The man who rose to greet him had some of the same comfortably aged character. Cardinal Monticelli couldn’t be compared to a great wine, but he had good color and full body. The matter of bouquet remained to be determined.
“Mr. Manz. Charmed.” He extended a hand. There was a ring on every finger, each fashioned of a different precious metal.
Manz shook hands. “No, you’re not.” The Minder bobbed at his shoulder.
“We are to be blunt, I see. As you wish.” He withdrew his hand and settled into a large armchair. There was no desk in the room, which resembled a den or study more than an office. Business machinery was cleverly concealed within walls and furniture. A small, real fire hissed in a slate-fronted fireplace.
Is this our fence, our king of jacks? Manz wondered. Or just a repressed pyromaniac? He availed himself of the chair opposite.
“I see no harm in being pleasant,” Monticelli told him. “I am by nature a pleasant man. Of course, should you decide to rise now and depart, I wouldn’t be displeased.” He gestured at the Minder. “Perhaps your shadow device can advise you.”
“Sorry. Questions first.”
The executive shrugged. “Ask away.” At a touch the arm of the chair popped open to reveal an aromatic, climate- controlled cylinder from which Monticelli extracted a long, tapered, olive-brown cigar. As he puffed it alight, the room was filled with a pungent organic smell. Tobacco, Manz thought. He’d heard of it.
“Your queries?” Monticelli prompted his visitor. “I’ve allotted you what I believe to a reasonable length of time.” He gestured with the cigar. Fire as pleasure again, Manz mused. “When this has become unsmokable I’ll expect you to leave. So let’s not waste any time. Drink?”
Manz shook his head. “Too early for me.”
Manicured eyebrows rose. “You surprise me.” He thumbed a control hidden beneath the upholstery. “Knick-knack, something to sip. The usual, well chilled.”
Despite Monticelli’s admonition to get on with it, Manz was forced to make small talk as a towering figure with a face like chipped ferrocrete entered from a door on the left. He held a tall, narrow glass between two cablelike fingers. Somehow the delicate stemware survived.
Monticelli accepted the glass. Instead of departing back the way he’d come, the monstrous attendant moved to stand next to the far wall. While some of the characteristics he displayed were decidedly machinelike, he was definitely no mechanical.
“What do you call it?” Manz nodded in the giant’s direction.
“Hmmm? Oh, that’s Knick-knack. Why?”
“I was just thinking that something like ‘Karg’ or ‘Unk’ would be more descriptive. Moves all by himself, does he? No wires, no remotes?”
The giant was aware that he was being spoken of in less than complimentary terms. Eyes narrowed. “How about I shove both your hands in your mouth, funny man? And then maybe pull them out your ears?”
Monticelli frowned. “Knick-knack, behave.”
“Please, Mr. Monticelli. Just one? I only choke him for a little minute.”
“No. Be quiet.”
“I’ll bet you could do that,” Manz commented admiringly. “I’ll bet you could shove both a man’s hands into his mouth. Or break his arms. Or his neck. Or the necks of two men. Police officers, even.”
Monticelli smiled ingratiatingly. “Mr. Manz, what is your purpose in coming here? Your credentials did not allow me to refuse you, but neither do they endear you to me. I am concurrent with the news. Your verbal baiting and veiled accusation of my associate lead me to assume that you are referring to the recent murders of two JeP police officers and the case they were monitoring.”
“You’re up on the news, all right. In advance of it, even, since neither event has yet to be mentioned in the media.”
Monticelli chuckled, took a puff on the cigar and a sip from his glass. “Give me a little credit, Mr. Manz. Anyone who has any dealings with pharmaceuticals or their manufacturers, or distributors, or retailers, is aware of the stories.”
“Looking to buy illegals?”
The executive was not in the least offended. “Looking to stay abreast of the competition. I am a competent businessman, Mr. Manz. More than competent, I like to think. I take both pride and joy in my life. Commerce is like a fire. You try to keep from being incinerated while hoping that the flames devour your competitors.”
“I wasn’t accusing you,” Manz told him, half honestly. “Just trying to find out what you know.” He crossed one leg over the other. The chair was very comfortable. “I’d be interested in your overview of the whole matter.”
“In contrast to what you might think, I find it all most distressing. Honest businessmen begin to wonder when even a concern as large as Braun-Roche-Keck cannot assure safe passage of their most valuable goods, and when the local authorities cannot catch jackers as bold as these. Much less prevent them from repeating their activities. Borgia ships a great deal of product offworld. So far we haven’t been jacked, but we worry each individual shipment through from warehouse to orbit. I tell you, Mr. Manz, it’s not conducive to one’s health.”
“Yeah, I can see that you’re all broken up about it. Remember a young woman name of Suhkhet li Trong? Liked to be called Sooky? Records indicate that she did temptech work for you.”
“For the company perhaps; not for me personally. I’ve met rather a lot of young women, Mr. Manz. A number are working hard for Borgia even as we speak. I don’t make it a point to meet each of my employees personally, not even the attractive ones. Even were I so inclined, it would leave me no time to do anything else. We’re a substantial concern here.”
He’s a toad. He’s a toad and you’re a bloodsucking bug, Broderick Manz. Astonishing how easy it is to find analogs for individual humans among the world of organics. Astonishing how few of them are flattering.
You, for example. When you consider yourself as an analog, what sort of creature do you envision yourself as representing? An eagle or lion if male, horse or dolphin if female? Those are common examples. You unwittingly and indifferently slander the species you compare yourselves to, when in fact you have much more in common with the lower orders. Ticks, fleas, leeches, slugs, mosquitoes, spiders and moths. Brainless and instinctual.
Sorry. My intent is, as always, to educate, not to denigrate. I’d never do that. What would be the point? You abjure reality at every turn anyway. Why would you be any more inclined to listen to me? I’m only a construct, a limbless automaton, a clever device. You use your machines but you don’t listen to them. If you did, you might be more like what you think you are.
Go back to enjoying yourself.
“That’s not a name even an inattentive executive would be likely to forget,” Manz was saying. “You don’t strike me as inattentive. Since you’re so careful to keep up with the news, I don’t think it’s out of line for me to assume that you pay the same kind of attention to what’s going on in your company. Just for the record, you deny ever knowing her?”
Monticelli was clearly amused. “Has this now become an inquisition? My dear sir, I deny knowing her and I deny not knowing her. Such inconsequentialities do not occupy my time. It is needed for more important matters.”
“She was a nice girl. Now she’s dead.”
The executive didn’t so much as twitch. “A pity, I’m sure.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
