can contact him…'
`I don't know where Tweed is,' Newman said easily, 'but when you return to Pullach call London. You know Monica? Good. She may be able to get a message to him. And now, once again, why me?'
`I have one group underground inside East Germany Wolf knows nothing about. Led by a formidable man and a girl. You are not known in The Zone. It will be dangerous, but I think you could manage it.'
'Manage what?'
`Contact this group, find out direct from them – verbally – what is happening. I dare not use one of my own men who may be identified. And we are in the middle of reorganizing our radio communications system. The old one is blown.'
`You make it sound easy. How the devil could I ever hope to cross the border?'
That I can arrange…'
`With what chance of success?'
`Guaranteed. I can only give details when you have agreed.'
`If I agree. I have to sleep on it.'
`Don't sleep too long…'
`And don't push it. I think we'll turn back now. I want to get back to the Jensen.'
`Of course, of course.' Toll was at his most amiable and went on speaking in the same light-hearted way, as though discussing a holiday. 'We do know that your old friend, General Lysenko, is in East Germany, peering over Wolf's shoulder…'
`You're sure Lysenko is involved?' Newman's tone sharpened.
`Quiet sure. So, he is the man you would be up against in the last analysis. Only fair to lay all the cards on the table. You know me…'
`I know you. Feed the dog the food he likes, get him in a good humour. Hold back the bits that might give him indigestion.' `Now, Bob, when have I ever done that to you?'
A hurt tone in Toll's voice. His face expressed indignant disbelief. A good actor, Peter Toll.
`Just now,' Newman said as they turned down back towards the Trave and there was the distant sound of people laughing and talking. Another gloriously sunny day with glimpses through the trees of boats proceeding up and down the river.
`I don't understand,' Toll began.
`I won't even think about your offer unless you tell me exactly how I would cross the border. Where. How.'
`That is top secret information.' Toll paused, pushed up his glasses to the top of his nose. 'You go over straight through the minefield belt past a certain watchtower further south. The guards in that tower have been bribed. I have them in my pocket.'
'Oh, really? I do know something about the defences along the border. Each watchtower has three men on duty. Three men – not two. They worked out long ago that you might bribe two but the third man would always be the joker. He could pretend to agree, then report the other two to his superiors and gain promotion.'
`Correct,' Toll agreed. `Let us go and sit on the grass by the river. No one can overhear us.' He waited until they were sat side by side. `All three have been bribed – with gold. There is something about gold which draws out the avarice in men. They have been paid one-third of the agreed amount. They get the balance when they have safely passed you through – and back again on the return trip.'
`What about the watchtowers on either side?'
`They are some distance away, but they will be taken care of. One of the bribed guards will contrive a short-circuit. No one will be able to operate a searchlight…'
`And how do I choose a walk through the minefield?'
`The watchtower chosen overlooks a dummy section of the minefield. It is the route used by Wolf to infiltrate agents into the West. We know, but he doesn't know that we do know. We have taken the risk of letting his men through without intercepting them. Most important – we have not even followed his agents as they came through to avoid any of them becoming suspicious and reporting back. That was a very considerable sacrifice.'
`You have been more audacious than I anticipated. How many of your people at Pullach know about this open route?'
`Two. Myself and my chief. We have trusted no one. I would accompany you personally to the crossing point. At night, of course…'
`And supposing I did get through? How far do I have to travel to meet this underground unit?'
`Group Five, we call it.' Toll clasped his hands between his legs bent at the knees. `The leader, a formidable man, as I have said, will be waiting for you just beyond the minefield belt. He will have an extra bicycle for you. Travelling at night through countryside you make no noise on a bike – also you hear any car coming a good way off. Plenty of time to hide away from the road. I have given you all the data I am prepared to reveal until you decide – far more than I intended.'
`I also said where? I need to know the location.'
`Oh, my God! I suppose it's because you're a bloody reporter. You want every detail you can dig up. All this is confidential. Tweed must not know a word about it. We are working on the cell system…'
`Cell system?'
'No more than three members of a group know the identity of each other. The crossing point is near the ancient town of Goslar. And Group Five may have information on Dr Berlin. Satisfied?'
`Goslar? That's the Harz mountains area.'
`Which is difficult for the Vopos to control – or patrol. Now, what do you say? Incidentally, I am staying at the Movenpick Hotel. Under the name Allan Seeger. What do you say?'
`What I said before. I'll sleep on it.'
Newman didn't sleep on it. He lay awake most of the night. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing Diana was safe in her bedroom on the same floor. And that was the only satisfaction he did have.
Peter Toll had laid his bait with great skill. The crossing into East Germany might provide vital data on Dr Berlin. That fitted in neatly with what Tweed was trying to discover – the real role played by the elusive guardian of refugees. The reference to Lysenko was further temptation.
It seemed to provide a chance to deal a heavy blow against the Russian who had masterminded the murder of Newman's wife, Alexis, in Estonia further up the Baltic the previous year. If he was planning a major operation and it flopped that could be the end of General Vasili Lysenko. Gorbachev was not reputed to be a man who dealt kindly with subordinates who didn't deliver.
As he stirred beneath the sheets Newman was torn two ways. The idea of action appealed to him – he was feeling restless. But could he trust Peter Toll? Guaranteed. That was the word he had used about the border crossing. And by implication his safe return on the way back. Bollocks! No one could guarantee he'd cross safely inside East Germany – let alone return undetected.
The bland assurance of Toll worried Newman. He needed someone unknown to contact Group Five. But Newman was known to the GRU. Damnit, they had him on their bloody computer. All through the night he twisted and turned in bed, dripping with sweat from the humid atmosphere. Or was he sweating at the prospect of finding his way through that alleged dummy minefield? Was it still a dummy? Wolf had a habit of changing things round, never sticking to the same routine for too long. Cunning as a fox, Markus Wolf.
He fell into an uneasy sleep at 3.30. The dawn light coming in through the windows he had left uncurtained woke him. He got up, bathed, shaved, dressed, lit a cigarette and stared out on the deserted streets of Lubeck. The leaning towers with their witches' hats leered at him. He'd decide after an early breakfast.
`You're on your way to Heathrow. Aboard Flight BA 737, wearing a check suit very similar to the one you have on now..
Newman had entered an empty compartment at Hamburg Hauptbahnhof on the train back to Lubeck after seeing Diana off. Aboard Flight BA 737. He had helped her check in her single case, had taken her to the entrance to Final. Departures, where he had left her. He had returned to the station, boarded the train which had now left Hamburg behind, and Peter Toll had appeared, entered his compartment and made his statement as he sat down.
`What the hell do you mean?' he asked.
`One of our people who looks rather like you,' Toll explained and smiled. 'He's carrying a passport in your
