“River, time’s done you justice,” Hugh said, embracing his sinewy form. “Thanks for meeting with me.”

“Absolutely, Hugh. I was happy to hear you were in the country.”

They sat as a waiter grabbed an empty martini glass that left a shimmering water ring on the darkened tabletop. River ordered a scotch, a drink that would probably last him the entire dinner meeting, knowing Czech’s bartenders predilection to be generous in their pouring.

The conversation began small enough, time to catch up on events and politics within the Pentagon stateside before the lines on Hugh’s face deepened as the man’s mind dwelled on the real reason for the meeting. River was patient. He waited, allowed his friend to strum up whatever inner strength or resolve he needed to approach River.

“Have you spoken to Lawrence Kalley lately?” Hugh asked, his fingers absently toying with the stem of his third martini.