Hail a taxi.

Chase

You're in luck as a taxi is among the cars stopped abruptly at the intersection. You hail the driver and instruct him to follow the old woman's white Cressida. Never more than a few hundred feet behind, you tail it for several miles through the city.

The Cressida makes a left onto Starling Lane, and out of the regular metropolitan traffic. Tall trees grow from small plots of dirt spaced intermittently along the sidewalk. Their large, leafy canopies shade and brood over the clean black asphalt below. Large houses-- probably four bedrooms at minimum-- populate the quiet association-owned neighborhood.

The road segues into a windy incline, climbing a large green hill topped with a single magnificent mansion. The old lady lives here?

You emerge from behind the hillcrest and see the white sedan idling outside a black gate flanked by eight-foot-high walls of stone. You tell the driver to stop the car at a distance so you can observe the shopkeeper safely while she leans out the driver's side window to address a silver call box. A moment later, the dual black gates make way, and the car pulls into the inner driveway.

You pay the cab driver after he takes you a few yards shy of the gate. When he is gone, you're left to ponder how to get by the seemingly insurmountable barricades.