Chapter 85 Section VIII

Throughout the trip, Decker said nothing, and the men ignored him.Along the way, they talked to themselves about football, women, and casinos on Indian reservations—all topics of safety, and nothing that suggested they were criminals.And Decker kept wondering if Esperanza was following in a taxi, if the transmitter and receiver were working, and if the driver would notice a tail behind.He kept telling himself he had to have faith. It was just after 8pm.The rain became denser, and dusk turned into night.Headlights pierced the rain, and the driver darted across a few streets in case anyone was following him, then headed north on the congested Henry Hudson Drive and finally west onto the George Washington Bridge.On the New Jersey side, he headed north again on Baelsides Avenue.An hour after picking Decker into the car, the driver turned left into the sleepy Alpine town.

The people in the car sat up nervously.The driver drove through the almost deserted downtown area, turned right again, made a few more turns, and finally came to a quiet and densely wooded area.The lights here are tasteful and bright, and here and there are large houses on half-acre lots.Tall wrought-iron fences topped with iron spikes rose between each property.The car pulled up a driveway and stopped in front of a formidable metal gate.The driver leaned out into the rain and spoke into a walkie-talkie. "We brought him." The gate opens a gap to either side, just wide enough for the driver to drive the car in.Decker looked back through the rain-washed rear window and saw the door shut behind Oldsmobile as soon as he entered.He didn't see the lights of any taxis that might follow.The car drove along a curved driveway and finally stopped in front of a three-story brick house with many gables and chimneys on the roof.Accustomed to low adobe houses with rounded corners and flat roofs, the house seemed unreal to Decker.Arc lights illuminated the ground.Decker noticed that the trees were some distance from the house and all the shrubs were low.Something along the railing looks to Decker like a state-of-the-art intrusion alarm, and even if an intruder manages to get past it, there's nowhere to hide as he tries to approach the house .

"There's a show to watch," said the man to Decker's left.He opened his door, got out of the car, and waited for Decker. "Come out, don't make him wait too long." Decker's arm was grabbed, but he said nothing.In fact, he welcomed the gesture, which gave him a chance to pretend to stumble as he was being dragged through the rain to the wide stone steps leading into the house.He stumbled against a clump of bushes, took the opportunity to slip the little seeker under the bushes, and let the man pull him up and drag him into the house.His heart seemed icy cold.

The foyer is very spacious with marble floors.The first thing he noticed was a guard with a gun in the corner, and the next thing he saw behind the guard was a big, pockmarked, burly man.He barely had time to look for other possible exits after that, and was pushed and hurried down an oak paneled hallway, through double doors, and into a thickly carpeted study. Books bound in leather bound against the wall opposite Decker.On the right wall are family portraits in frames.There are glass cabinets against the wall on the left, and there are many vases in each cabinet.In the center of the room is a large ancient desk, behind which is a man about 70 years old.He was a stocky man in an expensive dark blue suit, and he squinted at Decker, puffing out smoke.The man's face was so shriveled, the jaw seemed to be split, and there was a deep line on each cheek.His short, thick white hair stood out against his bronzed skin.

A man at the table turned to Decker.This is a man in his thirties, but the difference between him and the old man is not only in age.The young man was dressed in fashionable clothes, and compared with the old man's conservative clothes, he looked vulgar.The young man wore flashy jewellery, the old man could see none of it.The young man doesn't look as healthy as the old man, he's a bit fatter and probably recently quit exercising because of his alcoholism. "Did you search him?" the old man asked the guard who had brought Decker in.His husky voice sounded like a voice Decker had heard on the phone, the man who claimed to be Nick Giordano.

"We searched him when we picked him up," said a guard. "I'm still not satisfied. The guy's clothes are wet. Give him a bathrobe." "Yes, sir." Giordano studies Decker. "Okay, what are you waiting for?" "I do not understand." "Take off your clothes." "what?" "Are you hard of hearing? Take off your clothes. I want to make sure you don't have a transmitter on you. Buttons, belt buckles, zippers, I suspect them all, especially since you've been a spy." "Brian McKittrick must have told you a lot about me."

"That son of a bitch," said the young man. "Frank," Giordano warned him, "don't talk until we know he doesn't have a transmitter." "Are you serious about my clothes?" Decker asked. Giordano didn't answer, just stared at him. "Maybe it's your way of seeking excitement." "Hi." The young man stood up angrily. "Do you think you could walk into my father's house and insult him?" "Frank," Giordano said again. The young man hesitated whether to slap Decker.He stared at his father for a moment, then stepped back.

Decker took off his sweatshirt. Giordano nodded. "Very well. It's always smarter to cooperate." As Decker took off his shirt, he watched Giordano go to the glass case with the vases. "What do you know about porcelain?" Giordano asked. It was a bigger question than Decker expected, and he shook his head in bewilderment. "You mean bone china or something?" Decker calmly took off his shoes and socks. "It's a kind of porcelain. It's called bone china because it's made from bones ground into powder." Decker was more composed.He undid his belt, unzipped his zipper, and pulled off his trousers.His bare skin tingled.

"All clothes," Giordano ordered. Decker took off his briefs.He stood there with as much dignity as possible, arms hanging at his sides. "What's next? Anal search? You do it yourself?" The young man looked furious. "Would you like to get a slap in the face, bum?" "Frank." Giordano repeated his warning. A guard walks in with a white terry bathrobe. "Give it to him." Giordano motioned with a cigar. "Take his clothes to the car." The man complied.Decker puts on his bathrobe.The robe reached to his knees, with wide sleeves just past his arms.As he put on the straps, he remembered the practice clothes he wore when he was learning martial arts.

Giordano holds up a vase in the shape of a heron.The bird's neck was straight and its hooked beak was open. "Look, the light seems to go through it. Listen to it when I tap it with my finger. It echoes, like crystal." "Interesting." Decker's tone lacked enthusiasm. "Much more interesting than you know. These vases are mementos of my victories," Giordano said. "They are a warning to my enemies—" His cheeks began to flush. "—don't lie to me. Urn china. Pulverized bone." Giordano held the bird vase to Decker. "Say hi to Luigi. He tried to trick me, so I had his flesh burnt with acid and his bones ground up to make this. I put him in my keepsake cabinet. Like anyone else trying to trick me." Giordano threw the vase at the room's massive fireplace, shattering the china into pieces.

"Right now Luigi is nothing more than a pile of garbage!" Giordano said, "and if you try to lie to me, you will end up like him. So be careful when you answer this question. About Diana Scolari, what do you want to tell me?"