Tasso led me to a room marked BASE. A secretary sat outside, busy at her PC. There was always a secretary on hand. The Cardinal often worked right around the clock, in touch with contacts in all the different time zones the world could offer.
She knew who we were without looking up. "Hello, Ford," she said, fingers never slowing.
"Hi, Mags. He ready for us?"
"Yes. But it's just the guest. You're to stay here with me." She looked up and winked. "Maybe he's trying to push us together. We'd make a good match, huh?"
He chuckled gruffly. "OK, kid," he said. "You heard the lady. In you go."
I walked over to the door, raised my hand to knock, paused, looked to Tasso for a guiding word. "In!" he barked. I took a breath, opened the door and entered the dragon's den.
hatun pocoy
As the door closed I looked around with wide eyes. I hadn't known what to expect, so I should have been ready for anything, but I was still taken by surprise.
The room was black with puppets. They were everywhere, dangling from the walls, slumped over on the floor, lying drunkenly on the huge desk in the middle of the room. Apart from the puppets it was sparse. No pictures hung alongside the marionettes. No computers, plants, water coolers or statues. There was the desk-at least twenty feet long-and several plastic chairs were lined against the wall to my right. Two more chairs by the window, one plastic, the other plush, ornate leather. Little else of any note.
Apart from The Cardinal.
He was stretched out in the leather chair, feet crossed, sipping mineral water. He waved a gangling arm, inviting me over. "Sit," he said pleasantly, indicating the plastic chair. "Do you like my display?" he asked, nodding at the puppets.
"Nice," I gasped without looking around. My mouth was dry, but I managed to force out a few more words. "Very… decorative."
He smiled. "Your eyes betray your lack of interest. You should learn to control them. Now," he said, lowering the glass, "take a long look at me. You must be full of curiosity. Give me the once-over, Mr. Raimi, and tell me what you think."
He raised his arms and posed. He was tall, six-five or more. Thin to the point of emaciation. A large nose, hooked like a boxer's. His hair was cropped, shaved to the bone at the sides. He had a protuberant Adam's apple. His head was small for a big man's, narrow and pointed, with too wide a mouth. His cheeks were little more than taut, paper-thick flesh. His skin was a dull gray color. He was dressed in a baggy blue tracksuit and scuffed running shoes. He sported a cheap digital watch on his right wrist. No jewelry. He had long fingers, bony and curved. His fingernails were chewed to the quick. The smallest finger of his left hand bent away from the others at the second knuckle, sticking out at a sixty-degree angle. He was in his late sixties or early seventies but I wouldn't have pegged him for a day over fifty.
After I'd scanned him, he lowered his hands. "My turn," he said and examined me closely. He had hooded eyes, like Uncle Theo's, but when he focused they opened wide and it was like staring into twin pools of liquid death.
"Well," he said, "you're not what I'd expected. How about you? What do you think of me?"
"You're thin," I said, matching his own nonchalant tone. I didn't know what the game was, but if he wanted to play it cool, that was fine by me. "I thought you'd be fatter."
He smiled. "I used to be plump, but with running the city and everything, I don't have time to worry about small matters like food anymore."
He lapsed into silence and waited for me to speak. Trouble was, I couldn't think of anything to say. I held his gaze and tried not to fidget. In the end he put me out of my discomfort.
"So you're Capac Raimi. An Inca name, isn't it? From the days of Atahualpa and the Ayars?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Oh, it is," he assured me. "I read all about the Incas a few decades back. Their founding father was Manco Capac. Some group's building a statue of him here later in the year. This city's full of Incan links. You'll fit in well with a name like yours.
"You know what the Incas' motto was?" I shook my head, dazed by the surreal conversation. " Manan sua, manan Iluclla, manan quella. It means don't steal, don't kill, don't be lazy. Totally impractical apart from the last part. But that was the Incas for you.
"Enough." He smacked his hands together. "You want to know why I brought you here, why I had your uncle and all his men killed but not you. Right?"
"The question crossed my mind," I admitted.
"Any guesses or theories?"
I shook my head negatively.
"Good. I hate guesswork. Never pretend to know more than you do. I've no time for fools like that. There's nothing wrong with good old-fashioned ignorance. You can't learn anything if you think you know it all."
He fell into silence again. As before, I said nothing, but as the minutes passed I remembered something from the warehouse. I thought about it for a moment, then cleared my throat and took the chance.
"Ford Tasso said something."
"Oh?" He looked up. "Mr. Tasso is well versed in the ways of silence. He doesn't waste words. If he spoke, it must have been important."
"I didn't take much notice at the time, but now that I look back… He said something about dreams. About you dreaming about me."
The Cardinal's face darkened. "I spoke too soon. Mr. Tasso obviously hasn't learned as much about silence as I thought. Still," he mused, scratching his chin, "maybe it's for the best. I was wondering how to get around to the dream without seeming like a lunatic.
"I'll tell you about it," he decided. "You might find it hard to believe, but this is a world of wonders, Mr. Raimi. Those who deny the impossible do the majestic magic of the universe a grave disservice.
"Last week I had a dream. I'd already made plans to kill your uncle. It was a minor matter, one I hadn't given much thought to. Then, as I slept, I dreamed of his murder. I saw it as if watching a film, the warehouse, the unsuspecting Theo, the assassins in the aisles. He entered with his men. I heard the guns blare. I saw Theo and his team drop, mown down like lambs.
"Just as I was turning on my side and preparing to move on to a brighter dream, I noticed one of Theo's men still standing. Bullets were exploding all around but he stood there, smiling, a cocky son of a bitch.
"He strode toward me. I was looking him straight in the face, my dream camera zooming in to an extreme close-up. Closer still, until his face filled the world of the dream, smiling and confident.
"Then I awoke. The first thing I thought was, I could do with a man like that. A man that hard to kill, that cocksure and invulnerable… he had something to offer. So I checked on Theo's men, his confidants, the ones most likely to come with him to the meeting. Mr. Tasso provided me with a list of names which I scanned quickly, following the logic of the dream. One stood out. Capac Raimi. An Incan name. A name of power and portent."
He pointed at me. "That's why you're here, Mr. Raimi. That's why you're not rotting in the warehouse, surrounded by chalk-wielding detectives. My dream and your unusual name.
"Would you like a job?" he asked politely.
"You're joking," I spluttered once I'd recovered from the shock. "You're spinning me a wild tale, waiting to see if the dumb hick buys it."
"Why should I lie to you?" he asked.
"For fun. To confuse me. To see how I'll react."
He chuckled quietly. "Is it so hard to believe, Mr. Raimi? We've all had deja vu and lived out scenes from our dreams. Why shouldn't I dream of you?"
"Because you're The Cardinal," I snapped. "You don't dream about people like me. We're not just beneath you, we're buried a hundred miles underfoot. Even if you happened to dream of Theo and the massacre, even if you did see a figure walk unscathed through a rain of bullets, you wouldn't bring him here and offer him a job. It isn't logical. In fact it's dumb."
I waited for his wrath to fall. The Cardinal was a man with a huge temper, who blew up at the least provocation. I'd just called him a dumb, illogical liar. I was history.
But instead of attacking, he pondered my words, fingers crooked, lips pursed. When he finally spoke, he asked a question. "Do you know the secrets of the universe?"
"What?" I blinked.
"Are you privy to the secrets of the universe? Can you account for the workings of nature, the movements of the heavens, the advent of life? Do you have an insight into the inexplicable which the rest of us lack? If so, I would pay much for such information."