“What’s the three refer to?”
“Visitors asking to examine the register. The man’s entry has been read three times since his interment.”
“London told me Sir Matthew said he’d been here,” reminded Jackson.
Charlie’s feet twinged, a physical response to the feeling of expectation that had been all too rare on this operation. Gesturing back toward the outer office, he said, “Is it regulations that everyone who wants to see the registration has to complete an entry slip?”
“Of course,” said the woman, impatiently. “There is a responsibility to the dead as well as to the living.”
“Which I’m sure you fulfill admirably,” flattered Charlie. “What happens to the slips?”
The clerk frowned at him, making vague movements toward the still-open drawer. “Each is quite properly transferred to the cabinet log. As it should be, of course.”
“I’d like to see the log. And the slips,” said Charlie.
“I’m not sure I can permit that,” said the woman.
“And I’m sure you can,” said Jackson, at once. “You need authority, make another phone call.”
The clerk hesitated, face burning, before taking a separate, thicker book from the bottom of the cabinet. Again she carefully turned the crackling pages, appearing to find her place but then turning one sheet back and forth several times. She finally looked up, frowning more genuinely this time. “I don’t understand that.”
“No slips?” anticipated Charlie.
“You knew?” she challenged.
“Guessed,” said Charlie.
“This is against all regulations! I’ll have to report it!”
“Yes,” agreed Charlie. “You should. No one can get access without accredited authority, can they?”
“No! You saw the procedure.”
“What about another nationality?”
“I don’t understand the question,” she protested.
“Immediately after the war, when Berlin was occupied by the Four Powers? And later, when it was divided?” coaxed Charlie. “Could,say, an American or a Russian have examined the entry? Needed to complete a slip like we did?”
The woman digested the question. “I suppose so,” she said, although doubtfully. “I’ve been here fifteen years and it’s never happened while I’ve been on duty. This is very irregular. There’ll be an inquiry! It won’t stop here!”
“It probably will,” predicted Charlie.
As they got back into Jackson’s car, the attache said, “Bureaucratic cock-ups happen every day.”
“But this isn’t one of them,” said Charlie, who was hoping fervently for others.
“What, then?”
“A second, much deeper burial that this time won’t be affected by freak weather.”
“The bastard!” exclaimed Miriam. “No reason at all!”
“Just that he’d been recalled immediately, he didn’t know why or for how long. And that he’d either call from London or be in touch as soon as he got back.” The Savoy barman ignored Lestov’s ruble-waving effort to attract attention, concentrating upon the dollar-tipping Americans at the other end of the bar.
“That’s bullshit! Of course he knows why!”
“I already worked that out,” said Lestov, pained.
In her fury Miriam missed the sarcasm. It had to be something very dramatic indeed for Charlie to have been called back like this. So she wasn’t ahead of everyone after all. The opposite. Way behind. But why hadn’t the son- of-a-bitch called? Making a point, obviously. Bastard! And why was Washington closing her out, insisting they couldn’t locate the relevant OSS files? Or trace any of the German names she’d asked to be identified, which she didn’t think Lestov had believed when she’d told him? Who the fuck’s side were they on? She grew angrier at her impotence. Petulantly she said, “So much for share and share alike! All right by me. I’ll play his rules from now on. Cut him out.”
Well aware by now of Miriam’s stop-at-nothing ambition, Lestov was not surprised at her peevishness but thought she sounded vaguely ridiculous. “Don’t you think we should wait to see if we can afford to?”
The Russian was right, Miriam accepted. “Let’s take a rain check on tonight, darling. I need to get back to the embassy and tell Washington straightaway.” She couldn’t think of a way to avoid admitting Charlie had gone off without telling her and knew she was going to appear pretty damned stupid.
Lestov wasn’t surprised at that announcement, either. His own possible benefit already worked out, he said, “One thing this should prove to us is the importance of you and I exchanging absolutely everything: no holding back, whatever we might be officially told to do.”
“I thought that was our understanding already,” said Miriam. She probably would have to do so if she stood any chance of catching up and saving her ass.
“It’s certainly mine,” said Lestov. He wasn’t particularly upset at Miriam canceling the evening. On his way to the hotel he’d become excited by an idea he had no intention whatsoever of discussing with her, as well as an oversight that needed correcting. Now he could go back to the ministry and start working at once. The barman finally condescended to move toward them. It gave Lestov a lot of satisfaction to walk away before the man reached them. He didn’t leave a tip for the previous drinks, either.
At the Lesnaya apartment Sasha handed the telephone back for Natalia to finish the conversation with Charlie and afterward said, “He is going to stay my daddy, isn’t he? He is coming back?”
“Yes,” said Natalia. “He’s going to stay your daddy forever.”
“Good,” said the child, positively. “I don’t want anybody else.”
“Neither do I,” said Natalia.
“The Foreign Office has been told by the State Department Charlie Muffin is here in England,” protested Patrick Pacey, the political officer. “According to the Ministry of Defense he’s turned up in Berlin. Both want explanations why they weren’t informed!”
“Charlie must have detoured,” said Dean, easily. “And have a reason. And we’re not required to advise departments either in advance or after initiating an inquiry in an investigation that we’re officially in charge of. The Ministry of Defense and Washington can go to hell.”
“He should have advised us,” said Hamilton. “He just can’t go wandering off.”
“I warned you,” said Gerald Williams. “Warned everyone. The man does what he likes and we’ll all suffer because of it.”
Charlie had been right about the reaction from the rest of Whitehall, thought Dean, reflectively. And why was it so important to America?
“Berlin is quite safe,” insisted Boyce. “We tidied it up when it all began.”
“Where, exactly, is the damned man? England or Germany?”
“Dean thinks he’s moving somewhere between the two.”
“Thinks! Why doesn’t he
“It wouldn’t look right, so soon. Don’t forget what Dean put on record. He’s too independent: he’d make a fuss. I’m still seeing everything that’s coming in. Muffin’s still way off course. We’ll let him continue going around in circles. It’s actually causing more confusion than we’d hoped to create.”
“I’m going to close down my end,” decided Peters. “I think you should do the same.”
“Not yet, Kenton,” said the other man, who disliked the American’s need always to be in complete charge. “We’ll let my end run on for the moment.”
