The Spy Who Came in From the Cold (23 page)

“The truth is this: Mundt
was
taken prisoner by the British; in a short
historic interview they offered him the classic alternative. Was it to
be years in an imperialist prison, the end of a brilliant career, or was Mundt
to make a dramatic
return to his
home country, against all expectation, and fulfill the promise he had shown?
The British, of course, made it a condition of his return that he should
provide
them with information,
and they would pay him large sums of money. With the carrot in front and the
stick behind, Mundt was recruited.

“It was now in the British interest to
promote Mundt’s career. We cannot yet prove that Mundt’s success in liquidating
minor Western intelligence agents was the work of his imperialist masters
betraying their own collaborators—those who were expendable—in order that
Mundt’s prestige should be enhanced. We cannot prove it, but it is an
assumption which the evidence permits.

“Ever since 1960—the year Comrade Mundt became
head of the Counterespionage Section of the Abteilung—indications have reached
us from all over
the world that
there was a highly placed spy in our ranks. You all know Karl Riemeck was a
spy; we thought when he was eliminated that the evil had been stamped out. But
the rumors persisted.

“In late 1960 a former collaborator of ours
approached an Englishman in the
Lebanon
known
to be in contact with their Intelligence Service. He offered him—we found out
soon afterwards—a complete breakdown of the two sections of the Abteilung for
which he had formerly worked. His offer, after it had been transmitted to
London
, was rejected.
That was a very curious thing. It could only mean that the British already
possessed the intelligence they were being offered,
and that it was up to date
.

“From mid-1960 onwards we were losing
collaborators abroad at an alarming
rate.
Often they were arrested within a few weeks of their dispatch. Sometimes the
enemy attempted to turn our own agents back on us, but not often. It was as if
they could scarcely be bothered.

“And then—it was early 1961 if my memory is
correct—we had a stroke of
luck.
We obtained by means I will not describe a summary of the information which
British Intelligence held about the Abteilung. It was complete, it was
accurate, and it was astonishingly up to date. I showed it to Mundt, of course—he
was my superior. He told me it came as no surprise to him: he had certain
inquiries in hand and I
should
take no action for fear of prejudicing them. And I confess that at that moment
the thought crossed my mind, remote and fantastic as it
was,
that Mundt himself could
have
provided the information. There were other indications too…

“I need hardly tell you that the last, the
very last person to be suspected of
espionage
is the head of the Counterespionage Section. The notion is so appalling, so
melodramatic, that few would
entertain it, let alone give expression to it! I confess that I myself have
been guilty of excessive reluctance in reaching such a seemingly fantastic deduction.
That was erroneous.

“But, Comrades, the final evidence has been
delivered into our hands. I propose to call that evidence now.” He turned,
glancing toward the back of the room.
“Bring
Leamas forward.”

The guards on either side of him stood up and
Leamas edged his way along the row to the rough gangway which ran not more than
two feet wide, down the
middle
of the room. A guard indicated to him that
be
should
stand facing the table. Fiedler stood a bare six feet away from him. First the
President addressed him.

“Witness, what is your name?” she asked.

“Alec Leamas.”

“What is your age?”

“Fifty.”

“Are you married?”

“No?’

“But you were.”

“I’m not married now.”

“What is your profession?”

“Assistant librarian.”

Fiedler angrily intervened. “You were formerly
employed by British Intelligence, were you not?” he snapped.

“That’s right.
Till a year
ago.”

“The Tribunal has read the reports of your
interrogation,” Fiedler continued. “I
want you to tell them again about the conversation you had with
Peter Guillam
sometime in May
last year.”

“You mean when we talked about Mundt?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve told you. It was at the Circus, the
office in
London
,
our headquarters in
Cambridge
Circus. I bumped into Peter in the corridor. I knew he was mixed up with the
Fennan Case and I asked him what had become of George Smiley. Then we got to
talking about Dieter Frey, who died,
and Mundt, who was mixed up in the thing. Peter
said he thought that Maston—Maston was effectively in charge of
the case
then—had not wanted
Mundt to be caught.”

“How did you interpret that?” asked
Fiedler.

“I knew Maston had made a mess of the Fennan
Case. I supposed he didn’t want any mud raked up by Mundt appearing at the Old
Bailey.”

“If Mundt had been caught, would he have been
legally charged?” the President put in.

“It depends on who caught him. If the police
got him they’d report it to the Home Office. After that no power on earth could
stop him from being charged.”

“And what if
your
Service had caught him?” Fiedler inquired.

“Oh, that’s a different matter. I suppose
they would
either have interrogated him and
then tried
to exchange him for one of our own people in prison over here; or else they’d
have given him a ticket.”

“What does that mean?”

“Got rid of him.”

“Liquidated him?” Fiedler was asking all
the questions now, and the members of the Tribunal were writing diligently in
the files before them.

“I don’t know what they do. I’ve never been
mixed up in that game.”
“Might
they not have tried to recruit him as their agent?”

“Yes, but they didn’t succeed.”

“How do you know that?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I’ve told you over and
over again. I’m not a bloody
performing
seal! I was head of the Berlin Command for four years. If Mundt had been
one of our people, I would have
known. I couldn’t have helped knowing.”

“Quite.”

Fiedler seemed content with that answer, confident
perhaps that the remainder
of
the Tribunal was not. He now turned his attention to Operation “Rolling
Stone,” took Leamas once again through the special security complexities
governing the circulation of the file, the letters to the Stockholm and
Helsinki banks and the one reply which Leamas had received. Addressing himself
to the Tribunal, Fiedler
commented:

“We had no reply from
Helsinki
. I do not know why. But let me
recapitulate for you. Leamas deposited money at
Stockholm
on June fifteenth. Among the papers
before you there is the facsimile of
a letter from the Royal Scandinavian Bank
addressed to Robert Lang. Robert Lang was the name Leamas used to open
the
Copenhagen
deposit account. From that letter (it is the twelfth serial in your files) you
will see that the entire sum—ten thousand dollars—was drawn by the
cosignatory to the account one week
later. I imagine,” Fiedler continued, indicating with his head the
motionless figure of Mundt in the front row, “that it is not disputed by
the defendant that he was in
Copenhagen
on June twenty-first, nominally engaged on secret work on behalf of the
Abteilung.” He paused and then continued:

“Leamas’ visit to
Helsinki
—the second visit he made to deposit
money—took place on about September twenty-fourth.” Raising his voice, he
turned and looked directly at Mundt. “On the third of October Comrade
Mundt made a
clandestine journey
to
Finland
—once
more allegedly in the interests of the Abteilung.”

There was silence. Fiedler turned slowly and
addressed himself once more to
the
Tribunal. In a voice at once subdued and threatening he asked, “Are you
complaining that the evidence is circumstantial? Let me remind you of something
more.” He turned to Leamas.

“Witness, during your activities in
Berlin
you became
associated with Karl Riemeck, formerly Secretary to the Präsidium of the
Socialist Unity Party. What was the nature of that association?”

“He was my agent until he was shot by Mundt’s
men.”

“Quite so.
He was
shot by Mundt’s men.
One of several spies who were
summarily liquidated by Comrade Mundt
before they could be questioned.
But before he was shot by Mundt’s men
he was an agent of the British Secret Service?”

Leamas nodded.

“Will you describe Riemeck’s meeting with the man you call
Control.”

“Control came over to
Berlin
from
London
to see Karl. Karl was one of the most
productive agents we had, I think, and Control wanted to meet him.”
Fiedler put in: “He was also one
of the most trusted?”

“Yes, oh yes.
London
loved Karl, he could do no wrong. When
Control came out I fixed it for Karl to come to my flat and the three of us
dined together. I didn’t like Karl’s coming there really, but I couldn’t tell
Control that. It’s hard to explain, but they get ideas in London, they’re so
cut off from it and I was frightened stiff they’d find some excuse for taking
over Karl themselves—they’re quite capable of it.”

“So you arranged for the three of you to
meet,” Fiedler put in curtly. “What
happened?”

“Control asked me beforehand to see that he
had a quarter of an hour alone with Karl, so during the evening I pretended to
have, run out of Scotch. I left the flat and went over to de Jong’s place. I
had a couple of drinks there, borrowed a bottle and came back.”

“How did you find them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Were Control and Riemeck talking still? If
so, what were they talking about?”
“They weren’t talking at all when I came back.”

“Thank you. You may sit down.”

Leamas returned to his seat at the back of the
room. Fiedler turned to the three members of the Tribunal and began:

“I want to talk first about the spy Riemeck,
who was shot—Karl Riemeck.
You
have before you a list of all the information which Riemeck passed to Alec
Leamas in
Berlin
, so far as Leamas can recall it. It
is a formidable record of treachery. Let me summarize it for you. Riemeck gave
to his masters a detailed breakdown of the work and personalities of the whole
Abteilung. He was able, if
Leamas
is to be believed, to describe the workings of our most secret sessions. As
secretary to the Präsidium he gave minutes of its most secret proceedings.

“That was easy for him; he himself compiled
the record of every meeting. But
Riemeck’s
access
to the secret affairs of the Abteilung is a different matter. Who at
the end of 1959 co-opted Riemeck onto
the Committee for the Protection of the
People, that vital subcommittee of the Präsidium which coordinates and
discusses the
affairs of our
security organs? Who proposed that Riemeck should have the privilege of
access to the files of the Abteilung?
Who at every stage in Riemeck’s career
since
1959 (the year Mundt returned from
England
,
you remember) singled him out for posts of exceptional responsibility? I will
tell you,” Fiedler proclaimed. “The same man who was uniquely placed
to shield him in his espionage activities: Hans-Dieter Mundt. Let us recall how
Riemeck contacted the Western Intelligence Agencies in
Berlin
— how he sought out de Jong’s car on a
picnic and put the film inside it. Are you not amazed at Riemeck’s foreknowledge?
How could he have known where to find that car, and on that very day? Riemeck
had no car
himself,
he could not have followed de Jong
from his house in
West Berlin
. There was only
one way he could have known—through the agency of our own Security Police, who
reported de Jong’s presence as a matter of routine as soon as the car passed
the Inter Sector checkpoint. That knowledge was available to Mundt, and Mundt
made it available to Riemeck.
That
is the case against Hans-Dieter
Mundt—I tell you, Riemeck was his creature, the link between Mundt and his
imperialist masters!”

Fiedler paused, then added quietly, “Mundt-
-Riemeck- -Leamas: that was the chain of command, and it is axiomatic of
intelligence technique the whole world over
that each link of the chain be kept, as far as possible, in
ignorance of the others.
Thus it
is
right
that Leamas should maintain he knows nothing to the detriment of
Mundt: that is no more than the proof
of good security by his masters in
London
.

“You have also been told how the whole case
known as ‘Rolling Stone,’ was conducted under conditions of special secrecy,
how Leamas knew in vague terms of an intelligence section under Peter Guillam
which was supposedly concerned with economic conditions in our Republic—a
section which surprisingly was on the
distribution
list of ‘Rolling Stone.’ Let me remind you that that same Peter Guillam was one
of several British Security officers who were involved in the investigation of
Mundt’s activities while he was in
England
.”