The Hunters (Presidential Agent 3)

“It’s all right, János,” Pevsner said, in Hungarian. “The gentleman and I are old friends.” Then he switched to English. “How nice to see you, Charley. And quite a surprise. I somehow had the idea you were in the United States.”

“Well, I get around a lot.”

“And what brings you to this service station pissoir?”

“Aside from having to take a leak, you mean?”

“Uh-huh,” Pevsner said, chuckling.

“Actually, bearing a small gift, I was on my way to see you.”

“What is it they say? ‘A small world’? Or is it ‘truth is stranger than fiction’?”

“Some people say both,” Castillo said.

Pevsner turned from the urinal and walked to the washbasins. Castillo heard water running, then the sound of the hot-air blower of the hand dryer.

“I hate these things,” Pevsner announced.

Castillo finished and turned around. The burly Hungarian was gone. Castillo washed his hands, put them under the dryer, and said, “Me, too.”

Then he offered his hand to Pevsner, who took it and then wrapped his arm around Castillo’s shoulder and hugged him.

Then he turned him loose, put his hands on Castillo’s arms, and looked into his eyes.

“You are a man of many surprises, Charley.”

“I guess I should have called and told you I was coming.”

“That would have been a good idea. Am I supposed to believe you just walked in here and were surprised to see me?”

“No, I knew you were in here,” Castillo said. “I had just told the attendant to fill my tank—I

was running on fumes when I pulled in—when I saw you headed for the men’s room.”

Pevsner smiled at him but didn’t say anything.

“If you doubt me, Alek, check the pump to see how much they’ve pumped into it.”

“Oh, I trust you, Charley. Why would you lie to me?”

“Thank you. I would never lie to you unless it was necessary.”

Pevsner smiled.

“Well, let’s go out to the house and have what the Viennese call a kleines Frühstück.”

“Thank you.”

Pevsner waved him ahead of him out of the men’s room. When they were outside, he walked directly to the pump beside the Cherokee and examined the dial.

“You were really out of petrol, weren’t you?”

“You have a suspicious soul, Alek.”

“In my line of business, I have to,” Pevsner said. “Why don’t we have János drive your Cherokee? If you wouldn’t mind? That would get us past the guards at the gate to Buena Vista easier.”

“The keys are in it,” Castillo said. “Just let me pay the bill.”