12
On leaving Goodblood’s ‘tiny country abode’, Major Falzoni re-directed Bexer to drive him, not to his own place, as instructed by his boss, but on a diversionary route into the city centre, just off from the wrecked tower remains of the Kaiser-Wilhelm Gedachtniskkirche, and along the bustling Kurfurstendamm thoroughfare, where he got out. Turning right, down JoachimsthalerStrasse, he headed casually for the small Azimut Café. Still walking at a deliberately slow pace to let out enough ‘gum-paper’ to catch any ‘flies’ buzzing around. It was a fair measure of the ‘opposition’ to see how quickly the ‘buzzing’ built up on his arrival back, after his little sojourn out of town. He reached the café to push open the door and step into the dimly-lit seating area that vied with a postage stamp
