“Isolating green as a profound concept, as if it’s new, Lieutenant, is pretentious and idiotic. The Greeks and the Romans—and the Hebrews and the Phoenicians and the Babylonians—every civilization of note has integrated natural elements into design, from Solomon’s Temple to the Mayan pyramids. That is the natural human way. It is in our chromosomes. And shall we discuss the Renaissance? Would you consider the tri-level church in Rome anything other than deliciously synchronous and organic, despite the unexpected turns of events that led to its sequential nature?”

“You took the words out of my mouth.”

Kotsos said, “What I am saying, Lieutenant, is that everything good about design relates to harmony. All this flabber about natural materials is … air.” Waving pudgy hands. “Cement is natural, it comes from sand. Sandstone is natural. Does that mean cement and sandstone are the optimal materials for every purpose? Shall we use sandstone for our pylons in Dubai?” Throaty laugh. “Any architect deserving of his degree considers his surroundings and attempts to integrate.” Leaning toward us. “Do you know what ‘green’ has become, Lieutenant?”

“What, sir?”

“A cult of the ignorant. Using recycled cardboard as if it is platinum. Exposing ducts, planting grass on the roof, substituting raw wood for fine finishes. Reprocessing sewer water entitles one to a badge of ascetic honor? A cult, Lieutenant. Self-consciously ironic and aesthetically phony.”

“Smog doesn’t bother you?”

Kotsos said, “Ugly will not solve smog. There is nothing new under the sun. The only meaningful question is who gets to hold the reflective lens.”

Passion had propelled him closer to the edge of the chair. Pink had spread under his tan.

Milo said, “So you’ve never heard of Gemein, Holman, and Cohen.”

“I have not. Where are they located?”

“Venice.”

“I go to Venice, Italy. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“You’re a large firm,” said Milo. “How many partners do you have?”

“I have never counted.”

“There are no names listed on your door.”

“This,” said Kotsos, “is not a primary office.”

“What is it?”

“We interview clients from the West Coast here.”

“Would dozens of partners worldwide be a fair estimate?”

“Quite fair.”

“Toss in a bunch of assistants and we’re talking a lot of people, Mr. Kotsos. So if Desmond Backer applied for a job, you wouldn’t necessarily be aware of that.”

Kotsos laced his fingers. “If he was hired by this office, I would know.”

“What if you turned him down?”

Kotsos tugged at his caftan. “One moment.”

Six minutes later, he was back. “There is no record of anyone named Backer applying for anything. However, in all honesty, I cannot eliminate the possibility. We don’t keep paper records of rejects.” Crooked smile. “All in the interest of saving trees, so that we may slice them up for veneer. Now if you’ll—”

“Do any of your international projects include Germany, Mr. Kotsos?”