A familiar voice picks up.
“Yes?”
That’s all he says.
“It’s me,” I say.
I can sense the hesitation on the other end of the line.
“Benjamin?” the voice asks. It’s the name he knows me by, the name I was using when we first met.
There’s practically nothing I can say over the phone. I tell him only that I need his help and that he might be the only one in the world who can help me.
It wouldn’t surprise me if he hung up and we never spoke to each other again. He has every reason to turn me down. I’m asking him to put his entire career—maybe even his life—on the line.
But he doesn’t turn me down. He says two words.
“Saratoga Springs.”
It’s an invitation.