The man, though dressed as smartly as Gold, outsized him considerably. Whatever veneer of respectability the man had earned in his years came at the end of the calloused fists of a professional blunt object. He was also still very much accustomed to that size and reputation doing much if the heavy lifting for him. His words were all business, but probably loomed over people much as he physically did.
"Where can we speak in private?" the man asked in Romanian. A subtle cocked nod in the direction of the other man in there browsing.
Gold waved it off, and in the same tongue, "An American tourist; he speaks the language about as well as a tongueless cow. Carry on."
He should have expected the shine of a pistol to issue in the dim light, cept close to the man's side to conceal it from other prying eyes. "We talk in the back or you get rid of him."
Gold glanced up, suddenly pleasant in bearing. "Yes, I believe we have just the thing, sir. If you'll follow me." He leaned a little to be seen around the man to address the soldier, in English, with not the same accent he had spoken with before, something to affect local color a bit better. "I will be with you in a moment."
He led the thug into the back room; it would leave him less room to observe, but if he decided to start trouble, the soldier would either intervene or stay right where he'd be left, and that would tell him something.
His fingers dragged over the needle of an older-style phonograph, the weeping sounds of some World War II-era standard to muffle quiet conversation, though he expected this man didn't have much of an inside voice.
"My employer's got an answer for you about your contract. You are going to revise it to include a fairer price."
He heard the veiled threat but was very good at either not showing it or broadcasting that he didn't have the sense to fear it. "And what would he consider a fairer price?"
no subject
"Where can we speak in private?" the man asked in Romanian. A subtle cocked nod in the direction of the other man in there browsing.
Gold waved it off, and in the same tongue, "An American tourist; he speaks the language about as well as a tongueless cow. Carry on."
He should have expected the shine of a pistol to issue in the dim light, cept close to the man's side to conceal it from other prying eyes. "We talk in the back or you get rid of him."
Gold glanced up, suddenly pleasant in bearing. "Yes, I believe we have just the thing, sir. If you'll follow me." He leaned a little to be seen around the man to address the soldier, in English, with not the same accent he had spoken with before, something to affect local color a bit better. "I will be with you in a moment."
He led the thug into the back room; it would leave him less room to observe, but if he decided to start trouble, the soldier would either intervene or stay right where he'd be left, and that would tell him something.
His fingers dragged over the needle of an older-style phonograph, the weeping sounds of some World War II-era standard to muffle quiet conversation, though he expected this man didn't have much of an inside voice.
"My employer's got an answer for you about your contract. You are going to revise it to include a fairer price."
He heard the veiled threat but was very good at either not showing it or broadcasting that he didn't have the sense to fear it. "And what would he consider a fairer price?"
"You're going to donate it."