‘Shall we get going, Professor?’ Wally asked, having finished his demitasse of sublimely robust coffee; this woman had certainly taught her grandson how to match the European ways.
Violet looked at her watch. ‘Time for one more cigarette, I think,’ and she removed another cancer stick, pinched the tube, adhered it to her lip and her grandson leaned over, flicked his Zippo.
Yeah, the lad was well trained alright, Wally thought, looking at his own watch, worried about getting his car through the crowds that were expected. He would certainly not find a parking place but he had that squared away; the CIA had said he could use one of the bays behind their flats opposite Canoe Lake, the only difficulty he had was that the VIP, secure entrance to the big top was to be accessed from the promenad
