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"My boys are beautiful," Pevsner said. "And so is y
ours."
The waiter approached, excused his interruption, and said, "A cocktail before dinner?"
"Ginger ale for the children," Pevsner ordered. "Very dry vodka martinis, with onions, for my wife and myself. Alfredo?"
"I would like scotch," Munz said. "Single-malt Famous Grouse?"
The waiter nodded, and looked at Castillo.
"Nothing for me, thanks, I'm driving."
"Have one, friend Charley," Pevsner said. "I never trust a man who doesn't drink when I do."
"You never trust a man, period," Castillo said.
What the hell.
I'll just get off the ground in the morning a little later.
"I'll have what he's having," he said to the waiter. "Except hold the vegetables and vermouth."
[FOUR] Corporal Lester Bradley appeared at their table about the same time as the appetizers of prosciutto crudo with melon and pate de foie gras.
"Major Miller would like to speak to you, sir," Bradley announced. "He said it's really important."
I knew I shouldn't have had that martini.
"Excuse me, please," Castillo said, and stood. "I'll try to cut this as short as possible. C'mon, Max."
He signaled for Bradley to lead the way.
Castillo and Max followed him down the lobby to an elevator, which took them up to the second floor, then down a corridor almost to the end. Bradley unlocked a hotel room door, waved them ahead of him, and then followed them inside.
The control console was nowhere in sight, but Castillo saw a DirecTV dish fastened to the railing of the small balcony and remembered that there was a repeater mounted in the antenna; no cable was required.
Bradley took the control console from the shelf of a small closet and put it on a small table barely large enough to hold it.
For a five-star hotel, this room is pretty damn small.
He looked around the room and saw that the only furniture beside the bed and tiny table was a small chest of drawers and a small upholstered armchair. The chair was across the room from the table, with the control console now sitting on it.
"Will that work in my room without moving the antenna, Lester? This room's pretty small."
"This is your room, sir," Bradley replied. "Mine is even smaller."
A moment later, Bradley announced, "We're up, sir," and handed Castillo what looked very much like an ordinary wireless telephone handset.
"Why don't you sit, sir?" Bradley asked, nodding at the armchair.
When Castillo settled in the armchair, he learned that it was not only small but also uncomfortably close to the ground. His head was now as far off the ground as Max's, which Max interpreted to mean Castillo wanted to be kissed. Which he did.
Is this damn place designed for dwarfs?
Castillo looked at the handset. The AFC logo was discreetly molded into the plastic. He also saw that there was a thin soft black cushion on the earpiece.
Not for comfort. That's to muffle the incoming voice. Bradley won't be able to hear what Miller's saying, but needs to.
