The door opened with the correct five-digit code that Jonathon had, fortunately, tucked away in his head memory. And they were in, smelling the must and the mold of years of disuse. Still, the place wasn’t in such bad shape. It had power and running water; Chico must have had a custodial account set up to keep the utilities going for emergencies. Just like this. The pool hadn’t been cleaned in a long time, and was host to a vibrant algae population, but the deck gave a great view of downtown LA. Hollywood, Century City, the Arcology Mile. Even the hint of the ocean in the distant haze on the right.