Page 235 - harryDEC12_clean.iba

SECTION 3
KASIMIR AND WHAT CAME NEXT
We met in the Lobby of my Hotel. His first question was:
“Are you wearing the right blazer?”
I nodded.
“It was a close shave this time, Kass. I don’t think I’ll take that risk any more.”
Kasimir looked embarrassed. We drove to his place in Queens. A town house in a quiet residential street - his way of appearing to lead a normal life. Overseas he had millions laid up in illicit money that he had put aside as an S&P Broker for Tankers. Here in Queens he had a few houses he rented out. He declared the rent money to the IRS to justify his lifestyle. We said a quick hello to his wife, the Peruvian general’s daughter, and then we went to the garage. Kasimir opened the well-hidden secret door, and we entered his kingdom, a well appointed bar with counters and bar stools. Nothing there to hide the purpose: to get quietly drunk.
“What would you like to drink?”
asked Kasimir, and I decided on vodka tonic. Then with a razor blade we opened up the stitching on the back of the blazer and took out the money. We waffled on about this and that, and when it had reached 11 p.m. Kasimir said,
“Let’s go eat. I’ll ring the hotel and say you’ll be late.”
No sooner said than done. We took the Long Island Express Way in an easterly direction and reached the boundary of the Borough of Brooklyn. There was his favorite Japanese restaurant whose name I have forgotten. Kasimir said he wanted to give me a special experience, in a culinary sense and otherwise. When we entered the foyer I was confronted by an unimpressive picture apart from the guests, without exception middle-aged Japanese men, well dressed, who with emotionless faces were carrying on loud conversations in Japanese staccato and drinking Saki. Kass sat down at the bar and was given a hearty greeting by the sushi chef, whom he called Bono. Kass was a frequent guest. He explained to Bono that this I was a friend of his from Germany, at which the Sushi Chef sprang to attention, shoved his sharp arm’s length knife into the air, and gave a loud battle cry, which Kasimir translated:
“The next time without the Italians!”
234