The Continental Club in Austin, Texas, USA Sunday, January 5, 1987

“Thank you for your kind invitation, Mr. Lomuto. I will soon return to England so this is quite timely.”

“And thanks for agreeing to meeting me, Mister… Sir… Charles… A.R… Hoare. It’s a great honor. I don’t even know how to address you. Were you knighted?”

“Call me Tony, and if it’s not too much imposition please allow me to call you Nico.”

On the surface, a banal scene—two men enjoying a whiskey. However, a closer look revealed a number of intriguing details. For starters, a tension you could cut with a knife.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored four-piece suit worn with the nonchalance only an Englishman could pull off, Tony Hoare was as British as a cup of tea. His resigned grimaces as he was sipping fro…

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