"The lamb sounds good to me," Clete said.
"There is one question, Cletus, I have to ask," Monsignor Kelly announced. "You have been baptized as a Christian, haven't you?"
"You're missing the whole point, Father," Father Welner said. "Of course he has. The Church regards him as one of ours. There is no question about that. Actually, I really think that the reason His Eminence granted the dispensation was because he agrees-as do many people in Rome-with the idea that An-glican Holy Orders, and certainly those of Father Cashley-Price-are valid. If that is the case, then-"
"Will you excuse me, please?" Clete said. "I have to wash my hands."
There were caricatures of Emperor Hirohito, Adolf Hitler, and Benito Mus-solini inside the white china urinals in the men's room.
Clete wondered idly if there were caricatures of Franklin Roosevelt, Win-ston Churchill, and Charles de Gaulle in the urinals of the Kempinski Hotel across town.
"Giving Adolf a good Spritz, are you?" a somewhat familiar voice asked behind him. "Or did that double scotch you just tossed down so fast affect your aim?"
Clete looked over his shoulder and saw Milton Leibermann.
"Take your time, Tex," Leibermann said. "When a man's got to go. he's got to go."
Clete's initial annoyance disappeared. He had to smile.
Leibermann, moving very quickly, pushed open all the doors to the toilet stalls in the men's room to make sure they were empty, then walked to the men's room door and jammed his furled umbrella into the chrome pull-handles. He tested it to make sure the doors could not be opened, then turned and smiled at Clete.
"What did you do, Sherlock, follow me?"
"You wouldn't believe I eat here all the time?"
"Of course I would. Would anybody in your line of business lie?"
"So what's new, Tex?"
"Not much, Milton."
"Strange, I thought that over the weekend you might have heard something I'd like to know."
"Not a thing."
"Not even that they're going to have their little revolution? I keep hearing things that make me think it's going to be damned soon."
"I didn't hear a thing. Maybe they're trying to keep it a secret."
"And maybe you wouldn't tell me if you knew," Leibermann said. "Tell you what I'm going to do, Tex. I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt."
"Thank you."
"I'll even tell you something I heard that you will want to know."
"What's that?"
"That SS colonel we were talking about? He put out a contract on your man Ettinger."
"What's a contract?"
"Murder Incorporated? Lewis 'Lepke' Buchalter? Ring a bell? Nice Jewish boy who went bad?" Buchalter was an infamous assassin for hire in New York City.
"I've heard the name."
"I used to spend a lot of time with his income tax records," Leibermann said. "Anyway, a contract means you pay somebody to murder somebody else. Colonel Goltz put out a contract on your man Ettinger."
"Is that so?"