Frank squints. “Yeah, I see it now. His ears are smaller, his face is slightly sharper, his contact lenses are a darker shade of green.”

“I don’t think they’re contacts,” I say softly, retrieving the photo.

“Who is he?” Frank asks.

I’m reluctant to voice the crazy words, but I force them out. “I think he’s Paucar Wami.”

“That’s the name Al uses,” Frank notes.

“I mean the original Paucar Wami. The Ayuamarcan who popped out of existence ten years ago when Dorak died.”

Frank and Jerry share an uneasy look. They never quite believed my tales of the Ayuamarcans. They’ve seen me return from the dead, so they know there’s more to this world than meets the eye, but there are some things they find hard to get their heads around.

“Never mind,” I mutter. “It’s not your problem. Focus on running the Troops. Leave me to worry about the ghosts of the past.”

Frank opens his mouth to say something, can’t think of anything, salutes and exits. Jerry shuffles after the departing Frank Weld, leaving me alone in my aerie to brood.

Paucar Wami isn’t the only ghost who’s come back to haunt me. There have been others. People who never truly existed, who died, who’ve lived these last ten years only in my memories. Until this one was captured on film, I thought I was imagining them. Now I’m not sure.

Sighing, I slide the photo back into its drawer and leave the puzzle for another day. There’s much to be done. I’ve been gone less than three days, but a lot can happen even in that short a period. Time to catch up on the state of play, reassert my authority and let people know that The Cardinal’s back from the dead… again.

2: the relic

The city’s most exclusive nursing home, Solvert’s, is situated in a quiet corner of Conchita Gardens, a park built during Ferdinand Dorak’s time. Dorak’s wife, Conchita, pleaded with him to do something beautiful and unexpected for her birthday one year. He responded with the park. He could be a sentimental old goat where Conchita was concerned.