Colin Forbes - The Janus Man

`Still pretty vague. What do you want me for?'

`Your German is pretty good.'

They had emerged off the footpath on to a road and beyond that on to the highway leading to police HQ at Lubeck-Sud. Newman lit a cigarette and studied Toll who smiled back in the most innocent manner.

`Go on,' Newman snapped.

`You could still pass for a German. In the right clothes.' `So my German is reasonable. Where does that get us?' `Reports arriving at Pullach say Markus Wolf is running some major operation – from Leipzig.'

`What kind of an operation?' Newman asked.

`That's what we need to find out. The Russians are pulling the strings behind Wolf.'

Par for the course. What do you want me to do?'

`Go behind the Iron Curtain…'

For several minutes Newman remained silent, and they walked together alongside the highway through the countryside. In the distance loomed the isolated complex of Lubeck-Sud. Behind them the green spires of Lubeck's churches speared up above the trees.

`Why me?' Newman asked eventually.

`Because, you see…' Toll was talking very fast. `… as I said, you can pass, for a German. Because Wolf has arrested many of our agents in a sudden swoop. Communications across the border have been largely cut. That, I think, explains the strange lack of activity of the opposition's agents in the West. Some are lying low, some have been temporarily withdrawn.

The information about our lost men seems to come from London. I am informing Tweed of that fact when I can contact him…'

`I don't know where Tweed is,' Newman said easily, 'but when you return to Pullach call London. You know Monica? Good. She may be able to get a message to him. And now, once again, why me?'

`I have one group underground inside East Germany Wolf knows nothing about. Led by a formidable man and a girl. You are not known in The Zone. It will be dangerous, but I think you could manage it.'

'Manage what?'

`Contact this group, find out direct from them – verbally – what is happening. I dare not use one of my own men who may be identified. And we are in the middle of reorganizing our radio communications system. The old one is blown.'

`You make it sound easy. How the devil could I ever hope to cross the border?'

That I can arrange…'

`With what chance of success?'

`Guaranteed. I can only give details when you have agreed.'

`If I agree. I have to sleep on it.'

`Don't sleep too long…'

`And don't push it. I think we'll turn back now. I want to get back to the Jensen.'

`Of course, of course.' Toll was at his most amiable and went on speaking in the same light-hearted way, as though discussing a holiday. 'We do know that your old friend, General Lysenko, is in East Germany, peering over Wolf's shoulder…'

`You're sure Lysenko is involved?' Newman's tone sharpened.

`Quiet sure. So, he is the man you would be up against in the last analysis. Only fair to lay all the cards on the table. You know me…'

`I know you. Feed the dog the food he likes, get him in a good humour. Hold back the bits that might give him indigestion.' `Now, Bob, when have I ever done that to you?'

A hurt tone in Toll's voice. His face expressed indignant disbelief. A good actor, Peter Toll.

`Just now,' Newman said as they turned down back towards the Trave and there was the distant sound of people laughing and talking. Another gloriously sunny day with glimpses through the trees of boats proceeding up and down the river.

`I don't understand,' Toll began.

`I won't even think about your offer unless you tell me exactly how I would cross the border. Where. How.'

`That is top secret information.' Toll paused, pushed up his glasses to the top of his nose. 'You go over straight through the minefield belt past a certain watchtower further south. The guards in that tower have been bribed. I have them in my pocket.'

'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.