The phone rang in Mason and Gerard’s suite. Mason picked it up. “Yes?”
“Your limousine is downstairs.”
Mason hung up. “Our limo’s here.”
“Excellent,” Gerard said. He checked the gun in his shoulder holster.
Mason sighed. “I don’t like you wearing a gun.”
“It’ll be fine,” Gerard said, and pushed him toward the door.
The concierge guided them out front where a stretch limo was waiting. The driver stood holding the door.
“Good evening, gentlemen. I’ll be taking you to the Golden Grill. It’s a five-minute ride, but there is champagne and caviar if you would like.”
The limo let them out right in front of the Golden Grill. The maître d’ met them at the door. “Do you have a reservation?”
“Kimble and Cardigan. We’re dining with Mr. Candelosi.”
“Ah, yes, you’re in the private dining room. Right this way, please.”
The maître d’ took them himself, part of the VIP treatment.
They went in and immediately found their way blocked by two large goons. Sammy Candelosi stood behind them.
“Gentlemen. Do come in. I hope you don’t mind the imposition, but my boys need to pat you down.”
Mason felt a cold chill in the pit of his stomach. This was exactly what he’d dreaded. The goons would find Gerard’s gun and take it away from him and shoot him.
Gerard’s reaction was just the opposite. He took a step back from the two goons and said calmly, “Then this meeting is over. My friend doesn’t have a gun, but I do, and so do all your men. If you expect me to sit unarmed in a room where everyone else has a weapon, I cannot believe you’d make a deal with that kind of schmuck. I’ll show you my gun. It’s in a shoulder holster.” He flipped his jacket open and displayed the weapon. “You’re not going to shoot me at the dinner table, and I’m not about to shoot you. So do you want to have dinner, or should we go?”
Sammy Candelosi chuckled. He wished Gerard worked for him. He was sorry he had to kill him. “Fine, keep your gun. I can’t wait to find out what this is all about.”
Mason had recovered his poise. “You’re the one who wanted the meeting.”
A waiter appeared and took their drink orders. When he left there was an awkward silence, each group expecting the other to initiate the business conversation. Since there was no proposal to discuss, nothing happened.
Sammy was amused by the situation. He wondered when the boys planned to make their move. He prolonged the suspense by passing out cigars.
The waiter came back with their drinks. He served everyone and went out.
Sammy raised his drink. “Cheers,” he said.
His eyes twinkled.