Part 58 (1/2)

traffic to the Bay Bridge and for a moment decided that it was best

to forget about the Brazilian and head for home, when unexpectedly a

billboard loomed up before them, a glaring six-color solido advertising,

of all things, the Imperial Hotel. They were right around the corner from

it, apparently.

The Imperial was all gla.s.s and concrete, with what looked like giant

mirrors at its summit, high overhead. It must have been two or three

hundred years old. They hadn't built buildings like that in San

Francisco for a long time. Carlotta got Uncle James out of the car,

told the driver to wait across the street, and signaled to a doorman

to help them go inside.

”I'm here to see this man,” she announced, producing Magalhaes's card.

”We have an appointment. Tell him that General James Crawford is

waiting for him in the lobby,”

The doorman seemed unimpressed. ”Wait here,” he said. Carlotta waited a

long time. Uncle James muttered restlessly.

Some hotel official appeared, studied the Brazilian's card, studied her,

murmured something under his breath, went back inside. What did they