April 18
Stephansplatz
I was on Stephansplatz in the afternoon, considering my next steps and getting a sausage sandwich at the Wurstelstand kiosk. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dryden walking briskly by. He seemed to be in a hurry and going in the direction of DFR-Wien, but I wanted to talk to him. I paid for my sandwich and spun on my heel to head toward a spot on his vector to intercept him. Better to approach someone from the side, I knew, rather than from behind.
Wurstelstand As I drew near, Dryden stopped.
“Yes?” he said, turning to face me. “Can I help you?”
“I think we’ve met before,” I replied. “You’re American. Maybe from somewhere in the States?”
“No, I don’t think so,” and he turned to leave.
“Perhaps here, in Vienna. Wait, I know. You work at that bank, don’t you?”
