Cambridge C1 Advanced

C1 Advanced (CAE) - Reading Gapped Text 3

Read the text below from which six paragraphs have been removed. For each gap, choose the correct paragraph by putting the correct letter. There is one extra paragraph which you do not need to use.


A. Such thoughts served no purpose now. The decision had been made weeks ago in another restaurant much like this one, though the food there had been considerably worse and the implications far less palatable.

B. Each movement in the dining room caught my attention - a waiter emerging too quickly from the kitchen, a diner reaching inside his jacket, the maître d' speaking quietly into a house phone by the bar. Old habits died hard, even on one's last evening in the game.

C. In the corner, a piano player had begun a gentle rendition of something by Beethoven, though nobody seemed to be listening. The music merely added another layer to the carefully maintained illusion of normality.

D. The whole evening felt oddly ceremonial, as if I were attending my own professional funeral. Perhaps in a way, I was. The thought should have troubled me more than it did.

E. I hadn't meant to order it, but some part of me wanted this final meal to mirror that first dinner with Schneider back in '59. He had recommended the wine then, his knowledge of German vintages being one of his few genuine characteristics.

F. Even the tablecloths remained the same - starched white linen that could stand up by itself, crisp enough to crack. Time moved differently in places like this, as if the Wall had never been built and the city had never been divided.

G. How many similar scenes were playing out across Berlin tonight? How many other agents were sitting alone in restaurants, contemplating betrayal or resignation or worse? The city seemed to breed such moments.


Berlin Falling

The Königsallee restaurant had changed little since my last visit in '62. The same heavy curtains hung at the windows, though perhaps more threadbare now, and the same elderly waiter moved between the tables with practiced efficiency. The wallpaper might have been replaced, but they'd found an identical pattern - that peculiar shade of burgundy that seemed to absorb both light and sound. I settled into my usual corner, back to the wall, watching the evening crowd through the reflection in the brass coffee pot.

1.

The menu hadn't changed either - a tribute to West Berlin's determination to maintain standards despite the concrete monstrosity that divided the city. I ordered the veal, more from habit than hunger, and found myself calculating how long it would take Schneider to realise what I'd done. The thought of his reaction brought no satisfaction, merely a hollow sort of resignation. Twenty-five years of friendship, if one could call it that in our profession, reduced to this: a quiet betrayal over dinner.

2.

My wine arrived, a decent enough Riesling, though not from the vineyard I'd specified. I didn't comment on the substitution; one learns to pick one's battles in this game.

3.

The waiter's hands shook slightly as he poured, and I wondered if he recognised me from my previous visits, or whether he too had been enlisted to watch and report. His bow seemed a fraction deeper than necessary, his smile a touch too fixed.

The restaurant had filled steadily over the last hour, mainly with the usual mix of businessmen and civil servants, their conversations forming a gentle murmur of German and English. A group of Americans near the window were discussing the latest crisis in Cuba, their voices carrying despite their attempts at discretion. Near them, two French diplomats picked at their desserts while arguing about De Gaulle's latest pronouncement.

4.

Twenty years in the service had taught me that the most dangerous moments often came disguised as mundane ones. I'd seen careers - and lives - end over restaurant tables just like this one.

My veal arrived, perfectly cooked but barely warmable. The sauce was exactly as I remembered it - a recipe unchanged since before the war, the chef had once proudly told me. Instead of eating, I found myself studying the couple three tables away, noting the man's too-new suit and the woman's occasional glances toward the door. Their wine glasses remained nearly full, though they'd been seated longer than I had.

5.

She caught me watching once and held my gaze a fraction too long before turning away. Amateur behaviour, really. If they were going to put surveillance on me, they might at least do it properly.

The coffee, when it came, was excellent - arguably the best in Berlin. I savoured it slowly, watching the street lights flicker on through the gauzy curtains, casting long shadows across the cobblestones outside.

6.

Tomorrow would bring its own complications: explanations would be demanded, positions would be taken, and somewhere in an office in London, a file would be quietly closed. But for now, there was just this: good coffee, the gentle clink of cutlery, and the soft October rain against the windows of what remained, despite everything, one of the finest restaurants in a divided city.

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