Chapter 10

"You drove yourself from Manhattan?" I asked without being able to prevent it. He glanced at me then back to the street ahead. "No, I'm on a plane. It's Greg's car."


"He's in San Francisco ... too?"

"Yeah, he was ahead of me two days ago." Reply Mr. Shaw looked at me in the rearview mirror. I realized we were headed for the western part of San Francisco, which I knew was a high-rise residential area perched on top of hills and groves. Forest Hill.

Fifteen minutes later we arrived at a house, or villa, at the top of Forest Hill. This house is the only building here, the other closest neighbors are a kilometer from here. And like all the other houses we've passed before, this place is extraordinarily …luxurious. Modern architecture represents every inch of this house, dominated by very large glass windows. I imagined how many people and how long it would take to wipe the windows.

Mr. Shaw stopped his car in a very large yard. Two other cars parked next to us. One is a black Porsche
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