“For two years now, the clocks in Paris had been moved forward to Berlin time. Two men were walking up the Champs-Élysées. The first was called Augustin Avignon. He wore a black woolen scarf and a hat pulled down over his head to protect his ears from the biting cold. He was followed by a young man, who carried a heavy briefcase in both arms. Avignon was issuing a barrage of short sharp orders, as if to hear his junior respond as frequently as possible. “Yes, Superintendent.” Avignon had been su...perintendent for nine months, and he still hadn’t gotten used to it. “His name’s Max Grund?” “Yes, Superintendent.” “Find out what grade he is for me.” “Yes, Superintendent.” “I’ve only ever addressed him as offizier. I must look like a fool.” “Yes, Superintendent.” “I beg your pardon?” “Sorry, Superintendent. The Germans are establishing new offices every day. It’s hard to keep up.” The city was dark. The street lamps along the avenue were off. They came across some men pushing a cart full of wood.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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