Thackrey stood on the open balcony, looking over the waist-high glass wall. Thirty-seven stories off the ground, the air was cold and blew open his shirt until it flapped like a sail. To the north, he saw San Francisco’s Financial District, Chinatown, and the Transamerica Pyramid. To the east, the two spans of the Oakland Bay Bridge appeared out of the fog. The view straight down was the Embarcadero waterfront, with toy cars weaving in and out of traffic on Beale and Fremont.

The view filled him with a sense of mastery. It was his city—his streets, restaurants, clubs. He had made his fortune here, succeeded beyond the dreams of the creatures scrabbling on the ground below.

“What’s the name of this place?” he called inside.

Victor sat on a leather sofa. “Empyrean Towers. All the units sold out before the building was even finished.”

“And they let two gay wogs move in?”

“They welcomed us.” Russell opened a bottle of wine at the kitchen counter. “In the new millennium, the Chinese are on top.”

“And without my Indian brothers, you’d still be using eight-bit microprocessors,” Victor said. “You’re the face of the past, white boy.”

“How much you pay?” Thackrey joined the others inside.

“One point seven.” Russell handed Thackrey a glass of zinfandel.

“Lot of money.”

Russell used his fingers to count off. “Two bedrooms, twenty-four hundred square feet, Viking appliances, Poggenpohl cabinets.”

Thackrey tasted the wine. “You sound like a drag-queen real estate agent.”

“And now we lose it because of you,” Victor said.

Thackrey watched Victor across the room on the sofa. He wondered if Victor would turn out to be a problem. “Don’t get bitchy. You only ever had it because of me, because I let you buy shares of BluFish.”

“We’re leaving, Ben. Flying out of the country, right after we do this thing for you.”

“Where to?”

“None of your business.”

Thackrey walked slowly around the living room. “This where you practice your martial arts, Vic-tor?”

“It’s Muay Thai,” Victor said. “Thai boxing. Useful for breaking bones. Want me to show you?”

“Another time.” Thackrey slipped off his shoes and flexed his toes into the thick carpet pile. “The apartment came like this?”

Russell picked up his phone and tapped an icon. “We made a few upgrades.” Across the room, a sixty-inch TV came on, with nine separate windows. “For security, we put a webcam in each room. We can monitor what’s going on throughout the apartment from our phones. Even if we’re downtown on Market Street or up at your place in Sonoma County.” He waved at himself in the middle window of the bottom row.