THE GREEN KING (part 34)
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The Photographer
from Salzburg
‘I was
travelling with my mother and my sisters,’ said Reb.
He turned
around, smiling. ‘I am very pleased to see you again, Mr Wagner. You still have
beautiful books. I don’t have the time right now, but I would like to come
back, to speak with you. This evening perhaps?’.
‘I close at
seven,’ said Wagner.
It was three in
the afternoon.
‘I will be here
before,’ said Reb. ‘Or else tomorrow morning. But rather this evening. However,
I wouldn’t want to force you remain open. Do not wait for me, if I’m late,
please.’
Wagner smiled
back at him. ‘Come whenever you like. This evening will be fine. You never
disturb me. And give my best regards to you father.’
Reb walked down
the street at his even place. He didn’t even have to turn around: reflected in
the window of a watchmaker, he could see Wagner’s furtive stance, half visible
at the foot of the steps, after he came to the door to watch him leave. Reb
walked out of sight, then doubled back to the Burgtheatre, where he had a
direct view of the entrance to the bookshop. He waited, thirty or forty
minutes, and finally saw the men arrive. There were three of them, in a black
car, totally unknown and not seeming the least bit interested in rare in old
books. Besides, Wagner, who must had been watching for them, came out as soon
as they appeared, talked with them, made gestures, some of which, even at a
distance, were sufficiently explicit: he was describing Reb Klimrod to the men
he had alerted by telephone. Two of the men entered the bookshop, the third
parked the car and posted himself in the hallway of a building across from the
shop. Watching.
TO BE CONTINUED
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I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
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