He raised a hand, silencing him. “We’ll discuss serious matters when we’re in the limo. It’s debugged and the windows are treated so no demodulating devices can read our voices. You look surprised I know about such things.” He shrugged. “It’s the world we live in, lad. Pity, isn’t it?” Then he beamed. “But it does make for good business.”

“Certainly for what I understand is your business.” Crane kept his tone neutral.

The older man inclined his head. “As you say.”

The elevator door slid open, revealing a traditional cement-floor cellar with trash bins and laundry and boiler rooms. To the right was a wide expanse of stalls walled with wire fencing, each gated, combination locks dangling. Storage of some kind. As Crane studied the area, trying to see more than cardboard boxes, a powerful car engine purred to life.

From the shadows emerged a long Mercedes limousine. It cruised toward them, its polished black surface gleaming in the florescent lighting like freshly spilled ink.

“Our chariot,” the Scorpion explained.

While the chauffeur remained behind the steering wheel, two of the guards opened the rear doors then stepped back, standing at attention. Crane walked around to the other side and slid in, joining his host.

The car smelled of new leather and lemon wax. The driver wore a traditional mufti-brown uniform and flat cap with a stiff brim. From what Crane could see, he looked old—he had thin white hair and the skin on the back of his neck was pale and wrinkled. Covering his hands were short calfskin driving gloves that revealed a copper bracelet on his right wrist.

The bracelet caught Crane’s attention. Some kind of words edged it. Even at this distance he could see the letters looked exotic, which of course was always intriguing. The bracelet must be very old, he decided, since the copper was such a rich color. In fact, it seemed to shimmer as if from some deep inner fire. The bracelet was a stunning bauble—that was why it had attracted his eye, and that was all there was to it.

Crane put on his seatbelt. The doors closed, and they were alone.

“Proceed.”

The driver looked into the rearview mirror and nodded, acknowledging the order. Then he rolled the limo toward a driveway that rose up to street level and the stars.

Crane watched as his host settled back against the leather and said, “Before I answer your questions, you must answer mine. Tell me how you came to be interested in me. Start at the beginning.”

It was a strange question, but it was possible the Scorpion did not know the whole story. “I was doing research for an article when I ran across something that had nothing to do with it, but I was intrigued. It was an anomaly.”

“Go on.”