in the timbre of 1982 in berlin, germany, at a restaurant, and two gunmen, one with a shine down ashmanmachine gun, another with a handgun can walk into a restaurant and start shooting those who have gathered over again the party that night, and shot them all, for them died instantly and the other four survived. of the four survivors, one ended up being my houseguest for several weeks. and i knew very little about him. he was a friend of a friend who is coming to town in new haven, connecticut, where i live. and as i was trying to cook dinner and evening, keeping him company, you know, trying to be a good host i would be chopping onions and he would be sitting across from me trying to help and making conversation. and i made the mistake of once asking so, what happened to you in september of 1992? and then the rest was history, just like -- he would tell me a new installment of what had happened, not simply the night of the murders, which, to many minds might seem as the most interesting are the most interesting part of the story, but actually what i found most fabulous and most engross