Page 148 of Ricardo

A silent conversation passes between them.

Then Lorenzo’s gaze shifts briefly to me.

“Good job on the seating chart so far,” he says.

“Believe it or not, this is a particular expertise of mine.”

He nods once, then leaves, closing the conference room door behind him.

Now it is only Mario and me.

Mario remains at the head of the table, one hand resting on the closed folder in front of him.

I am suddenly aware of how much larger this room feels when it is just the two of us.

“You asked for a hold on Calhoun,” he says.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I look down at the list in front of me.

There are easier answers.

There are safer answers.

I choose neither.

“Because Frank Calhoun would be bad for business,” I say.

Mario says nothing.

“He finds expanding companies with public-facing civic goals, especially companies that need government comfort, zoning cooperation, port access, construction approvals, infrastructure partnerships.” I tap my pen once against the page. “Then he offers introductions.”

“To whom?”

“Anyone useful. Aldermen, deputy commissioners, state-level development offices, nonprofit boards, union intermediaries, and so on.” I meet his eyes. “He makes himself look indispensable.”

Mario leans back in his chair.

“And the problem?”

“The problem is that his introductions are never only introductions.” My voice stays even. “They come with expectations. Preferred contractors. Advisory fees. Donations to the right civic funds. Contributions routed through organizations with notable names and little oversight.

“Great Lakes Civic Growth Fund is not a charity. It is a waiting room for people who cannot hold official office anymore but still want to be paid for access. Calhoun sits in the middle of that room and decides who gets an invitation.”

“And you believe he would try that should he come to the gala?”

“I believe he already is.”

Mario’s eyes sharpen slightly. “How so?”

“He did not end up on this list by accident,” I explain. “Someone made sure he was on this list. Someone wanted Calhoun’s name beside yours.”

Mario’s hand remains still on the folder.

“What would he cost?”