Gularte, Richard and I gathered in the cabin of Richard’s luxury yacht. The interior was so well done in teak, stainless-steel and glass that it felt more like some exotic penthouse rather than the interior cabin of a medium-sized boat. Once again, I wondered where all the money had to have come from and why it’d been spent for no obvious reason on a man evidently connected to some kind of intelligence work.

“I heard Butch’s retort as you walked away,” Richard said putting a Coors beer in front of Gularte and a coke in front of me.

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