A tall man, dark-haired, well dressed, was leaning on the metal guardrail puffing on a long light brown cigar. Another hefty East European type was resting his rear end on the front left fender of the Mercedes.
There was a small folding table beside him, something like a card table but smaller. On it was a bottle of cognac, two snifters, and a small wooden box.
The tall man, who appeared to be in his late thirties, turned and looked at the smaller Mercedes.
The American got out of the 220 and Castillo followed his lead. The American got back in the car.
“Herr Gossinger?” the tall man asked in German.
Castillo walked toward him and put out his hand.
“I’m Gossinger,” he said. “And you’re Herr Pevsner?”
“Why not? What’s a name, after all?” Pevsner said with a warm smile. Pevsner’s German was fluent and he sounded like a Berliner.
The next thing that Castillo noticed was Pevsner’s eyes. They were large and blue and extraordinarily bright.
I wonder if he’s on something?
Pevsner’s grip was firm without being aggressive. Castillo noticed that his teeth were not only healthy looking but clean. That was not always the case with Russians.
Well, I guess if you’ve made multiple fortunes in the arms business you can afford a good dentist.
“Tell me, Herr Gossinger,” Pevsner asked, “are you by chance a cigar smoker?”
“Yes, I am.”
Pevsner picked up the wooden box, a small cigar humidor, and extended it t
o Castillo.
“Try one of these. These are the good Upmanns,” he said.
“Excuse me?” Castillo asked as he took one.
“From the Canary Islands factory,” Pevsner said. “I don’t think there’s any question that they’re much better than the ones Castro is making in Cuba, in the plant he took away from the Upmann people in the name of the people.”
“I’ve heard that,” Castillo said. “Thank you.”
And an arms merchant can afford really good cigars. And big black Mercedeses.
Pevsner handed him a silver guillotine and Castillo trimmed the cigar.
“I’ve always wondered if those things were patterned after the head chopper or the other way around,” Pevsner said.
“I think the . . . big one is named after a French doctor named Guillotin, without the e,” Castillo said.
“Well, I’m glad to know that,” Pevsner said. “And not surprised that you knew. I suppose journalists have to have brains stuffed with odd facts, don’t they?”
“I’ve heard that, too,” Castillo said.
Pevsner handed him a gold Dunhill butane lighter and Castillo carefully lit the cigar, took a couple of good puffs, then said, “Very nice indeed. Thank you, Herr Pevsner.”
And gold Dunhill butane lighters.
“My pleasure, Herr Gossinger,” Pevsner said. “Now, another question. Do you like French cognac?”
“Yes, I do.”