Extract
The spy wore red.
THE SPY WORE RED
The taxi bounced through the outskirts of Madrid on a pitted dirt road with scarcely any traffic, passing a spectacular bullring and then streets lined by shabby buildings. A few minutes later we arrived at a tree-lined boulevard where well-dressed children played under the vigilance of governesses in picturesque plaid skirts, fringed woolen shawls, and large globe-shaped gilt earrings. "La Gastellana," the driver announced proudly. Like Lisbon, the city was almost bereft of autos; a few bicycles, some dilapidated carriages drawn by bony horses--no policemen or traffic signals at all. At one point, the driver sideswiped an approaching taxi, whereupon both drivers rolled down their windows and shouted, "Idiota!" Every few blocks we passed a plaza with barren tre...See the full content of this document
Sponsored links
