'Yes, you're right. I'm sorry. Look, I hate to sound callous, but let's see if we can't use this to get an adjournment.'
'I don't know if this quite qualifies as compassionate,' Liebl hummed. 'It's not as if they were married or anything.'
'She was going to have his baby, for Christ's sake.'
There was a brief, shocked silence. Then Liebl spluttered, 'I had no idea. Yes, you're right, of course. I'll see what I can do.'
'Do that.'
'But however am I going to tell Herr Becker?'
'Tell him she was murdered,' I said. He started to say something, but I was not in a mood to be contradicted. 'It was no accident, believe me. Tell Becker it was his old comrades who did it. Tell him that precisely. He'll understand. See if it doesn't jog his memory a little. Perhaps now he'll remember something he should have told me earlier. Tell him that if this doesn't make him give us everything he knows then he deserves a crushed windpipe.' There was a knock at the door. Belinsky with Traudl's travel papers. 'Tell him that,' I snapped and banged the receiver back onto its cradle. Then I crossed the floor of the room and hauled the door open.
Belinsky held Traudl's redundant travel papers in front of him and gave them a jaunty wave as he came into the room, too pleased with himself to notice my mood.
'It took a bit of doing, getting a pink as quickly as this,' he said, 'but old Belinsky managed it. Just don't ask me how.'
'She's dead,' I said flatly, and watched his big face fall.
'Shit,' he said, 'that's too bad. What the hell happened?'
'A hit-and-run driver.' I lit a cigarette and slumped into the armchair. 'Killed her outright. I've just had Becker's lawyer on the phone telling me. It happened not far from here, a couple of hours ago.'
Belinsky nodded and sat down on the sofa opposite me. Although I avoided his eye I still felt it trying to look into my soul. He shook his head for a while and then produced his pipe which he set about filling with tobacco. When he had finished he started to light the thing and in between fire-sustaining sucks of air, he said, 'Forgive me for asking but you didn't change your mind did you?'
'About what?' I growled belligerently.
He removed the pipe from his mouth and glanced into the bowl before replacing it between his big irregular teeth. 'I mean, about killing her yourself.'
Finding the answer on my rapidly colouring face he shook his head quickly. 'No, of course not. What a stupid question. I'm sorry.' He shrugged. 'All the same, I had to ask. You must agree, it's a bit of a coincidence, isn't it? The Org asks you to arrange an accident for her, and then almost immediately she gets herself knocked down and killed.'
'Maybe you did it,' I heard myself say.
'Maybe.' Belinsky sat forward on the sofa. 'Let's see now: I waste all afternoon getting this unfortunate little frSulein a pink and a ticket out of Austria.
Then I knock her down and kill her in cold blood on my way here to see you. Is that it?'
'What kind of car do you drive?'
'A Mercedes.'
'What colour?'
'Black.'
'Someone saw a black Mercedes speeding further up the street from the scene of the accident.'
'I dare say. I've yet to see the car which drives slowly in Vienna. And in case you hadn't noticed, just about every other non-military vehicle in this city is a black Mercedes.'
'All the same,' I persisted, 'maybe we should take a look at the front fenders, and check for dents.'
He spread his hands innocently, as if he had been about to give the sermon on the mount. 'Be my guest. Only you'll find dents all over the car. There seems to be a law against careful driving here.' He sucked some more of his pipe smoke.
'Look, Bernie, if you don't mind me saying so I think we're in danger of throwing the handle after the axe- head here. It's a real shame that Traudl's dead, but there's no sense in you and me falling out over it. Who knows? Maybe it was an accident. You know it's true what I said about Viennese drivers.
They're worse than the Soviets, and they take some beating. Jesus, it's like a chariot-race on these roads. Now I agree that it's a hell of a coincidence, but it's not an impossible one, by any stretch of the imagination. You must admit that, surely.'
I nodded slowly. 'All right. I admit it's not impossible.'
'On the other hand maybe the Org briefed more than one agent to kill her so that if you missed, somebody else was bound to get her. It's not unusual for assassinations to be handled that way. Certainly not in my own experience, anyway.' He paused, and then pointed his pipe at me. 'You know what I think? I think that the next time you see K/nig, you should simply keep quiet about it.
If he mentions it then you can assume that it probably was an accident and feel confident of taking the credit for it.' He searched in his jacket pocket and drew out a buff-coloured envelope which he threw into my lap. 'It makes this a little less necessary, but that can't be helped.'
'What's this?'
'From an MVD station near Sopron, close to the Hungarian border. It's the details of MVD personnel and methods throughout Hungary and Lower Austria.'
'And how am I supposed to account for this little lot?'
'I rather thought that you could handle the man who gave it to us. Frankly it's just the sort of material that they're keen on. The man's name is Yuri. That's all you need to know. There are map references and the location of the dead-letter box he's been using. There's a railway bridge near a little town called Mattersburg. On the bridge is a footpath and about two-thirds of the way along the handrail is broken. The top part is hollow cast metal. All you have to do is collect your information from there once a month, and leave some money and instructions.'
'How do I account for my relationship with him?'
'Until quite recently Yuri was stationed in Vienna. You used to buy identity papers for him. But now he's getting more ambitious, and you haven't the money to buy what he's got to offer. So you can offer him to the Org. CIC has already assessed his worth. We've had all we're going to get out of him, at least in the short term. There's no harm done if he gives all the same stuff to the Org.'
Belinsky re-lit his pipe and puffed vigorously while he awaited my reaction.
'Really,' he said, 'there's nothing to it. An operation of this sort is hardly deserving of the word intelligence. Believe me, very few of them are. But all in all a source like this and an apparently successful bit of murder leaves you pretty well accredited, old man.'
'You'll forgive my lack of enthusiasm,' I said drily, 'only I'm beginning to lose sight of what I'm doing here.'
Belinsky nodded vaguely. 'I thought you wanted to clear your old pitman.'
'Maybe you haven't been listening. Becker was never my friend. But I really think he is innocent of Linden's murder. And so did Traudl. So long as she was alive this case really felt as if it was worthwhile, there seemed to be some point in trying to prove Becker innocent. Now I'm not so sure.'
'Come on, Gunther,' Belinsky said. 'Becker's life without his girl is still better than no life at all. Do you honestly think that Traudl would have wanted you to give up?'
'Maybe, if she knew the kind of crap he was into. The kind of people he was dealing with.'
'You know that's not true. Becker was no altar-boy, that's for sure. But from what you've told me about her I'd bet she knew that. There's not much innocence left anymore. Not in Vienna.'
I sighed and rubbed my neck wearily. 'Maybe you're right,' I conceded. 'Maybe it's just me. I'm used to having things being a little more well-defined than this. A client came along, paid my fee and I'd point my suit in whatever direction seemed appropriate. Sometimes I even got to solve a case. That's a pretty good feeling, you know. But right now it's like there are too many people near me, telling me how to work. As if I've lost my independence. I've stopped feeling like a private investigator.'
Belinsky rocked his head on his shoulders like a man who has sold out of something. Explanations probably. He made a stab at one all the same. 'Come on, surely you must have worked undercover before now.'
