Chapter 4 II

Alfred Vonsteinfeld was the name I had memorized. The hotel where the encounter was going to happen was a hotel near the Natural History Museum. It was probably not a Victorian building, but it certainly wanted to look like and on first impression it seemed to have its last renovation about that time. It had a generous entrance and reception area, in which there was an exhibition of WWII Propaganda. It was mean to commemorate and celebrate the rediscovery of the famous "Keep Calm and Carry on" Poster, and it was organized by a society in the frame of "War Propaganda" and its effect on the population. It was something which, with the war in Afghanistan raging on, seemed to be very much an actual issue.


The exhibition gave me the cover I needed to get into the hotel, but obviously I had to get myself a little lost in the Natural History Museum. When you are in such a place, especially in such a big and convoluted one as the Museum in London, it is not odd to backtrack, turn around and sometimes follow an erratic path, that is no sensible path at all (look, dinosaurs!). This allows you to have a look at those who are around you and, eventually whether they are following you

 
After a couple of hours in the museum, which to some extent disappointed me a little because some of the exhibits were very old, I carried on with the plan. At the prearranged time I stopped at the prearranged place to get a coffee to go. Certain waypoints would help Jesús to track me more easily and, presumably, also would make it easier for him to check on my tail. Also it was a sign that I was going ahead with the rendezvous. Navigating from memory I managed to arrive in front of the hotel. I did my thing of reading the exhibition poster before the main entrance of the hotel while sipping that horrible coffee that made me think I would have to run in to the toilet instead, but instead I read it carefully and I strolled towards the entrance of the building  and climbed the few stairs that lead to he reception area. There, sitting behind the desk, a dark skinned man looked slightly bored. He had some cheap corporate tie over a gleaning white shirt. On seeing me he jumped into action, standing up and going through the motions.

I smiled shyly, or at least I hoped he would chalk my nervousness to shyness. He answered my question with detailed instructions on how to reach the exhibition, left on the reception and through a short and dark corridor up to a double door. I thanked his kindness with a smile, to which he replied and nodded, sending me on my merry way. I already knew that the exhibition was behind that door, housed in a somewhat longish room, with high windows on the left. What I did not know was that the rest was paneled on some dark wood and the flooring was white and black tiles. The exhibition was laid out in the middle of the room, along its longest axis  and also used the right wall, since there were no windows there. At first glance there seemed to be about 15 people in the room.

After a few steps I reached my target. A poster that represented a view over the icean, with a dark blue sea and a blood red sky. In the center, a dark shadow of a ship was sinking, bow first, stern in the air and the chimney still pouring black smoke, the same color as the ship. The motto was written in contrast and big letters Loose lips might sink ships. The simplicity of the message, the colors and generally the ambient is so potent was in many other posters of the time.