After a good morning’s work at his flat, he had dropped in to the Café Josty for a cup of coffee. He was beginning to rather like the place, and Anneliese was right: they did have a good selection of foreign newspapers. Outside, cars, bicycles, buses and trams swarmed around the green spindly traffic tower in the middle of the Potsdamer Platz. It didn’t look big or strong enough to tame the mass of clanking, roaring machinery. He was pleased with his new flat. Warren Sumner had helped him find it. It was located in a quiet square near Nollendorfplatz and decorated in a very modern style. The owner, a Jewish architect who was abandoning Berlin for Paris, was happy to leave the art and furniture in Conrad’s care. Conrad agreed to pay the rent directly to him in Paris, which was a great relief to the man since the strict German exchange controls had prevented him from taking more than a tiny sum with him. Conrad had spent the morning writing an article for Mercury on the difficulties German Jews faced trying to get visas to leave the country.
