The tall man smiled at his fancy.

“You’re happy today?” Importuna said.

“Beg pardon?”

“You’re smiling. Did you just enjoy a woman?”

“Hardly, Nino. I came directly here from the office when I got your message.”

“Then what are you smiling at?”

The famous Importuna technique.

“Nothing, Nino.” The famous employee defense. “Just something that passed through my mind.”

“A joke?”

“No. Well, yes. In a way.”

“What? Tell me, amico. Today I would like to hear something to make me smile, too.”

The tall man found his shoes burrowing into the silk pile of the Kashan rug, which dated from the early 17th century and Shah Abbas and should have been hung reverently on a wall; he stopped shuffling with a feeling of desecration. He was no longer smiling; in fact, he was becoming angry. This would never do. Not with Nino. You had to match Nino’s cool.

He made an effort and composed himself.

“It’s nothing, really,” he repeated. “Let’s get on with it, Nino, shall we? Whatever it is. Whatever’s on your mind.” A mistake, he thought with a sinking feeling. It showed fear. You never showed fear to Nino, because then he had you.

“You don’t know?”

“No, Nino, I don’t.”

This time it was Importuna who smiled. What big teeth you have, Grandpa.

“Superba Foods?” Importuna said suddenly. “L.M.T. Electronics? Harris-Fuller Farm Implements? Ultima Mining?”

“Yes?” The tall man was really proud of himself; his eyes had not so much as flickered. Even his breathing remained under control. “What about them, Nino?”

“Now you’re being coy with me,” Importuna said. “Or stupido. And you are not stupido; I don’t employ controllers who are stupido. So my vice-president the controller is playing the game of innocence. To play the game of innocence is to admit your guilt. Bene?”