"Miss Arne, will you tell Mr. Raimi how you started in this company?"
"I was a prostitute," she said. That shut me up. I gawked at her. This neat, precise, cultured businesswoman-a whore?
"It's true," she replied in response to my unvoiced query. "I came here looking for secretarial work. The Cardinal took me aside and offered me a position in prostitution instead. He outlined the terms of my contract, how much money I could expect to make, working hours, promotion prospects and the like. Although I'd never considered it before, I took him up on the offer."
"You had many customers?" he asked.
"Plenty. I was good. I was popular."
"And how did you end up here, in your current position?"
"I saved," she said. "When I had enough money to retire, I told you I was through and asked for another job. I'd taken a few courses in my spare time, picked up a lot from my clients, and felt I had something to offer other than my body."
"And she had," The Cardinal said, addressing me again. "Miss Arne has an incredible head for figures and the ability to see through bullshit in seconds. I placed her in one of my insurance firms. Five years later she was running it. The moral? It's not where you start out-it's where you end up."
He picked one of the puppets up off the desk and toyed with it. He manipulated the strings expertly, fluidly moving its hands, feet and head. He made it do a dance, grinning fondly. When he was through, he tossed it to the floor and carried on as if there'd been no interruption.
"Insurance is a fascinating field, Mr. Raimi. It can teach you all you'll ever need to know about people. Successful insurance agents study their customers and find out what makes them tick, what frightens them, what entices them. They learn why people act the way they do. It gives them insight, ideas, understanding. Men in the protection business simply go around with guns and collect money. There is no finesse, no style, no learning. They scare people and take their cash. You could spend a lifetime in protection, make a fortune and build your own empire, and you still wouldn't be as useful to me as a man with a year of insurance under his belt.
"I want you to learn, Mr. Raimi. I want you to experience the world of legality and honest men. Then, when you're ready, I'll let you dive beneath that surface to the world beneath, of desires, dreams and death. It's a dark, dangerous world and you'll drown if you jump in too quickly. Insurance first. Protection and other fields later. That's how I want it to be. That's how it will be. Agreed?"
I wasn't happy. But, given the time, the place and the man before me, who was I to argue?
"Agreed," I said shortly.
"Good." He rubbed his hands together and raised an eyebrow at Sonja. She took the hint, stood and awaited permission to withdraw. He turned to me for the final time that night, a king dismissing one of his servants.
"You may go now," he said. "You begin work tomorrow, whenever Miss Arne summons you. A morning meeting at Shankar's, I imagine." He looked to her for confirmation and she nodded. "Mr. Tasso will escort you to your new lodgings. He will also contact you in the near future, depending on how you fare in your day job, and teach you a few things other than insurance. That is all, Mr. Raimi. Learn quickly. Work hard. Believe."
And that was it. He'd lost interest in me. I rose, heart beating fast, knees shaking, and followed Sonja out to where Ford Tasso was waiting for us.
"Still alive, kid?" he smirked.
"Christ," Sonja said, dabbing at her forehead with a crisp handkerchief. "You never get used to that. It's been four years since I was in there last. I didn't know until he started talking if he'd called me in to promote or kill me." She smiled weakly and squinted at me. She almost looked jealous. "There was no question of him killing you though. He's got the hots for you. Even called you Mr. Raimi."
Ford's head came up. " Mr. Raimi?" he echoed.
"What's so unusual about that?" I asked.
"The Cardinal calls those he likes by their first name. He uses surnames for people he's doing business with. Only those closest to him get called Mr., Mrs. or Miss. I was with him eight years before he started calling me Mr. Tasso. It's a mark of approval, a sign you've arrived and are here to stay. I've never heard him use it with some kid he's had dragged in off the street."
He pinched my chin, tilted my head left and right, then grunted. "Looks like you're going places, kid. I figure it's just as well I didn't let Vincent waste you. Come on." He punched me on the arm. "Let's get you settled in for the night. How does the notion of a room at the Skylight grab you?"
"Sounds good," I mumbled, then let him lead the way down to the ground floor, where we collected our shoes and hailed another limo.
Party Central, Shankar's, the Skylight. They were the three architectural pillars on which The Cardinal's empire rested. I couldn't have dreamed of entering any of them just six hours earlier.
The Skylight Hotel was a huge box of metal and glass, encircled by a sea of gleaming cars. The city was full of hotels but the Skylight was where the cream came. Large wide-screen TVs in every room for starters, with a digital video library you could access whenever you liked. Four bars. Three swimming pools. Two gyms. A world-class restaurant. A wireless system and telephone lines which were the safest in the city, regularly scanned for bugs by the best experts money could buy. Free drugs compliments of the management (police never raided the Skylight). A spa frequented by movie stars. Computerized locks on every door. No theft or unauthorized soliciting-the Skylight was guarded by the Troops.
Ford said nothing while we checked in. The girl behind the desk smiled, took my signature and fingerprints, then asked if I had a passport-sized photograph. I didn't, so she took my photo with a digital camera. A bulb flashed, capturing my startled expression, then she printed it on her PC.
We were there eight minutes max. During that time I saw two TV stars, a big-name actress who'd have been mobbed anywhere else, several gangsters (all at least five times as powerful as Theo had been), more millionaires than I'd seen in my previous six months in the city.
When the receptionist handed me my pass card, a bemused Capac Raimi gazed up at me, his name, prints and room number lying neatly down the left.
"This is your credit bar," she told me, tapping a thin metallic line. "Present this at any of the leisure facilities and you'll be taken care of."
"How much credit do I have?" I asked.
"Unlimited," she replied.
"Can I afford this?" I asked Tasso.
"The Cardinal's picking up the tab."
"Are all his subjects treated this well?"
"Just his pets. Come on. I've a bed to get back to."
The elevator was ordinary compared with the one in Party Central. Large, modern, clean, but unattended and without dramatic operational procedures.
We got out on the eighth floor. It was a short walk to my room. I ran the card through the scanner at the side. There was a sharp buzz, the door slid open and we entered. It was small, nothing special, a letdown after the glamour of the lobby. A few prints, ordinary carpets, plastic flowers in a vase.
"What do you think?" Ford asked, dimming the lights.
"It'll do," I said, trying not to sound disappointed.
"You can order up stuff if you want," he said. "More pictures. Statues. A four-poster bed. You can even change the carpets. They've got a catalogue of extras-you'll find it in one of the drawers-designed to please."
That sounded more like it! "At any rate, it's better than Uncle Theo's new resting place," I joked.
"You don't seem too upset by his death," Tasso remarked.
I shrugged. "I'd only known him a few months. We were in a dirty business, we knew the risks. It's the way things go."
Ford nodded. "You've got the right attitude."
"The Cardinal certainly thinks so," I said smugly, "and he's never wrong."
"No," Ford contradicted me, "he's often wrong. But who's gonna tell him?"
"What do you think he's got in mind for me?" I asked.
"I don't know, kid. The Cardinal doesn't confide in anyone. You learn to live with that and take no offense, or you get out quick. Speaking of which…"
He left and I was alone for the first time that long and unbelievable night.