He wore a simple blue polo shirt and jeans, with white deck shoes. He had even told his lawyer to go home, a sign Wolfe didn’t like at all.Wolfe sat down across from him without saying a word. Instead, he flipped open a file folder and studied what was inside.Dragoslav said nothing, either. Wolfe finished reading the first page, flipped to another.A few minutes passed.“You know,” Dragoslav finally said in an amused tone, “if you think you can outwait a Russian, you are bound to be disappointed.”I think that’s what I just did, though. Wolfe looked up from his reading. “But you’re not Russian, Jovan. You’re Serbian. You just like playing with the big boys.”“I suppose that is my file?”“It’s our file, Jovan—you’re just the subject.”“Interesting reading?”“Disappointing, actually.” Wolfe closed the folder and tossed it down on the table in front of him. “See, I’ve been laboring under a misconception, Jovan. I thought you were a player. Big yacht, lots of security, meeting with a member of the Luccini family?
