John Le Carré - The Spy Who Came in from the Cold

"The other charge on which you will stand trial, if necessary," Mundt added quietly, "is murder."

"So the sentry died, did he?" Leamas replied.

A wave of intense pain passed through his head.

Mundt nodded. "That being so," he said, "your trial for espionage is somewhat academic. I propose that the case against Fiedler should be publicly heard. That is also the wish of the Präsidium."

"And you want my confession?"

"Yes."

"In other words you haven't any proof."

"We shall have proof. We shall have your confession." There was no menace in Mundt's voice. There was no style, no theatrical twist. "On the other hand, there could be mitigation in your case. You were blackmailed by British Intelligence; they accused you of stealing money and then coerced you into preparing a revanchist trap against myself. The court would have sympathy for such a plea."

Leamas seemed to be taken off his guard.

"How did you know they accused me of stealing money?" But Mundt made no reply.

"Fiedler has been very stupid," Mundt observed. "As soon as I read the report of our friend Peters I knew why you had been sent, and I knew that Fiedler would fall into the trap. Fiedler hates me so much." Mundt nodded, as if to emphasize the truth of his observation. "Your people knew that of course. It was a very clever operation. Who prepared it, tell me. Was it Smiley? Did he do it?" Leamas said nothing.

"I wanted to see Fiedler's report of his own interrogation of you, you see. I told him to send it to me. He procrastinated and I knew I was right. Then yesterday he circulated it among the Präsidium, and did not send me a copy. Someone in London has been very clever."

Leamas said nothing.

"When did you last see Smiley?" Mundt asked casually. Leamas hesitated, uncertain of himself. His head was aching terribly.

"When did you last see him?" Mundt repeated.

"I don't remember," Leamas said at last; "he wasn't really in the outfit any more. He'd drop in from time to time."

"He is a great friend of Peter Guillam, is he not?"

"I think so, yes."

"Guillam, you thought, studied the economic situation in the GDR. Some odd little section in your Service; you weren't quite sure what it did."

"Yes." Sound and sight were becoming confused in the mad throbbing of his brain. His eyes were hot and painful. He felt sick.

"Well, when did you last see Smiley?"

"I don't remember...I don't remember."

Mundt shook his head.

"You have a very good memory—for anything that incriminates me. We can all remember when we last saw somebody. Did you, for instance, see him after you returned from Berlin?"

"Yes, I think so. I bumped into him...in the Circus once, in London." Leamas had closed his eyes and he was sweating. "I can't go on, Mundt...not much longer, Mundt...I'm sick," he said.

"After Ashe had picked you up, after he had walked into the trap that had been set for him, you had lunch together, didn't you?"

"Yes. Lunch together."

"Lunch ended at about four o'clock. Where did you go then?"

"I went down to the City, I think. I don't remember for sure...For Christ's sake, Mundt," he said holding his head with his hand, "I can't go on. My bloody head's.

"And after that where did you go? Why did you shake off your followers, why were you so keen to shake them off?"

Leamas said nothing: he was breathing in sharp gasps, his head buried in his hands.

"Answer this one question, then you can go. You shall have a bed. You can sleep if you want. Otherwise you must go back to your cell, do you understand? You will be tied up again and fed on the floor like an animal, do you understand? Tell me where you went."

The wild pulsation of his brain suddenly increased, the room was dancing; he heard voices around him and the sound of footsteps; spectral shapes passed and repassed, detached from sound and gravity; someone was shouting, but not at him; the door was open, he was sure someone had opened the door. The room was full of people, all shouting now, and then they were going, some of them had gone, he heard them marching away, the stamping of their feet was like the throbbing of his head; the echo died and there was silence. Then like the touch of mercy itself, a cool cloth was laid across his forehead, and kindly hands carried him away.

He woke on a hospital bed, and standing at the foot of it was Fiedler, smoking a cigarette.

Leamas took stock. A bed with sheets. A single ward with no bars in the windows, just curtains and frosted glass. Pale green walls, dark green linoleum; and Fiedler watching him, smoking.

A nurse brought him food: an egg, some thin soup and fruit. He felt like death, but he supposed he'd better eat it. So he did and Fiedler watched.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Bloody awful," Leamas replied.

"But better?"

"I suppose so." He hesitated. "Those sods beat me up."

"You killed a sentry, you know that?"

"I guessed I had...What do they expect if they mount such a damn stupid operation? Why didn't they pull us both in at once? Why put all the lights out? If anything was over organized, that was."

"I am afraid that as a nation we tend to over organize. Abroad that passes for efficiency."

Again there was a pause.

"What happened to you?" Leamas asked.

"Oh, I too was softened for interrogation."

"By Mundt's men?"

"By Mundt's men and Mundt. It was a very peculiar sensation!"

"That's one way of putting it."

"No, no; not physically. Physically it was a nightmare, but you see Mundt had a special interest in beating me up. Apart from the confession."

"Because you dreamed up that story about—"

"Because I am a Jew."

"Oh Christ," said Leamas softly.

"That is why I got special treatment. All the time he whispered to me. It was very strange."

"What did he say?"

Fiedler didn't reply. At last he muttered, "That's all over."

"Why? What's happened?"

"The day we were arrested I had applied to the Präsidium for a civil warrant to arrest Mundt as an enemy of the people."

"But you're mad—I told you, you're raving mad, Fiedler! He'll never—"

"There was other evidence against him apart from yours. Evidence I have been accumulating over the last three years, piece by piece. Yours provided the proof we need; that's all. As soon as that was clear I prepared a report and sent it to every member of the Präsidium except Mundt. They received it on the same day that I made my application for a warrant."

"The day we were pulled in."

"Yes. I knew Mundt would fight. I knew he had friends on the Präsidium, or yes-men at least, people who were sufficiently frightened to go running to him as soon as they got my report. And in the end, I knew he would lose. The Präsidium had the weapon it needed to destroy him; they had the report, and for those few days while you and I were being questioned they read it and reread it until they knew it was true and each knew the others knew. In the end they acted. Herded together by their common fear, their common weakness and their common knowledge, they turned against him and ordered a Tribunal."

"Tribunal?"

"A secret one, of course. It meets tomorrow. Mundt is under arrest."

"What is this other evidence? The evidence you've collected."

"Wait and see," Fiedler replied with a smile. "Tomorrow you will see."

Fiedler was silent for a time, watching Leamas eat.

"This Tribunal," Leamas asked, "how is it conducted?"

"That is up to the President. It is not a People's Court—it is important to remember that— it is more in the nature of an inquiry—a committee of inquiry, that's it, appointed by the Präsidium to investigate and report upon a certain...subject. Its report contains a recommendation. In a case like this the recommendation is tantamount to a verdict, but remains secret, as a part of the proceedings of the Präsidium."