Hanson Muir watched as Archer walked away from them, disappearing into the lobby. “Traffic is a fire-breathing dragon,” he mimicked. “What an absurd metaphor. Traffic is a broadly based condition, like fire ants or the flu. How can something that happens all over a city be a dragon?” He glanced over to Condley. “I guess we’ve run out of luck, Brandon.”

“Wrong. I know this city pretty well,” said Condley.

“Yes, and you never saw Deville in it, did you?”

“I didn’t say I knew everybody in it.”

“So what are we going to do, start going door to door? Let’s see, at six million people, at a rate of perhaps—shall we say ten doors an hour, and working eight hours a day—and figuring that an average of four people live in each home, that means 1.5 million homes.” Muir’s brows furrowed as his mind calculated furiously. “Okay, I’d say, just under two hundred thousand days, which means, let’s see . . . we could have this wrapped up in about five hundred years. Depending, of course, on the population growth in the meantime.”

“No,” said Condley. “We call Ted Simolzak.”

“Great,” groused Muir. “He can cover half the houses and we’ll be finished in two hundred fifty years.” He watched Condley for a moment. “Who is Ted Simolzak?”

“He’s a private dick out here. I’ve known him forever. Came here from California toward the end of the war after he finished his time in the Air Force. Fell in love with the place and never left. He knows everybody, and he knows just about everything about everybody. He’s the reigning encyclopedia of the city when it comes to expats. We did some things together in the late seventies and early eighties. Maybe even the late eighties.”

“Maybe even the nineties,” grinned an obviously envious Muir.

“Maybe the early nineties.”

“Probably some pretty beautiful things?”

“Stop drooling, Professor. In fact, some very beautiful things. Simolzak throws a hell of a party.”

“Yes, but you’ve brought your own party with you,” said Hanson Muir with exaggerated propriety.

“Oh, I’ll bring my party to his party. But you need to see his party.” Condley became serious. “If Deville left any tracks at all in this city, Simolzak will know where and how to follow them.”

“So you’re telling me I can’t go home yet?”

“You can go home whenever you want.”

“I know that.” Muir sighed. “Brandon, if you knew about Simolzak, why did you let me contact Archer?”