Robinson ambled down the hill towards the shouts and laughter drifting up from the brothels near to the Cais do Sodré. He still found the streetlights of Lisboa a novelty after the blackout of the blitz. He turned onto the Rua do Arsenal and stepped into the doorway of a bar. A few moments later his shadow appeared at the intersection, an attaché from the German embassy. Robinson ducked into the smoke-filled taberna, jostling his way through a crowd of sailors and exited into a tatty courtyard. Rafaela, his contact in the city office, waved hesitantly from a window opposite.
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.