Chapter 3
Roman Crandale looked up from the drink he had been contemplating. He saw Harry Klinton weaving expertly through the room in his direction.
"Roman!" Harry exclaimed, finally coming to a stop at Roman's table, "what a pleasant surprise. How long has it been?"
"A long time, Harry," Roman lied. Actually, they had had a similar meeting in a less public place on more than a few occasions over the last couple of months.
"Do you mind if I join you?" Harry asked, pulling out a chair. Of course, Roman wouldn't object. There was big money involved here; and, all of this was just one more part of the total well-planned negotiations for cinching the deal.
"How about a drink?" Roman suggested, noticing that a waiter had already noticed Harry's arrival and was heading in their direction.
"Scotch," Harry told the waiter. "And another whatever for my old buddy here."
"Scotch," Roman said, reminding the waiter. The young man disappeared en route to the bar.
"How goes it, Roman?" Harry asked, settling back in his chair. He was a handsome enough, middle-age man with black hair already gone gray at his temples. His eyes, too, were gray-like two ball bearings located beneath bushy eyebrows.
"Things have been going quite nicely," Roman said, eyeing Harry over the rim of the glass Roman had just emptied in preparation for his upcoming refill. "I received word today that certain merchandise has reached the border and is ready for crossing."
Harry glanced nervously around the room to make sure no one was listening. His checking was possibly superfluous, since it hardly seemed likely Roman would have been so indiscreet as to move directly on to business if there was any chance that they could be overheard.
"I'm happy to hear that," Harry said, finally satisfied that no one was paying either of them any mind. Actually, the two men looked like two prominent businessmen about to indulge in a three-martini lunch.
"And, I presume there's no trouble at your end?" Roman said, momentarily catching his reflection in the glass panels that lined the wall across the room.
Roman, all decked out in a new Brioni suit, looked exceptionally good-looking, his short black hair banging over large black eyes. When he smiled, his teeth were white behind the stretch of his sensuous lips.
"No, there's been no problems at all," Harry said, changing the subject for a brief moment while the waiter arrived and placed the drinks on the table. "Do you see any of the old gang any more?"
"I see Clive occasionally," Roman said, picking a name out of the blue. He and Harry actually had no old gang in common. Theirs was purely a business relationship and had always been.
"Would you like to order now?" the waiter asked, drinks in place, his note pad ready.
"Steak sandwich," Roman said, deciding he was hungry. "And, substitute cottage cheese for the potato, will you?"
Roman was in no way fat, but neither did he want to get that way. He had been watching his diet for years; and, doing so had paid off handsomely. There really wasn't an ounce of excess flesh on his trim, well-muscled body.
"I'll have the same," Harry told the waiter. "With coffee."
"Coffee for you, sir?" the waiter asked Roman. "Coffee is fine," Roman agreed. A few seconds later, the waiter was gone; and, Roman had turned the conversation back to business.
"You'll be ready for pick up on schedule?" Roman asked. "You understand, I have no real desire to have the merchandise in my possession for any longer than is necessary."
"Yes, we'll be prepared for pick up on schedule," Harry assured. "As I said, so far there's been no problems. I'm actually quite pleased. It's always a pleasure to deal with professionals."
"Here, here!" Roman said, raising his glass in toast.