But he didn't want to attack. He wanted me alive, at least a while longer. He tried to control his rage. He placed his hands on his head and squeezed so hard I thought his skull would shatter under the strain. His face was red and his nostrils dilated wide enough to deliver a calf. He turned away, looking for something to vent his fury on. His eyes were bulging. They settled on his large chair, the one he enjoyed lying back in when entertaining visitors. He picked it up and tossed it at the reinforced window that had been built to stop bullets. The glass splintered under the force of The Cardinal's missile and flew out into the night in a thousand pieces, down into the black unknown of thecity.
He was calmer after that.
He brushed a hand through his hair, stroked his cheeks and began to breathe normally. Walked over to the window, examined the damage and tutted. "If only I'd thrown that chair at you, Mr. Raimi, I'd have saved myself the embarrassment of an ignominious stalemate and, of more immediate concern, would still have had something to sit on. Good chairs are hard to come by. Still, I have a certain amount of money and power. I suppose I'll find one eventually." He grinned, the old Cardinal again, relaxed and in control. "You're a halfway decent opponent."
"Does that mean you're going to explain things now?" I asked. "Have I earned that right?"
He laughed, pulled out a spare chair and sat. "You're too much, Mr. Raimi. Always pushing and prodding. Tenacious, like a bloodhound. That amused me for a time but I'm starting to lose interest." He pressed a button. "Miss Fowler? Send the Troops in please."
"You're going to kill me?" I gasped.
"Of course," he said, directing the incoming Troops to line up against a wall in the time-honored way of firing squads everywhere. "The Ayuamarca file never lies. I hadn't planned to kill you for a few more days, but now I think the time is ripe."
"At least tell me who I am," I pleaded. "That's all I want to know, who I am and why this happened. You owe me that much."
"I owe you nothing," he barked. "You were a man going nowhere, a shit-eating fly I took a liking to. I gave you a chance to make something of yourself. This could all have been yours. I wasn't joking about that. But you blew it, so you die and I search again for an heir. Are your weapons ready, gentlemen?"
"So you'll let me die in ignorance." I spat at his feet. "You're a prick."
"We all die in ignorance," he smiled. I sensed hope in that smile. If I kept him going, I might stumble across the words that could save me. I knew they existed. He would have killed me already if they hadn't. He was throwing me an invisible lifeline. He wanted me to save myself. But why? I couldn't be that important to him. My death wouldn't cause him any hurt or inconvenience. So why was he so reluctant to…?
It came to me and I knew instantly this was my chance. "OK," I said, drawing myself erect, wincing at the pain, but smiling in spite of it, because I'd found the way. "If you're not going to answer my questions, we'll stop it here. Let me go."
The Cardinal burst out laughing. "You're too precious! I should keep you as my court jester. Let you go, Mr. Raimi? Why would I do that?"
"Because you can't kill me," I said.
He stopped laughing. "What makes you say that?" he asked suspiciously.
"Conchita." That drove the wind out of his sails. He hadn't been prepared for that one. It wasn't the line he'd thrown but it did have a hook. "She's the only person in the world you love, if you can call what you feel for her love. You went there the other day. Why? To warn her about me and spare her the pain? I don't think so. You wanted to see if she'd accept you again. You wanted to be part of her life now that I'd cured her. When you gazed into her eyes and saw only fear and loathing, you told her about the file to hurt her. You hadn't meant to, but you did. You're a monster-you couldn't have done anything else."
His face was ashen. He pointed a hand at me, the one with the crooked little finger. "You go too far," he growled. "Even the dead have limits."
"No they don't," I disagreed. "You care for her. She's the only one who means anything to you. I bet it chewed you up inside when you realized what you'd said and done. I bet you sat up here and thought she was going to die, or would regress, that you'd destroyed the one thing you loved.
"Well, you didn't. I spoke with her today and she's leaving this city, going out into the world to live a full life for as long as she can. She's going to do her best to be happy. She was optimistic, actually looking forward to life for the first time in years."
"This is true?" he asked hoarsely. He wanted to believe me but thought I might be tricking him.
"It's true," I said quietly. "Ask your spies. She can be happy now. There's no place for you in her happiness, but that's not so bad, is it? That shouldn't bother you. Having her would have been the icing on the cake, but her happiness is the main thing, right?"
"Yes," he said softly.
"And I'm the man who made her happy."
He looked at me, sly again, compassion vanishing. "Now we get to the real truth of it. You saved her, so you think that entitles you to a reprieve." He shook his head. "Wrong. Doesn't work that way."
"Not a full reprieve," I said, stepping forward, ignoring the click of the guns. "A couple of hours. Give me a chance. I probably can't escape but let me try. You won't be able to live with yourself if you don't. You're human, Ferdinand Dorak, despite your monstrous qualities. You feel like the rest of us. If you kill me here, in your office, it will destroy Conchita if she finds out. And she will-people always do in situations like this.
"You can send the Troops after me later, the whole city if you wish. Let them hunt me like a pack of rabid hounds. You know they'll get me. I can't escape. Hell, I've nowhere to escape to. But at least you won't have my blood on your hands. You can distance yourself from the murder. Let me go. Give me a chance. Maybe it will stop you from having nightmares."
He flinched when I mentioned nightmares. Suddenly I was able to see the real man, born to be a monster, but a man all the same, trapped in his own shell, forced to be what he was, not liking it but incapable of change. If he hadn't been so terrible he would have been pitiable.
"You're old, Ferdy," I said, and he flinched again. "You've done so much evil, hurt so many people, including yourself. I'm not asking for mercy. I'm offering you the chance to evade the guilt. You gain nothing if you kill me here, just drive another nail into the coffin of your heart. Let me go."
It was a passionate speech but passion had never worked with The Cardinal before. He must have heard pleas like this a thousand times. But Conchita and his nightmares made the difference. Each one of us has a secret code, a series of buttons which, if pressed in the right order, make us perform contrary to judgment, logic and instinct. I'd found and pressed The Cardinal's. If that didn't work, the game was up and I was dead.
"I'll give you half an hour," he said, nodding at the Troops to lower their guns. "Don't say anything more. Not a word. You've been very persuasive and it's earned you a reprieve, but if you speak now… Half an hour. Not a minute more."
I made my stunned way to the door. "Mr. Raimi," he said, stopping me as my hand was poised to open it. He had his back to me and was looking out of the window. I could see his battered face reflected in the broken shards of glass the chair had left behind. "Nothing's carved in stone," he said quietly. "Use your time. Don't run blindly. Turn your escape into a quest." I saw him smile. "That's the best advice I've ever given. I must be going soft in my old age." He looked at his watch. "Twenty-nine minutes, Mr. Raimi."
I fled.
It was too little time. I knew that before I hit the ground floor, grabbed my shoes from a startled receptionist and sped out the front door as fast as my legs could manage. Less than thirty minutes. I checked my watch. Five of those had already passed. There was nothing I could do in so short a time. I might as well have let him kill me up there.
I stopped in the middle of a small park and sat on a metal bench. My cuts, bruises and broken bones were stinging but I ignored them. He'd told me not to flee blindly. Running would get me nowhere. I had to think. Was there a way out?
I couldn't stay in the city, that was obvious. I could expect to avoid the chasing mobs for an hour or two if I was lucky. But as soon as morning came and word spread, that would be that. Troops, hired hoods, taxi drivers, hookers, cops and kids on their bikes-the city was bulging with the eyes and ears of The Cardinal.
But where could I go? Grabbing the first plane out was no good. That would be the last recourse of a desperate man, and desperation would ruin me just as surely as Ford Tasso and his men.
I had to focus on the mystery of my past. That was the key. The Cardinal had spoken of a quest-he could only have been referring to that. I had to find my way home and search for the truth.
I thought back to my first day in the city, when I'd trundled in on the train. I'd begun somewhere else. If I could find that starting point, I'd be closer to solving the puzzle. The only way forward was back.
I concentrated. Thought of the woman, streets I could visualize vaguely, other faces, lots of kids again. I tried distinguishing street names, buildings, parks, anything which might help pin a name to the anonymous city or town.
It was hopeless. My memory was too muddled. With time I might be able to remember. But I only had-a quick check-fourteen minutes. Not enough.
I could remember my time here so well. Why couldn't I go back a few days more, or a couple of hours to when I boarded the train? The first thing I could remember was seeing the city, passing through the outskirts, drawing into the station, leaving the train and seeing the peculiar rain shower. Then the cab ride and my meeting with Uncle Theo. Everything before that was…
Wait. I was missing something. I got off the train and left the station, but there was a pause in there, somewhere, which I was overlooking. I hadn't come straight out. I'd stopped to… hand over my ticket. But there was no guard at the gate, so I put it aside to show my children one day. I'd kept the fucking ticket! The stations of destination and departure would be on it. If I still had it, it would tell me where I came from.
But what had I done with it? I thought back. I'd pocketed the stub and forgotten about it. Found it later, when I went to do my first load of laundry. I rescued it in the nick of time and stuck it… where? My wallet? No. I used my wallet daily and knew I'd pull out the ticket and lose it sooner or later. I wanted to keep it safe, so I put it… in the money belt I bought a week after I arrived! And I kept the money belt at Uncle Theo's. I hadn't brought it with me the night of his murder and had never gone back to retrieve it. Hadn't even thought of it in the months since. It contained nothing of import, just some notes, a couple of photos, loose change. And the ticket.
I didn't know what had happened to the house in the wake of the shooting. If new tenants had moved in-and they probably had-I was done for. It was a long shot, but I didn't have much choice. It was Theo's or bust.
How was I going to get there? I checked my watch. Eleven minutes left. Theo's house was miles away. Walking was out of the question. A cab? Sure, but how was I to know the radio wouldn't blurt out a description of me halfway there? I needed Nathanael Mead again.
I hurried to the nearest pay phone (not daring to use my cell) and called. He was at home. He listened carefully while I gave him the barest description of my predicament. He was reluctant this time. This was too hot for him. He'd be glad to help but a risk was one thing, suicide another. In the end, I resorted to bribery and the lure of cash swung him my way. "Where will I pick you up?" he asked.
I was about to tell him when I stopped. The Cardinal might have seen me with Mead before. Maybe he'd guess that I'd go to him again. Hell, the cabbie's phone might even be tapped. Unlikely, but I didn't want to take the chance. "Nathanael, will you go to a pay phone and call the following number?"
I fidgeted and rubbed my hands while I waited. I was sore from the night's fight and it hurt when I moved, but I didn't want to stay still-I might stiffen and never move again.
By the time Nathanael called, I'd thought the situation through and had a clearer plan in mind. It was too risky for him to come. I asked if he knew anyone he could trust, someone he could send in his place. "I do," he said, "but I wouldn't like them getting involved in this shit."