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We had just started to experience the tingling sensation when the machine abruptly re- materialized in a large open space, like a warehouse. The amount of silver Michael had usually transported was small, so I had hoped that there wouldn't be a reception party.Luckily the warehouse was empty except for a shiny black car. We loaded up in Michael's Model A Sedan and looked for a clue to tell us where we were. Using a map found in the glove box, we found Michael's house in the French Quarter in only a short while. His keys let us into his house and found his housekeeper/slave, Yvonne.I had Bert tie her up and put her into her rooms until I could question her. I intended to probe her for Michael's mind controls that I was sure would be there. I hoped that they would give me some clues on how Peter used the MC Device. I was afraid that, with the thirty odd years of practice he had on me, Peter's mind control techniques would quickly overwhelm me.The girls, meanwhile, found appropriate. I am a little old to be called a girl."Growling, the man advanced around the desk, "This position, it is not for the female." His accent made each word hard and crisp, leaving no doubt to his preference. He did not want a female as his artist. His slightly lopsided mouth smirked at her. She suspected it was an effort to intimidate her."That, Mister Cerigo, is discrimination." Alex reminded him. Her knees were wobbling. She was sure of her information, but the man's size and anger was startling.Alex had expected to meet a man much older than the one she saw standing before her. Aeolus P. Cerigo had a local, national, and international reputation, for the work he did in designing private residences for the famous and infamous. He was at least 6 foot 4 inches tall, or more. Dark haired and dark eyed, the suit he wore made him look like he had football pads on the shoulders, if not on the thighs, hips, and across the chest. The man was intimidating. He knew it, and he was using it-at.
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