Little Grey Mice (44 page)

The time they spent at Rochusplatz would not have been possible, unless they'd taken him as well, if Poppi had still been alive. Elke was slightly guilty at her lack of grief: she rarely thought any more about the dog which had, until a few months earlier, been her only companion: sometimes the only living thing to which she talked. It had even been Reimann who'd suggested they visit the hand-dug grave in the Reinaupark. She'd been disappointed there was no obvious indication of a grave in the soft-earth flower-bed. It must have settled quickly, since he'd scooped it out: there were a lot of gardeners, tending the park. They'd probably raked it flat.

Saturdays were not automatically spent with Ida and the family: neither did they go every Sunday to Marienfels. Reimann declared himself against rigid routine and Elke, for whom routine had always been so essential, agreed she didn't like it cither. Some weekends they went to Cologne, to eat or to the theatre. They flew once to Munich and stayed the Saturday night in an hotel and visited the beer hall in the old part of the city where Hitler had harangued his Nazi disciples. There were river trips: they went one Sunday back to Andernach and their hidden hilltop valley, and this time they made love and when she said she'd wanted it to happen there, because the place had special meaning for her, he said he'd wanted it to happen there as well, for the same reason. She couldn't remember the last time she had taken Saturday morning coffee at the Bonner.

She had even, hopefully, lessened what she'd detected to be a growing atmosphere between herself and Günther Werle. There had been two other invitations, both for concerts, after the rejection of the Vienna Boys' Choir, and both of which she refused again. Before an inevitable third she introduced Reimann into a conversation between herself and the Cabinet Secretary, talking of the man, although not by name, involved in the unsolved accident. She'd been apprehensive of doing so but more anxious for a barrier, and it appeared to have created one. She'd dared to go as far as calling it a deep friendship and referred to the Munich weekend, with its obvious inference of an hotel stay. Werle had remained distantly silent, apart from the absolutely essential talk concerning the Chancellery, for two or three days afterwards. Now they were back on the level Elke wanted, amicable and courteous towards one another, a perfect working team, but with no after-hours social suggestions. He continued to call her Elke. She addressed him as Herr Werle.

She and Reimann often discussed the political situation: during nearly every meeting, it seemed, although Elke had become more comfortable about it now, never considering she was being indiscreet or breaching official security. He always appeared to know so much, and clearly had other sources, every bit as well informed as she was – better, probably. The composition of the special committee was a case in point, proof of his contacts! It was from Reimann himself that the names had come, every one correct: the Chancellor and Bahr and Mosen and Schere and Mueller. Reimann had laughed at her surprise and said she wasn't the only one with secrets, which had to be true. She'd still been careful. She was sure the figures of the Eastern bloc troop strengths had been published before they'd talked about it: those of the US NATO commitment that might be withdrawn, too. The possible financial savings being considered by the American military establishment had been speculated upon, as well, so there had been no revelation in her talking about that in more detail. She was sure they had not been specifically discussing German reunification during the hypothetical debate on the obvious difficulties, sometimes the impossibility, of any government adhering too rigidly to existing treaties when political changes put those treaties out of date. The growing union and labour difficulties created by the East German workers were no secret, surely? Any more than the severe strain of having to provide habitable accommodation for them.

She had been surprised, though, by Reimann suggesting that the numbers were so great there was a risk of sub-standard ghettoes becoming established. It was not infrequent, during the conversations, for him to make an exaggerated statement like that, so that she had to correct him. She was glad she was able to do so. to prevent any criticism or disbelief from his editors, the sort of criticism that had come embarrassingly in an open press cable which he had shown her during an overnight visit to Rochusplatz.
If I keep getting it wrong … they'd replace me, I suppose.
And he would have got things wrong – quite a lot of things – if they hadn't talked as they did. Writing that Bonn did not consider it had any leverage, within NATO or with America and in the European Economic Community, was one example that came to mind. But she'd never once been indiscreet: never contravened a security restriction. She was sure she hadn't.

All so wonderful. And although she was still too frightened to think seriously of his asking her to marry him, she had no doubt – after the most recent gift, after all the flowers and scarves and handkerchiefs and books – that he truly loved her.

It wasn't the sort of betrothal ring she would have chosen herself, because the stone was an opal and Elke would have gone for a more traditional diamond. And he hadn't given it to her as an engagement ring. She'd asked, daring as far as she thought she could go, what finger he wanted her to wear it upon, and he'd said she could choose, although he'd managed the perfect fit by measuring a dress ring she often wore on the smallest finger of her right hand. It still meant something, though. She was convinced of it. She was impatient to show it off to Ida, at lunch the following day.

‘You don't think another investigation is necessary?' demanded Günther Werle.

‘I can't think how we could do more than we did before.'

‘So you're absolutely satisfied about Otto Reimann?'

There was the merest hint of a sigh from the security officer. ‘There isn't a check that has not been made. Is there something to make you suspicious: something that has arisen since our last conversation?'

‘No,' said Werle. ‘I wanted to be quite sure.'

‘You can be.'

Werle had wanted very much to destroy the man he regarded as his rival.

Chapter Thirty-One

Reimann was quite confident about the East Berlin visits, thinking of them as ordinary business trips, the sort that ordinary businessmen made: so confident, in fact, that he'd confirmed a return flight and promised to take Elke out for dinner that night. Despite the self-assurance, he still hesitated at the doorway of the by now familiar Johannisstrasse room, surprised by the reappearance of the bearded Russian in charge behind the desk. He continued on, recovering, glad to see the man again: it would be different this time than before.

The greetings were quick, peremptory. Sorokin was not introduced, not even by a legend name. Reimann had initiated the encounter. With additional reason to impress now, he announced at once: ‘The Economic Community would accept the membership of Poland, Hungary and Czechoslovakia. But Bonn would stand out against it, if there was also a move to include East Germany as a separate state.'

‘Interesting,' acknowledged Turev. ‘Anything else?'

Reimann was annoyed at the dismissive acceptance, as if what he was saying was unimportant. ‘The West German Chancellor's announced visit to Washington,' he continued. ‘There are to be private talks about the upgrading of the short-range nuclear missiles, way ahead of the 1992 agreed date.'

Sorokin came forward very slightly in his seat at the disclosure, knowing how Cherny would react to it. And not just Cherny. At every conference with the Secretariats of the Politburo or Executive President, the insistence was forever upon the military intention of a united Germany. More effort had to be made to confirm the anonymous communication through Vienna, to decide whether it could be regarded as a dependable but totally independent source from anything Reimann could obtain. Sorokin said: ‘America can't expect West Germany to accept upgraded nuclear missiles!'

‘There have been visits to Europe by both the American Secretary of State and the Defence Secretary,' Reimann pointed out. ‘During each there were private, unreported discussions with West German officials, but I'm fairly sure the views expressed were not those of the Administration but of the Congressional Defence Committee. Whether that indicates a split between the White House and Congress over Europe I don't know: I haven't been able to get any guidance from Elke. We know already of the sort of cuts and financial savings the American military are having to make. There might be an argument that improved rocketry can make up for manpower withdrawn.'

‘Political argument and rhetoric is very difficult from positively agreed decisions and policy,' insisted Sorokin, welcoming the opening. ‘There can never be any question of our acting on the Vienna documents by themselves. They are incomplete. But the military references are of the utmost importance. A united Germany must
never
have any military significance! It's unthinkable, after what has happened to us in the past.'

‘I have talked to Elke about everything contained in those documents!' Reimann protested. ‘Short of asking her outright, what else do you expect me to do?'

‘Get positive documentation from her,' said Sorokin, simply. ‘We want provably official papers from the Chancellery, upon which we can make positive judgements and to which we know we can safely react, in anticipation of any move being made from Bonn: we want to be ahead, not behind.'

Reimann felt the exasperation rise within him. ‘She's not suborned, knowingly leaking information! I still can't risk confronting her with the fact that I am an intelligence officer, working for Moscow: dependent upon me as she now is in every way, I still don't think she would knowingly betray secrets faced with the threat of my leaving her.'

‘Then she's not sufficiently dependent,' said Turev, as irritated as his superior by Reimann's attitude.

‘One item!' Reimann argued back. ‘Tell me one item I have passed on to you that has proved to be unreliable or at fault! Just one!'

‘Everything has been completely accurate,' Sorokin agreed.

‘So you trust my information?'

‘Absolutely.'

‘Then use it, in the form in which it comes,' said Reimann. ‘What difference does it make whether it is in the form of a verbal report from me, later assembled in Moscow as a working memorandum, or a document actually from the Chancellery, with a Chancellery seal and a Chancellery letterhead and marked Top Secret? The information is the same: maybe just slightly less detailed, that's all. But still sufficient. This is an unreal demand, like the lists you had Jutta carry were unreal demands.'

The overweening arrogance had as always to be allowed, Sorokin realized, regretfully: more so, in the position that Reimann now occupied with the woman. The Russian stroked his beard and said: ‘At the moment the woman isn't suborned, is she? There is no criminal proof that she's passed anything at all on to you.'

Reimann frowned, unable to fully grasp the point. ‘So?'

‘All it would need is one piece of paper. That's all, just one piece,' Sorokin insisted. ‘Then, if you told her who you really were she would know how completely she was trapped. That – the thought of prosecution and imprisonment if it ever became pubicly known – plus the threat of your leaving her would unlock the flood gates. She'd have to give us every document that passed through her hands.'

Reimann recognized at once the final, crushing blackmail, a scenario he had been taught at Balashikha. There he had accepted it, without question. But now he did not, and the reluctance surprised him. It would devastate Elke: show her how she had been betrayed and humiliated and cheated, and he didn't want to do that, not make her into some sort of slave who had to work at his bidding. Slaves were hostile, resentful. Quickly the surprise was followed by an irritation at his own weakness. What did it matter if she discovered her betrayal? Or what her attitude was, when she did find out? That wasn't a consideration; never had been. He didn't think of Elke Meyer as a person, as someone about whose feelings he should in any way be considerate. He should never forget she was an object: a useful object to be utilized for only one purpose. He said: ‘At the moment, working the way I do, I
can
get guidance upon
everything
she sees. If we confront her fully – let her know what's truly been happening, all these weeks – we put ourselves in her hands, don't we? What proof would we have, what way of checking, that she was not just passing over material of the very lowest level? And withholding the really important information?'

‘Nothing that Elke Meyer hears at those Cabinet committee meetings is low-level material,' rejected Turev.

‘Some things are more important than others,' said Reimann, equally forceful.

‘You seem very adamant about this,' said Turev.

‘I want to get the maximum, nothing less. I think I am the best person to judge how that can be achieved. I don't think, at this stage, that this is the way to do it.'

‘It is an order,' asserted Sorokin, ending the discussion with rigid formality. ‘Obey it!'

Bastard, thought Reimann. Refusing absolute capitulation, he said: ‘I will try.'

Bastard, thought Sorokin. Refusing the man the escape, he said: ‘You will do more than try.'

Reimann sat unspeaking but staring for several moments directly and unflinchingly at the Russian who wore his hair on his chin instead of his head. At last he said: ‘Have another cable critical of my material sent to me, through the press centre. And something more this time. Let there be a letter from Australia, too, talking of possible reassignment unless the coverage improves. Give a time limit, for that improvement to be achieved.'

Turev nodded, smiling in understanding. ‘That'll increase the pressure. Anything else we can do?'