Len Deighton - London Match

'And?'

'And you felt they should know about it.'

'Okay.' He was a master of inscrutable faces.

'Let them chew it over for five minutes and then say that London Central are finished with this character. London Central will be handing him over to Five unless some better offer came up from somewhere else – like Moscow.'

'When?' said Posh Harry, reaching for the dripping-wet bottle from the ice bucket and pouring more for us both.

'Very soon. Very, very soon. There is no chance that Five would deal with Moscow, so time is vitally important. If they were interested in having Stinnes back, you could get me to a meeting to discuss his release.'

'Here?' He used a paper towel to mop up the ice water he'd dripped over the table,

'His release here in Berlin. But first I want the meeting,' I said.

'With?'

'With my wife. And whoever she wants to bring along.'

'What's the deal, Bernie? You release the Russkie – what do you want in return? Or is kicking shit out of Russkies something you're giving up for Lent?'

'They'll know what I want in return. But I don't want that anywhere on the record, so don't even start guessing,' I said. 'Now, in the course of conversation, you'll make sure they know that Bret Rensselaer has been given an important promotion and a special job. You don't know exactly what it is, but it all came about because he was the one who brought Stinnes down. He was the one who nailed him to the wall. Got it?'

'It's not difficult, Bernie. It's a shame to take the money.'

'Take the money anyway.'

'I shall.'

'The meeting is to be over this side. I suggest the VIP suite on the top floor of the Steigenberger Hotel. It's good security; there's room to move… car parking is where you can see it… you know.'

'And the food is excellent. That might appeal to them.'

'And the food is excellent.'

'They'll probably want to send someone to inspect the room.'

'No problem,' I said.

'Timing for the exchange?'

'We'll have their man Stinnes available in the city.'

'I mean… you'll want to do this immediately the meeting ends, won't you? This is not one of those fancy setups where they come over the bridge for the TV cameras ten days later?'

'Immediate. And complete secrecy; both sides.'

'Your wife, you say? I'll go over there today. Maybe I could wrap up this whole deal by the weekend.'

'Good thinking, Harry. I'll be at Lisl Hennig's this evening. Phone me there anyway; let me know what's happening. Have you got the phone number?'

'Are you kidding? Your wife, eh?' The concertina player finished playing ' Das war in Sch ö neberg im Monat Mai … ' and took a bow. Posh Harry eased his chair back and applauded loudly. He smiled at me to show how happy he was. It was a bigger smile this time; I could count his gold teeth.

'She'll be the one to talk to, Harry.'

'I think I can find her.'

'If I know her the way I think I do, she will have planned the whole business; she'll be sitting by the phone waiting for you to call.' I got to my feet, I'd said enough.

'It's like that, is it?'

'The script is all written, Harry. We just have to read our parts.'

Harry pulled a bundle of paper money from his back pocket and paid for the champagne. The tip was far too generous, but the Department would pay.

'That material I gave you – was it good?' he asked.

'It was Spielmaterial ,' I replied.

'I'm sorry about that,' he said. 'Some you win, some you lose, and some…'

'… Some get rained out,' I finished for him.

He shrugged. I should have guessed that he had had no real faith in it; he'd given it to me for nothing. That was not Posh Harry's style.

Lisl sat where she could see the flowers. It was a vast display of different blooms – more than I could put names to – and arranged in a basket tied with coloured ribbon. The flowers had obviously come from some expensive florist. They were the ones Werner had brought for her. Now the petals were beginning to fall. Werner was not demonstrative, but he was always giving Lisl flowers. Sometimes, according to his mood, he would spend ages choosing them for her. Even his beloved Zena was not treated with such care in the matter of flowers. Lisl loved flowers, especially when they came from Werner.

Sometimes, when she smiled, I could see in Lisl Hennig the beautiful woman I'd met when I first came to Berlin. I was a child then, and Lisl must have already been almost fifty years old. But she was a woman of such beauty that any man would be at her call.

Now she was old, and the commanding manner that had once been a part of her fatal attraction was the petulance of an irritable old woman. But I remembered her as the goddess she'd once been, and so did Lothar Koch, the shrunken little retired bureaucrat who'd regularly played bridge with her.

We were sitting in Lisl's 'study', a small room that had become a museum of her life. Every shelf and cupboard was crammed with mementoes – china ornaments, snuffboxes, and an abundance of souvenir ashtrays. The radio was playing Tchaikovsky from some distant station that faded every now and again. There were only three of us playing bridge. It was more fun this way, Lisl said, whenever we were bidding and deciding which hand would be the dummy. But Lisl liked company, and there were only three of us because Lisl had failed to find a fourth despite all the cajoling of which she was capable.

The counters for which we played were stacked up high. Lisl liked to play for money no matter how tiny the stakes. When she was a young girl she'd been sent to a finishing school in Dresden – a favoured place for wealthy families to send their grown-up daughters – and she liked to affect the manners of that place and time. But now she was content to be the berlinerisch old woman she truly was, and there was nothing more berlinerisch than playing cards for money.

'It's big business nowadays,' said Herr Koch, 'Since 1963 those East Germans have made almost three billion Deutschemark in ransoms.'

'I bid one spade,' said Lisl, staring at her cards. 'Three billion?'

'No bid,' said Koch. 'Yes, three billion Deutschemark.'

'One heart,' I said.

'You can't do that,' said Lisl.

'Sorry,' I said. 'No bid.' Why had they suddenly started talking about political prisoners held in the Democratic Republic? They couldn't have heard about Werner. Lisl finally bid two spades.

'About fourteen hundred people a year are ransomed by the Bonn government. None of them are criminals. Mostly they are people who have applied for exit permits and then been heard to complain about not getting them.'

'They must be mad to apply for an exit permit,' said Lisl.

'They are desperate,' said Koch. 'Desperate people snatch at any chance however slim.'

Lisl put a queen of hearts on Herr Koch's king. From now on she'd be trumping hearts unless I missed my guess. I knew she didn't have the ace; I had it. I played low; it was Koch's trick. Perhaps they wouldn't exchange Werner for Stinnes. Perhaps we'd have to pay to get Werner back. Would they sell him or would they prefer a big show trial with lots of publicity? Perhaps I'd handled it badly. Perhaps I should have let the KGB think that Stinnes had fooled us completely; then they wouldn't risk spoiling it by publicizing Werner. Could they put Werner on trial without revealing the Miller woman's role in framing Bret Rensselaer?

Koch led with an ace of clubs. I knew Lisl would trump it and she did, using a three. That was the way with cards and with life; the smallest of cards could beat an ace if you chose the right moment.

Lisl picked up the trick and led a four of spades. She must have had a handful of trumps.