Len Deighton - Berlin Game

'Shall I pour out the coffee?' I said. 'It smells good.'

'My father was a schoolteacher. He made us children learn history. He said it would prevent the same things happening again.' She smiled. There was no humour in it; it was a small, polite, modest smile, the sort of smile you see models wearing in advertisements for expensive watches.

'Let's hope so,' I said.

'It will not prevent the same things happening. Look at the world. Can't you see Hitlers all round us? There is no difference between Hitler Germany and Andropov Russia. A hammer and sickle can look very like a swastika, especially when it is flying over your head.' She picked up the coffee I'd poured for her. I watched her carefully; there was a lot of hostility in her, even if it was hidden under her smiles and hospitality. 'Werner wants me back,' she said.

'He knows nothing of my coming here,' I said.

'But he told you where to find me?'

'Are you frightened of him?' I said.

'I don't want to go back to him.'

'He thinks you are living in Munich. He thinks you ran away with a Coca-Cola truck driver.'

'That was just a boy I knew.'

'He doesn't know you're still here in Berlin,' I said. I was trying to reassure her.

'I never go downtown. Anything I need from the big department stores I have delivered. I'm frightened I'll bump into him in the food department of KaDeWe. Does he still go there and eat lunch?'

'Yes, he still goes there.'

'Then why did Frank tell you where I was?'

'Frank Harrington didn't tell me.'

'You just worked it out?' she said sarcastically.

'That's right,' I said. 'I worked it out. There's nothing very difficult about finding people these days. There are bank balances, credit cards, charge accounts, car licences, driving licences. If Werner had guessed you were living in the city, he would have found you much more quickly than I did. Werner is an expert at finding people.'

'I write postcards and have a friend of mine post them from Munich.'

I nodded. Could a professional like Werner really fall for such amateur tricks?

I looked round the room. There were a couple of Berliner Ensemble theatre posters framed on the wall and a Käthe Kollwitz lithograph. The fluffy carpet was cream and the soft furnishings were covered in natural-finish linen with orange-coloured silk cushions. It was flashy but very comfortable – no little plastic bowls or gnawed bones, no sign anywhere of the existence of the dogs. I suppose it would have to be like that for Frank Harrington. He was not the sort of man who would adapt readily to smelly austerity. Through the sliding doors I glimpsed a large mahogany dining table set with a cut-glass bowl and silver centrepiece. The largest room had been chosen for dining. I wondered who came along here and enjoyed discreet dinners with Frank and his young mistress.

'It's not a permanent arrangement,' said Mrs Volkmann. 'Frank and I – we are close, very close. But it's not permanent. When he goes back to London, it will be all over. We both knew that right from the start.' She took a biscuit and nibbled at it in a way that would show her perfect white teeth.

'Is Frank going back to London?' I said.

She'd been sitting well forward on the big soft sofa, but now she banged a fist into a silk cushion before putting it behind her and resting against it. 'His wife would like him to get promoted. She knows that a posting to London would break up his affair with me. She doesn't care about Frank's promotion except that it would get him away from Berlin and away from me.'

'Wives are like that,' I said.

'But I won't go back to Werner. Frank likes to think I'd go back to Werner if and when that happens. But I'll never go back.'

'Why does Frank like to think that? Frank hates Werner.'

'Frank feels guilty about taking me away from Werner. At first, he really worried about it. That sort of guilty feeling often turns into hatred. You know that.' She smiled and smoothed her sleeve with a sensuous gesture, trailing her fingertips down her arm. She was a very beautiful woman. 'I get so bored at weekends,' she said.

'Where's Frank?'

'He's in Cologne. He won't be back until tomorrow night.' She smiled suggestively. 'He leaves me alone too much.'

I don't know if that was the invitation to bed that it sounded like, but I was not in the mood to find out. I was getting to the age when feelings of rejection linger. So I drank coffee, smiled, and looked at the grey line of the Wall. It was still early afternoon but it was getting misty.

Then what have you come here for? I suppose London has sent you to buy me off. Do they want to give me money to leave Frank alone?'

'What kind of books do you read on those long lonely nights when Frank's not here, Mrs Volkmann? The days when people were paid money for not providing sexual favours went out with policemen in top hats.'

'Of course,' she said. A bigger smile this time. 'And that was fathers, not employers. What a shame. I was hoping you'd give me a chance to jump to my feet and say I'll never give him up, never, never, never.'

'Is that what you would have said?'

'Frank is a very attractive man, Mr -?'

'Samson. Bernard Samson.'

'Frank is an inconsiderate swine at times but he's attractive. Frank is a real man.'

'Isn't Werner a real man?'

'Oohh, yes, I know. Werner is your friend. I have heard Werner talk of you. You are a mutual admiration society, the two of you. Well, Werner may be a fine friend, but you live with him for a year and you'd find out what he's like. He can't make up his mind about anything at all. He always wanted me to decide things: how, when, what, why. A woman marries a man to get away from all that, doesn't she?'

'Of course,' I said, and tried to make it sound as if I knew what she was talking about. The truth was, I wished like hell that I had a few more people in my life wanting to take orders instead of giving them.

'Have some more coffee,' she said sweetly. 'But then I must insist that you tell me what this is all about. Mysterious strangers can outstay their welcome too, you know.'

'You've been very patient with me, Mrs Volkmann and I appreciate that. My purpose in seeking you out was to tell you, unofficially, that under the circumstances my masters in London feel that you must be positively vetted.'

'A security check?'

'Yes, Mrs Volkmann. There will have to be a security check. You will be positively vetted.'

'This has already been done when I first married Werner.'

'Ah, well, this will be quite different. As you know, Frank Harrington is an important British official. We will have to make this what we call a Category Double X clearance. We hope you will understand why this has to be done and cooperate with the people assigned to the job.'

'I don't understand. Can't Frank arrange it?'

'If you pause a moment, Mrs Volkmann, you'll see how important it is that Frank doesn't know about it.'

'Frank will not be told?'

'Let Frank keep his private life secret. Frank's gone to a lot of trouble to do all this…' I waved a hand vaguely in the air. 'How would he feel if young men from his own office had to compile reports on where you went, who you saw, how much you have in the bank? And how will he feel if he has to read reports about some old relationships that you have half forgotten and can only cause him pain?'

She inhaled on her cigarette, and looked at me through half-closed eyes. 'Are you telling me that this is the sort of thing that your investigators will pry into?'

'You're a woman of the world, Mrs Volkmann. You've obviously guessed that the investigation has already started. None of the agents assigned to you has actually reported to me yet, but you must have spotted my men following you during the past three or four weeks. We don't assign our most experienced people to these vetting jobs of course, and I'm not surprised that you realized what is in progress.'