The crowds were dense and resolute, booted and fur-lined: the Berliners walked fast, he had noticed, with a dogged sense of purpose, as though each of them feared being late. A yellow truck crawled down the edge of the street, spraying sand on the frozen surface. They began to walk arm in arm up the street, reached their hotel and pushed through a heavy curtain, into the warm lobby mewing and tinkling with Muzak; a girl’s sharp metal voice sounded from the bar. It was nearly three o’clock. Hawn stretched and winced. His neck and ribs still ached after the handiwork of Pol’s ‘most dangerous man in Europe’, and he had slept badly; though Anna seemed to have recovered.
‘I’m going to get a couple of hours’ sleep. I’m done in.’
‘Do you mind if I go out for a walk? I thought I might look at the city.’
‘I’d rather you stayed here. If you go anywhere, I’d prefer to be with you.’
She smiled, crinkling up her eyes. ‘Determined to play the knight in shining armour?’
‘Just a sensible precaution. In Istanbul they decided to warn only me. Next time they may decide to do it the other way round — lean on you instead. Perhaps pick you up and hold you, just to make sure I behave myself.’
‘Tom, love.’ She turned and faced him in the middle of the lobby, putting both hands on his shoulders. ‘Haven’t you realized yet that whatever we decide to do, we’re committed? You’ve just spelt it out yourself. Because even if ABCO let us go — on the assumption that we don’t yet know quite enough to really damage them — there’s always fat Charlie Pol. And you can be certain he’ll look after me — make sure I’m not kidnapped.’ She looked up at him, with a small crooked smile. ‘Tom, what interests me is — why doesn’t ABCO, with its entire reputation at stake, just rub us out? Two French tourists murdered in Berlin — poof! — killed in a car accident, run over in the street. It’ll take a bit of time to unravel the business of our real identity, but with ABCO’s influence with the German police, I don’t suppose anyone’ll make too much fuss about that.’
He began to yawn, and clamped his jaws shut. ‘You’re asking me why we’re still alive? Because ABCO don’t yet know enough. They know we’re on to something, and they must know we’re not alone — that we’ve got powerful interests backing us and covering up for us, as well as murdering the vital witnesses, like Mönch and Salak, as soon as they cease to be useful. But as far as ABCO know, we’re just the pathfinders — the pawns. Pol’s pawns. And ABCO are no doubt far more interested in Pol than they are in us. For the moment they may be happy to let us run free — just to see how far the line leads, and how well they’ve covered their tracks and where the loose links are. It’s when we come to the end of the line that we’ll be in real danger.’
The lift doors opened.
‘All right, you go for your walk. If you don’t come back…’ Hawn shrugged dramatically. ‘Well, if you don’t come back, I’ll just go and meet Pol at the Kempinski at six and hope he can set his organization on to finding you.’ He stepped back towards her. ‘Anna, forget the walk. Come to bed.’
‘No. You’re far too tired. You look like a death’s head — you must get some sleep before we meet Pol.’
He took hold of her and kissed her on the lips and on the forehead and behind her ear. ‘Oh shit,’ he whispered, ‘I hope this isn’t the last time I do this. I don’t want to lose you, Anna. I don’t want to lose you to anyone — least of all to those bastards in ABCO.’
‘You won’t lose me,’ she said, breaking free of him. ‘I can look after myself. Anyway, you’re probably just as vulnerable in the hotel.’
‘Thanks for the tip.’ He watched her walk away and disappear through the revolving doors.
Hawn woke suddenly, from a dreamless sleep. He couldn’t think where he was. The darkened chandelier, the dim shape of the twenty-four-inch television set, the half-curtained windows against the twilight which was already full of blinking neon and the moving beams of traffic.
He must have dozed off again, because when he next looked at his watch it was 5.32. He leapt up, turned on the bedside light and glanced around. Anna was not there.
His first reaction was confusion. He didn’t know whether to be furious or scared. There was no time to take a shower; he doused his head in cold water, grabbed his trousers and shirt, and in the middle of pulling them on, rang down to the desk. There had been no messages for him, no word from Madame Marziou.
He now began to dress more slowly, feeling his rage turning against himself. It was his fault for letting her go on her little walkabout. She didn’t even have a street map — unless she’d had the sense to buy one on the way out. And she would be followed — that much was certain. They had both known it, when they had parted downstairs.
He must have been crazy to let her go! Or just dull with lack of sleep. Out there, alone, Anna would be as vulnerable as a child. A single bullet from a cruising car, or a manipulated skid against a blank wall. Or perhaps, after all, they would just want to hold her as a bargaining counter. It would be easy enough to have a car creep up beside her in the snow, the front door open, boxing her in with the rear door, then dragging her into
