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Another kick, this one to the side of the head, and his vision blurred. A smart man would have taken the money. A real man would have killed Garcia. Payne curled into the fetal position, yet another humiliation. Face reddened, saliva oozing into his mustache. But he was neither brave nor cowardly. Leeson, whom I had never met, told me that a fishing party was being arranged for Ambassador Kelefy, newly arrived in this country, and that the ambassador had expressed a desire to eat fresh trout cooked by Nero Wolfe, and would I oblige him. Leeson said it would be deeply appreciated. I was engaged on a difficult job and reserved my decision. Leeson phoned me again two days later, and again three days later, and I agreed to go, and he gave me the necessary information. No other matter was mentioned by either of us in any of the conversations. And the husband had known all about it for years. That was absolutely established by our research department.
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