labeled NYPD blocked the way, channeling the limousine along a byzantine detour that eventually landed them in United Nations Plaza, a good ten blocks south of the Tower.
Mr. Nimrod, smooth, cool Mr. Nimrod, didnât mind. As they started back uptown, he stretched out, sipped his Bloody Mary, and continued asking unanswerable questions.
âDo you suppose Heâll let us drop His name?â The bossâs boyish face broke into a stupendous grinâthe first time Michael had seen him happy since the Yaku Shima deal fell through. âWord gets around Whoâs up there on the sixty-third floor and
bang
, we can double everybodyâs rent overnight.â
âI believe He prefers to retain a certain anonymity,â Michael replied.
âWhat do you think Heâs selling?â
âI donât think Heâs
selling
anything.â Michael looked Nimrod in the eye. Such a vigorous young man, the secretary thought. How salutary, the effects of unimaginable wealth. âI got the impression He regards you as, well . . .â
âYes?â
âAmbitious.â
The boss shrugged. âItâs a big universe,â he said, mixing a second Bloody Mary. âHey, maybe itâs not stuff at allâmaybe itâs a service. You think Heâs selling a
service
, Michael?â
âWhat do you mean?â
âYou knowâimmortality or something.â
âI wouldnât want to guess.â
âPhotosynthesis?â
âDonât ask me, sir.â
Even after they exited the limo and started through the atrium, the boss continued to drive Michael crazy. Nimrod lingered in the stores, reveling in the clerksâ astonished gasps and bulging eyes: good God, it was
he
, the great man himself, strolling amid the goods like an ordinary Fifth Avenue shopperâlike a common millionaire. At Beckâs he stopped to admire a $2,300 Nymphenburg chess set; at Aspreyâs he inspected a $117,000 clock studded with cabochon rubies and lapis; at Botticellinoâs he bought his newborn nephew an $85 pair of blue suede baby shoes. It seemed to Michael nothing short of a miracle that they arrived at the threshold of Godâs pied-a-terre only thirty-two minutes behind schedule.
Although their Host came to the door wearing a relaxed and cheerful expression, Michael remained uneasy. God had dressed with dignityâmother-of-pearl business suit, white cotton shirt, beige moire tieâwhereas Nimrodâs primrose linen trousers and turquoise silk shirt radiated a casualness that, Michael feared, bordered on the irreverent.
Nimrod shook the Almightyâs hand. âYour reputation precedes You.â
âAs does yours,â said their Host, eyelids on a snide descent.
God guided His guests into the parlor. An array of hothouse orchids and force-fed dahlias now decorated the lid of the Steinway.
âI have a gift for You, God,â said Nimrod. âMay I call you God?â
The Almighty nodded and asked, âMay I call you Daniel?â
âCertainly.â Nimrod snapped his bejeweled fingers. Michael popped open his Spanish-leather valise and drew out a copy of
Paydirt: How to Make Your Fortune in Real Estate.
âShall I include a personal message?â Nimrod asked.
âPlease do,â said God. âAnd permit Me to reciprocate,â He added, removing a New International Bible from His mahogany bookshelves.
The two of them spent a protracted minute inscribing their respective books.
âSaturn,â said Nimrod at last.
âHuh?â said God.
âThatâs the snazzy one, right? The one with the rings?â
âJupiterâs got a ring too,â God noted. âEven the
Wall Street Journal
carried the news.â
âIâll give You seven hundred and fifty,â said Nimrod. âEight hundred if we can close the deal before the month is out.â
âWhat are you talking
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