EGAN

He walked up to Cassio Dante’s mansion gate and stretched out the identity card hanging around his neck.

“I am here to check the gas.”

The guard looked at him condescendingly, the way the rich looked at poor artisans. 

Had he looked down on people like that in Miami too? He could not remember. Maybe he had not even noticed their existence at all.

“What’s your name? I haven't seen you here before.” The guard looked him over.

“Bruno Alvares. I just ...