Read Online 1503954692 by Steve Robinson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Steve Robinson
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both figures silently recede into the darkness.
‘Well, that was a lot of good,’ Tayte said as he shoved one of his business cards through the letterbox, more out of habit than the belief that these people might change their minds about talking to him.
‘Don’t be too disappointed, JT. It went exactly as we expected it would.’
‘It did?’
Jean nodded. ‘Although, I’d say from the reaction we just got that it’s pretty clear the FWK know more than a thing or two about Volker Strobel.’
The taxi Tayte hailed soon after leaving Maxburgstrasse took them further into the centre of Munich, but instead of going straight to a restaurant as Tayte had hoped they would, the driver took them to the edge of the old town because Jean wanted to see the Munich Residence—a former royal palace of the monarchs of Bavaria. Jean had previously described the palace to Tayte, and he couldn’t imagine any royal historian wanting to miss the opportunity to see it, but he hadn’t let the taxi driver go without first getting a recommendation for a nearby restaurant that served traditional Bavarian cuisine. They spent an hour at the palace, which both Tayte and Jean agreed wasn’t nearly long enough to take everything in: the museums, the treasury and the historical gardens, not to mention all the artwork and the tapestries that were spread throughout numerous courts.
It was just after five o’clock when they left, and by now both Tayte and Jean were famished, so they set off south through the bustling streets of the old town, towards the heart of the city, in search of the restaurant the taxi driver had recommended—the Spatenhaus an der Oper , which he’d said was on Residenzstrasse opposite Max-Joseph-Platz.
‘We’ll have to come back before we return to London,’ Jean said as they strolled hand in hand across Odeonsplatz in the warm late-afternoon sunshine.
‘That’s a promise,’ Tayte said, looking around for street signs. ‘I hope we’re heading the right way.’
They kept walking, leaving the plaza and entering into shade along a narrow street that was lined with Baroque architecture. A moment later Jean pointed across the street to a side junction. ‘Look. There’s a street sign—Viscardigasse. Gasse means alley if I’m not mistaken. Residenzstrasse is straight ahead. I think we must be on it now.’
‘Great,’ Tayte said. ‘The restaurant shouldn’t be far.’
There were shops to their right, set back beneath the buildings, creating a covered walkway off the street. They crossed and strolled beside them, Jean window browsing while Tayte kept looking for the plaza the taxi driver had said the restaurant was opposite. He noticed the sunlight was splashing onto the front of the buildings a hundred metres or so ahead of them, and he thought that must be where Max-Joseph-Platz was. His stomach groaned when they passed a café and a wonderful scent of coffee and pastries hit him. He was about to increase the pace when Jean suddenly stopped. When he turned around to see why, she wouldn’t let him.
‘Don’t look,’ she said, reaching up and covering his eyes. ‘I’ve seen something I want to get for you.’
She pushed Tayte’s head away and he thought he heard her giggle. He wondered what she could possibly have seen.
‘Go and wait in the sun,’ she said, giving Tayte a gentle shove. ‘And no peeking.’
Tayte rather liked the cool shade, but he did as he was told and within a minute he was standing at the corner of Max-Joseph-Platz, looking across the sunlit plaza towards an impressive neo-classical portico that led into a building whose purpose he was unable to determine from so far back. He strolled towards it, pausing partway, where he leaned against a circular railing that had numerous bicycles chained to it. He put his bags down, and as he looked back he spotted the restaurant they were heading for and hoped Jean wouldn’t be too long. He checked his watch—the same old-fashioned
‘Well, that was a lot of good,’ Tayte said as he shoved one of his business cards through the letterbox, more out of habit than the belief that these people might change their minds about talking to him.
‘Don’t be too disappointed, JT. It went exactly as we expected it would.’
‘It did?’
Jean nodded. ‘Although, I’d say from the reaction we just got that it’s pretty clear the FWK know more than a thing or two about Volker Strobel.’
The taxi Tayte hailed soon after leaving Maxburgstrasse took them further into the centre of Munich, but instead of going straight to a restaurant as Tayte had hoped they would, the driver took them to the edge of the old town because Jean wanted to see the Munich Residence—a former royal palace of the monarchs of Bavaria. Jean had previously described the palace to Tayte, and he couldn’t imagine any royal historian wanting to miss the opportunity to see it, but he hadn’t let the taxi driver go without first getting a recommendation for a nearby restaurant that served traditional Bavarian cuisine. They spent an hour at the palace, which both Tayte and Jean agreed wasn’t nearly long enough to take everything in: the museums, the treasury and the historical gardens, not to mention all the artwork and the tapestries that were spread throughout numerous courts.
It was just after five o’clock when they left, and by now both Tayte and Jean were famished, so they set off south through the bustling streets of the old town, towards the heart of the city, in search of the restaurant the taxi driver had recommended—the Spatenhaus an der Oper , which he’d said was on Residenzstrasse opposite Max-Joseph-Platz.
‘We’ll have to come back before we return to London,’ Jean said as they strolled hand in hand across Odeonsplatz in the warm late-afternoon sunshine.
‘That’s a promise,’ Tayte said, looking around for street signs. ‘I hope we’re heading the right way.’
They kept walking, leaving the plaza and entering into shade along a narrow street that was lined with Baroque architecture. A moment later Jean pointed across the street to a side junction. ‘Look. There’s a street sign—Viscardigasse. Gasse means alley if I’m not mistaken. Residenzstrasse is straight ahead. I think we must be on it now.’
‘Great,’ Tayte said. ‘The restaurant shouldn’t be far.’
There were shops to their right, set back beneath the buildings, creating a covered walkway off the street. They crossed and strolled beside them, Jean window browsing while Tayte kept looking for the plaza the taxi driver had said the restaurant was opposite. He noticed the sunlight was splashing onto the front of the buildings a hundred metres or so ahead of them, and he thought that must be where Max-Joseph-Platz was. His stomach groaned when they passed a café and a wonderful scent of coffee and pastries hit him. He was about to increase the pace when Jean suddenly stopped. When he turned around to see why, she wouldn’t let him.
‘Don’t look,’ she said, reaching up and covering his eyes. ‘I’ve seen something I want to get for you.’
She pushed Tayte’s head away and he thought he heard her giggle. He wondered what she could possibly have seen.
‘Go and wait in the sun,’ she said, giving Tayte a gentle shove. ‘And no peeking.’
Tayte rather liked the cool shade, but he did as he was told and within a minute he was standing at the corner of Max-Joseph-Platz, looking across the sunlit plaza towards an impressive neo-classical portico that led into a building whose purpose he was unable to determine from so far back. He strolled towards it, pausing partway, where he leaned against a circular railing that had numerous bicycles chained to it. He put his bags down, and as he looked back he spotted the restaurant they were heading for and hoped Jean wouldn’t be too long. He checked his watch—the same old-fashioned
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