"Just take the money," de Gier said. "Do as you're told. We've been through all this, there's a plan. Why are you going crazy?"
Cardozo adjusted his tie. "It's too new for me. There's only the commissaris behind us."
"Maybe that's still too much," de Gier said. "I'm going in."
A Mercedes load of well-dressed, elderly men swooshed through the club's glass revolving doors. De Gier followed.
"Sir?" an athletic black man in an old-fashioned naval officer's uniform asked.
"New member," de Gier said. He was taken to an antique solid-oak table to pay his fee. The hall, with a floor of red and white flagstones, had an Old Masters flavor, with a touch of baroque. The baroque item was a life-size stone angel, dangling from cables under the hallway's arched ceiling. The club's manager, a blond, long-haired gent in a frock coat and striped pants, smoothly accepted de Gier's three new notes.
"Drinks and snacks on the house, sir. If you feel an urge to be connected to a lady, a waiter will take your fee. Feel free to have a good time."
"Oh, yes," de Gier said, "I'll see what I can do for you."
The manager smiled. "All gambling is for cash. In case of trouble, the waiters will take care of things."
"No trouble," de Gier said.
The manager's gold fillings sparkled. "That's good."
De Gier wandered through rooms and corridors, admiring interior decorations. Cream-colored drapes set off niches in the white plaster walls, each niche holding some treasure: a delicate Buddhist statue; a modern sculpture consisting of a bizarre three-dimensional collage of skulls and driftwood; a single semiprecious stone, artfully framed. Oriental rugs graced marble floors. A fountain rained down on a basin where large goldfish with flowing tailfins swam leisurely between waving water plants. Mahogany wainscoting lined gambling rooms where croupiers sang their mantras in French. A tall woman, with black hair cascading down her naked shoulders above a trim satin blue dress, had changed herself to a cherishable object, standing very still with raised arms, one hand holding a tumbler of wine, the other a slice of caviared toast, breathing "Hello" when he passed.
"How're you doing?" de Gier asked. "Seen Celine anywhere?"
The woman unfroze. Her perfume wafted around de Gier. "I could give you a more intense experience. Like to try me out?"
"I would just love to," de Gier said, "but I have to find Celine." The satin woman drifted off, rustling her dress.
"Not helpful," de Gier said. He tried another twisting corridor that ended in a large mirror. De Gier checked his appearance. Good. Perhaps his silk scarf needed adjusting. He did that, but then the image doubled. A tall man, as tall as de Gier, stood next to him, leenng into the mirror too. The double adjusted his tie. De Gier smoothed down his curls. The neighbor did likewise.
"Very nice," the double said softly. "Are you me? Am I you? Do we reflect? Is your name Baron Bart de la Faille too? Did I split and re-form twice, perhaps? A cloned vision? Was it the better brand of cocaine I just tried, or are we, in bare fact, the other way around, and is what I so fondly consider to be myself a mere projection of another phenomenon I haven't as yet met? Are we frightened or overjoyed?"
"Aha," de Gier said. "There you are. You took your time, but I haven't any right now. Where is Celine?"
"Who," the baron asked, "are you?"
"My name?" de Gier asked. "I'll let you know. I'm busy just now."
"We could penetrate each other's bodies," the baron asked. "Turn each other inside out together." He giggled. "Like gloves. Ever try that? Make a left glove out of a right and vice versa?"
De Gier walked off. He tried another door. Slender arms twined around his neck from behind. "That's the ladies', dear, are you drunk?"
"No," de Gier said, trying to twist free.
"You know who I am?" the female voice whispered.
"Celine?"
"What are you doing here?"
She let go, and he turned around. "I came to see you." She pulled his head down and kissed him full on the mouth. "Hmmm."
"Let's go upstairs," de Gier said.
She kissed him again.
He put his hands on her shoulders. "Upstairs? Let me go and I'll pay the waiter."
"No charge," Celine said. "Be my guest. I'll take care of this." She looked into his eyes. "But can we do it a bit later, please? Let me show you around first. Is this the first time you've been here?"
"Yes," de Gier said, pushing her firmly to a staircase. "Never mind the tour. I can't wait."
"But, Rinus…" She half-turned. "What is this? I didn't even know you remembered me. You're always so cool."
"Up, up, up." He grabbed her waist, propelled her up the stairs.
"Let go." She leaned back.
"No," de Gier said.
"I'll yell."
He swung her off her feet and held a hand over her mouth. A door swung open, pushed by his foot. He put her down on the bed.
Celine sat up. "Why the passion? What's the hurry? We don't close until four A.M., we have all night."
"Take off your clothes." De Gier smiled. "Please."
"Let's do this later. Why the rush?"
"Because I want you now." De Gier's large brown eyes shone. "Ever since that party at your house. I keep dreaming of you. Take off your clothes."
Celine's face hardened. "I dreamed of you too, but not like this." She reached for the telephone next to the bed. De Gier caught her wrist. "Don't." His arm pulled back.
"Are you going to hit me?"
"I'll have to," de Gier said. "There's no time to be nice. I'm needed downstairs. Don't worry, this will be quick."
"No!" She talked through her hands.
He sat down next to her. "There's a raid planned for a little later on. The colleagues may need my help."
She shook her head.
"I don't want to mess you up." He caressed her shoulder. "I know just where to hit you, not too hard. It won't hurt much. Please let me."
She edged away from him. He put an arm around her and pulled her back. "Stay away from the phone."
She leaned into his arm and dropped her hands. "Please don't. I won't yell." Celine looked up. "There can't be a raid, you're suspended."
"Who told you?"
"De la Faille. I heard that yesterday. There was a special party here to celebrate the commissaris's downfall."
"The baron doesn't know me."
"He knows of you. Fernandus threw the party. So how can there be a raid? Were Fernandus and the baron just showing off?"
"No," de Gier said. "I just met the baron. The baron is my man."
"Your man?"
"Bad guy," de Gier said. "I need a bad guy. Do you think the baron looks like me?"
"Bart has piggy eyes." She touched his cheek. "You have beautiful eyes, so warm."
"Same size," de Gier said. "Same mustache. Same type of hair. Does he do judo?"
"Fencing," Celine said. "Bart is good at fencing. All-around sportsman, that's what he says he is. Golf, polo, flies a glider."
"Good. Good." De Gier grinned.
"What do you want to do with him, Rinus? You aren't gay."
De Gier sighed. "Please, Celine, let me put you out."
She turned away. "Undo my zipper."
"No, not that."
"You don't want to?"
"No time."
She looked at her watch. "Isn't it early for a raid? The real stuff happens later, that's when all the big gamblers come in. Tonight there may be a special event. Here, I'll do it myself." She got up and stepped out of her dress. "Want a bath? Shall we push bubbles at each other? We've got nice soap here." She pulled him over to a sunken marble tub in the far corner of the room.
"Later?" de Gier said. "What event?"