Gilberto had told her to come by at ten o’clock, to wear comfortable shoes. He had smiled and rubbed his hands with anticipation and said, “You like Roman mosaics, no?” A Mercedes limousine stood at the curb outside of Gilberto’s house. The man she had seen at the basement door the other day leaned against the fender, smoking a cigarette. Today, he wore a gray chauffeur’s uniform. Closer up, she saw that what she had thought was a sneer was a scar on the right side of his face that ran from his lip and across his cheek. Before she could go up the walk, Gilberto appeared. He carried a picnic basket and led her to the limousine. With a bow and a grand gesture, he opened the door. Inside, all gray leather and burled wood, Tamar sat in the back seat and stretched out her legs, luxuriating in the feel of the butter-soft leather against her back. Gilberto sat next to her, placed the basket on the floor, clapped his hands, said, “I have a surprise for you,” and grinned.
What do You think about The Gold Of Thrace (2011)?
