Paris Wells

And they took in a shitload of refugees from France after the war. From here, too, after the Tories took over. A third world shariatown like Neukolln would be a good place for Billy to hole up. He knows the place inside out, and it's crawling with his sort of people. Lots of new faces, too. Makes it hard for the Germans to keep track of the talent. Not that they have time anyway with the Poles and the Russians keeping them busy." She sighed and shook her head. "What a world, Dalby." He had the pipe running hot now. Caitlin didn't smoke, but she appreciated the strong, earthy odor after the stink of the interrogation room. "So you would propose to go back into the field?" he said. "Into Germany as a first measure?" She nodded. "I had a watching brief on him there for a year. He has a network. Or had one, anyway. The old Doctor Noor outfit…" She paused. "I suppose you can tell me that Doctor No is actually dead, right? The French didn't fuck that up, too." Dalby smiled. "No. That half clip of nine-millimeter hollow-point you emptied into his chest back in Paris well and truly sent him off into the afterlife to enjoy his seventy-six raisins with the blessed Prophet ...»