Paris. Autumn of 1966. HG and BSK’s first trip to Paris. Trip was paid for by an American surveillance equipment firm (an HG pubic relations client). HG was in Paris to meet with important French electronics company which was the European and African distributor of the equipment. So, while BSK strolled the boulevards with two-year-old daughter Lesley, BSK met with the partners in the French firm — a tall, suave Frenchman (sales and marketing) and a short, tough Jew (technical and manufacturing). The French guy took HG to a nearby bistro in the Bastille arrondissement.
“I know you Americans like a cocktail to start and Jackie, the barman here, is famous for dry martinis,” he said. Thus, HG had a huge (served in a chilled ballon) excellent martini. Sensible French guy had a small Kir. Then followed: Parma ham with ripe melon accompanied by Macon-Villages Chardonnay. Quenelles in a sauce Nantua (small helpings) and some glasses of Chablis. A braised daube of beef and carrots in a powerful wine sauce. Accompanying wine was Morgon. A wedge of ripe camembert and a glass of Pommard. Creme brulee. A few shots of fiery marc. Cafe. A tidy lunch. Back to the office.
While the Frenchman responded to a phone call, HG — overpowered by lunch — fell fast asleep. To the amusement of the staff, HG was revived with an ice pack. The business meeting was interrupted later by the arrival of the most dangerous man HG had ever seen. French. Six feet. Some 190 pounds of muscle, Shaven head. Face carved out of rock. Deep scar down cheek from eye to lips. Black suit. Black turtle neck sweater. He and the small Jew greeted each other with wild laughter and hugs. Hadn’t seen each other in 20 years. Turned out small Jew was a Resistance leader and Very Tough Guy was directed to his group.
Very Tough Guy explained, pointing to small Jew: “He was suspicious. Thought I could be a rat. Shoved a gun in my mouth. I had to open wide or I would have lost teeth. Asked questions. I nodded yes or no. He was satisfied. We had good group. Killed a lot of Nazis. And, Vichy scum.”
Very Tough Guy was in Paris to buy surveillance equipment. He was the security consultant to a number of small, independent African republics. Small Jew confided in me: “Probably has a few sidelines that aren’t strictly kosher. He had been a very bad boy in Paris before the war. But, was my very good, brave comrade during serious times,”
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