Page 16 of Reinventing Cato
“You’re either a spy or you work in porn.”
Vigge turned to gape at him before returning his attention to the road. “Do I look like I work in porn?”
“How would I know? I can’t see through clothes and I’m a man of the cloth.”
“I don’t work in porn. And I’m not a spy.”
“Well, you wouldn’t admit it if you were, would you?” Cato chewed over his next question. Might as well find whether he was wasting his time flirting. “If you did work in porn, would it be in straight porn or gay porn or animal porn?”
Vigge gave a sigh that was so heavy, Cato almost felt the air in the car shift.
“For a Catholic priest you seem very interested in porn.”
“Not animal porn, but I need to know what people are confessing to. How can I understand what drives my parishioners to sin if I don’t have a taste of that sin myself? Just a short CockyBoys video clip. I’ve never watched a whole film, obviously.”
“So you’d commit crimes just to make sure you understood those too?”
“Damn. I had that excuse all ready for the bishop and it’s not going to fool him, is it?”
Vigge chuckled.
Cato stared out of the side window at the snow. It was drifting now, swirling in the air, whipped up by the wind and piling up against hedges and walls. But Vigge was a careful driver, and they moved steadily along the road. The voice of the satnav occasionally broke into the silence, and when Cato glanced at the display, it showed it was going to take them even longer to reach their destination than when they’d set off. Time travelling backwards, though at least they were now on the motorway.
“If I guess what your job is, will you tell me if I get it right?” Cato asked.
“No.”
Cato huffed. “I might have to call you Mr No. Unless you’re a doctor. You could be Dr No. Though if you were a consultant, you’d be Mr No.”
“I’m not a doctor.”
Cato licked his finger and drew an imaginary tick in the air. “Right. One down, only several hundred million guesses to go.”
“Good luck.”
“Accountant?”
“No.”
“Lawyer?”
“No.”
“Actor?”
“No.”
“Shelf-stacker?”
“No. I think that’s enough of that. I can feel the downward slide.”
“Yeah, I was going to say footballer.”
Vigge chuckled. “No.”
“Okay, then quiz time. Do you know which planet in our solar system could theoretically float on water?”
“No.”
