“Why not?”
Zeffer glanced back at the arena on the wall behind him, with all its libidinous excesses. “Does that look like the kind of work that somebody would do in the name of God?”
“As I said,” Sandru replied, “I no longer know where God is and where He isn’t.”
There was a long silence, during which Zeffer continued to survey the walls. Finally he said: “How much do you want for it?”
“How much do I want for what?”
“For the room?”
Sandru barked out a laugh.
“I mean it,” Zeffer said. “How much do you want for it?”
“It’s a room, Mr. Zeffer,” Sandru said. “You can’t buy a room.”
“Then it’s not for sale?”
“That’s not my point — ”
“Just tell me: is it for sale or not?”
Again, laughter. But this time there was less humor; more bemusement. “I don’t see that it’s worth talking about,” Sandru said, putting the brandy bottle to his lips and drinking.
“Let’s say a hundred thousand dollars. What would that be in lei? What’s the lei worth right now? A hundred and thirty-two-and-a-half to the dollar?”
“If you say so.”
“So that’s what? Thirteen million, two hundred and fifty thousand lei.”
“You jest.”
“No.”
“Where would you find such money?” A pause followed. “If I may ask?”
“Over the years, I’ve made some very lucrative investments on behalf of Katya. We own large parts of Los Angeles. Half a mile of Sunset Boulevard is in her name. Another half mile in mine.”
“And you would sell all that to own this?”
“A little piece of Sunset Boulevard for your glorious Hunt? Why not?”
“Because it’s just a room covered with filthy tile.”
“So I have more money than sense. What does it matter to you? A hundred thousand dollars is a great deal of money.”
“Yes, it is.”
“So, do we have a deal or not?”
“Mr. Zeffer, this is all too sudden. We’re not talking about a chair here. This is part of the fabric of the Fortress. It has great historical significance.”
“A minute ago it was just a room covered with filthy tile.”
“Filthy tile of great historical significance,” Sandru said, allowing himself a little smile.
“Are you saying we can’t find some terms that are mutually satisfying? Because if you are — ”
“No, no, no. I’m not saying that. Perhaps we could eventually agree on a price, if we talked about it for a while. But how would you ever get it back to California?”
“That would be my problem. This is the twenties, Father. Anything’s possible.”
“And then what? Suppose you could get everything back to Hollywood?”
“Another room, the same proportions — ”
“You have such a room?”
“No. I’d build one. We have a house in the Hollywood Hills. I’d put it in as a surprise for Katya.”
“Without telling her?”
“Well if I told her it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“I’m just astonished that she would allow you to do such a thing. A woman like that.”
“Like what?”
The question caught Sandru off-balance. “Well … so … ”
“Beautiful?”
“Yes.”
“I think our conversation’s come full-circle, Father.”
Sandru conceded the point with a little nod, lifting the brandy bottle as he did so.
“So she’s not as perfect as her face would suggest?” he asked at last.
“Not remotely. Thank God.”
“This place, with all its obscenities, would please her?”
“Yes, I think it would. Why? Does that make you more open to the idea of selling it to me?”
“I don’t know,” Sandru replied, frowning. “This whole conversation hasn’t turned out the way I thought it would. I expected you to come down here and maybe buy a table, or a tapestry. Instead you want to buy the walls!” He shook his head again. “I was warned about you Americans,” he added, his tone no longer amused.
“What were you warned about?”
“Oh, that you thought nothing was beyond your grasp. Or beyond your pocket.”
“So the money isn’t enough.”
“The money, the money.” He made an ugly sound in the back of his throat. “What does the money matter? You want to pay a hundred thousand dollars for it? Pay it. I’ll never see a lei so why should I care what it costs you? You can steal it as far as I am concerned.”