Ria Delano was at her desk at Shangri La, going over the details of a conference that had just been held. Browsing the papers, she looked the picture of a working woman, thought her husband, the Capo, who had come in, silently, like a large panther. He would never get tired of looking at his wife, thought Philippe in admiration, his chest puffing out with love and pride. Ria wore a pair of tortoiseshell glasses, for her eyesight had suffered after the injuries she had received in the car ...