The door slid open and I stepped in. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. Now what? The exit to the restaurant brought me outside to a small landing at the top of a flight of stairs overlooking a busy intersection. Just across the street was the Tottenham Court Road tube station. The morning fog had burned off and the raw chill of the past two days was gone. For the first time since I arrived in England, the sun was shining. I pulled out my phone and discovered I’d missed a call and a text message. The text was from Nick: Still trying to raise my buddies. Be careful. I texted back: Don’t worry, I’m fine. Call me after you get in. The call was from the Connaught. A woman at the front desk gave me the message. “A man who said he was the secretary to Archduke Victor Haupt-von Véssey rang here. The archduke asked if you could meet him today at noon at the Anchor pub in Bankside.”
