Rolf Müller-Overbeck’s handsome looks had all but faded. Maier almost didn’t recognise the young coffee heir, who lay sprawled in an armchair in the back of Restaurant Edelweiß. The young German didn’t react as Maier threw himself onto a sofa opposite and pulled off his krama.
“Hello, Rolf.”
“Hello, Maier. Thought you’d been fed to the fish in front of Koh Tonsay. Almost feel like I’m meeting an old friend. Time flies.”
The young German dropped the filter of a burnt-out cigarette into an overflowing ashtray and stared blankly at Maier. His clothes were dirty. His shirt was ripped across his right shoulder. He looked almost as desperate as the legless beggars who moved up and down Sisowath Quay.
“You don’t seem to be particularly happy about my survival.”
Rolf shrugged.
“It’s all over
