Len Deighton - London Match

'Yes,' said Fiona. 'May we take notes?'

Bret said, 'So we thought we'd break the meeting up into one-to-one discussions. The prime discussion will be about your man Stinnes. We can discuss procedure at the same time, in the hope that we'll reach agreement. Are you the senior officer?'

'Yes,' said Fiona. She drank some champagne. She knew what was coming, of course, but she kept very serious.

'Our senior negotiator is Mr Samson,' said Bret.

There was a long silence. Pavel Moskvin didn't like it. He'd not touched his champagne, which was going flat on the dining table. He showed his hostility by folding his arms and scowling. 'What do you think, Colonel Moskvin?' Fiona asked. Colonel Moskvin, was it… look out, Major Stinnes, I thought.

'Better we all stay together,' said Moskvin. 'No tricks.'

'Very well,' said Bret. He motioned for them to sit at the circular dining table. The waiter topped up the glasses. The blond youth put his chair behind Fiona so that he could sit with his notepad on his knee.

'What is it you want?' said Moskvin, as if trying to take over from Fiona, who sat back and said nothing. His folded arms strained his jacket across the back and showed where he had a pistol stowed under his armpit.

'We have your man Stinnes,' said Bret. 'It was a good try but it failed. So far we've held the press at bay, but there's a limit to how long we can do that.' The blond youth translated for Moskvin. Moskvin nodded.

'Is that why you brought him to Berlin?' said Fiona.

'Partly. But the Germans have newspapers too. Once the story breaks, we'll have no alternative but to hand him over to the DPP and then it's out of our hands.'

'DPP?' said Moskvin. 'What is this?' Obviously he could understand enough English to follow most of what was said.

'The Director of Public Prosecutions,' said Bret. The British state prosecutor. It's another department. We have no control over it.'

'And in return?' said Fiona.

'You've arrested Werner Volkmann,' I said.

'Have we?' said Fiona. It was very Russian.

'I haven't come here to waste time,' I said.

My remark seemed to anger her. 'No,' she said with a quiet voice that throbbed with hatred and resentment. 'You have come here to discuss the fate of Erich Stinnes, a good and loyal comrade who was shamelessly kidnapped by your terrorists, despite his diplomatic status. And who, according to our sources, has been systematically starved and tortured in an attempt to make him betray his country.' Fiona had quickly mastered the syntax of the Party.

It was quite a speech and I was tempted to reply sarcastically, but I didn't. I looked at Frank. We both knew now that I was right, and I could see the relief in Frank's face. If the official KGB line was going to be that Erich Stinnes had been kidnapped, starved, and tortured, Stinnes would be reinstated in his KGB rank and position. Even the most thick-skulled men in London would then have to accept the fact that Stinnes had been planted to make trouble. 'Let's not make this meeting a forum for political bickering,' I said. 'Werner Volkmann for Major Stinnes; straight swap.'

'Where is Comrade Stinnes?' said Fiona.

'Here in Berlin. Where's Werner?'

'Checkpoint Charlie,' said Fiona. It was strange how after all these years the Communists still used the US Army name for it.

'Fit and well?'

'Do you want to send someone over to see him?' she asked.

'We have someone at Checkpoint Charlie. Shall we agree to do that while we go on talking?' I asked. She looked at Moskvin. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

'Very well. And Comrade Stinnes?' said Fiona. I looked at Bret. The exchange was Bret's worry.

'We have him here in the hotel,' said Bret. 'But you must nominate one of your number to see him. One. I can't let you all go.' Good old Bret. I didn't know he had it in him, but he'd pipped that one on the wing.

'I will go,' said Fiona. Moskvin was not pleased, but there was little he could do about it. If he objected, she'd send him and then she'd still have a chance of speaking to me in private.

Erich Stinnes was in a suite along the corridor. Frank's men had virtually abducted him from Berwick House waving authorizations and a chit signed by Bret in his capacity as chairman of the committee, a position which technically he still held. But I took us to an empty suite next door to the one where Stinnes was being held.

'What's the game?' said Fiona. She looked around the empty rooms; she even rummaged through the roses looking for a microphone. Fiona was very unsophisticated when it came to surveillance electronics. 'What is it?' She seemed anxious.

'Relax,' I said. 'I'm not going to demand my conjugal rights.'

'I came to see Stinnes,' she said.

'You came because you wanted a chance to talk in private.'

'But I still want to see him,' she said.

'He's down the corridor waiting for us.'

'Is he well?'

'What do you care if he's well?'

'Erich Stinnes is a fine man, Bernard. I'll do what I can to prevent his dying in prison.' Stinnes feigning illness was a part of their plan. That became obvious now.

'Don't worry,' I said. 'We both know that Erich Stinnes is as fit as a fiddle. He'll go home and get his chestful of medals.'

'He's a good man,' she said, as if convincing me of it was important to her. She didn't deny that he was fit. His sickness was all part of the scenario – Fiona's touch no doubt; a way to give Stinnes an easier time.

'We haven't got time to waste talking about Stinnes,' I said.

'No, you've come to talk about your precious Werner,' she said. Even now that she'd left me, there was still an edge of resentment in her voice. Did all wives fear and resent the friendships that had come before marriage?

'Wrong again,' I said. 'We have to talk about the children.'

'There's nothing to talk about. I want them for a holiday. It's not much to ask. Did Tessa speak to you?'

'She did. But I don't want you to take the children.'

'They're mine as much as yours. Do you think I'm not human? Do you think I don't love them as much as you do?'

'How can I believe you love them the way I love them when you've left us?'

'Sometimes there are allegiances and aspirations that go beyond family.'

'Is that one of the things you're going to explain to little Billy when you take him round the Moscow electric stations and show him the underground railway?'

'They're my children,' she said.

'Can't you see the danger of taking them with you? Can't you see the way in which they'll become hostages to your good behaviour? Isn't it obvious that once they're there you'll never again be allowed to come West all together? They'll always keep the children there to be sure you do your duty as a good Communist and return East as every good Soviet citizen must.'

'What of their life now? You're always working. Nanny spends her life watching TV. They're shunted from your mother to my father and back again. Soon you'll take up with some other woman and they'll have a stepmother. What sort of fife is that? With me they could have a proper home and a stable family life.'

'With a stepfather?'

'There is no other man, Bernard,' she said very softly. There will be no other man. That is why I need the children so much. You can have other children, dozens of them if you wish. For a man it's easy – he can have children until he's eighty – but I'll soon be past the suitable age for motherhood. Don't deny me the children.' Like all women she was tyrannized by her biology.

'Don't take them to a country which they won't be able to leave. Fiona! Look at me, Fiona. I'm saying it for your sake, for the children's sake, and for my sake too.'

'I have to see them. I have to.' Nervously she went to the window, looked out, and then came back to me.