I guessed which apartment it would be, even before I set foot in the building, because the cold light of a huge plasma-screen was flickering eerily out through the glass-walled, steel girdled façade of the penthouse. It gleamed down from the fashionable river-view balcony, out over the dark water of the marina with its medley of custom-built yachts, barges and narrow boats converted to houseboats with potted plants and bicycles on their decks, tugs, a survey ship, et cetera.

I am not normally that interested in boats, I should say, but considering my nerves on this occasion, identifying and counting off the various kinds seemed to calm me down enough to propel me at last up the steps, mutter my name into the video entry phone, and cross the marble expanse of the discreetly illuminated, palm-dotted foyer to the lift.

I wondered about what his neighbors, if there were any, would make of the Councilor’s private little gathering. The name against the apa...

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