The Last Paladin

by Ward Wagher

The two men shared a lunch, while sitting in a booth at the Windy City Club.

  “It seems like you are here about every other week,” Lewis commented. “If I had to issue that much guidance to one of my employees, I would seriously think about finding another employee.”

  “The thought has occurred to me.” Roma’s grin was rueful. “In spite of my best efforts, I am sometimes disappointed in my hiring choices.”

  “You can do something about that, you know.”

  “My hiring choices?” Roma’s eyebrows arched.

  “No, no, no,” Lewis replied. “I did not intend to insult you. No, when I discover I do not have the employee I thought I hired, I do not prolong the pain. It is better to cut your losses quickly.”

  “I understand that, Chaim. And, to be truthful, I was in a bit of a hurry to fill this position. I wanted to avoid flying into Chicago every other week to manage the office.” He laughed. “And now I find myself flying into Chicago every other week to manage the office. It is just so difficult to find people who have good judgment and are not afraid of making decisions. This lady looked good per her resume, and I ignored my gut when I made the hiring decision.”

  “Where did she come from?”

  “A friend of a friend. She is from Genoa.”

  “Did she work in the Palatinate before?”

  “No, she did not.”

  “Have you considered the cultural challenges she is facing here?” Lewis asked gently. “Midwesterners tend to be a little unique.”

  Roma paused. “You know, with everybody speaking Anglo, you tend not to think about things like that. Do you suppose that might be the problem?”

  “Not having met the lady, I cannot say. But I have seen it before. Your director is new and trying to prove herself, so she is micromanaging everything. The people here are accustomed to a broad degree of initiative. They tend not to respond well to someone looking over their shoulder all the time.”

  “You are probably correct,” Roma stated. “I suppose I need to face up to my mistake and fix it.”

  “I hope you are not going to defenestrate the poor woman.”

  “Such a picturesque term,” Roma commented. “No, I made the mistake. Not her. I wonder if I should move her back to Turin and make her a personal project.’

  “Talk to Clint,” Lewis said. “He probably knows of someone, maybe even within his organization that is ready for a challenge. If that individual does a good job for you in Chicago, then you can think about moving him or her to your home office and infect it with some good Palatinate business practices.”

  “I have made something of a habit of trying to develop businesspeople, Chaim. I suppose I got in too much of a hurry here. This lady got caught in a political squeeze where she worked before and was out of a job. I wanted to help.”

  Lewis shrugged. “I have done the same thing any number of times. My problem is that I just do not learn.”

  Roma smirked. “I would never accuse you of being untrainable.”

  “Oh, I eventually learn. It seems pain is the best teacher for me.”

  Lewis planted his hands on the table. “Now, what was it that you needed to talk about? When you ask for a lunch away from Wilton House, I get concerned.”

  “I needed some advice. You know how RWB is moping around about the loss of his lady-love?”

  “He needs to grow up,” Lewis stated flatly.

  “Yes, well, as you know, one of my people stumbled across her in Rome. She has rented a flat there, and continues with her partying.”

  “And what is your question?”

  “Do I tell RWB about it?”

  “Actually, I had planned to tell him. I just keep procrastinating.”

  Roma snorted slightly. “In other words, you have the same problem.”

  “Let me turn the question around, Carlo. If he found you knew without telling him, what would be his reaction?”

  “If it were me, I probably would not forgive him.”

  “There is your answer, then.”

  Roma looked down at the wreckage of his lunch and then around the quiet dining room. He looked back at Lewis.

  “The girl is bad for him, Chaim.”

  “You know that, and I know that. What does the Paladin think?”

  “He evidently cannot live without her. I think he is being a fool.”

  “Have you ever been in love, Carlo?”

  “I love my wife. I love my family.”

  “Have you ever wanted something badly but knew you could not?”

  “When I was young.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Then you think I should tell him?” Roma asked.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think that when you always answer a question with a question you will come to a bad end.”

  Lewis laughed. “I have often been told that. I am almost one-hundred-thirty years old, Carlo. That bad end is not so very far away.”

  “Is he in his office this afternoon?”

  “Only long enough for you to tell him how to find the girl. Then I expect he will be on his way to Rome.”

  “That is what I am afraid of,” Roma groaned.

  “It is what it is. But to make things easier for the both of us,” Chaim said, “I will go with you.”

  § § §

  “Is this it?” RWB asked, looking out the window of the autocab at the tenement where they parked.

  “I believe so, Boss,” Jones said.

  “Is it safe?”

  Jones scanned the environs and shook his head. “I do not believe I would wander these streets after dark.”

  “What is she thinking of, living in a place like this?” he asked. “Her dad gives her enough of an allowance to live anywhere she wants.”

  Jones assumed the questions and comments were rhetorical and said nothing. RWB stared at the decrepit apartment block and finally shrugged.

  “Okay, I guess you can hold the cab, Richard. Sing, you come with me.”

  “Might I remind you, Boss, that we are a bit undermanned for the neighborhood,” Jones commented.

  “I understand. But I trust your capabilities. Shall we?”

  RWB opened the door and climbed out. Jones quickly followed. RWB looked around and wrinkled his nose at the smell of festering garbage. Visibly making up his mind, he marched towards the front door of the building. In the foyer, the smell worsened.

  “High-class dump,” he commented.

  Jones snorted. “A place I could invest my real estate Solarans.”

  “If you were interested in cutting holes in your pockets,” RWB retorted.

  They climbed the narrow staircase, working to avoid the various bits of detritus that littered the treads. It seemed every other tread squeaked mournfully.

  “At least we do not have to announce our arrival,” RWB commented. “The stairs are doing it.”

  “Be glad we are not trapped in the elevator, Boss. We would likely asphyxiate.”

  “No doubt.”

  They stepped onto the third floor and looked around. Jones pointed.

  “That way, I think.”

  As they followed the hallway, the apartment numbers declined. The Paladin stopped.

  “The other way, Sing. There goes your gold star for the day.”

  “How will I ever make it up to you, RWB?”

  The Paladin chuckled softly as he walked quickly the other direction along the hallway. Coming to number 37, he rapped on the door.”

  His heart skipped a beat when he heard Scout’s voice. “Who is it?”

  “A friend,” he replied.

  A moment later the door opened. “What are you doing here?” Scout demanded.

  “It has been an entire month, Scout. Is that the way you greet me?”

  “For someone I never wanted to see again, it seems apt,” she snapped.

  “Oh, come on, Scout. Can we not just talk?”

  “What is there to talk about?”

  She shook her head. “Come
on in. Does your guard need to search the premises?”

  “I believe I can wait outside,” Jones said.

  “Fine.”

  She pulled RWB into the small apartment and pushed the door shut. Moving to the center of the tiny sitting-room she turned to face him with her hands on her hips.

  “What is it we need to talk about that we have not covered at length before?”

  “I cannot live without you, Scout,” RWB said. “I would like you to come back with me.”

  She glared at him for a few moments and then marched over to embrace him. “I cannot believe I am doing this.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  She stepped back so she could look up at his face. “No. I am not even sure it is a maybe.”

  “There is a party here in Rome tonight,” he said. “Come with me.”

  She poked him in the chest. “Here are the conditions.”

  “Anything.”

  A bit of mordant humor flickered in her eyes. “Be careful what you promise, Mister.”

  “I told you I would do anything,” he repeated.

  “Fine. First of all, if you want my company, you cannot shag any and every other female who happens to be around. I mean it.”

  She interrupted him when he started to protest. “I know you are more disciplined than that, RWB. You boff a bimbo, you will never see me again. Ever. Do you understand?”

  “Okay, okay. I understand.”

  “Do you agree?”

  He held out his hand in a supplicating gesture. “What do you want me to say?”

  “I want you to agree not to do that. Ever again.”

  “I agree,” he said in a small voice.

  She cocked her head as she studied him. “Oddly enough I think you mean it. Okay, next item. Lose the Bible and quit talking about god stuff. I do not believe it and neither do you. There is no way you can measure up to what this so-called god demands. It is useless to even try.”

  “How can you know this?” he asked.

  “I grew up hearing it every day of the week. My parents believed it, to my eternal shame. It has not made the world a better place. I do not want to hear it from you.”

  “I do not know why I even did that,” he commented. “Other than it was fun to watch the looks on peoples’ faces when I pulled out that Bible.”

  “It was embarrassing is what it was,” she said. “I wanted to crawl into a hole every time you did that. Well, it stops right now.”

  “Fine. I just want you.”

  Twenty minutes later RWB stepped into the hallway holding Scout’s hand.

  “Time to go, Sing.”

  “Very well, Boss.”

  Back in the street, they climbed into the autocab.

  “Back to the hotel, RWB?” Cathay asked.

  “Back to the hotel, Richard,” RWB replied. “We have a party to prepare for.”

  Cathay tapped the destination into the console of the autocab, and it rolled away from the curb in route to its destination.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Carlo Roma envied those who seemed to dispatch paperwork with aplomb. While he thought of himself as more than a competent manager, he did not consider himself gifted with the ability to work through the drudge of the job. He delegated to those whom he trusted and avoided some of it. But there was still a daunting amount that he had to plow through every day.

  Early in his tenure as the Managing Director of Nano Roma, he had developed the habit of getting his work done early. He blocked out three hours of every morning and would not leave his office until the paperwork was completed. His administrative staff knew not to interrupt him as that tended to ruin the rest of the day. Even emergencies could wait.

  “What!?” he snapped when his personal secretary pinged him.

  “Chaim Lewis insists on speaking with you. He says it is a matter of the greatest urgency.”

  Roma took a deep breath. He wanted to scream at the secretary in frustration. There were perhaps two people permitted to disturb his routine. His brother Guilietto was one. Chaim Lewis was the other. In fact, he never allowed his wife to interrupt him. But he really did not want to talk to Chaim this morning. It would only mean more problems.

  “Very well. I will speak with Chaim.” Roma was proud that he had kept his voice level.

  “I know you loathe disturbances during the morning hours, Carlo,” Lewis began, “but this could not wait.”

  “Then get to the point, Chaim,” Roma felt his patience fraying. “I am sorry. I am really not at my best this morning. Please tell me how I can help.”

  “The Paladin is in jail in Rome, Carlo. We need some help.”

  “What?” Roma shouted. “What were those imbeciles in the Carabinieri thinking? He is a head of state.”

  “The girl is dead, Carlo.”

  “RWB killed her?” Roma pulled himself to his feet.

  “No, I do not think so. The Paladin’s Director of Security called me. Pardon me, it is still the middle of the night here. The head of RWB’s personal security detail called from Rome. He thinks the girl overdosed or died of alcohol poisoning. When the Paladin woke up in the morning, he found her dead.”

  “My God! And the Carabinieri immediately assumed the worst. Let me make a couple of com calls, Chaim. I will probably need to go down there myself.”

  “Thank you, Carlo. I know this is what none of us wanted to deal with today.”

  Roma scraped his teeth over his upper lip. “I consider both you and RWB to be friends. It is an honor for me to assist. I do wish, however, we had never told him we had located the girl.”

  “Who could have known?”

  “The good news, I suppose, is that the Paladin did not overdose himself.”

  Lewis cleared his throat. “I only hope this does not send him over the edge. You know how much he loved the girl.”

  “You do come up with the most unfortunate possibilities,” Carlo replied dryly. “Let me get down to Rome and get things sorted out. Once he is back in the Palatinate, I will leave him in your capable hands.”

  “Thank you, Carlo. I will owe you a big one.”

  “What are friends for, Chaim?”

  Roma disconnected and then punched the call button for his personal secretary.

  “Two things, Bianca: get my traveling team ready. I must fly down to Rome. And call around and see which facility in Rome is holding the Paladin.”

  “The Paladin, Sir?” she asked in surprise.

  “Yes. We have a major problem. Let me know as soon as things are set up.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Roma thought hard for a few minutes on how to deal with the situation. The Italian peninsula was made up of a collection of city-states and small independent polities. Although Carlo Roma was widely known and respected, he did not carry quite the clout in Rome as he did in Turin. Perhaps it was time to call in a few favors, himself.

  “How might I help our favorite citizen and industrialist this morning?”

  “Mayor Agnelli, I have a matter of great urgency and confidentiality.”

  Roma phrased his words carefully. He considered Stefano Agnelli to be a lightweight. However, the man could not resist being in the know concerning matters that carried a hint of conspiracy.

  “Anything I might do to help, Carlo my friend.”

  “I thank you, Mr. Mayor. Here is what I need.”

  § § §

  The procession made its way through the corridors of the city prison to the cell where a single young man sat with his head in his hands. He did not react as the jailer rapped on the bars with his bully stick and stuck the keycard into the lock mechanism on the door.

  “Look alive, scoundrel, you have visitors,” he yelled.

  One of the men at the head of the line laid his hand on the jailer’s shoulder. “Enough. We have badly used this man.”

  The jailer snorted. “He has left bodies lying all around the world. He should stay locked up for everyone’s safety.”

  Whe
n the door opened, the man at the head of the line rushed into the cell.

  “Paladin, I am the Foreign Minister for the City of Rome. Please forgive this indignity. We had no idea.”

  RWB stood to his feet. His clothes were wrinkled, and he was stooped. “Does this mean I can leave?”

  “Of course, you can leave. We have reserved a suite at the local hotel where you can freshen up before you depart.”

  Carlo Roma was the second into the cell and walked over to the Paladin. “Are you all right, Paladin?”

  “I am not ill, if that is what you mean, Carlo,” RWB responded. “Beyond that, I do not suppose it matters anymore.”

  Singman Jones and Richard Cathay were in the group.

  “Come on, Boss,” Jones said, “let us get you out of here.”

  “You say so,” RWB responded.

  The Paladin allowed Jones to guide him from the cell, and began walking towards the back of the building. Jones led the group out of the building to the pad where the Paladin’s shuttle had landed.

  “Will you allow us to make things right?” the Foreign Minister asked.

  RWB stopped and turned to him. “Thank you for releasing me. I believe I will just go home.”

  He turned without another word and walked to the shuttle. A few minutes later the turbines spun up and the craft lifted off.

  § § §

  “What are we going to do?” Carlo Roma asked.

  Arrayed around the table were Roma, Clinton Worley, Archer Gleason, and Chaim Lewis. They had gathered to discuss the future of the Palatinate as they observed the Paladin’s grief.

  “Is he still doing his job?” Gleason asked.

  “It is like he is going through motions,” Worley responded. “I worry about whether he is going to come apart on us.”

  “Other people have suffered loss,” Lewis said. “All of us here have. It is part of life. We get over it. Life goes on.”

  “That is kind of cold, Chaim,” Roma argued. “If I lost my wife, I would be a total wreck.”

  “But you would survive,” Lewis replied. “Perhaps saying that you would get over it might be a bit strong. But you understand what I am saying.”

  “But what if he doesn’t?” Roma asked. “I know this does not have the impact on me than it does the rest of you. But I conduct much of my business through the Palatinate. I think the Paladins have influenced the Italian states to behave much better than they would have otherwise. In fact, this might impact the entire sphere of man.”