11
Walking across the car park, away from West Berlin’s Tegel Airport terminal, Falzoni held up a hand to shade his eyes from the afternoon sun, scanning the vehicles for Marley Goodblood’s car. His other hand held the slim leather-covered steel document case with a steel chain leading from the handle and up his sleeve, to be secured around his shoulder. But the car beside the figure waving to him was white and tiny compared to the palatial black Rolls Royce Phantom that Marley drove with ‘regal’ ego. The 4.4 litre Morgan Aero 8 two-door roadster caught the sun beautifully, with the gracefully curved gleaming white body giving off a holding allure of the femme fatale. Marley consulted his watch with a rueful frown as if blaming Frank, and not the plane, for being fifty minutes behind sche
