After a few paces, he looked over his shoulder. The clinician was watching him. Mangin lifted the tip of his hat and left the joint. Three houses further on, he went into an alleyway and waited.
It didn’t take long before he saw Breuer coming out. Without hurrying, the man strolled into the Judengasse then took the turn to the Grabenstrasse. Mangin followed him past the baroque Peterskirche – an imposingly ugly building. If the man stopped a cab, Mangin knew he would lose him – at this hour, two carriages for hire in quick succession would be a small miracle. Breuer just strolled on. He stopped at number 16 in the Songerstrasse, diagonally opposite the great plaza with its baroque Stephansdom, and let himself in. The house was big and old with many small windows, built in a time when Vien
