“How nice for everyone,” said Pleski. They were sitting at a table in the bar at the Brasserie Lipp. On the ceiling above them brightly painted images of monkeys and birds cavorted with naked nymphs. Whoever drew that, Pleski thought, must have been high on something. But Pleski liked the Lipp. So civilized. So European. There was nothing like it in Detroit. But he still didn’t understand why Catherine had invited him here to meet this guy. He wouldn’t have minded meeting Catherine alone, but she’d never given him a hint. It was strictly business with her, and that was probably for the best. Anyway, when was the last time an attractive woman had come to him voluntarily without a price tag attached? Well, at least that made things clear. He liked things clear. So, as a waiter trundled by with a pastry cart, he asked Rafe, “What is your fee?”

“Two and twenty. Standard for a hedge fund. Two percent of assets under management, twenty percent of gains.”

“And if there are losses, not gains, do you reimburse the client twenty percent?”

“That isn’t customary,” Rafe said.

No shit, thought Pleski. He didn’t know why the people he worked for took chances making their money illegally, risking jail, risking getting shot. This hedge fund racket was totally legitimate, and it was robbery, and paid better.

“So if I win, you win,” he said. “And if I lose, you still win?”

Catherine was watching the back and forth, not happily.

“Actually, Mister Pleski,” Rafe said, “everything is negotiable.”

“Isn’t it though?” Pleski said. “And you would diversify my investments how?”

“Our approach is all about information.”

“Information? You gotta be kidding.” He took a big swallow of his beer. French beer. Surprisingly not bad. “Newspapers and magazines are dead. Digital media is oversaturated. Every shmuck in the world has a podcast. Don’t you read the papers?”

“The papers?” Rafe said. “The dead ones?”

“You know what I mean.” Pleski put his glass down.

“We did have that success with Kemper Media,” Catherine put in.

“A fire sale,” said Pleski. “The bones sold cheap.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Rafe said. “But we don’t invest in information. We invest with information. We have sources in interesting places— pharmaceutical firms doing drug trials, staff members in American and European antitrust agencies. We expect to be the first to hear of many interesting developments.”

Catherine glared at Rafe.

“So,” said Pleski, “you have . . . connections?”

“It’s a people business,” said Rafe. “Behind every deal, behind every investment, there are people.”

“Got it,” said Pleski. “And people who need people . . .”

Rafe smiled. “Are the luckiest people in world.”

“Okay,” said Pleski, cutting it off before this guy could burst into song. “That’s interesting. I’ll think about it.” He stood up.

“If there’s anything else I can tell you . . .”