Zoo Station
John Russell World War II Spy Thriller
(Sprache: Englisch)
"In the elite company of literary spy masters Alan Furst and Philip Kerr . . . [Downing is] brilliant at evoking even the smallest details of wartime Berlin." Washington Post
Berlin, 1939: Anglo-American journalist John Russell...
Berlin, 1939: Anglo-American journalist John Russell...
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"In the elite company of literary spy masters Alan Furst and Philip Kerr . . . [Downing is] brilliant at evoking even the smallest details of wartime Berlin." Washington PostBerlin, 1939: Anglo-American journalist John Russell survives in Nazi Germany by keeping his head down. He writes human-interest pieces for British and American papers, avoiding the investigative journalism that could get him deported. But war is on the horizon, and every day is fraught with new risks.
When an acquaintance from his communist days approaches him to do some work for the Soviets, Russell is reluctant, but he agrees in hopes that it will allow him to keep his family together. One dangerous assignment leads to another, and when the British and the Nazis notice his involvement with the Soviets, Russell is dragged into the murky world of warring intelligence services.
Lese-Probe zu „Zoo Station “
THERE WERE TWO HOURS left of 1938. In Danzig it had beensnowing on and off all day, and a gang of children was enjoying a snowball
fight in front of the grain warehouses which lined the old waterfront.
John Russell paused to watch them for a few moments, then
walked on up the cobbled street toward the blue and yellow lights.
The Sweden Bar was far from crowded, and those few faces that
turned his way weren t exactly brimming over with festive spirit. In fact,
most of them looked like they d rather be somewhere else.
It was an easy thing to want. The Christmas decorations hadn t
been removed, just allowed to drop, and they now formed part of the
flooring, along with patches of melting slush, floating cigarette butts,
and the odd broken bottle. The bar was famous for the savagery of its
international brawls, but on this particular night the various groups of
Swedes, Finns, and Letts seemed devoid of the energy needed to get
one started. Usually a table or two of German naval ratings could be
relied upon to provide the necessary spark, but the only Germans
present were a couple of aging prostitutes, and they were getting
ready to leave.
Russell took a stool at the bar, bought himself a Goldwasser, and
glanced through the month-old copy of the New York Herald Tribune
which, for some inexplicable reason, was lying there. One of his own
articles was in it, a piece on German attitudes to their pets. It was
accompanied by a cute-looking photograph of a Schnauzer.
Seeing him reading, a solitary Swede two stools down asked him, in
perfect English, if he spoke that language. Russell admitted that he did.
You are English! the Swede exclaimed, and shifted his considerable
bulk to the stool adjoining Russell s.
Their conversation went from friendly to sentimental, and sentimental
to maudlin, at what seemed like a breakneck pace. Three
Goldwassers later, the Swede was telling him that he, Lars, was not the
true father of his children.
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Vibeke had never admitted it, but he knew
it to be true.
Russell gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and Lars
sunk forward, his head making a dull clunk as it hit the polished surface
of the bar. Happy New Year, Russell murmured. He shifted the
Swede s head slightly to ease the man s breathing, and got up to leave.
Outside, the sky was beginning to clear, the air almost cold enough
to sober him up. An organ was playing in the Protestant Seamen s
Church, nothing hymnal, just a slow lament, as if the organist were saying
a personal farewell to the year gone by. It was a quarter to midnight.
Russell walked back across the city, conscious of the moisture seeping
in through the holes in his shoes. There were lots of couples on
Langer Markt, laughing and squealing as they clutched each other for
balance on the slippery sidewalks.
He cut over to Breite Gasse and reached the Holz-Markt just as the
bells began pealing in the New Year. The square was full of celebrating
people, and an insistent hand pulled him into a circle of revelers
dancing and singing in the snow. When the song ended and the circle
broke up, the Polish girl on his left reached up and brushed her lips
against his, eyes shining with happiness. It was, he thought, a betterthan-
expected opening to 1939.
HIS HOTEL'S RECEPTION AREA was deserted, and the sounds of
celebration emanating from the kitchen at the back suggested the
night staff were enjoying their own private party. Russell gave up the
idea of making himself a hot chocolate while his shoes dried in one of
the ovens, and took his key. He clambered up the stairs to the third floor,
and trundled down the corridor to his room. Closing the door behind
him, he became painfully aware that the occupants of th
it to be true.
Russell gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and Lars
sunk forward, his head making a dull clunk as it hit the polished surface
of the bar. Happy New Year, Russell murmured. He shifted the
Swede s head slightly to ease the man s breathing, and got up to leave.
Outside, the sky was beginning to clear, the air almost cold enough
to sober him up. An organ was playing in the Protestant Seamen s
Church, nothing hymnal, just a slow lament, as if the organist were saying
a personal farewell to the year gone by. It was a quarter to midnight.
Russell walked back across the city, conscious of the moisture seeping
in through the holes in his shoes. There were lots of couples on
Langer Markt, laughing and squealing as they clutched each other for
balance on the slippery sidewalks.
He cut over to Breite Gasse and reached the Holz-Markt just as the
bells began pealing in the New Year. The square was full of celebrating
people, and an insistent hand pulled him into a circle of revelers
dancing and singing in the snow. When the song ended and the circle
broke up, the Polish girl on his left reached up and brushed her lips
against his, eyes shining with happiness. It was, he thought, a betterthan-
expected opening to 1939.
HIS HOTEL'S RECEPTION AREA was deserted, and the sounds of
celebration emanating from the kitchen at the back suggested the
night staff were enjoying their own private party. Russell gave up the
idea of making himself a hot chocolate while his shoes dried in one of
the ovens, and took his key. He clambered up the stairs to the third floor,
and trundled down the corridor to his room. Closing the door behind
him, he became painfully aware that the occupants of th
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Autoren-Porträt von David Downing
David Downing
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: David Downing
- 2013, 368 Seiten, Maße: 12,8 x 19 cm, Taschenbuch, Englisch
- Verlag: Penguin Random House
- ISBN-10: 1616953489
- ISBN-13: 9781616953485
- Erscheinungsdatum: 29.05.2013
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
Praise for Zoo Station"One of the most intelligent and persuasive realizations of Germany immediately before the war."
Wall Street Journal
"[A]n unconventional thriller . . . A finely drawn portrait of the capital of a nation marching in step toward disaster as the Nazi rulers count cadence."
St. Louis Post-Dispatch
"There's nothing better than a well-written WWII thriller. Alan Furst continues to prove it, and now Downing has shown he can produce that creepy sense of paranoia along with the best of them."
Rocky Mountain News
"Smooth, scary wartime thriller drenched in period atmosphere."
Kirkus Reviews
"Downing's fine new thriller introduces a clever and honorable hero . . . [the ending] will have readers holding their breath . . . Satisfying."
Publishers Weekly
"If you like your tales spiced with morally ambiguous characters right out of Graham Greene, this is a train you need to be aboard . . . A marvelous return to cerebral espionage."
January Magazine
"A deeply satisfying, suspenseful novel . . . David Downing's writing is intelligent and strong; his portrayal of issues and conflicts, clear and compelling . . . His imagery is so evocative that readers will feel they are watching a classic film, like Casablanca."
Mystery Scene
Praise for David Downing
"A beautifully crafted and compelling thriller with a heart-stopping ending as John Russell learns the personal faces of good and evil. An unforgettable read."
Charles Todd, author of the Inspector Ian Rutledge Series
"One of the most intelligent and persuasive realizations of Germany immediately before the war."
Wall Street Journal
"In the elite company of literary spy masters Alan Furst and Philip Kerr . . . [Downing is] brilliant at evoking even the smallest details of wartime Berlin on its last legs."
Washington Post
Downing
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distinguishes himself by eschewing the easy ways out. He doesn't shy away from portraying the cold brutality of the Third Reich, and his characters are far from stereotypes they're flawed, confused and real.
NPR
NPR
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