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What about the waiter?

Is he a bona fide Viennese in an operetta uniform—or an NKGB agent?

“Actually, I’m a scotch drinker,” Cronley said.

Why did my automatic mouth come up with that?

“Not a problem,” Serov said. “With Ludwig in mind, I also stopped by the spirits store at His Britannic Majesty’s Officers’ Club . . .”

With Ludwig in mind?

Serov gestured, and another waiter rolled in a table on which was an array of bottles.

“And found Dewar’s in case he had acquired a taste for it during his time in London.”

Clever! What this sonofabitch is doing is letting us know he knows a hell of a lot about Mannberg.

“But in case he didn’t, and not without effort,” Serov said, picking up a bottle, “I came up with this.”

He showed the bottle first to Mannberg and then to Cronley, who read the label: Berentzen Icemint Schnapps.

“How kind of you,” Mannberg said. “That’s hard to find these days.”

“And not to leave out our French allies,” Serov said, pointing to two towel-wrapped bottles in a wine cooler, “Veuve Clicquot champagne.”

Serov smiled, and then went on, “And last but certainly not least, from the Motherland, Beluga vodka.” He pointed at the table. “And to go with the Beluga vodka, Beluga caviar.”

Fish eggs. Oh boy!

All this while they no doubt have Mattingly sitting in some cold, damp stone cell.

“Your hospitality, gentlemen, is overwhelming,” Mannberg said.

“Not at all. I wanted this to be a night of friendship and mutual understanding that we will all remember,” Serov said, and then turned to Cronley. “Do you like caviar, Jim?”

“Some of it. I don’t think I’ve had any . . . What did you say? ‘Beluga’?”

“Beluga,” Serov confirmed. “From the Caspian Sea. Try some. This is the very best.”

He reached to the rolling cart, picked up the large silver bowl that held ice and a smaller silver bowl brimming with caviar. He laid it before Cronley.

Christ, there has to be a pound of it in there, maybe more!

With a flourish, the waiter placed a plate containing toast tips and a small ceramic spoon before Cronley, and then hurriedly opened one of the bottles of champagne.

“Unless you would prefer vodka?” Serov asked.

“I’m still pretty new to vodka,” Cronley said. “Champagne will do fine.”

Cronley picked up the spoon, dipped it in the bowl of caviar, and then waited for his champagne to be poured.

Then he used the spoon to deposit a thumbnail-sized amount of caviar onto the first joint of his index finger before moving it to his mouth. He chewed gently for a moment, then pursed his lips appreciatively. He then took a small swallow of champagne.

“Magnificent,” Cronley announced. “Frankly, I didn’t believe this could be as good as people say.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Serov said. “Where did you say you’re from in America?”

As if you don’t already know!