‘Ask Colonel Kardich. We told him.’ Hawn was now feeling mean and very angry; but Hanak either did not, or pretended not to, notice. His voice was still pleasant, with a dreadful mateyness: ‘Tell me.’
Hawn had difficulty suppressing his temper. He gulped at his drink and passed the glass to Anna. ‘A Frenchman by the name of Charles Pol.’
‘Ah, yes. Old Charlie Pol. I could have bet my last shirt that he’d get in on an act like this.’
‘You know him?’
‘Oh yes. I know him. A really naughty boy. Plays it mostly for kicks, too — that’s the funny thing. He’s made a fortune, in one way or another — most of them not quite legal. But it isn’t really the money that interests him. Charlie Pol is an old-fashioned adventurer — a buccaneer, freebooter, pirate. He makes his own rules and he expects everyone else to play by them. Otherwise, he owes allegiance and loyalty to no one.’
‘And whose rules are you playing by, Hanak?’
The man was pacing the room, making wide gestures as he spoke, and seemed not to hear the question. He paused by Anna’s chair. ‘Your whisky’s a bit low, my dear. Let me refresh it!’ This time he was rather clumsy, spilling some of the drink on the bed as he refilled the glass.
The whisky had anaesthetized Hawn’s mouth and stimulated his gut; and although the aggression it aroused still lingered, he found himself fascinated by Herr Sam Hanak: by the glib, breezy prattle of the better class of London car salesman or bouncy hairdresser — with none of the sad, morbid introspection of most Central European Jews, nor the hard phlegmatic anonymity of the prototype Communist agent. It occurred to Hawn that since Hanak knew Pol, he might only know Pol’s side of the story — something which the East Germans must be finding both confusing and a potential embarrassment. Murdering retired Nazi war criminals was a game they had long given up, if they had ever played it. But it was also a game of which they could not openly disapprove. Was Hanak’s job just to ease Hawn and Anna back to the West, without too many questions asked and answers given?
Sam Hanak tasted his second whisky. ‘What were we talking about? Ah yes, that Frenchman. You asked me how I met him. In a restaurant in Geneva, as a matter of fact. Pol had just been bankrupted by the Canton of Vaux — which is the most frightfully degrading thing. I mean, nobody goes to Switzerland and gets bankrupted. Like going to a top brothel and flopping on the job.’ He turned to Anna, with a little bow: ‘If you’ll forgive my coarseness?’
‘I didn’t ask you where you met him,’ Hawn said. ‘I asked you whose rules you were playing by.’
‘Oh I’m only a sort of linesman chap. I keep the score and make sure the ball stays in play.’
‘Herr Hanak, I think we’ve both been fairly patient with you so far. And we’re certainly grateful for your hospitality. But it’s about time you stopped poncing about and started being honest with us. Colonel Kardich told me that a very important person was coming to meet us — and Kardich doesn’t seem the sort of man who exaggerates. So I’ll accept that you’re important. High-ranking Party member? Security? — although you could have fooled me.
‘But what is it, Hanak, that makes us so important to you? Do you want to use us, or get rid of us? Or do you want to dandle us on your lap until it’s time to expose us as dangerous Western agents, then put us away for twenty years? We’d like to know.’
Sam Hanak smiled pleasantly. ‘You ask what’s going to happen to you? I shall be quite honest — I don’t know. I don’t know that it’s even been decided. I don’t even know what it’s all about. When one is put on to an operation like this, it is usual practice to be told only what is essential. What is essential about you is that you have been hired by Charles Pol — and that you have been working under his aegis for the last two months. The question is — what does Charles Pol want of you? Perhaps you could answer that for me?’
There was a slow pause. Hanak went on: ‘You ask what it’s all about. I can only tell you what I know. It’s about politics. International politics. Big power games — but without anything parochial, like East-West tantrums. Superpolitics. Super-national politics. At which point I should substitute politics with big business.’ He had stood up and was watching Hawn with his bright dark eyes.
‘Oil,’ said Hawn. ‘The Anglo-Britannic Consortium. Right?’
‘Spot on, old chap. Oil’s a funny thing. It gets everywhere, sticks to everything. It flows under the sea, underground, over frontiers, above ideologies — it can make governments, it can break them. It breaks friendships, too.’
‘We’re not friends,’ said Hawn. ‘We’re not even allies or colleagues. We’re here because we were brought here, under armed guard. We’ll go away under guard.’
The Jew gave them a sad smile. ‘You’re wrong. You’re staying tonight in this hotel, in the next room. The one condition is that you do not leave that room. Your things have been sent over from Headquarters and you can ring down for supper. Then tomorrow, at eight o’clock, we are going for a little drive.’
‘Just the three of us? No escort?’
‘Just the three of us.’
‘Where to?’
‘Not far. But please, don’t press me. You see, my position is rather like that of a surgeon preparing to undertake a difficult operation. I prefer to discuss the case when it is all over.’
Anna spoke for the
