But I had no chance to examine it. Gogarty was calling for me. I
hastily swallowed my coffee and reported for orders.
They were simple enough. The appointment with Zorchi that I hadn't been
able to keep the day before was set up for right then. I was already
late and I had to leave without another glance at Rena's file.
The hospital Zorchi honored with his patronage was a marble-halled
palace on the cliffs that rimmed the southern edge of the Bay of
Naples. It was a luxurious, rich man's hospital, stuffy with its
opulence; but the most opulent of all was the plush-lined three-room
suite where Zorchi was.
A white-robed sister of some religious order led me into a silent
elevator and along a statued hall. She tapped on a door, and left me in
the care of a sharp-faced young man with glasses who introduced himself
as Mr. Zorchi's secretary.
I explained my business. He contemptuously waved me to a brocaded
chair, and left me alone for a good half hour.
By the time Zorchi was ready to see me, I was boiling. Nobody could
treat a representative of the Company like an errand boy! I did my best
to take into consideration the fact that he had just undergone major
surgery--first under the wheels of the train, then under the knives of
three of Naples' finest surgeons.