Even in the dark he recognized the place, a yellow brick mansion sitting prominently on Lowry Hill and right on the edge of downtown. The house, just up the hill and a few blocks west of the Walker Art Center and the Guthrie Theater, was one of the few gated residences within the city limits. Hadn't Todd even heard there was a pool in the basement? And Tim Chase was in there? And they were about to meet? The sheer strangeness of it wiped everything from Todd's mind, including, in particular, Rawlins. Relieved to escape his troubles, at least for a few hours, Todd went up to the iron gate that was painted a shiny black, tested it, and found it locked. Then he saw the small brass intercom box and pressed a button. A moment later a deep voice from the box cracked and snapped as it said, “May I help you?” “Yes, my name's Todd Mills. I have an appointment to see Mr. Chase.” “Certainly.” The gate vibrated with a deep electric buzz, and Todd pushed it open. He'd spent a lot of time thinking about how he would dress.
