Winter of the World (Century Trilogy 2)

white teeth. ‘I wouldn’t have recognized you with that army haircut,’ he said. ‘It’s good to see you, after all these years.’

He had not lost any of his warmth and charm, Volodya noted. ‘Let’s go inside.’

‘You don’t really want to go into that dump, do you?’ Werner said. ‘It will be full of plumbers eating sausages with mustard.’

‘I want to get off the street. Here we could be seen by anyone passing.’

‘There’s an alley three doors down.’

‘Good.’

They walked a short distance and turned into a narrow passage between a coal yard and a grocery store. ‘What have you been doing?’ Werner said.

‘Fighting the Fascists, just like you.’ Volodya considered whether to tell him more. ‘I was in Spain.’ It was no secret.

‘Where you had no more success than we did here in Germany.’

‘But it’s not over yet.’

‘Let me ask you something,’ Werner said, leaning against the wall. ‘If you thought Bolshevism was wicked, would you be a spy working against the Soviet Union?’

Volodya’s instinct was to say No, absolutely not! But before the words came out he realized how tactless that would be – for the prospect that revolted him was precisely what Werner was doing, betraying his country for the sake of a higher cause. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I think it must be very difficult for you to work against Germany, even though you hate the Nazis.’

‘You’re right,’ Werner said. ‘And what happens if war breaks out? Am I going to help you kill our soldiers and bomb our cities?’

Volodya was worried. It seemed that Werner was weakening. ‘It’s the only way to defeat the Nazis,’ he said. ‘You know that.’

‘I do. I made my decision a long time ago. And the Nazis have done nothing to change my mind. It’s hard, that’s all.’

‘I understand,’ Volodya said sympathetically.

Werner said: ‘You asked me to suggest other people who might do for you what I am doing.’

Volodya nodded. ‘People like Willi Frunze. Remember him? Cleverest boy in school. He was a serious socialist – he chaired that meeting the Brownshirts broke up.’

Werner shook his head. ‘He went to England.’

Volodya’s heart sank. ‘Why?’

‘He’s a brilliant physicist and he’s studying in London.’

‘Shit.’

‘But I’ve thought of someone else.’

‘Good!’

‘Did you ever know Heinrich von Kessel?’

‘I don’t think so. Was he at our school?’

‘No, he went to a Catholic school. And in those days he didn’t share our politics, either. His father was a big shot in the Centre Party—’

‘Which put Hitler in power in 1933!’

‘Correct. Heinrich was then working for his father. The father has now joined the Nazis, but the son is wracked by guilt.’

‘How do you know?’

‘He got drunk and told my sister, Frieda. She’s seventeen. I think he fancies her.’

This was promising. Volodya’s spirits lifted. ‘Is he a Communist?’

‘No.’

‘What makes you think he’ll work for us?’

‘I asked him, straight out. “If you got a chance to fight against the Nazis by spying for the Soviet Union, would you do it?” He said he would.’

‘What’s his job?’

‘He’s in the army, but he has a weak chest, so they made him a pen-pusher – which is lucky for us, because now he works for the Supreme High Command in the economic planning and procurement department.’

Volodya was impressed. Such a man would know exactly how many trucks and tanks and machine guns and submarines the German military was acquiring month by month – and where they were being deployed. He began to feel excited. ‘When can I meet him?’

‘Now. I’ve arranged to have a drink with him in the Adlon Hotel after work.’

Volodya groaned. The Adlon was Berlin’s swankiest hotel. It was located on Unter den Linden. Because it was