shapes of tank obstructions. There would be mines, guessed Charlie, and electronic sensors. Just like East Berlin.
At the Czech barrier, he stood still, right hand resting on the pole. The shaking had stopped, he saw, gratefully. The impatient light burst from the darkened car, urging him on.
He hesitated several seconds, then ducked beneath it. The Czech border posts were completely deserted, he saw, yellow lights pooling into empty rooms. Beyond the control houses, he walked through a cathedral of tall pines which made it completely dark. It was still and quiet, like a church, he thought, extending his metaphor.
Gradually the whiteness of a face registered through the windscreen of the car he was approaching and when he got nearer he saw the figure move, winding down the driver’s window.
‘You appear very nervous, Mr Muffin,’ greeted Kalenin.
‘Yes,’ agreed Charlie.
The General got from the car, smiling up at him. He opened his coat, disclosing civilian clothes.
‘I had intended to wear my uniform and medals,’ he said, calmly. ‘But then I decided it might have created difficulties in Vienna.’
‘Yes,’ said Charlie, ‘it might have done.’
Around them the night was wrapped like a blanket. There was no sound from the forest, realised Charlie, suddenly. Which was wrong. There should have been animal movement, as there was on the Austrian side.
‘I’ve a great many medals,’ said Kalenin.
‘I know,’ said Charlie.
The Russian nodded towards the bag.
‘Is that the money?’
Charlie lifted it on to the bonnet of the car.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘I suppose I should examine it?’
‘Yes,’ said Charlie. ‘It was bloody heavy carrying it all this way.’
Kalenin unsnapped the fastenings and ruffled the notes.
‘So much money,’ he said, whimsically.
‘Enough for a lifetime,’ assessed Charlie.
Kalenin jerked his head back across the border.
‘They’ll be watching through infra-red nightglasses,’ he guessed.
‘Yes,’ said Charlie. ‘The advance party will have them. The message will have already been sent to Vienna that we’ve met.’
Kalenin nodded. He seemed reluctant to move, thought Charlie.
‘The whole border seems deserted,’ pressed Charlie.
‘Yes,’ said Kalenin, easily. ‘I’ve got very great power in all the satellite countries. Whatever I say is obeyed. It was really very easy.’
Charlie looked back into Austria.
‘There’s a man back there who hoped you’d be pursued by armed guards,’ he reported.
‘Sometimes I feel sorry for the Americans,’ said Kalenin. ‘There’s so many who’d like still to go West in covered wagons, shooting Indians.’
The two men stood for several seconds looking at each other.
‘Well,’ said Kalenin, finally, ‘shall we go?’
‘Yes,’ said Charlie.
‘I think I should carry the money,’ said Kalenin, reaching out.
‘Of course,’ agreed Charlie.
Wilberforce remained on duty in the Whitehall office, waiting for the message from Vienna that Kalenin was on his way. He had delayed until late in the evening seeing Janet, hoping a signal would make the encounter impossible, but no contact had been made and now he sat gazing down into his lap, embarrassed by the completeness of the girl’s account of the previous night. He’d already listened to the recordings of the tapes of which she was unaware and knew she had omitted nothing. Involving her had been an offensive mistake, decided Wilberforce.
‘In many ways,’ he said, apologetically, ‘I regret the decision to ask you to inform upon the man. It’s proved completely unnecessary. And distasteful.’
‘I know,’ said Janet.
Wilberforce looked up at her and for the first time she realised how pale his eyes were. They gave his face an unreal, frightening expression.
He smiled, kindly.
‘You’ve grown very fond of him, haven’t you?’ he probed.
‘Yes,’ admitted Janet, immediately, ‘which makes what I’ve done even worse.’
‘You’ll have to get over it, you know,’ advised the civil servant. ‘Nothing can possibly come of any relationship.’
‘I know,’ accepted the secretary.
She moved forward in her chair.
‘Tell me,’ she demanded, ‘he’ll be all right, after this, won’t he? I mean the Director won’t dump him, like he was planning to, all those months ago.’
Wilberforce took several minutes to reply.
‘I don’t know,’ he lied, finally.
The telephone made them both jump.
‘They’ve met,’ reported Wilberforce, replacing the receiver. ‘Kalenin and Charlie have met.’
(18)
‘It’s very heavy,’ complained Kalenin, as they approached the Austrian border.
‘Shall I help?’
‘I think I can manage,’ said the General, using two hands to hold the case. The tiny Russian paused before the barrier, lowering the bag to the ground.
‘The moment of commitment,’ he said, turning to Charlie.
‘Yes,’ agreed the Briton.
Kalenin sighed, then positively shoved the bag beneath the post with his foot. It grated over the road, an irritating, scratching sound.
‘Too late to go back now,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ said Charlie. ‘I thought that on the way over.’
They bent together beneath the bar and walked easily towards the Mercedes. Braley had turned the car, Charlie saw. He would have expected to have heard the sound of the engine.
Marshall was in the border post now, Charlie noticed, gazing hopefully over their shoulders for pursuit. His men would be deployed on either side of the road, Charlie knew. They were very professional: it was impossible to isolate them against the blackness of the woods.
Charlie escorted the Russian past the point without looking, suddenly anxious to get away from the area. Braley was waiting, the car doors already open.
‘I’ll travel in the front,’ selected Kalenin. He turned to Charlie.
‘Are you the driver?’
‘Yes,’ said Charlie.
The Russian nodded, as if the information were important.
Braley held the door for him and Kalenin seated himself fussily, arranging his coat comfortably about him before lowering the case on to his lap.
Charlie and the American paused briefly, looking at each other. Then Braley closed the door and Charlie
