007 Restaurant: H Club Doney bar of Excelsior Hotel, Rome, Italy

“James Bond felt the inspection. The same surreptitious ex-amination had been going on since he had met the man two hours before at the rendezvous in the Excelsior bar. Bond had been told to look for a man with a heavy moustache who would be sittingby himself drinking an Alexandra. Bond had been amuzed by this secret recognition signal. The creamy, feminine drink was so much cleverer than the folded newspaper, the flower in the buttonhole, the yellow gloves that were the hoary, slipshod call-signs between agents. It had also the great merit of being able to operate alone without its owner. And Kristatos had started off with a little test. Then Bond had come into the bar and looked round where had been perhaps twenty people in the room. None of them had a moustache. But on a corner table at the far side of the tall, discreet room, flanked by a saucer of olives and another of cashew nuts, stood the tall-stemmed glass of cream and vodka. Bond went straight over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. The waiter came. “Good evening, sir. Signor Kristatos is at the telephone.” Bond nodded. “A Negroni. With Gordon’s, please.” The waiter walked back to the bar. “Negroni. Uno. Gordon’s.”