Procession of the Dead by Darren Shan Read Free Book Online Page B

and honest men. Then, when you’re ready, I’ll let you dive beneath that surface to the world beneath, of desires, dreams and death. It’s a dark, dangerous world and you’ll drown if you jump in too quickly. Insurance first. Protection and other fields later. That’s how I want it to be. That’s how it
will
be. Agreed?”
    I wasn’t happy. But, given the time, the place and the man before me, who was I to argue?
    “Agreed,” I said shortly.
    “Good.” He rubbed his hands together and raised an eyebrow at Sonja. She took the hint, stood and awaited permission to withdraw. He turned to me for the final time that night, a king dismissing one of his servants.
    “You may go now,” he said. “You begin work tomorrow, whenever Miss Arne summons you. A morning meeting at Shankar’s, I imagine.” He looked to her for confirmation and she nodded. “Mr. Tasso will escort you to your new lodgings. He will also contact you in the near future, depending on how you fare in your day job, and teach you a few things other than insurance. That is all, Mr. Raimi. Learn quickly. Work hard. Believe.”
    And that was it. He’d lost interest in me. I rose, heart beating fast, knees shaking, and followed Sonja out to where Ford Tasso was waiting for us.
    “Still alive, kid?” he smirked.
    “Christ,” Sonja said, dabbing at her forehead with a crisp handkerchief. “You never get used to that. It’s been four years since I was in there last. I didn’t know until he started talking if he’d called me in to promote or kill me.” She smiled weakly and squinted at me. She almost looked jealous. “There was no question of him killing you though. He’s got the hots for you. Even called you Mr. Raimi.”
    Ford’s head came up. “
Mr.
Raimi?” he echoed.
    “What’s so unusual about that?” I asked.
    “The Cardinal calls those he likes by their first name. He uses surnames for people he’s doing business with. Only those closest to him get called Mr., Mrs. or Miss. I was with him eight years before he started calling me Mr. Tasso. It’s a mark of approval, a sign you’ve arrived and are here to stay. I’ve never heard him use it with some kid he’s had dragged in off the street.”
    He pinched my chin, tilted my head left and right, then grunted. “Looks like you’re going places, kid. I figure it’s just as well I didn’t let Vincent waste you. Come on.” He punched me on the arm. “Let’s get you settled in for the night. How does the notion of a room at the Skylight grab you?”
    “Sounds good,” I mumbled, then let him lead the way down to the ground floor, where we collected our shoes and hailed another limo.
    Party Central, Shankar’s, the Skylight. They were the three architectural pillars on which The Cardinal’s empire rested. I couldn’t have dreamed of entering any of them just six hours earlier.
    The Skylight Hotel was a huge box of metal and glass, encircled by a sea of gleaming cars. The city was full of hotels but the Skylight was where the cream came. Large wide-screen TVs in every room for starters, with a digital video library you could access whenever you liked. Four bars. Three swimming pools. Two gyms. A world-class restaurant. A wireless system and telephone lines which were the safest in the city, regularly scanned for bugs by the best experts money could buy. Free drugs compliments of the management (police never raided the Skylight). A spa frequented by movie stars. Computerized locks on every door. No theft or unauthorized soliciting—the Skylight was guarded by the Troops.
    Ford said nothing while we checked in. The girl behind the desk smiled, took my signature and fingerprints, then asked if I had a passport-sized photograph. I didn’t, so she took my photo with a digital camera. A bulb flashed, capturing my startled expression, then she printed it on her PC.
    We were there eight minutes max. During that time I saw two TV stars, a big-name actress who’d have been mobbed