“I have, from time to time, arranged meetings between the various parties in a business transaction.” Socrates smiled. “My calling, as I see it, is to match opportunists with opportunities.”

“From what I can see, I would have thought your calling lay along different lines,” said Cain, indicating the crucifixes and icons.

Socrates shrugged. “One does what one must. The good Lord is very understanding—especially when He sees the size of my weekly donations.”

“I’ll make a healthy donation myself if you can tell me what I need to know about Santiago.”

“Out of the question.”

“Name your price.”

“There isn’t any price,” replied Socrates. “It’s not for sale.”

“Not to put too fine a point on it, Whittaker, everything you’ve ever owned was for sale.”

Socrates sighed deeply. “You’re referring to Sylaria, no doubt.”

“As a matter of fact, I was,” said Cain.

“That was an entirely different situation. I took over a corrupt and stagnant government—”

“And made it so much worse that the Democracy finally bought you off.”

“That is an unfair and unjustified comment, Sebastian.”

“Come on, Whittaker. I was there when your firing squads slaughtered ten thousand men and women.”

“We all make mistakes,” said Socrates easily. “I’ll be the first to admit that was one of mine.”

“I’m sure it’s a comfort to them to know you feel that way.”

“I should have killed thirty thousand,” said Socrates seriously.

Terwilliger chuckled, while Cain merely stared at him.

“After a revolution,” continued Socrates, “you either assimilate your enemies or you dispose of them. The one thing you don’t do is leave them free to plot against you. There were too many to assimilate, so I should have gotten rid of them. As it turned out, I was too soft-hearted; I believed all that guff I used to spout. So I spent ninety percent of my time protecting my ass and ten percent trying to put Sylaria back on its feet. Is it any wonder that I failed?”

“You did more than fail, Whittaker,” said Cain. “You left it a hell of a lot worse than you found it.”

“I very much doubt that,” replied Socrates. “I may have raised taxes and kept martial law in effect, but I got rid of the illegal searches and allowed some local elections.”

“And assassinated the winners.”

“Only some of them. Just the ones who were trying to sabotage my regime.” He smiled. “Besides, in the long run they won, didn’t they? I mean, hell, they’re in control of the damned planet, and here I am, hiding out under an alias.”

“After plundering the treasury,” noted Cain.

“Travel expenses and incidentals,” said Socrates with a shrug. “The Democracy didn’t pay me all that much to vacate my position—certainly not as much as it should have.” He leaned back comfortably on his chair. “You’ve got to learn to be a realist, Sebastian.”