‘Wait a minute,’ Hawn said, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice. ‘You said you’d fix us up with some things for the night. We haven’t even got toothbrushes.’
Wohl’s eyes flickered oddly, avoiding them both. ‘You are being sent some stuff round. They shouldn’t be long. Enjoy your meal.’
‘We’ll be seeing you again?’
‘Very possibly. You are in good hands. But for God’s sake don’t lose your passports and those visas. As for money, the hotel is all taken care of.’ He waved and they watched him stride away towards the door, his expensive shoes making no sound on the concrete floor.
For some time Hawn sat staring at the glum framed photograph on the wall of Erich Honecker, Chairman of the Council of State. He said at last, ‘Well thanks a lot, Comrade Wohl. I suppose we can hardly blame the bastard. We certainly can’t say that we didn’t go with him of our own free will. As it is, without any East German money we can hardly move out of the hotel. And if we start fooling around with the Black Market, they’ll have got us just where they probably want us — without having to rig the evidence. Still, they must be able to do better than that. I mean, the personal services of Doktor Oskar Wohl can’t come all that cheap — in whatever kind of currency they pay him.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘Nothing. We wait. It’s their move.’
Anna looked around. ‘Do you suppose the hotel’s bugged?’
‘Probably. Fact tends to follow fiction in these sort of places. I don’t suppose it matters much.’
‘I mean, shouldn’t we be speaking in French?’
‘Oh Christ, angel. Do we have to act out the whole of Pol’s script for the benefit of the East German Secret Police?’
‘All right. Be serious for a moment. Did you notice how Wohl’s manner changed when he got here?’
‘I know. He seemed far too eager to get away just now. I can only think that he may have heard something at the border, when he collected our visas. Wohl’s a big wheel over in the West, where he’s his own master and can call all the shots. But here he’s on home territory and has to toe the line.’
The white-haired woman slouched over to them with a couple of plates of cold food and two glasses of frothy beer. They began to eat, but with diminished appetites. Anna said, ‘Maybe we could hitch a lift back to Berlin? I imagine those visas are in order?’
Hawn had them both in his pocket, folded inside his French passport. He examined them now for the first time. They looked genuine enough, valid from that day, for seven days. There seemed to be no restrictions on travel within East Germany; the only stipulation being that they return via the East Berlin crossing point.
‘Wohl said he’d send us over some stuff tonight. Maybe that means he’s passing us on to another contact — someone even more senior.’ He drank his beer; it was thin and warm, and when the froth had settled the glass was barely half full. ‘I can make do for one night without a toothbrush,’ he added, ‘and I don’t mind too much going unshaven. But what I’m going really to miss is something to read. I don’t much fancy sitting here for a couple of days, trying to screw the odd beer out of that old bitch, and reading about the latest hydroelectric complex in Turkestan.’
‘Well, what else can you think of doing in the middle of a dark, cold night, in East Germany?’
They drained their glasses, leaving the two cups of brown coffee which the old woman had placed, unsmiling, in front of them: walked out of the deserted dining room, up the pine staircase to their bare pine room. Anna undressed and had a shower in the narrow cubicle, while Hawn stripped off and got into one of the cheap lumpy beds. She was still slightly wet when she climbed in beside him, and for a moment they both almost toppled on to the floor. Anna began to giggle; and he held her close, caressed her, gently, skilfully, then raised himself on his hands and entered her. Her giggling became a soft mewing sound, growing louder. Vaguely Hawn wondered whether there were other guests, whether they could hear through the pine walls. He delayed for as long as possible, until she uttered a little shriek and he gave way to the moment of mindless delirium.
As he sank down on to her, kissing her mouth and eyes and hair, he was only dully conscious of sounds outside. A steady hammering, growing closer, louder. Heavy footsteps on the pine stairs, along the pine corridor. Boots — several pairs of them. Then the firm knocking on the door. He called in German, ‘Who is it?’
‘Sicherheitspolizei. Aufmachen!’
Hawn sprang up and dragged on his trousers, while Anna pulled the duvet up round her throat. Hawn went over and unlocked the door and opened it. Four men came in. Three of them wore the grey-green uniforms of the Vopos, and they were all carrying machine-pistols. The fourth man was older, squat and greying, in a sports jacket and open-necked shirt. ‘Your papers,’ he demanded. The three policemen, who were all very young, glanced at Anna, then looked away.
Hawn fetched their passports and visas. The plain-clothes man rifled through them several times. Hawn saw that he had big
