55
Nicholas Everett glanced around and found Thorsten Schmid sitting at a table against the rear wall of the restaurant Thorsten had selected. It was a dark interior, but a plush venue with private tables placed well apart from each other and plenty of wait staff hovering. Nick indicated to the waiter that he knew where he was going and headed towards Thorsten Schmid’s table.
Thorsten, in a pale gray suit, crisp white shirt and red patterned tie, rose and extended his hand, the men shook and Nick took a seat.
“I’ve ordered a gin and tonic. What would you like?” Thorsten asked.
“Scotch neat, thanks,” Nick said.
Thorsten indicated to the waiter and ordered.
Nick studied Thorsten. He was a weak version of his brother; half the charisma, half the charm, slight but shrewd.
“So why do I h
