Ford listens silently. When I run out of words, he mulls the situation over, then asks, “And the villacs?”

“Keeping low. I’m sure they’re behind a lot of the unrest but they’re doing it subtly, without showing their hand.”

Ford grunts. “I told The Cardinal to take them out years ago, but he was always in awe of them.”

“It’s not just the priests. Others oppose me, men who’d never have dared face up to Dorak. Eugene Davern’s one.”

“The guy who runs the KKK?” Ford asks, surprised. The Kool Kats Klub has always been a hive of racists, but we never had to worry about them in Ford’s time. Rich white kids talking big. Harmless.

“Eugene’s moving up in the world. He’s been uniting supremacist gangs under one flag for the last few years. They call themselves the Kluxers. I know,” I laugh as Tasso groans. “Dumb name. But they’re serious. They’ve abandoned the hoods and burning crosses of the Klan. Expanded steadily. Davern’s never once asked for my blessing or sought my approval. He’s an independent operator, and others are following his lead.”

“So eliminate him,” Ford barks. “A dawn raid, corpses galore, Davern’s head on a plate… that’ll put paid to that.”

“We don’t do it that way anymore,” I sigh. “The corporation’s in the process of going straight. Taking Davern out would set us back ten or fifteen years.”

“Maybe things need setting back. Christ knows, you can afford to wait.”

“I guess. But…” I don’t know how to explain it. Bloodshed doesn’t deter me but I want to conquer by intrigue and cunning, not brute force. The game must remain interesting if it’s to entertain me for eternity. My greatest fear is waking up one morning, the rest of time stretched out ahead of me, only to find myself with nothing to do.