Free City of the Snakes by Darren Shan

Tasso?” I ask stupidly. “I thought he’d been crippled by a stroke.”
    “He’s semi-paralyzed but he can get around. It isn’t easy, and it’ll get harder by the day, but right now he’s the one man everyone’s willing to rally behind. Ford’s name still carries weight. The shock of seeing him stagger out of retirement gave all of our enemies pause for thought. It even drove the Kluxers back—as soon as Davern realized he’d be pitting himselfagainst Ford Tasso, he turned tail. That won’t last—he’s too tempting a target, old and fragile—but it’s bought us time.”
    Tasso bossing the gang around at Party Central again was something I never thought to see. I assumed he’d simply pass away quietly and that would be the end of the Ford Tasso legend. Seems he didn’t bother to read the script.
    “I’m glad he’s back,” I say honestly. “It’s nice to hear the old bastard’s still up for a fight. But what’s it got to do with me?”
    “He wants to see you,” Jerry says.
    “Why?”
    “I think he wants your help. He seems to believe you might know where Capac is, or how to find him.”
    “I don’t.”
    Jerry shrugs. “That’s what I figured, but—”
    “No buts,” I interrupt. “I know nothing about your Cardinal’s disappearance. I’ve no wish to get involved. Tell Tasso that.”
    “Al,” Jerry chuckles, “it hasn’t been so long that you’ve forgotten how things work. I was told to bring you in, not deliver a message.”
    My eyes narrow. “What if I don’t want to come?”
    Jerry sighs. “I’m not fool enough to try and force you. But I went out of my way for you once. Put my life on the line.” That was ten years ago, when everything around me was going to hell. Jerry helped me put part of the Bill Casey puzzle together. Unlike many of the players in that game, he wasn’t manipulated by Bill or the
villacs
. He only got involved because he wanted to help.
    “OK,” I mutter. “Do I have time to get dressed?”
    “Sure,” Jerry beams, returning to his beer. “You might want to stick on your wig and cover those snakes too. I don’t bear you any ill feelings for the contacts of ours you’ve taken out, but there are some at Party Central not as forgiving. If they see Paucar Wami walk in, they might start shooting.”
    Grunting sourly, I go get ready for my meeting with the fill-in Cardinal.
    Jerry still drives the same old van that he drove ten years ago, though the engine’s been replaced and new leather seats have been fitted. Traffic’s bad,so it takes us forty minutes to reach Party Central. The fortress is much the same as ever. Twenty floors of reinforced concrete, steel and glass. Raimi made a few structural alterations—such as the balcony on the fifteenth floor—but by and large it hasn’t changed. Two costumed doormen still operate the front doors, but the ten Troops who used to flank them aren’t to be seen. I’d heard the new Cardinal wasn’t as security conscious as his predecessor.
    Inside it’s buzzing. The huge tiled lobby’s full of people talking, arguing, booking appointments, waiting to be met. In Dorak’s day everyone had to take off their shoes and leave them at reception, but Raimi scrapped that asinine rule and the desk where people checked in their footwear has been replaced by a row of computers where execs can surf the Web, work on their files, or kill time playing games.
    Although the Troops on the doors have been removed, there are more guarding the lobby than ever before, blocking entrances to the elevators and stairs, patrolling relentlessly, weapons openly displayed. By the slight air of confusion, I can tell these aren’t regulars. Tasso must have drafted them in.
    “Expecting trouble?” I ask Jerry as we weave through the crowd.
    “And getting it,” he replies. “Frank wanted to put guards back outside the doors, but Ford said it would be admitting to the world that Capac was gone.”
    “I thought Frank didn’t work