I smiled gratefully and removed it.

The Cardinal wasn’t handsome. Nearly six and a half feet, though you couldn’t tell when he was sitting down. Too thin for such a big man. A crooked nose. Cropped hair. An Adam’s apple that looked like a golf ball stuck in the middle of his throat. Gray skin. A leering gap in his lower face for a mouth. His dress sense wasn’t the keenest either — a baggy blue tracksuit and sneakers. No jewelry. A cheap digital watch. If I dressed like that, I wouldn’t make it past the rear gate of Party Central.

“Let’s get down to business,” he said. “You knew Nicola Hornyak?” I nodded. A file nestled snugly on his lap. I’d have loved to see what was in it. “Knew her long?”

“About a month.”

“You were screwing her?”

“Yes,” I answered calmly, overlooking his bluntness.

His eyes flicked down to the notes. “But you told Mr. Weld it wasn’t serious.”

“We’d meet a few times a week, maybe have a drink or something to eat, head home or to a hotel. Nothing more than that.”

“Hmm.” He studied his notes again. “You went out drinking together. I thought you were a teetotaler.”

“I am. Nic ordered wine, I stuck to minerals.”

“What about drugs?”

“No.”

“Neither of you?”

“No.”

“Nicola Hornyak never did drugs?”

“Not with me.”

Again the “Hmm.” Then he changed tack. “You’ve been with us quite a while. Respected by your superiors, admired by your colleagues. Brains. Talent. A hard worker. Haven’t made much headway, though, have you?”

I shrugged, smiling uncertainly. “I get by.”

“But you don’t move up. A man of your ability and experience should have been promoted by now. I know you’ve been approached, by both Mr. Tasso and Mr. Weld, but each time they’ve offered you more responsibility you’ve turned them down.”