He was bent double over his knees, his wool jacket stretched so tightly across his broad back that its seams were easing apart.
‘Have you the forty marks you owe me?’ he gasped at last.
‘Not here — inside.’
The little temple smelt worse. Wolff waited until his eyes had adjusted to the gloom, then hoisted himself on to a ledge.
‘Can’t we meet somewhere else?’ grumbled Christensen.
‘Next time. What do you have for me?’
‘Where’s my money?’
Reaching into his jacket, Wolff took out his cigarette case and offered it to him: ‘All in good time.’
Christensen waved it away irritably. ‘I don’t want to do this any more.’
‘Got a better offer?’
‘You don’t need me.’ He took a step away, reaching up to a marble bust of the architect’s wife, running his large forefinger down her nose. ‘I told you to leave it to me,’ he added resentfully.
‘Are you jealous?’
‘If you can do it on your own, why don’t you?’ he said, turning to gaze at Wolff.
‘Belt and braces, Adler, I need you. Of course I do.’
‘Roger likes you. He’s spending too much time with you.’
‘You’ve spoken about me?’
Christensen nodded.
‘Damn stupid. One small mistake and we’ll end up here.’ Wolff gestured angrily to the view of the cemetery beyond the temple columns. ‘But not before a lot of pain.’
‘You’re wrong.’
‘Don’t be a fool.’ Wolff slipped off the ledge and took a step towards him. ‘This is a dirty business, you can’t imagine.’
‘Sir Roger wouldn’t let them.’
He sounded very sure — cocksure. Wolff glared at him until he looked away.
‘He isn’t going to fall on his knees and beg them to spare you, Adler.’
‘No? Why not?’ His finger was trailing over the architect’s wife again, from her hair, to her forehead, to her nose, to her lips. ‘He’s fallen on his knees for me before, you know.’
Wolff felt a frisson of disgust before he was entirely sure why. ‘I don’t know what you mean and I’m not sure I care to know.’
‘Yes you do, I can see you do,’ he said, smirking. ‘That’s why he’ll always want
Wolff stared at him coldly: filth. A liability. He would have to go. In the Grunewald forest perhaps, the body in the Havel. For a few seconds Wolff wanted to do it. Of course that fool Findlay should have told him.
‘You see…’ prompted Christensen, watching Wolff closely. ‘Leave it to me. Keep away. I’ll get you what you want.’
‘Shut up, Adler. Shut up.’ Wolff grabbed him by the collar and shook him. It wasn’t easy; he was a big man. ‘Do what you and Casement do…’ he paused, ‘…if you must, but you’re a bloody fool if you think he’ll save you. They don’t give a damn about him. If they catch me, they’ll probably shoot him too.’
‘Get off me,’ Christensen said, brushing Wolff’s hand from his collar. His eyes had narrowed to slits beneath his heavy brow. ‘They care about him. He’s helping them, here and in America.’
Wolff took a step back and leant against one of the columns. ‘How?’
‘Are you going to pay me?’
‘So you’re still in business?’ He stared at Christensen for a moment, then reached into his jacket for his wallet. ‘It better be good.’
‘I copied it from his diary. You’d be surprised what there is in there,’ he said with a little chuckle. ‘All sorts of little secrets.’
‘Oh?’
‘But nothing that would interest you,’ he added sheepishly.
‘It might.’
‘No, it wouldn’t. Look, here are my notes.’ He was suddenly keen to talk about something else.
Wolff glanced at them, then at Christensen.
‘From his diary, you say?’
‘Yes. He copies important documents into his diary.’
‘Word for word?’
‘Yes.’
It was the text of a minute from the Chief of the General Staff of the Army.
Erich von Falkenhayn, Chief of the General Staff to Rudolf Nadolny
Secret
General Headquarters, 12 February, 1915
The American leaders of the Irish and Sir Roger Casement have agreed to the following proposals:
1. To separate all Catholic Irish prisoners of war from the other prisoners as quickly as possible and to unite them in a place where Sir Roger Casement can encourage them to join an Irish Brigade to fight against England.
2. In the event that he succeeds, an Irish Brigade shall be organised under the command of some English- speaking German officers. The Brigade will be equipped with uniforms and guns.
3. A further 20,000 rifles and 10 machine guns with ammunition and explosives will be provided for a rebellion in Ireland.
4. The German Empire will furnish transport for the Irish Brigade to Ireland for the rebellion. Sir Roger Casement is certain that such measures will lead to a total halt of British recruiting in Ireland and, possibly, to mutinies of Irish troops in France.
5. In return, Irish American leaders undertake to provide men and assistance for a sabotage campaign against British interests in the United States and Canada, the sabotage to cover all kinds of factories for war materials, in particular ammunition, railroads, dams, bridges, banks and other buildings. The German Embassy in Washington is not to be compromised by direct contact with those involved in sabotage plans, which are to be handled by Captain von Rintelen.
6. Following the decree of 5 November 1914 Nr. 8525 IIIb, I herewith order that Captain of the Reserve, Nadolny of Section P, will take over the handling of this matter.
‘It’s word for word?’ Wolff asked again. His voice cracked a little. ‘Word for word?’
‘Yes, didn’t I say so? From Falkenhayn.’
‘Yes.’ Wolff folded it carefully into his pocket.
‘It’s good — isn’t it?’ prompted Christensen.
Wolff smiled at him. A few minutes earlier he had wanted to finish their arrangement. Now he was hungry for approbation. Knowing how to please was his living.
‘It’s good, Adler, yes. It’s very good. First rate.’
It was worth the forty. More. Much more. Even a tight bastard like C would say so.
8. Of Madness
SHE’D TAKEN HABER’S army revolver from the desk, stepped into the garden and shot herself in the chest. The boy had found her by the light of an almost full moon. His face was still covered in her
