Rockefeller wears a Giorgio Armani gray wool suit, a gold-threaded gambler’s waistcoat, and silver-spurred python-skin cowboy boots. He’s chewing meditatively on a Mars Bar, an item of great rarity and price. He’s talking with two blond men in black baggy cotton pants and white shirts. They are unarmed. One of them holds a floppy sunhat on his lap; the other has a compact videocamera, and moves deftly around the room.