Aces and Knaves

it before replying. We only get one chance."
    "The guy's loony tunes," Arrow said. "I would need a pencil and paper to do that."
    "It shouldn't be so hard. We can play his silly game. Since we can be sure the obvious answer of 100 isn't right, we need to figure out how many rats each cat catches per minute. If five catch five rats in five minutes, the average cat takes five minutes to catch a rat. Five cats together average one rat per minute. Therefore, these same five will catch 100 rats in 100 minutes."
    "Are you sure you're not making this up?" Arrow asked.
    "Trust me."
    "I guess I have to." Said with the distaste of a woman who liked to be self-reliant.
    I took another few seconds to double-check my answer and then I relayed it to Stan. The door clicked and I opened it.
    As I ushered Arrow inside she said, reluctantly, "You're pretty good at that."
    "I may not be able to create a business plan," I said, "but I have always been good at math."
    Arrow wrinkled her nose at me as I escorted her to the top of the stairs. Sounds of Sinatra came from below. Singing about doing it his way. As we started down the steps I saw Stan at the bottom.
    A look of surprise came over his face as he looked up and he said, "Arrow, is that you?"
    "Stan!" Arrow exclaimed. "I didn't expect to see you here."
    "I didn't get a good look at you on the monitor," Stan said. "You were behind Mr. Patterson."
    "Er, I take it you two know each other," I said.
    "We were in the same class at Stanford business school," Arrow said.
    She reached the bottom of the stairs and gave Stan a big hug. So much for her cover.
    There were more people than there had been the first time I was here. Friday evening crowd, celebrating the end of the workweek. Freed from office prisons. Arrow and Stan chatted, trying to make themselves heard over the noise, while I scanned the room, looking for Buchanan.
    I spotted him playing backgammon with a man. Although he was sitting several tables away I could see he made his moves quickly and decisively, more so than when he had been playing me. I made a mental note not to underestimate him.
    Stan said, "James wants to talk to you. I'll find out when he'll be free." He made his way over to Buchanan.
    "Old friend, eh?" I said to Arrow.
    "I've got a story to tell you about Stan." She added, "Later," as Stan returned.
    "Five minutes," Stan said. "Well, Arrow, I'm afraid we don't play bridge here. There probably isn't anything that interests you." He turned to me. "She wouldn't participate in the Friday night poker games we used to play at school."
    "There was a lot more drinking than poker, as I recall," Arrow said.
    I watched Buchanan's face, something I hadn't been able to do when I was playing him. He was completely engrossed in his game. Even though I couldn't see the board his expression told me he was moving in for the kill and when he won his look of triumph was something to behold.
    As he got up from his chair Arrow whispered to me, "His face looks familiar."
    He stood and came over to us. He shook my hand and said, "It's nice to see you again, Karl." If he was surprised by my presence he didn't show it.
    "This is Arrow Anderson," Stan said. "Arrow, this is James Buchanan. Arrow went to Stanford with me. She works for Dionysus as Richard Patterson's executive assistant."
    I looked at Buchanan's face again as he shook hands with Arrow, but his expression, which had been open a few moments ago was now closed, as if a window shade had been pulled down. He gave her a bland smile and murmured how glad he was to meet her.
    "Let's go upstairs and get out of this noise," Buchanan said.
    He gave a signal to Stan and led the way up the stairs, followed by Arrow and me. He climbed slowly, favoring one leg. From the top of the stairs he went to his study. It was behind one of the doors on the hallway that led from the front door to the back of the house. He ushered us into a good-sized room, dominated by a large desk made out of a dark wood; the top was in the shape of a semi-circle. The other furniture matched the desk.
    "Would you like something to drink?" Buchanan asked as he pointed to two padded chairs.
    He appropriated a large wooden rocking chair for himself, which must be an antique, judging from its impressive size and workmanship. The three chairs were arranged around a low round table. Arrow and I sat down. Buchanan took no notice of Arrow's legs as she crossed them, but I did.
    His question about drinks reminded me that