“That means something?” Ford asks.

“He said the same thing to me the first time we met. The words struck me like a bullet. When he saw that I realized who it was, he smiled, waved, then disappeared into the crowd. I raced after him but the crush was too great. By the time it cleared, he’d vanished.”

Ford clears his throat. “Might have been someone who looked like him.”

“No. A few days later I saw him again, lurking in front of Party Central. I sent Troops after him but they lost track of him after a couple of blocks. Said it was like he disappeared into thin air.”

“But they saw him?” Ford interrupts.

“They saw someone. They couldn’t describe him accurately. Said they didn’t get a good look at him. Then, a week later, I saw Leonora Shankar and Conchita.”

“Leonora’s the woman you say founded Shankar’s restaurant?”

“Yes.”

“And Conchita would be Conchita Kubekik, Dorak’s alleged wife?”

I nod. As far as Ford and everyone else remembers, The Cardinal never married. They think Conchita Gardens was named after a local Indian girl.

“What were they doing?” Ford inquires.

“Swimming.” In response to his quizzical look, I elaborate. “I go for a swim every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, schedule permitting. I use the Kargan pool — not conveniently situated, but it’s longer than most. You can really stretch yourself there.”

“Fascinating,” Ford grunts impatiently. “The women?”

“They’d been sitting by the side of the pool for ages. I didn’t pay much attention. It was only when I paused at the end of a lap to catch my breath that I saw them. I was dumbstruck. I stood in the water at the shallow end, mesmerized, for maybe five minutes, until they rose and slipped into the changing room. Then I charged after them and tore the place apart.”