He hadn’t slept well. He loved driving and didn’t regret his visits of the previous day, but sitting in a car for hours on end had stiffened him up. He felt annoying twinges and actually heard faint but noticeable crackling sounds from one of his knees when he slid out of bed. A sign of age? Or was it just that some of the wounds his body had accumulated over the years were rebelling. He padded into the bathroom and stood naked in front of the mirror. Several scars aside, he was still a young man, with a full head of hair and a flat stomach. Not a washboard to be sure, but he could do a hundred sit ups when he wanted. But Scarne didn’t want to, right then. He had to loosen up first. He decided to walk to his office. He packed a small gym bag and after exchanging local gossip and pleasantries with the concierge and doorman of his apartment building on 8th Street headed uptown just as the sun came up. He would shower in the new health club that had opened in the basement of his office building at Rockefeller Center.
