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suitably arranged. I stayed by the elevator, rubbing my hands up and down the sides of my thighs, wondering if this could be a dream. Maybe it was still Friday and I was upriver with Bill, dozing on the damp grassy banks.
    “C’mon,” Vincent said, taking me by the elbow and guiding me into the elevator. “I phoned Tasso. He’s busy but said he’d call Frank and have him meet us back at Party Central.” I could tell Vincent was bursting with questions but he kept them to himself.
    Frank was standing by the gate at Party Central when we arrived. He told Vincent to park the ambulance and beat it. For once Vincent didn’t argue.
    We sat in a downstairs office and I told Frank about me and Nic Hornyak. He listened sympathetically, phrasing his questions delicately. When I was through, he took me for lunch to Shankar’s. We ate quietly, heads down. I went for a long walk after that, sticking to backstreets, oblivious to my surroundings, trying not to think about Nic.
    When I got back to Party Central, The Cardinal wanted to see me.
    I hadn’t seen as much of The Cardinal as a neutral observer might have supposed. He was a reclusive, rarely glimpsed creature. The more his empire grew, the less he ventured from his base on the fifteenth floor of Party Central. He even dined and slept up there.
    I thought about it while waiting to be admitted and could recall only eight or nine occasions when I’d come within touching distance of the city’s infamous crime lord. I’d shared a car with him once, on his way to the airport. He was heading for Rome to pay his last respects to the recently deceased pope, an old friend of his.
    He hadn’t said anything to me during the ride. I was up front, he was in the back with Ford Tasso, issuing last-minute orders. He had to be blindfolded before getting on the plane—he was terrified of flying. On the way back, Tasso told me and the two other Troops that if word of The Cardinal’s fear leaked the three of us would be taken out and shot, no questions asked.
    Another time, I ran into him coming out of a bathroom on the ninth floor of Party Central. I held the door open and saluted as he tucked the hem of his shirt back inside his pants. “Thanks,” he said.
    “Thanks.” The only word he’d exchanged with me prior to that night.
    I felt sick. The one thing they don’t teach you in the Troops is how to converse with The Cardinal, since it’s not something you have to do in the normal run of things. How was I to address him? What would he ask me? How should I respond? I wasn’t even sure I could tell him the time—my teeth were chattering. I was still in shock at finding Nic in the Fridge. Now this.
    His personal secretary—Mags—tapped me on the shoulder. “Mr. Jeery,” she smiled. “I’ve called you three times. He’s ready and waiting.”
    “Oh.” I wiped sweat from my brow. “Thank you.” I stood.
    “Do you want a glass of water?” Mags asked.
    My throat was dry but I shook my head. The last thing I wanted was my bladder acting up during my meeting with The Cardinal.
    “Don’t worry,” Mags said. “He won’t bite you.”
    I managed a weak smile. She squeezed my hand comfortingly, then led me to the door, knocked and gently shoved me in.
    The first thing I noticed was the puppets. Dozens of them, hanging from the walls, draped across his huge desk, slumped over in corners. I’d heard about them, of course—everybody knew about The Cardinal’s penchant for puppets—but hadn’t been anticipating the display. For a moment I thought I’d wandered into a toy store by accident. Then I spotted The Cardinal in a monstrous chair behind the desk and everything snapped back into place.
    “Al!” he greeted me like an old friend. “Take a seat. Make yourself at home. Get you anything? Coffee, a snack, a beer?”
    “No. Thanks.” I was dazed by the reception. It wasn’t what I’d been expecting. I pulled up a plastic chair and sat opposite The Cardinal. Out of