Hawn sank back into the rear seat. ‘Lovely spot, Sam. What happens around here?’
‘I believe it’s a popular holiday resort in the summer. In winter there’s hunting and fishing. The whole area is full of lakes. But it’s usually empty round now, till the weekend.’
‘How long do we have to wait?’
‘Not long, I hope.’ Not once did Hanak turn his head while he spoke.
Hawn sat forward, speaking close to the man’s ear. ‘Listen, Sam. We were pretty patient and easy-going last night — perhaps it was the booze, plus the friendly fists and boots of the People’s Police. I didn’t press you too hard. This morning I feel different. There are one or two more things I want to know. About you, for instance. You’re not German, are you?’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Well, if I met an Eskimo or a Papuan Indian, I’d say they weren’t German either, I think you’re English. London, born and bred.’
‘Please yourself.’
‘Come on, Sam. I’m not pleasing myself, nor are you. I thought you might be an English Communist who likes to play free and easy in East Germany. But the authorities in these countries tend not to trust English Communists — not enough, at any rate, to have them practically pulling rank on a full Colonel of Security. I think you’re here on a very special mission, with a very special status. Are you anything to do with ABCO?’
Hanak laughed. ‘No, I am not.’ This time he turned in his seat. ‘Look, Tom, you got yourself into this thing. You went in with your eyes open — both of you. You’ve had plenty of opportunity to get out, but you carried right on. OK, that’s your decision. But look at it from my point of view. This is a big game, and I’m one of the players. There is also a damn big pot in the middle of the table. And now, just as the final hand is about to be played, you ask to see my cards.’ His soft lips smiled, but his eyes remained grave. ‘Sorry, Hawn — I’m not showing you my cards.’
In the far distance, down the straight road, a dark blob had appeared. Hawn stiffened. Hanak and Anna had seen it too. It grew larger: an olive-green jeep with a canvas hood and two Vopos in the front.
It stopped exactly opposite them, in front of the hut. The Vopo in the passenger seat got out. He stared at the Skoda, then walked round to the back of the jeep. A second man appeared. He was tall, in a long black overcoat. He stood quite still for several seconds, then walked past the Vopo towards the Skoda, with a crooked loping movement. He was a hunchback.
The Vopo followed a few paces behind, opened the rear door of the Skoda. The man climbed awkwardly in, folding his legs up as though they were shanks of badly articulated machinery. He wore gold-rimmed spectacles which magnified his eyes out: of all proportion. His hair was a shock of grey, with no parting, and his ears had a translucent look, mauve with the cold.
Hanak turned and said, ‘I would like you to meet Doktor Reiss.’
Hawn looked the man in the eye and said, ‘Shouldn’t it be Alan Rice?’
The hunchback showed his teeth, long and yellow like well-polished wooden pegs. ‘I haven’t been called that in nearly thirty years!’ His accent was clearly English, but slightly offkey: like one of those long-retired Englishmen who have lived for years in exile on some sunny slope.
Hanak said: ‘Doktor Reiss knows why we are here.’
Reiss’s bloodless lips stretched back again across his gums. ‘I thought they’d have forgotten about it by now. Who dug it up?’
‘Mr Hawn is an English journalist. Miss Admiral is a professional researcher.’
The hunchback nodded. ‘I offer you both my congratulations. You must have both been very lucky and very tenacious. You must also have won the trust and co-operation of certain people who are not much given to friendly confidences.’ He smiled again, at each of them; his breath had a sour bitter smell. Hawn wondered if he had been drinking.
Outside, the Vopo had got back into the jeep, and a moment later it started up. Hanak watched it until it was well past them, then turned again towards the back seat:
‘Doktor Reiss, we still have to recover the documents — the full minutes and memoranda of every meeting concerned with “Operation Bettina”.’
Rice drew his lips back even further; he looked like a man who had been dead for days. ‘Why are you so sure that I know?’
Hanak spoke quietly, without once looking at Hawn and Anna: ‘Because you were leading co-ordinating officer of the whole operation. You ran the Istanbul end, and later the Caribbean. And von have been interrogated by the authorities here and have told them where the documents were hidden. We know that it is somewhere in this area.’
Hawn interrupted: ‘I’d like to ask Doctor Rice a question. Who was in charge of this operation on the other side — our side?’
Rice seemed not to have heard. He had taken out a handkerchief and soundlessly blew his nose. Hawn persisted: ‘Was somebody called Shanklin involved? Major Toby Shanklin?’
Rice’s reaction was swift and spiteful. ‘What do you know about it all? It was too long ago — you were too young, you and this Jew here.’
Hawn said: ‘I know that Shanklin was in Mexico and Venezuela with you. He was also with you one night when you killed a man in your car. I don’t know who was driving, but the dead man was a Consular official called de Vere Frisby. He’d been in Istanbul earlier,
