Mark Burnell - The Third Woman

HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by

HarperCollins Publishers 2005

Copyright © Mark Burnell 2005

Mark Burnell asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

HarperCollins Publishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication.

Source ISBN: 9780007152674

Ebook Edition © OCTOBER 2012 ISBN 9780007369904

Version: 2015-12-14

For Greta with love

The true religion of America

has always been America.

NORMAN MAILER

Most people are other people. Their thoughts

are someone else’s opinions, their lives a

mimicry, their passions a quotation.

OSCAR WILDE

Cover

Title Page MARK BURNELL THE THIRD WOMAN

Copyright Copyright Copyright Dedication Epigraph Early October Day One Day Two Day Three Day Four Day Five Day Six Day Seven Day Eight Day Nine Day Ten Day Eleven Day Twelve Day Thirteen Early February Keep Reading Acknowledgements About the Author Also by the Author About the Publisher HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2005 Copyright © Mark Burnell 2005 Mark Burnell asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books. HarperCollins Publishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication. Source ISBN: 9780007152674 Ebook Edition © OCTOBER 2012 ISBN 9780007369904 Version: 2015-12-14

Dedication Dedication Dedication Epigraph Early October Day One Day Two Day Three Day Four Day Five Day Six Day Seven Day Eight Day Nine Day Ten Day Eleven Day Twelve Day Thirteen Early February Keep Reading Acknowledgements About the Author Also by the Author About the Publisher For Greta with love

Epigraph Epigraph Epigraph Early October Day One Day Two Day Three Day Four Day Five Day Six Day Seven Day Eight Day Nine Day Ten Day Eleven Day Twelve Day Thirteen Early February Keep Reading Acknowledgements About the Author Also by the Author About the Publisher The true religion of America has always been America. NORMAN MAILER Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation. OSCAR WILDE

Early October

Day One

Day Two

Day Three

Day Four

Day Five

Day Six

Day Seven

Day Eight

Day Nine

Day Ten

Day Eleven

Day Twelve

Day Thirteen

Early February

Keep Reading

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by the Author

About the Publisher

He loved the ritual. It was as essential to his enjoyment of the countryside as the open space or clean air. A final stroll around the property before bed, the last of a cigar to smoke, the glowing embers of a good cognac warming his stomach. His only regret was that he didn’t come here often enough. Otto Heilmann stepped out of his dacha onto brittle grass; five below zero, he estimated, perhaps even ten.

His guests had gone to bed. Their cars were parked beside the boat-shed; a black Mercedes 4x4 with dark glass, and an Audi A8 with an auxiliary engine and armour-plating. Frost had turned both windscreens opaque.

Heilmann wandered to the edge of the lake, trailing clouds of breath and smoke. The silvery light of a three-quarter moon shone on the ice. He saw buttery pinpricks in the blackness of the far shore; two dachas, one belonging to a senior prosecutor from St Petersburg, the other to a Finnish architect.

There was no cloud and only the faintest whisper of a breeze. Heilmann smoked for a while. As Bruno Manz, a Swiss travel consultant based in St Petersburg, he felt a very long way from the grim years of the German Democratic Republic. A long way from Erich Mielke, his Stasi boss during those years, and a long way from Wolfasep, the ubiquitous industrial-strength detergent that was the defining odour of the Honecker regime for millions of East Germans. Once smelled, never forgotten, a scar of memory.

He tossed his soggy cigar stump onto the ice and continued his circuit. Along the lake shore, past the creaking jetty, up towards the wood-shed.

‘Hello, Otto.’

A female voice. He thought he recognized it. Except she was supposed to be in Copenhagen. But it was her face that emerged from the darkness of the birch forest.

Heilmann clutched the coat over his chest. ‘I hope you know what to do if I have a heart attack.’