the check had been cashed and an account opened, she guided him next door for a new cell phone. From there Kayla led him along yet another pedestrian lane of cobblestones and growing shadows. She stopped before a shop whose bowed window was framed in wood blackened by time. The gold lettering above the door declared it to be as a haberdashery and gentlemen’s clothier, established in 1608. She asked, “Are you comfortable with spending money?”
    â€œI haven’t had much experience lately.”
    The door gave a cheerful ring as she pushed it open. “Do yourself a favor and don’t look at any price in here.”
    The haberdashery was narrow but very deep. When Kayla introduced herself and explained what they were after, they were led to the rearmost room, one that most customers never saw. The shop’s back chamber was fitted out like a gentleman’s club. The walls were oiled panels, the wood’s grain lost to candle smoke and age. Kayla settled into a horsehair settee and watched as the salesman treated Adam with a butler’s deference. At her insistence, he purchased a suit shaded somewhere between navy and