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He’s roaring, “You fucking idiots, you puny little fuckwits complain about your measly businesses being bothered and disrupted, the nasty man coming at you? That’s the free market, you whining little shits.”
I ought to pay attention. It’s clearly me that he’s ranting at, but I’m still reeling and fighting to recover my senses. I don’t want to have to listen to him lecturing me.
“Capital,” he waves a fist in the air. “The competitive arena of ideas. Wealth creation. Growth. Bigger fish eat smaller fish.Progress. Man’s ultimate ascent. All the advances that we have made as a species have been achieved by men who were determined enough and courageous enough to do whatever it took, the ones who were ready to make any sacrifice, to pay any price to do what needed to be done.”
Seriously. I’m getting a headache. Why do men like him always believe that their ideas improve the more they shout and bludgeon you with them?
“Our country is the world’s great experiment in economics. The melting pot of competition. Here a man is tested by the strength of his ideas, and the strength of character he has to see them through. His willingness to make sacrifices, to go that extra mile, and his appetite for taking risk.”
I start to push myself out of the chair, but he’s very insistent that I stay seated.
“Where are my sons?” he roars in my face.
“Well,” I say, “Good morning to you, Don Romano.”
His scowl could start a landslide.
He booms, “We raised the towers since your last visit. They’re much higher now, so you won’t have your snipers here to bail you out this time. So sorry.”
I tell him, “I won’t need them. We can both see quite easily what the situation is here, Don Romano. You have me as your captive,” I tilt my head. It’s clearing, but I’m still pretty woozy. “Not for the first time, either.”
Then I ask him, “You wouldn’t have any lemonade, would you? Or maybe some ginger tea? I’m feeling pretty unsettled. What was that fucking horrible injection?”
“Where are my sons?”
“How about a glass of water then? Seriously, I’m not feeling at my best and I think you should take some responsibility for that. Also, I hate to be the one to say it, but you’re really not being that great of a host right now.”
The room is huge and imposing, kind of Blade Runner meets Dr. Strangelove. I can’t think why anyone would build something like this where they live, but I guess Don Romano has always seen himself in a state of war.
That must be terrible for him, but I expect it’s also pretty wearing on those around him.
He’s about to start his bluster and hectoring at me again. I hold up a hand. I still do feel quite disconnected. I tell him. “I don’t think there’s going to be too much difficulty. You brought me here for a purpose.”
I break off, “Please. A glass of water.”
His eyes blaze. At least he’s coming into a clear focus. I would be grateful for that if he weren’t so damned ugly.
He shouts. “Water. And lemonade. Now.” He snaps his thick fingers, loudly. then he adds, “And ginger fucking tea. But bring water first.”
A tall, elegant, bald man in an old-fashioned penguin suit hurries across the floor with a silver tray laden with glasses and a carafe. He looks serenely composed and he makes it look like he’s hardly moving at all. Amazing.
He sets the stray down on a table close by.
On the tray, a glass that’s frosted with cold droplets is two thirds filled with water. Next to it, a saucer with slices of ice. By them, a glass and a jug of lemonade, with a carafe of water.
The lemonade appeals most. I hold up a finger to Don Romano and say, excuse me. One moment. Please.”
I take a sip it’s freshly made and heavenly. Could be the best thing I ever tasted.
“Thank you.” I say to the butler and he bows very gracefully as he leaves.
“And thank you, Don Romano. I do feel better.”
He roars, “Where are my sons?”
“Don’t fool around, Don Romano. You want a negotiation. You brought me here because there’s something you want from me. Probably a pretty fat wad of wants, I’m guessing. And it’s bound to go your way.” I hold my hands out to my sides, palms up. “Obviously.”
I blink at him, struggling to keep my patience. “I mean, look — you’re holding the thing that’s most precious in the world to me.” I’m looking at him. There’s not much going on behind those black eyes as far as I can see. I pop my eyes wide and shake my head at him. “No?” Nothing.
