“Later, perhaps,” said Cain, sitting down on the couch. “How come I don’t see any bodyguards?”

“What for? I’m a respectable businessman, and I don’t keep any cash up here.”

“There are probably some people on Sylaria who’d like to see you dead,” suggested Cain.

Socrates laughed. “Even if they knew how to find me, which they don’t, I very much doubt that any of them even remember me. They’ve overthrown four or five dictators since I left.” He turned to Terwilliger. “Are you a bounty hunter, too?”

“Nope,” replied the gambler, amused. “I’m just a visitor who appreciates your offer of a drink.”

“What’ll it be?”

“Anything that’s wet.”

Socrates walked to a wall and touched a particular spot on it, and a moment later a panel slid back to reveal a small but well-stocked bar.

“How about whiskey?”

“Whiskey’s fine,” said Terwilliger, swinging a small, straight-backed chair around, throwing a leg over it, and pressing his chest against the back of it. Socrates poured the drink and handed it to the gambler, then turned to Cain.

“Damn, but it’s good to see you again, Sebastian!” said Socrates, sitting down opposite him on a beautifully handcrafted chair. “It must be—what?—maybe twenty years now.”

“Twenty-one,” said Cain.

“I hope you’re doing well.”

“I’ve got no complaints.”

“Neither have I, when you get right down to it. In point of fact, I’ve embarked on a whole new life—new name, new world, new money.”

“I see you still have the same taste for life’s little luxuries,” remarked Cain, indicating the expensive furnishings.

“True,” was the answer. “But then, what’s life without a few luxuries?” He paused. “So tell me, Sebastian, why have you paid a visit to me after all this time?”

“Information.”

Suddenly Socrates was all business.

“Buying or selling?”

“Buying.”

“I’ve got someone coming by in a few minutes, so we’ll have to make this briefer than I’d like, though perhaps we can have dinner later and talk about old times. In the meantime, what kind of information are you after?”

“I’m looking for someone. You can help me find him.”

“If it’s within my power. Who is he?”

“Santiago.”

Socrates frowned. “I’m sorry, Sebastian. Ask me about anyone else, and there won’t be any charge for the answer.”

“I’m not looking for anyone else,” said Cain.

“Then you should be. Leave him alone.”

“A friendly warning?” asked Cain.

“A serious one. He’s out of your league.” Socrates paused. “Hell, he’s out of everyone’s league.”

“Then what does he want with a loan shark?”

“I’m a financier,” replied Socrates.

“I know exactly what you are,” said Cain. “What I don’t know is why he has to deal with you. He can’t be short of money.”