"He dropped by the restaurant one evening," she said. "His visits are rare. This was his first since I'd come to the city. He was courteous and charming, the exact opposite of what I thought he'd be. I found myself drawn to him. He flirted a little with me. I began to think he'd look great with a woman like me by his side. I was starting to pick colors for our wedding. You know the way foolish dreams go.
"Then, as he was leaving, he pulled me aside. My heart skipped. I thought he was going to invite me around to his place for a private drink. But he only said one thing to me. 'How's life with your… father? ' In exactly that tone, with the pause and stress on the father. He grinned as he said it. I knew immediately that Cafran and the city officials might know nothing about my past, but The Cardinal did.
"So I went after him."
She'd gone to Party Central to look it over. She wasn't sure what she planned to do or what she was hoping to find. She just knew she had to do something, take control of the situation and not sit at home feeling sorry for herself. The front of Party Central was a dead end. Nobody could get near the place without attracting attention. So she went around to the back. Found a large fence, regularly patrolled but not as carefully guarded as the front. The Troops back here were spread thinly. And although the fence was electrified, there was a small gate toward the end of the building which wasn't, which the Troops used to get in and out.
She waited until things were quiet, crept up and tried the lock. It was firm, but she discovered a gap between the top of the gate and the fence, one she could just about squeeze through if she sucked in tight. She didn't go in that first night, but came back a few times to observe the Troops. When she'd determined their routines, she walked up to the gate one dark night, brazen as anything, and slipped in.
The area between the fence and the building was used for parking and it was easy to pass undetected. She came to the rear wall of Party Central and walked along, examining the fortifications for weak spots. She found none. Though she searched for hours and checked every possible point of access, there was no way in. On her way out, as dawn approached, she was discovered. She was squeezing through the gap at the top of the gate when a voice from the darkness called to her. "Miss Situwa. We have been observing you."
Her stomach turned to slush. She wanted to run but she couldn't move. A figure appeared out of the darkness and a hand was extended toward her. Not having any other option, she took hold and slipped back into the compound.
The man was dressed in the uniform of the Troops, but was smiling pleasantly and his gun remained hidden. "Would you follow me, please, Miss Situwa?" he asked, and led her back to the building, to a spot near the middle, where he stopped and stepped back. He pointed upward. Ama saw another person above them, opening a window. The Troop-if that's what he was-said, "This window will be left open every night from now on. Use it as you wish. We are no friends of The Cardinal but we have his trust. We cannot protect you if you are caught, but we have taken steps which should make evasion easier. Come and go as you please. Good night, Miss Situwa."
And he'd returned to his business. When she looked up again, the window had been closed and no one was visible. Dazed and feeling sick, she went home.
"Have you seen him since?" I asked.
"No."
"Can you describe him?"
"Not really. All I noticed was the uniform. Every Troop looks the same in one of those."
"What about the one above?" I asked.
"I don't know," Ama said. "I didn't get a close look. But…" She frowned. "It might have been the glare of the sun on the glass, but it looked to me like he was blind." She laughed shortly. "Crazy, huh?"
I didn't think it was crazy at all. I considered telling her about the other blank-eyed men I'd seen, but decided against it. I wanted to think about this a bit more before I shared my thoughts with her.
Ama continued with her story. She hadn't taken the stranger at his word, but had come back and studied the site over the next few nights, trying to spot what she was sure must be a trap. Eventually, left with no other option, she scaled the wall-a simple rope with a hook on the end did the trick-and was in.
She'd expected sirens to blare, lights to blaze, Troops to crash down and haul her off. It didn't happen. Five minutes passed. Ten. Nobody came, no alarms sounded, there was no sign that she had been detected. Eventually she plucked up the nerve to try the stairs. She went slowly, sure she'd spring a trap every time she took a step. But one flight passed without incident. Another. And soon she was past the fifteenth floor, with all the secret files of Party Central at her disposal.
The upper floors of the building were deserted. The occasional secretary would wander through to take out a file or put one back. And Troops patrolled the floors several times a night on their regular rounds. But they always used the elevators and, if you were careful, you could hear them coming and hide before they were close enough to pose any danger. There was ample hiding space. The files were arranged in huge stacks of paper, towers reaching up to the ceiling in some places. All she had to do was squeeze between two of the piles to become invisible.
She spent hours every night rummaging through the monstrous towers. They seemed to be arranged in no apparent order. Ancient newspapers were bunched together with birth certificates, census copies, industrial figures going back to the 1700s, gang lists, property records and more. She took photos of anything that looked important, figuring it would be useful to have proof of The Cardinal's secret dealings. If he ever discovered her and tried to take action, she could blackmail him, trade the photos for her life.
Although she'd unearthed enough after a week to send the king of the city down or make a fortune by selling him out, she hadn't found anything pertaining to her own situation. She found plenty about Cafran and his restaurant, but not a word about his daughter or an orphan he might have bought.
Finally, among a pile of yellowing magazines, she found a file with her name on it.
"It was just a few scraps of paper," she told me, "bound by a cheap cardboard folder. The name was handwritten in capitals on the cover-ayuamarca. Inside was a list of names. I almost passed over it without looking. The only reason I didn't was the strange header. Iopened it and skimmed through. There was nothing apart from the names. Leonora Shankar came first. Mine was one of the last. A hundred or so in all, each neatly typed. The first couple of sheets were old, brown, crinkled around the edges.
"Most names were crossed out, a neat line through the middle. Only nine were untouched. I didn't recognize any of the lined names, so I looked up a few-there was nothing on any of them. No files, no records, no mention anywhere. I think they're people who've been killed."
"What makes you say that?" I asked.
"The first time I looked, Adrian Arne was one of the unlined names. When I checked last night-after you mentioned him-it was crossed out."
"Was Y Tse Lapotaire on the list?" I asked.
"I don't recognize that one," she said.
"Inti Maimi?"
"Oh sure. His name crops up twice-early on, crossed out, and on a later, second sheet. That one's untouched."
"Not anymore, I bet." I looked down into the murky water of the river. I could see an old shopping cart in the mud at the bottom, tiny fish swimming in and out between the bars. I wondered if Adrian and Y Tse were down there somewhere. "What about the unlined names?" I asked. "You checked them?" She nodded. "Any connection?"
"None that I could find. Except, like us, they've got short histories and don't seem to have a past. Plenty of information about their recent lives but nothing about their childhoods or families. The older ones-like Shankar and some guy called Paucar Wami-have long histories, going back decades, but not a word on where they came from or how they-"
"Paucar Wami's on the list?" I asked sharply.
"You know him?"
"I'm beginning to feel like I do. Find out anything about him?"
"Not much. Most of his files are coded. The bits that weren't made me hesitant to learn more. He was The Cardinal's main assassin in the early days, the man for the big jobs. But he's not around anymore. He's off somewhere else, touring the world."
"No," I said. "He's back."
"You're sure?"
"Yes. Wami's back, and Adrian and Y Tse have vanished." I moved away from her and considered her story. "You know, I'm not sure I believe you."
She bristled but managed to check her temper. "What makes you think I'm lying?" she asked coldly.
"People don't break into Party Central. It's a fortress. Cameras on every floor and flight of stairs. Sensors everywhere. They know when a fly flaps its wings. A crack squad of army vets would have a tough time getting past first base. An amateur like you couldn't simply waltz in like you claim."
"I thought that too," she said. "But maybe The Cardinal's too sure of himself. Maybe he's too busy anticipating a full frontal assault to bother with a tiny gap in the back."
"I don't buy it."
"Well, maybe those other two-the one in the uniform and his friend upstairs-have access to the systems. Maybe they've turned them off. It could be I've stumbled onto some huge conspiracy, a plot to wipe out The Cardinal."
"A rogue Troop and a blind man?" I was skeptical. "If they have that much power, what do they need you for? If they wanted to destroy The Cardinal by releasing hidden files, they could do it themselves. This doesn't make sense."
"Nevertheless, I'm here. I did it." Her eyes were defiant.
"Have you got a copy of the Ayuamarca file?" I asked.
"No."
"Why not?"