+48° 34' 57.81", +7° 43' 58.73"

"Yah," says Manuel, or maybe it's Stefan. "Let's go next door."

Pretty soon we schlumbel out of Le Bar and down the street to Le Rive Gauche, which I guess is some sort of classic Strasbourgian cafe. There are a lot of tables outside, filling up the pointy corner, and even though it's not very warm, that's where we sit. It's dark now—what time is it? Who cares? I order a round of beers and a round of apertifs—I insist on calling them "shots"—and while we're waiting, the RKS guys check out a table of young women nearby.

Then Benedikt tugs at my sleeve. "Look at zat," he says, pointing with his shoulder to the interior of the cafe. The inside is nothing much, even kind of divey-looking, I guess that's why everyone's outside. All the tables are empty, except for one couple, in the back corner, making out. The guy is bearded, with a black motorcycle jacket. The girl is slim, with a tailored yellow jacket and an elegant ponytail.

"That's... that's Henry and Bertha..."

"Yah," says Benedikt. "Zere is our Kaiser!"

"Wait a minute," I say, "where's Conrad? Who's taking care of the kid?"

I get out my phone and call the hotel desk. Yeah, sure, it's like forty steps away from where I'm sitting, but I'm waiting for a round of drinks. The clerk puts me through to Bruno and Lambert's room. Sure enough, Conrad is with them. They're watching Wall-E on pay-per-view.

"Okay," I tell Bruno. "Just checking."

"Any sign of the patarini?" he says. I look around—there's one guy in a red-striped soccer jersey, but no, that's Barcelona, not AC Milan...

"We're good," I say, like I actually know what I'd do if we weren't good.

That phone call is my last relatively sober act of the evening. The next thing I know, I've bought a round of drinks for the madchen at the next table, and the next thing after that, we're all wandering through the streets of Strasbourg, me and the Rabbit Warriors and their new girlfriends, looking for the parking structure where they left the BierWagen.