Stattin Station

For the second time that evening, Russell was lost for words.

'We can't hide there for ever,' Effi continued, 'but it should give us a breathing space while we work out what we're going to do.'

'We?'

'Of course 'we'. But we can discuss all that when we get there. Let's get on the U-Bahn.'

There was no watch on the U-Bahn entrance, but the train was just crowded enough to inhibit further conversation, and neither spoke again before they reached their Leopold platz stop. Russell was still struggling to adjust. How had she arranged all this without his noticing? He had always known that Effi had many strengths, but he had never thought that strategic planning was one of them.

Back on the surface, it seemed noticeably darker than downtown, but Effi picked their way through the grid of streets without apparent difficulty. 'It's not the Adlon,' she said, as they reached the end of Prinz-Eugen-Strasse, 'but there is a private toilet. I thought we should see as little of the neighbours as possible. The concierge is old and deaf, which has to help, and the original block warden seemed like a nice man. He was one of my reasons for choosing this place, but he died in the summer. I haven't met his replacement, but the woman across the landing doesn't like him. Her husband is in Russia by the way. From the way she talks I'd say he was a Red in the old days.'

She stopped by the entrance to a courtyard. 'This is it,' she said, pulling her keys from her coat pocket, and heading for the doors on the left hand side. The walls of the buildings rose up into darkness, leaving Russell with the impression that he was standing at the bottom of a deep well.

The key turned smoothly, and Effi pushed into the dimly-lit interior. There was no sight or sound of the portierfrau, and they climbed the two flights of stairs to the first floor. Another door, another key, and they were safe inside the apartment.

It was better than Russell had expected. The block's heating was obviously adequate, and the flat, though decidedly cramped, seemed pleasant enough. The living room had space for two armchairs, a side table and two upright chairs. The kitchen, though essentially a passage leading to the small bathroom, had an electric stove and several wall cupboards well-stocked with provisions. 'A film star's perks,' Effi explained. In the bathroom itself, the various elements of her make-up kit were laid out on another narrow table.

The bedroom was just large enough to accommodate a double bed and wardrobe. Opening the latter, Russell was surprised to find a selection of his own clothes, including several of the items he had given up for lost. 'I brought all the photographs of you,' she said behind him. 'I'm afraid they won't have any trouble finding ones of me.'

He turned to embrace her. 'You're absolutely unbelievable,' he said.

'And I bought the Rugen Island jigsaw which we never got round to doing,' she added once their hug had loosened.

He didn't know whether to laugh or weep.

'I'll boil some water,' she said.

He sat down, ran a hand through his hair. He had to convince her to go back, but the thought of losing her seemed scarier than ever. Too much had happened too quickly. Much too much. He got back to his feet intent on pacing, but the room wasn't big enough. A look around the edge of the window screening revealed only darkness.

She brought in two tin mugs of tea. 'No milk, I'm afraid.'

He took his and held her eye. 'Effi, they're only after me. You had no part in the business two years ago, and there's no way they could prove otherwise. Tomorrow morning, you should go back to Carmerstrasse and... in fact, the best thing you can do is go to the Alex and report me missing.'

She smiled and shook her head. 'John, you know as well as I do that they'll arrest me. And I'm not going back to the Gestapo, not voluntarily. The last time was bad enough, and this time they'd want to know where you are. I'd have a choice between telling them, and wasting all the effort I've put into this place, or not telling them, and having them do God knows what to me. I'm not doing it, so forget that idea right now. We're in this together - if you get out then I get out; if you don't, then I don't want to either.'

'But you're making yourself an accessory,' Russell argued. 'Helping an enemy of the Reich, that's treason. They could execute you. At the very least, they'll put you in Ravensbruck.'

'I know that. And I'm scared. I expect you are too.'

'What about your career?' he asked stupidly.

'I used to enjoy it,' she admitted. 'All of it - the work, the money, being recognised. But not any more. Either it changed or I did. Or both. Whatever it was, it's over now. GPU will have to soldier on without me. And you have to think up some way of getting us out of the country. I know you can. It's the sort of thing you're good at.'

Russell wasn't so sure, but decided to play along. A discussion of the difficulties might make her see sense. 'All right,' he agreed. 'But we have to look at all the options. One,' he began, tapping his left thumb with his right index finger, 'we can give ourselves up. Two, I can try gate-crashing the American Consulate and you can go back home.' He raised a palm to stifle her protest. 'We're looking at all the options, and that's one of them. The bastards have nothing against you, and if they know where I am, then there's no need for them to question you.'

'You're not listening to me,' she said quietly.

'I am,' he insisted. 'I'll try to find a way to get us both out. But if there's no way to do that, then I'd rather go down alone than take you with me.'

'But you said yourself - there's a good chance they'd just walk into the Consulate and drag you out.'

'They might. They might not. But I'll take the chance. Effi, I'm not going to let you sacrifice yourself for no good reason.'

'Love is a good reason.'

'Okay, but love should be a reason to live. And if I'm going down anyway, I'd feel a lot happier knowing that you weren't. Wouldn't you feel the same way?'

'I don't know.'

'Look, let's get back to the options. If we're not giving ourselves up, we're left with two - either spend the war in hiding inside Germany, or find some way of getting out. A life in hiding doesn't look too promising - how would we eat, for a start?'

'I'd rather get out,' she admitted.

'Okay, we could try and get across a border. Switzerland is the obvious choice, being neutral, and I have a feeling we could survive in Denmark if we got there. Going east would be suicidal, going west... well, Holland, Belgium and France are all occupied, and we wouldn't be safe until we got to Spain, which is a hell of a long way away. So, Switzerland or Denmark. But how do we get there? We can't use our own papers, and neither of us - as far as I know - has any facility at forging documents.'

'No,' she agreed, walking into the bedroom and rummaging under the bed. 'But I do have these,' she said, pulling out an apparent pile of brown paper. She spread the paper out, revealing the uniform of an SS Sturmbannfuhrer. 'I also have a Luftwaffe pilot, a Reichfrauenschaft official and a nurse,' she added.

Russell shook his head in amazement. 'From the wardrobe department?' he guessed.

'I was spoilt for choice,' she confessed.

'They might come in useful,' he said, 'but without new papers... Any long distance train journey, there are checks every hour or so. And the moment someone asks for ours, we're done for. We wouldn't get a second chance.'

'Oh.'

'We'll have to get some papers from somewhere,' he said. Precisely where was another matter. Zembski's demise, while always unfortunate for Zembski, now also seemed fatal to their own prospects. Russell couldn't look up another Comintern forger in the Berlin telephone directory.

But he did still have a line to the comrades. Strohm could - and probably would - pass on a request for help.

Would they help? Russell felt he was owed - it was, after all, his passing of naval secrets to the Soviets which had put the Gestapo on his tail. Then again, Stalin and his NKVD were not known for their nostalgic sense of gratitude. But he would have to try them. There was no one else. Kenyon would want to help, if only to get his