Funny, he thought, how few gulls he saw in Wonderland, despite the fact that their homes were situated on a bluff overlooking the ocean. Who knew? Maybe they knew that there was a better opportunity to find food in the city or maybe, he thought bitterly, they knew something about the place that the humans had yet to figure out. He shook off this feeling and walked over to the edge of the roof, resting his hands on the chest-high wall. He peered out across the rooftops of countless homes, apartments and businesses and down at the busy streets below. Directly in front of him, on nearby Green Street, was Club Fugazi, home of the venerable Beach Blanket Babylon and, to his right, high atop Telegraph Hill, was Coit Tower. The Art Deco edifice, built in 1933, stood like a giant phallus overlooking North Beach and shone white in the dazzling sunlight. Edgar suddenly wished that he had brought Jack along, just to enjoy a day together in the city where they had first met nearly twenty years earlier. He quickly squashed this feeling, however, reminding himself of the true nature of his visit. He turned and briskly walked toward the elevator.
* * * *
As soon as he was on the street Edgar was quickly swept up with the throngs of tourists and locals headed in a million directions. As he walked in the direction of Columbus Avenue, he passed shops and bakeries and smiled at the scents that filled the air. . . rich coffees, baking pastries and, somewhere nearby, the unmistakable smell of Chinese food. As he continued up the street, though, he was reminded of the city's not-so-charming side. Garbage from an overturned refuse container lay in a heap on the corner and, for the first time that morning, he saw a homeless person begging change from tourists, two things that would never happen in Wonderland. Sure, he thought, the city has a dark side. . . muggings happen, cars get broken into. . . but isn't that part of living in a city? And is that really any worse than what was happening in Wonderland? At least a thief might steal your wallet, bad yes, but was that worse than having your home stolen out from under you?
At Columbus, Edgar crossed the street and continued south, in the direction of Broadway. The Condor Club, his destination, was just ahead. Originally Carol Doda's Condor Club, thusly named for its star performer, the Condor Club was famous for being the first topless and bottomless strip club in the United States, with a plaque on the front of the building commemorating this fact. Opened in 1964, the club had gone through numerous changes over the previous decades, beginning with a California law banning bottomless dancing in clubs that served liquor and culminating with the removal of its famous sign, which featured a forty-foot-tall Carol Doda, complete with red, blinking nipples. Although Edgar had never been one to frequent strip clubs, he had viewed the removal of the sign with sadness. In his opinion the sign was a city landmark and, with its removal, a bit of old San Francisco died. But this part of San Francisco was the seedy side of the city, home to strip clubs and the closest thing there was to a red light district. Things had always been fluid here. The old things that went away would eventually be replaced by something both different and yet still the same, just in a new wrapper.
As he neared the corner, where Broadway and Columbus intersected, Edgar spied other familiar landmarks, City Lights Books, Vesuvio Cafe and, further down, the Sentinel building. Lost in thought, he almost didn't hear the voice behind him.
“Edgar!”
Edgar turned to see the familiar face of the man he only knew as Miller. He was a little older, sure, but it was definitely him. Edgar guessed that Miller was probably somewhere in his mid-to-late-fifties, based on his gray goatee and hair that he kept cropped extremely short, but he seemed to keep himself in relatively good shape, with a chest and biceps that a twenty-year old would be envious of. Miller had a boxer's nose and striking blue eyes and constantly wore an expression akin to one of mild amusement. This had always been unnerving to Edgar, who wasn't sure if Miller was laughing at him or not or even what the joke was. One thing was certain, however: Edgar never wanted to see Miller angry, so mild amusement was fine.
“Miller,” he said, extending a hand, which Miller accepted, squeezing it just once.
“You look well,” he said. “What the hell are you doing in Wonderland?”
“That's why I'm here,” replied Edgar. “I need your expertise in a touchy matter.”
“I'm all ears,” said Miller. “Care to step into my office?”
With this he gestured to the doors of the Condor Club, allowing Edgar to enter first. Inside, Edgar paid the entrance fee for them both and they went in search of a drink.
* * * *
Back on Eldon Court, Jack was growing restless. It seemed as if he was consulting the clock on the wall every five minutes, and it was barely moving. He should have been at his yoga studio but decided he was too nervous with Edgar in San Francisco, so he got one of his employees to cover for him instead. After a couple of hours of pacing the floor, Jack decided it might be a good idea to take the dog for a walk. That, he reasoned, would
