Not that I was going to admit to him. "How do you suggest I proceed?"

"Work that out with Arrow. She's my executive assistant."

"Arrow? As in bow?"

"Yes."

"Is she the one who saw Ned playing blackjack?"

"Yes. And she's very sharp. I'm assigning her to help you."

"And if I think he's compulsive, what then?"

"I'll get him treatment. The company provides for it."

Treatment only works if the subject is cooperative. My father had tried to get me to join Gamblers Anonymous and failed. But then, I wasn't a compulsive gambler. "And if he refuses treatment?"

"Karl, let's not slay our dragons until we meet them."

I didn't want to participate in the ruin of Ned Mackay, even though I didn't really know him. But I had to admit that my father appeared to have a problem. And I didn't see any quick and easy solution. In addition, it was a challenge. I like challenges. "Okay, I'll do it."

My father exhaled again; this time it sounded like a sigh of relief. "Arrow can get you access to Ned or any information you might need about him. And she knows what’s on his calendar."

"Executive assistant. Is that a glorified name for a secretary?"

"No. That's administrative assistant. And mine is a man. You probably have something in common with him."

I could guess what he meant by that.

"However, Arrow is on a fast track to management. She has an MBA."

One more degree than I had. And two more than my father. He spent the next five minutes exhorting me to be very careful about leaking any negative information about Dionysus. And not to make Ned suspicious about what we were doing. He needed my help, but he still didn't trust me. Even so, he apparently valued my judgment, at least in this one area-my area of expertise-compulsive gambling.

When he left I escorted him downstairs. He shook my hand at the door and then strode rapidly past the pool to his castle, the very model of a modern CEO. I couldn't remember the last time we had hugged.