The hotel was just a few blocks south of me, on Maximilianstrasse, near the Residenztheater, which was still under reconstruction. From the outside it was big but unremarkable, which was remarkable given that the hotel had almost completely burned down, following a bombing raid in 1944. You had to hand it to Munich’s construction workers. With enough bricks and overtime they could probably have rebuilt Troy.

I walked through the front door ready to give the place the benefit of my extensive hotel-keeping experience. Inside was lots of marble and wood, which matched the faces and expressions of the penguins working there. An American in uniform was complaining loudly in English about something to the concierge, who caught my eye in the vain hope that I might sock the Ami in the ear and make him pipe down a bit. For what they charged a night I thought he would probably just have to put up with it. An undertaker type in a cutaway coat came alongside me like a pilot fish and, bowing slightly from the hip, asked if he could help me with something. It’s what the big hotels call Service, but to me it just looked officious, as if he was wondering why someone with shoulders like mine would have the nerve to even think I could go rub them with the kind of people they had in there. I smiled and tried to keep the knuckles out of my voice.

“Yes, thank you,” I said. “I’m meeting someone in the restaurant. The Walterspiel.”

“A guest in the hotel?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“You’re aware that this is a foreign currency hotel, sir.”

I liked it that he called me sir. It was decent of him. He probably threw it in because I’d had a bath that morning. And probably because I was a little too large for him to throw his weight at.

“I am aware of it, yes,” I said. “I don’t like it, now that you mention it. But I am aware of it. The person I’m meeting is aware of it, too. I mentioned it to her when she suggested this place on the telephone. And when I objected and said I could think of a hundred better places, she said it wouldn’t be a problem. By which I assumed she meant that she was in possession of foreign currency. I haven’t actually seen the color of her money yet, but when she gets here, how about you and I search her handbag, just so you can have some peace of mind when you see us drinking your liquor?”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, sir,” he said stiffly.

“And don’t worry,” I said. “I won’t order anything until she actually shows up.”

“From February next year, the hotel will be accepting deutschmarks,” he said.

“Well, let’s hope she gets here before then,” I said.