Chapter Nine
Getting Warmer
Attaboy and I descended into the sous-sol of his spacious yali. It was just the two of us, enclosed in a small high-tech stainless-steel cocoon of an elevator that barely whispered as it glided ever downward. Descending numbers on the LED display indicated we were going down through not one but several subterranean levels.
There was no conversation. He looked smug. Apparently I’d yet to see the most impressive of his toys.
What could he have down here that would change the future of the world?
• A Turkish wine so subtle and complex as to rock the viticulture economies of California and France?
• Some old collectible? Napoleon’s d**k, appearing to be no bigger than a grub in a tequila bottle? Hypatia’s napkin, encrusted with her sixteen-hundred-year-old men
