"No." She smiled shakily. "It's just nerves. They'll pass."
"You're sure?" When she nodded, I gave her hand a squeeze and we headed up, Ama leading the way. The stairs were deserted. "Don't you ever run into anyone?" I whispered.
"Rarely. Occasionally I'll hear someone coming, slip behind a door and wait for them to pass. You're the only one who caught me. Lucky you, eh?"
I grunted and we continued past the ninth and tenth floors, then the eleventh and twelfth. There wasn't even anybody on the unlucky thirteenth. I was starting to see how Ama had gotten away with this for so long, how easy it was to pass unnoticed if you kept your nerve, when the door to the fourteenth floor swung open on us.
We were seven steps down with nowhere to hide. As my heart dropped to my toes, I recognized the stone features of Ford Tasso. Acting impulsively, I moved up beside Ama and thrust an arm around her waist. I buried my face in her hair and pretended not to notice The Cardinal's right-hand man.
Ford's hand went to his holster at the sight of intruders on the stairs so close to the fifteenth. His reflexes were way sharper than they should have been-I hoped I'd be in such good shape if I lived that long, which didn't seem likely at the moment. When he saw me he relaxed and lowered his fingers, but his expression was harsh.
"Capac," he snapped. I looked up as if surprised. "What are you doing here? And why aren't you using the elevator like any normal person?"
"I could ask the same about you," I replied cheekily.
"Doctor's orders. I need to exercise. I don't have time for a gym, so I jog up and down these stairs as often as I can." He glanced at Ama. "Who's your friend?"
"This is Ama, my secretary. I'm moving up in the world."
"What's she doing here?" he asked.
"I'm showing her the ropes. Introducing her to the staff, helping her get her bearings. You know."
"There are people paid to do that."
"Sure there are, but…" I patted Ama's butt in a way I'm sure she despised. "There's nothing like the personal touch." I winked slyly.
Ford chortled, the sound of a corpse having a seizure, and moved down past us. "Use the elevator next time," he said. "I might have shot you if it was darker."
"Yes, boss." I grinned and held the expression until he turned out of sight. Then we looked at each other and sagged.
"Christ," Ama wheezed. "I come here dozens of times by myself, no hassles. The first night I bring you, Ford fucking Tasso turns up! Are you a jinx, Raimi?"
"Let's hope not," I said. "You've got to admit, though, I handled him pretty well."
"You were OK."
"Just OK? What would you have done if you'd been alone?"
"Dropped my drawers and fucked him placid," she laughed.
We made it to the nineteenth without further surprises. It housed a huge room the length of the building. It was dusty and I found myself coughing. Ama loaned me a handkerchief. I thanked her between convulsions. It was dark up here, lights set at infrequent intervals, too few and weak to be much use. Ama drew a small flashlight from one of her many pockets and flicked it on. She moved away from the door, into the heart of the gloom. I followed quietly, gazing around with interest.
Boxes stood in huge piles like silent guardians wherever I looked. Each pillar was set apart from its companions by three or four feet. A maze of passageways ran through the towers.
"What's in these?" I asked, tapping one of the piles.
"Everything. There are no clear divisions. Maps, blueprints, newspaper clippings and personal files. Minutes from secret government meetings, stuff he must have paid a fortune for. Lists of kennels, retirement homes and schools. Medical records. Photographs of hobos. Anything you can put on paper."
I moved among a few of the skyscrapers, brushed against one by accident and froze, expecting it to topple. But it didn't even shimmer. I gave it a harder push but it was solid. Samson would have had his work cut out for him here.
"This place is like a museum," Ama said. She was gliding between the pillars too. "Records going back centuries. Nearly all of it's original. I bet the curators in this city would keel over in shock if they knew a place like this existed."
"What about the guards?" I was starting to feel edgy about the lack of security. The open window was hard enough to buy, but to move so easily up the stairs and through floors like this… How could The Cardinal's people be so careless?
"You have to listen for them," she said. "But they're easy to avoid-they carry lights and are noisy. Like I've said, the reputation of Party Central is its prime defense. People just don't believe anybody could ever get in."
"Still…" I couldn't shake the feeling something wasn't right. I had a nasty suspicion that a regiment of Troops would burst in and spray us with lead. Well, it was too late to worry. I should have done that earlier. I was here now, far beyond the boundaries of caution.
"Where's the file?" I asked, not wanting to waste any more time. We'd tempted fate enough already.
"Over here." She led the way to a smaller stack. "I targeted it because of its size. The taller ones are a pain in the ass. You have to drag out a ladder to get to the top, then pick the upper boxes off and climb down, up again, down again and so on. It takes ages. I stick to the small towers as much as I can."
She pulled the paper down, one stack after another. I assisted her and within a minute we were two-thirds of the way to the ground. "Stop," she said. "It's around here." She began removing single sheets, then found the pot of gold and handed it across.
It was a slim cardboard file. Four letter-sized sheets nestled inside. Just as she'd said, no indication of importance. The name was on a white sticker, stuck in the middle of the front.ayuamarca.
I examined the first sheet. A long list of names, single-spaced, a neat ruled line through the majority. Leonora Shankar was the first name, unlined. Paucar Wami was a bit further down. Then a mass of crossed-out names. I recognized none of them, with one exception-Inti Maimi. There was one further unlined name near the bottom-Conchita's.
The second page. Two survivors. I knew one of them, a general in the Troops. Inti Maimi was here again, near the bottom, once more neatly crossed out.
Two more untouched names on the third sheet. One meant nothing to me. The other was the mayor. "You see this? The goddamn mayor's part of-"
"Shh!" She put a hand over my mouth, flicked off the flashlight and crouched. I squatted beside her, though I didn't know what the emergency was. A few seconds later I heard footsteps. One of the Troops. He was carrying a flashlight and shone it around the stacks of paper, going through the motions. He didn't come near us and I soon heard a door flapping open and shut. We stood and stretched.
"Sharp ears," I complimented her.
"You get used to it," she said. "I've been here so often, and it's so quiet, I really think I could hear a pin drop."
I turned to the fourth and final page. This wasn't full. The names stretched a third of the way down. Three unlined names. One near the top that I didn't know. Ama's, a few lines above my own. And the third-some guy called Stephen Herf.
Ama gasped and clutched my wrist. She couldn't say anything. She didn't have to. The strength of her grip conveyed her shock quite adequately.
I looked at my name, just below Herf's, and traced the neat line through it with my left index finger. The ink was still fresh.
"Well," I said softly, smiling grimly in the gloom, "isn't that a bitch."
coya raimi
I was striding down the stairs, one hand clutching the file, the other clenched into a fist. My face was a pale, furious mask. Ama was rushing to keep up, tugging at my shirt, trying to slow me down.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"Go home, Ama," I replied brusquely.
"What are you going to do?" she repeated, quickening her pace.