'Oh, really? I do know something about the defences along the border. Each watchtower has three men on duty. Three men — not two. They worked out long ago that you might bribe two but the third man would always be the joker. He could pretend to agree, then report the other two to his superiors and gain promotion.'
`Correct,' Toll agreed. `Let us go and sit on the grass by the river. No one can overhear us.' He waited until they were sat side by side. `All three have been bribed — with gold. There is something about gold which draws out the avarice in men. They have been paid one-third of the agreed amount. They get the balance when they have safely passed you through — and back again on the return trip.'
`What about the watchtowers on either side?'
`They are some distance away, but they will be taken care of. One of the bribed guards will contrive a short-circuit. No one will be able to operate a searchlight...'
`And how do I choose a walk through the minefield?'
`The watchtower chosen overlooks a dummy section of the minefield. It is the route used by Wolf to infiltrate agents into the West. We know, but he doesn't know that we do know. We have taken the risk of letting his men through without intercepting them. Most important — we have not even followed his agents as they came through to avoid any of them becoming suspicious and reporting back. That was a very considerable sacrifice.'
`You have been more audacious than I anticipated. How many of your people at Pullach know about this open route?'
`Two. Myself and my chief. We have trusted no one. I would accompany you personally to the crossing point. At night, of course...'
`And supposing I did get through? How far do I have to travel to meet this underground unit?'
`Group Five, we call it.' Toll clasped his hands between his legs bent at the knees. `The leader, a formidable man, as I have said, will be waiting for you just beyond the minefield belt. He will have an extra bicycle for you. Travelling at night through countryside you make no noise on a bike — also you hear any car coming a good way off. Plenty of time to hide away from the road. I have given you all the data I am prepared to reveal until you decide — far more than I intended.'
`I also said where? I need to know the location.'
`Oh, my God! I suppose it's because you're a bloody reporter. You want every detail you can dig up. All this is confidential. Tweed must not know a word about it. We are working on the cell system...'
`Cell system?'
'No more than three members of a group know the identity of each other. The crossing point is near the ancient town of Goslar. And Group Five may have information on Dr Berlin. Satisfied?'
`Goslar? That's the Harz mountains area.'
`Which is difficult for the Vopos to control — or patrol. Now, what do you say? Incidentally, I am staying at the Movenpick Hotel. Under the name Allan Seeger. What do you say?'
`What I said before. I'll sleep on it.'
Newman didn't sleep on it. He lay awake most of the night. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing Diana was safe in her bedroom on the same floor. And that was the only satisfaction he did have.
Peter Toll had laid his bait with great skill. The crossing into East Germany might provide vital data on Dr Berlin. That fitted in neatly with what Tweed was trying to discover — the real role played by the elusive guardian of refugees. The reference to Lysenko was further temptation.
It seemed to provide a chance to deal a heavy blow against the Russian who had masterminded the murder of Newman's wife, Alexis, in Estonia further up the Baltic the previous year. If he was planning a major operation and it flopped that could be the end of General Vasili Lysenko. Gorbachev was not reputed to be a man who dealt kindly with subordinates who didn't deliver.
As he stirred beneath the sheets Newman was torn two ways. The idea of action appealed to him — he was feeling restless. But could he trust Peter Toll?
Guaranteed
. That was the word he had used about the border crossing. And by implication his safe return on the way back. Bollocks! No one could guarantee he'd cross safely inside East Germany — let alone return undetected.
The bland assurance of Toll worried Newman. He needed someone unknown to contact Group Five. But Newman was known to the GRU. Damnit, they had him on their bloody computer. All through the night he twisted and turned in bed, dripping with sweat from the humid atmosphere. Or was he sweating at the prospect of finding his way through that alleged dummy minefield? Was it still a dummy? Wolf had a habit of changing things round, never sticking to the same routine for too long. Cunning as a fox, Markus Wolf.
He fell into an uneasy sleep at 3.30. The dawn light coming in through the windows he had left uncurtained woke him. He got up, bathed, shaved, dressed, lit a cigarette and stared out on the deserted streets of Lübeck. The leaning towers with their witches' hats leered at him. He'd decide after an early breakfast.
`You're on your way to Heathrow. Aboard Flight BA 737, wearing a check suit very similar to the one you have on now..
Newman had entered an empty compartment at Hamburg Hauptbahnhof on the train back to Lübeck after seeing Diana off. Aboard Flight BA 737. He had helped her check in her single case, had taken her to the entrance to Final. Departures, where he had left her. He had returned to the station, boarded the train which had now left Hamburg behind, and Peter Toll had appeared, entered his compartment and made his statement as he sat down.
`What the hell do you mean?' he asked.
`One of our people who looks rather like you,' Toll explained and smiled. 'He's carrying a passport in your name. Officially you're now thirty thousand feet up and approaching London. That way the opposition forgets about you. They did have a man on your tail but we've arrested him. He'll be out of circulation until you get back over the border from the East. When they know he's gone missing—which will be soon because he won't report on your movements — they'll check with the contact inside Hamburg Airport. He'll go through the passenger manifests. Your name will come up as having left Germany.'
`Would you mind very much,' Newman asked sarcastically, `telling me how long you've been planning this thing?'
`Over several weeks.' Toll smiled and waved a reassuring hand. 'We don't cobble up an operation like this overnight. Ever since I knew you were in Lübeck with Tweed.'
`On the bare-faced cheeky assumption I'd agree to your scheme?'
`I just hoped you would...'
`Like hell you did. Anything else I should know about?'
`A lot. A moving train is the best place for an intensive briefing. And when we get to Lübeck, I'll need a signed note from you authorizing me to collect your things. I can pack them...'
`They're already packed. One case,' Newman said in clipped tones.
`Good. That will save me time. You put on these dark glasses and this hat...' He produced from a plastic bag a Tyrolean hat with a tiny red feather in the hat-band... and collect the key for Room 104 at the Movenpick. You're registered as Thor Nickel. It's a busy hotel and you've been there two days. The man who looks like you occupied the room. All the loose ends are tied up once I get your case out of the Jensen and pay your bill. Here's a notebook for you to write them the instruction for me to deal on your behalf. We leave the train separately at Lübeck. You can walk to the Movenpick. Wait in Room 104 until I arrive. I think I've thought of just about everything.'
`Good for you.'
`Look, Bob. We're dealing with pro's. You have to disappear into thin air before you make the crossing...'
`You've really thought of everything? What if they enquire at the Jensen when you've cleaned up there? They could learn someone collected my case. Why would I fly to London and leave that?'
`I'll chat to the manager while I'm paying your bill. Gossip on about how the lady you were escorting to her flight was taken ill just before checking in. You decided to go with her — and sent me to collect your bag. OK?'
`That sounds fairly convincing,' Newman admitted. `One other thing, I'm not carrying any weapons across...'
`Agreed.' Toll looked at Newman's hands. `You're carrying a deadly pair of weapons at the end of your arms. SAS trained.'
`If this thing goes right I shouldn't have to hurt anyone...'
`Which is exactly how we've planned it. Three days inside The Zone, the information is passed to you verbally, you come out with it inside your head. No problem.'
`People say that just before everything turns into a disaster area.'
`First night nerves?' Toll joked. 'Just before the opening performance on stage?'
`Just cynical.'
Toll left the compartment shortly after that, carrying a note Newman had written to the manager of the Jensen. They would disembark from the train separately at Lübeck.
Newman tried on the Tyrolean hat, checking his appearance in the mirror. It fitted perfectly. And that gave him an eerie feeling — the BND file on him at Pullach must be pretty detailed. The addition of the dark glasses altered his appearance entirely, gave him a detached, almost sinister, look.
Toll knew his job Newman thought as he sat down again. With the heatwave going on half the population were wearing tinted spectacles. At Lübeck he got out and saw Toll in the distance striding away. He had disappeared when Newman emerged from the station.
He walked the short distance to the Movenpick, and beyond the hotel the twin towers loomed. They looked more normal than they had when he had stared at them from his window early that morning after his almost sleepless night.
He turned left off the pavement, crossed the open space in front of the Movenpick and entered the lobby of the hotel. He was heading for the concierge to collect his room key in the name of Thor Nickel for 104 and the first person he saw was Kurt Franck.
Twenty
Tweed was waiting at Heathrow when Diana Chadwick carried her case out of the Customs exit. She spotted him immediately, rushed forward, dropped her case and hugged him.
`Oh, I'm so glad to see you. No, listen to me first,' she went on as he released her and before he could speak. 'There's a man on the same flight who looks terribly like Bob Newman. He's even wearing a similar suit — but it isn't Newman. Here he comes now.'
Tweed glanced at the exit. She was right. The resemblance was remarkable, but it was not Newman. Tweed stood by Diana, watching as the new arrival paused, looking round. He seemed in no haste to leave the airport. Then he put down his bag, felt inside his breast pocket and produced an airline folder which he examined. He checked his watch and put the folder back inside his pocket.
`Wait here,' Tweed said. 'I'll only be a moment, maybe a few minutes. But wait here,' he repeated.
Diana was one of those remarkable girls who never detained you by asking why. Tweed wandered round among the departing crowd, came up behind the look-alike and bumped into him.
`I do beg your pardon,' Tweed said quickly in German, 'I wasn't looking where I was going..
`That's all right,' the man replied automatically in the same language.
Tweed moved fast. He went to the British Airways counter and chose an attractive-looking girl, getting in just ahead of a man who was approaching her.
`Can I use your phone, please? It's an emergency.' He showed her his Special Branch folder, a document carefully forged in the basement at Park Crescent. She reacted by passing him the phone and turned her attention to the man who was waiting. Tweed dialled a number, kept his voice down.
`Airport Security? Can I speak to Jim Corcoran? Oh, that's you, Jim. Tweed here. There's a man I want questioned — held. He's waiting outside the exit, just off a Hamburg flight. I'll be there to point him out. Hold him until I send someone from Park Crescent. Suspected drug dealer? That will do nicely.'
Tweed hurried back to the exit. Diana stood by her bag and kept looking at her watch, as though expecting someone to collect her. She'd make a very useful addition to my staff, Tweed thought, and was careful to keep away from her.
The man who looked like Newman was still standing in the same place. Tweed saw Corcoran, a tall man and heavily-built with sandy hair, walking fast. Behind him two other men hurried to keep up with him.
Another crowd of passengers from a flight was pouring out of the exit. Tweed positioned himself so the waiting man couldn't see him. Corcoran came straight up to him, his two companions staying discreetly a few feet back.
`That man in the check suit,' Tweed said. 'See the one I mean? He's just lit a small cheroot. I want to know who he is, why he is here, where he has come from...'
`Leave it to us,' said Corcoran and moved towards the target. Tweed waited only long enough to witness Corcoran and his two colleagues surround the man as Corcoran started talking to him. He walked quickly across to Diana and picked up her bag.
`I have a car outside. That chap can't follow you any more. I hope you approve,' he said as they walked to the outside world, 'but I don't trust a hotel. You'll be safer in Newman's flat in South Ken. It's quite a nice place.'
`Will Bob mind?' Diana asked as Tweed led the way into the lobby of Newman's flat and placed her case on top of a chest of drawers in a large bedroom at the back. 'Mind my being here?'
`Why should he?'
And to hell with him if he does, Tweed thought. He's dumped Diana in my lap without so much as a by-your-leave. Tweed had obtained the key to the flat from Monica before leaving for the airport: she had agreed to keep an eye on the place while Newman was in Germany.
He showed her the bathroom, the large sitting-room at the front with bay windows overlooking the street, the compact kitchen which was like a ship's galley set back inside an alcove with two steps leading up to it from the sitting- room.
Diana walked into the sitting-room and stopped. She gazed up at the high ceiling where the original cornices with a design of bunches of grapes and intertwined vine leaves had been left intact.
`What a lovely spacious room. This is like the England I used to know.'