The Uruguayan caviar was delivered in an iced silver tub, with toast triangles and a suggestion that it really would go nicely with champagne, and they just happened to have several bottles of Taittinger Comtes de Champagne Blanc de Blancs 1992 on ice.
"Bring us a bottle of your finest Uruguayan sparkling wine," Castillo said. "I'm told that, like your caviar, your sparkling wine is much better than what's available in Europe."
The wine steward was visibly torn between national pride and selling expensive French champagne, but smiled.
He returned shortly--as Svetlana dubiously eyed the caviar--with a bottle of Bodegas y Vinedos Santa Ana Chef de Cave '94.
Finally, as Castillo sipped at the wine, she steeled herself and used a tiny spoon to extract from the tub enough Uruguayan caviar that would partially cover a fingernail, then put it--with what Castillo thought was exquisite grace--into her mouth.
Her face contorted.
"Bad, huh?"
"It has to be Russian! It is marvelous!"
Using the tiny spoon, she thickly covered a toast triangle with caviar and put it into his mouth. And immediately began to do the same thing for herself.
This is not the time to confess I'm not too fond of fish eggs.
"Well?" Svetlana asked.
"Marvelous," Castillo said, forcing a smile and a swallow.
They found themselves looking into each other's eyes.
Svetlana put her hand to his face and slowly ran her fingers down his cheek.
"Oh, Carlos, my Carlos, I am so happy!"
"Me, too, Svet."
And I mean it.
And the evening is still young.
And I am not going to remind myself of Rule Seven.
[FOUR]
Estancia Shangri-La
Tacuarembo Province
Republica Oriental del Uruguay
1215 4 January 2006
When Castillo stopped the Hertz rental Volkswagen in front of the main house, there were already five vehicles parked there. All were nosed-in at the hitching rail, to which were tied three magnificent horses.
One of the vehicles was a Chevy Suburban with Argentine diplomatic license plates. That told Castillo that Alex Darby and Dmitri Berezovsky had arrived. There were two identical Ford pickup trucks, which Castillo guessed belonged to the hired hands from China Post Number One. And there were a smaller, older Ford pickup and a Chrysler Town & Country minivan. The older truck, he reasoned, was being driven by Ambassador Lorimer; the minivan by his wife.
As Castillo opened his car door, Colin Leverette, at the wheel of an identical rental Volkswagen, pulled in beside him.
Castillo looked around, wondering where the hell the guys from China Post were--then saw one, a portly, graying black man in his fifties or sixties, come around the corner of the building, a CAR-4 at his side.
When he saw Castillo looking at him, he smiled faintly and gave him a very casual salute. Castillo waved back.
Another black man, this one very small, very black, and with closely cropped white hair, came out the front door of the main house. He was wearing what Castillo thought of as the "Gaucho Costume"--the lower legs of the Bombachas trousers stuffed inside soft black leather boots, a white, open-collared billowing shirt, and a flaming red kerchief tied around the neck.