“No problem there. He looks—”

“Lionel!” The familiar voice came from behind me.

“—just like me,” I finished, as I turned.

I knew what the girl’s expression behind me must be. I’d seen it often enough. The fact that Leo and I had different last names only made it more confusing. I looked back at the girl and shrugged apologetically as Leo and I approached to within a foot of each other to perform our usual reunion inspection and survey.

Most people would say we are identical, but of course we’re not. We both are very aware that Leo is half an inch taller and usually five pounds heavier (Not this time, though. He was either a little thinner, or tired and worried). He was wearing his hair an inch shorter than the last time we had met, ten months earlier, but that was no surprise. So was I. We had become used to the built-in tendencies to favor the same actions at the same time. Now behavioral differences impressed us more than similarities. Today, for instance, we both wore dark sports jackets and red ties; but Leo was sporting a strange tie clip, rather like a little golden beetle. That was new, and rather surprising — neither of us liked to see men wearing jewelry, and we both shunned rings.

“Now then, about dinner plans,” I said, after we had sized each other up and were walking side by side through the terminal to the usual accompaniment of turning heads. “Are you ready for a Chinese meal experiment?”

“Sorry, I can’t do it this trip.” Leo shook his head, and I noticed what looked like a love bite on his neck, low down near the collar. “I tried to call you from Zurich , but I couldn’t reach you. There’s been a change of plans, and now I’ll have to fly on to Washington tomorrow morning.”

“But that still leaves tonight. I’m not playing.”

“I know — I found that much out from your manager. I’m relying on that. I have to talk to you, privately.”