Twenty-FiveSeb returned to the Purdy home in Tong Yung Gai — the Street of the Chinese — early the next day, intent on getting to Burton before he had a chance to get drunk or simply run out of daily steam. But when he got there, his long-suffering wife explained he was in one of the joints that lined the Front Street Embarcadero on the Sacramento riverfront.
Seb found him in the third place he tried, sitting alone at a corner table staring into his glass. When he saw Sebastian his jaw dropped, but Seb quickly tried to reassure him. “I’m not here to cause grief, Buffalo, I promise. I just want to satisfy myself about something from back then — something I’ve been too much of a coward to face up to. I think the time has come.”
There was a spark of the old calculated intelligence in Burton
