“I wish I knew what you were talking about, Nino.”

“Guilt,” Importuna repeated through the oversized teeth. The smile added stress to the word, like a written underlining. It tied little knots in the tall man’s back. But he maintained his puzzled posture.

He shook his head carefully. “Guilt, Nino? Guilt about what?”

“L.M.T. Ultima. Superba. Harris-Fuller.”

“I heard you the first time. I still don’t understand.”

“They’re companies owned by the conglomerate?”

“Of course.”

“You’re controller in those companies?”

“What’s the point, Nino?”

“You are stupido after all.” Importuna gripped a fresh stogy in his teeth and leaned back in his tall swivel chair. “But then to think you could get away with your beautiful false bookkeeping without my finding out, Mr. Controller Vice-President Big Shot High Liver Whoremaster Gambler, is all by itself the sign of a fool. Not that you haven’t been smart the way you manipulated the figures. You’re a real magician with figures; I always said it. It looked too easy to you, hey? A little here, a little there, some from this company debited to that and from that company posted to a third-you thought you could pull this stuff for years under my nose. Maybe it was luck, amico-your bad luck, my good luck-that I found out at all?” lie lit the stogy and, like a one-man firing squad, directed a burst of acrid smoke across the great table. “What do you think?”

“Oh, I agree,” the tall man said. “A man would have to be a fool, Nino, as you say. He’d never have a Chinaman’s chance against you.”

The large head wagged.

“Now you insult me. You’re still playing games. You think I’m guessing, trying to trap you when I don’t really have the goods on you? Another of your mistakes, amico. I sent an expert to examine your books. Under cover, of course.”