"I think I will, it's just, you need... We need to decide how to deal with a few situations that have arisen."

"Hm." The Platypus picked at the osprey's marble eyes.

"Malet has finally decided to come out of the woodwork. You know his last auction, everything was over-estimated? Some by margins of $10,000? All because of this disappearance trick. All of a sudden he's not on the gallery scene anymore. It's rumored he's in Africa. A pygmy fetish or some such nonsense..."

"The child Ollister. He has too much."

"...and his prices plummet. Now he's back. Will they return to previous levels or plummet even further? I'm of the mind to go change the prices in the book right now. But what should I change them to?"

"The White Sodality wants him destroyed. He is a loose cannon. A variable that presents a risk. I have agreed to this. He cannot be allowed to continue in this manner. More and more of his 'projects,' set up with whatever puppet he chooses as 'artist,' are direct taunts, jeers, or joustings in the White Sodality's direction."

"And what of Gerhardt? He failed us at the Biennale. The critics tore him apart like jackals. He was supposed to be curatorial director, instead he just sat, and smoked those awful long cigarettes of his, and the curators were allowed to make their own decisions. To exercise their options. It was a hellish nightmare. He should be reprimanded, don't you think? He can't be allowed to just go on smoking."

"And this boy, this usurper, has had his dirty little hands in cookie jars that he shouldn't have even seen. And if he thinks that I'm not well aware of everything that happens in this city, he's got another thing coming."

"And Stephen Kranmen, the interim chancellor, has appointed a new director to the art museum, Marta Kooling. She is driving the board batty. They just want the regular shows. As you know, there is no permanent collection, and she keeps turning up with all this contemporary lesbian garbage. I assure you there will be some seriously ruffled board members. You think they want conceptual art?"

"I must admit there is something in his more devious work that moves me. Stirs my heart from the dusty deathbed on which it was lain long ago. So few things bring me joy, nowadays. Nevertheless, neither emotion nor erection will stand in my way. What must be done will be done. I will have him. Him and that girl of his, Adelaide."

Euphrates paced furiously, looking down now, lips tight.

"She will bring him here. Bring him to me. Euphrates, once this boy is harnessed, there will be no more worries. We cannot risk being supplanted. If he could be convinced... Well, one way or the other he has to be neutralized. I will talk with him. We will talk. Euphrates, the girl told us that his minion has his plans, the gray papers. The boy is a punk, or some such thing. I want you to find the punk, and bring me the papers. It's important."

"A punk? OK, I'll have him picked up. But can we deal with some of these other issues? Also there's Mr. And Mrs. Kramer, who are upset because their foundation's grant was used to..."

"Euphrates." The Platypus. His voice rose as he did. "That is your one task."

"But..."

"I care about nothing else. Bring me the gray papers."

PART 4


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