not really know where to begin-he could not remember ever taking a woman out to dinner just for pleasure. As a teenager he had been too poor; after the war he had been too nervous and awkward; as he grew older he somehow never got into the habit There had been dinners with colleagues, of course, and with kibbutzniks after shopping expeditions in Nazareth; but to take a woman, just the two of you, for nothing more than the pleasure of each otheescompany... What did you do? You were supposed to pick her up in your car, wearing your dinner jacket, and give her a box of chocolates tied with a big ribbon. Dickstein was meeting Suza at the train station, and he had neither car nor dinner jacket. Where would he take her? He did not know any posh restaurants in Israel, let alone England. WaWng alone through Hyde Park~ he smiled broadly. This was a laughable situation for a man of forty- three to be in. She knew he was no sophisticate, and obviously she did not care, for she had invited herself to dinner. She would also know the restaurants and what to order. It was hardly a matter of life and death. Whatever happened, he was going to enjoy it. There was now a hiatus in his work. Having discovered that he was blown, he could do nothing until he had talked to Pierre Borg and Borg had decided whether or not to abort. That evening he went to see a French film called Un Homme et Une Femme. It was a simple love story, beautifully told, with an insistent Latin-American tune on the soundtrack. He left before the movie was halfway through, because the story made him want to cry; but the tune ran through his mind all night. In the morning he went to a phone booth in the street near his hotel and phoned the Embassy again. When he got through to the message center he said, 'This is Henry. Any reply?' The voice said, 'Go to ninety-three thousand and confer tomorrow.' Dickstein said, 'Reply: conference agenda at airport information.' Pierre Borg would be flying in at nine-thirty tomorrow.
The four men sat in the car with the patience of spies, silent and watchful, as the day darkened. Pyotr Tyrin was at the wheel, a stocky middle-aged man in a raincoat, drumming his fingernails on the dashboard, makIng a noise like pigeone feet on a roof. Yasif Hassan sat beside him. David Rostov and Nik Bunin were in the back. Nik had found the delivery man on the third day, the day he spent watching the Jean-Monnet building on the Kirchberg. He had reported a positive identification. 'He doesn't look quite so much of a nancy-boy in his office suit, but I'm quite sure iirs him. I should say he must work here.'
'I should have guessed,' Rostov had said. 'If Dickstein is after secrets his informants won't be from the airport or the Alfa Hotel. I should have sent Nik to Euratom first.' He was addressing Pyotr Tyrin, but Hassan heard and said, 'You can't think of everything.' 'Yes, I can,' Rostov told him. He had instructed Hassan to get hold of a large dark car. The American Buick they now sat in was a little conspicuous,but it was black and roomy. Nik had followed the Euratom man home, and now the four spies waited in the cobbled street close to the old terraced house. Rostov hated this cloak-and-dagger stuff. It was so oldfashioned. It belonged to the Twenties and Thirties, to places like Vienna and Istanbul and Beirut, not to western Europe in 1968. It was just dangerous to snatch a civilian off the street, bundle him into a car, and beat him until he gave you information. You might be seen by passersby who were not afraid to go to the police and tell what they had observed. Rostov liked things to be straightforward and clear-cut and predictable, and he preferred to use his brains rather than his fists. But this delivery man had gained in importance with each day that Dickstein failed to surface. Rostov had to know what he had delivered to Dickstein. and he had to know today. Pyotr Tyrin said, 'I wish he would come out.' 'We're in no hurry,' Rostov said. It was not true, but he did not want the team to get edgy and impatient and make mistakes. To relieve the tension he continued speaking. 'Dickstein did this, of course. He did what we've done and what we're doing. He watched the Jean-Monnet building, he followed this man home, and he waited here in the street. The man came out and went to the homosexual club, and then Dickstein knew the man's weakness and used it to turn him into an informant.' Nik said, 'He hasn't been at the club the past two nights.' Rostov said, 'He's discovered that everything has its price, especially love.' 'Love?' Nik said with scorn in his voice. Rostov did not reply. The darkness thickened and the street lights came on. The air coming through the open car window tasted faintly damp: Rostov saw a swirl or two of mist around the lights. The vapor came from the river. A fog would be too much to hope for in June. Tyrin said, 'What's this.' A fair-haired man in a double-breasted jacket was walking briskly along the sm*t towud them. diQuiet now,' Rostov W& The man stopped at the house they were watching. He rang a doorbell. Hassan put a hand on the door handle. Rostov hissed: 'Not yet.' A net curtain was briefly drawn aside in the attic window. The fair-haired man waited, tapping his foot. Hassan said, 'Me lover, perhaps?' 'For God's sake shut up,' Rostov told him. After a mmute the front door opened and the fair-haired inan stepped inside. Rostov got a glimpse of the person who had opened up: it was the delivery man. The door closed and their chance was gone. Too quick,- Rostov said. -Damn It.- Tyrin began to drum his fingers again, and Nik scratched himself. Hamm gave an exasperated sign, as if he had known all along that it was foolish to wait. Rostov decided that it was time to bring him down a peg or two. Nothing happened for an hour. Tyrin said, 'Ibey're spending an evening Indoors.' 'If they've had a brush with Dickstein they're probably afraid to go out at night,' Rostov said. Nik asked, 'Do we go in? 'Theres a problem' Rostov answered. 'From the window they can see who's at the door. I guess they won't open up for strangers. 'Me lover might stay the night,' T~Tk said. $&Quite.' Nik said, 'Vell just have to bust in.' Rostov ignored him. Nik always wanted to bust In, but he would not start any rough stuff until he was told to. Rostov was thinking that they might now have to snatch two people, which was more tricky and more dangerous. 'Have we got any firearms?' he said. Tyrin opened the glove box in front of him and drew out a pistol. 'Good,' Rostov said. 'So long as you don!t fire it'
'It's not loaded,' Tyrin said. He stuffed the gun into his raincoat pocket. Hassan said, 'If the lover stays the night do we take them in the morningr' 'Certainly not,' Rostov said. 'We cant do this sort of thing in broad daylight.' 'What, thenT' 'I haven't decided.' He thought about it until midnight, and then the problem solved itself. Rostov was watching the doorway through half-closed eyes. He saw the first movement of the door as it began to operL He said: 'Now.' Nik was first out of the car. Tyrin was next. Hassan took a moment to realize what was happening, then he followed suit. The two men were saying goodnight, the younger one on the pavement, the older just inside the door wearing a robe. The older one, the delivery man, reached out and gave his lover's arm a farewell squeeze. They both looked up, alarmed, as Nik and Tyrin burst out of the car and came at them. 'Don't move, be silent,' Tyrin said softly in French, showing them the gun. Rostov noticed -that Nik's sound tactical instinct had led him to stand beside and slightly behind the younger man. The older one said, 'Oh, my God, no, no more please.' 'Get in the car,' Tyrin said. The younger man said, 'Why can't you fuckers leave us alone? Watching and listening from the back seat of the car, Rostov thought: This is the moment they decide whether to come quietly or make trouble. He glanced quickly up and down the darkened street. It was empty. Nik, sensing that the younger man was thinking of disobedience, seized both his arms jug below the shoulders and held him tightly. 'Don't hux-t him, ru go,' said the older man. He stepped out of the house. His friend said, 'The bell you willl' Rostov thought: Damn. Ile younger man struggled in Nik's grip, then tried to stamp on NWs foot. Nil stepped back a pace and bit the boy in the kidney with his right fist 'No, Pierrel' the older one said, too loud. Tyrin jumped him and put a big hand over the man!s mouth. He struggled, got his head free, and shouted 'Helpl' before Tyrin gagged him again. Pierre had fallen to one knee and was groaning. Rostov leaned across the back seat of the car and called through the open window, 'Izes Rol' Tyrin lifted the older man off his feet and carried him bodily across the pavement toward the car. Pierre suddenly recovered from Nik's punch and sprinted away. Hassan stuck out a leg and tripped him. The boy went sprawling on to the cobbled road. . Rostov saw a light go on in an upstairs window at a neighboring-house. if the fracas continued much longer they would all get arrested. Tyrin bundled the delivery man into the back of the car. Rostov grabbed hold of him and said to Tyrin: 'I've got him. Start the car. Quick.' Nil had picked up the younger one and was carrying him to the car. Tyrin got Into the driver's seat and Hassan opened the other door. Rostov said, 'Hassan, shut the door of the house, idiotl' Nik pushed the young man into the car next to his friend, then got into the back seat so that the two captives were between Rostov and himself. Hassan closed the door of the house and jumped into the front passenger seat of the car. Tyrin gunned the car away from the curb. Rostov said in English, 'Jesus Christ almighty,. what a fuck-up.' Pierre was still groaning. The older prisoner said, 'We haven!t done anything to hurt you.' 'Haven't you?' Rostov replied. 'qbree nights ago, at the club in the Rue Dicks, you delivered a briefcase to an Englishman.- 64M Rodsersr 'Orhat's not his name,' Rostov said. 'Are you the police?' 'Not exactly.' Rostov would let the man believe what he wanted to. 'I'm not interested in collecting evidence, building a case, and bringing you to a trial. I'm interested in what was in that briefcase.' There was a silence Tyrm spoke over his shoulder 'Want me to head out of town, look for a quiet spot?' Vait,- Rostov said. The older man said, 'I'll tell you.' 'Just drive around town,' Rostov told Tyrin. He looked at the Euratom, man. 'So tell me.' 'It was a Euratom computer printouV' 'And the information on it?' 'Details of licensed shipments of fissionable materials.' 'Fissionable? You mean nuclear stuff?' 'Yellowcake, uranium metal, nuclear waste, plutonium.. .' Rostov sat back in the seat and looked out of the window at the fights of the city going by. His blood raced with excitement: Dickstein!s operation was becoming visible. Ilcensed shipments of fissionable materials ...
