there are too many bad memories still. Just beyond the trees is the border and the river Oder. It is not encouraged to approach. But there is one man named Wilhelm who walks here often. He found a coat containing the phone and the passport. Someone had thrown it away.’ He looked at Harry. ‘We should not be here, Harry. For Wilhelm, who found the coat, it is OK. . because everyone knows he is a little mad.’
Harry got out of the car and stood for a moment, scanning the surrounding countryside. It was pleasant enough, although a little bleak compared with the other side of Schwedt, but that may have been due to the circumstances. He tried to imagine what would have brought Barrow and his passport and phone down here, and where he’d been going.
There was only one way to find out.
He walked along the track away from the car. It was overgrown and showed signs of little use, and any tyre tracks further back were no longer evident. Behind him, he heard Ulf open and close the car door.
‘Where did he find the jacket?’
Ulf explained, pointing towards some bushes near a strand of pine trees. A clutch of crows in the upper branches watched as Harry approached, then took off with a clatter of wings and coarse cries of alarm.
Harry checked the bush, but saw nothing to indicate why the jacket had been left here. He shivered. It wasn’t cold, but the atmosphere here, close to the pine trees, was suddenly gloomy, as if a dark cloud had drifted across the sky above them.
Or maybe it was the crows, and what might have happened here.
He turned as Ulf joined him, and walked towards the trees. Trees and crows, he thought, remembering a small village in south-western Kosovo. That had been a pleasant place, once. A place for picnics and children playing, a secluded spot in the evenings for lovers to walk and find each other. But horror had come calling early one morning as dawn was breaking, and everyone in the village had disappeared. Several days later, in a copse of pine trees just outside the village, someone from a neighbouring hamlet scouting for pine cones had reported a gathering of crows. An investigation by UN personnel had found the trees were now concealing a mass grave.
Harry found the body moments later. The grass leading up to it had been disturbed, the flattened path pointing like an arrow. The first thing he saw was the blaze of pale flesh and the darkened crust of dried blood where the birds had been feasting on the soft tissue of the face and chest. There had been no real attempt to bury the man or conceal what had been done here.
‘Ulf,’ he called, and pointed to the flattened area leading up to the body. The doctor joined him, treading carefully, and muttered an oath.
‘This is the man?’
Harry nodded. ‘It’s him.’
TWENTY-FIVE
Thirty minutes later, the scene was the focus of attention of a cluster of local police vehicles and an ambulance, all bustling for space on the narrow track. While waiting for them to arrive, Harry had taken a look around the immediate area and found the pickup truck with a map on the dashboard. The paper was too fresh to have been here long, and he knew it must have belonged to Graham Barrow. Other than that, the pickup was clean.
At first Ulf had argued about the wisdom of calling the police. But Harry had prevailed, explaining that Barrow may have been a deserter, but he’d been a soldier first. It would be the only way he would ever return home.
It would also bring to the attention of anyone watching that the body had been discovered. As a precaution, he had called Ballatyne and explained what he’d found.
Ballatyne seemed unperturbed at Harry’s decision to involve the police. ‘Probably the best outcome. Keeps it officially believable. What cover story are you using?’
‘I’ll use the WO-Two cover, chasing down a missing squaddie.’
‘OK. I’ll get on to the MOD and our embassy in Berlin and prep them. Tell the cops you’re operating out of London. It’ll save any of our bases being dragged into it.’
The senior uniformed officer nodded at Ulf and the two men had a brief exchange. Then Ulf turned to Harry. ‘I know this man. I have worked with him. He is from the local state police. He has asked me to look at the body before they move it.’
‘Good idea.’ Harry looked at the policeman. ‘Thank you.’
A few minutes later, Ulf stood up from the body and said, ‘He was shot once. It came near the heart. No other wounds that I can see. Only the. . the birds.’
Before he could say more, another vehicle arrived. Two men climbed out and approached the trees. Their arrival seemed to have an effect on the other officers present, and Harry heard Ulf take in a sharp breath.
‘
The first man, short and balding, stepped forward and spoke to the senior uniform, leaving his younger colleague, who had a ginger tinge to his hair, studying the body.
‘You are?’ the short man said, turning to Harry. His English was unhesitating and fluid.
Harry considered his response, but there was only one way to play it.
‘My name’s Tate,’ he said, and handed over his passport. The policeman flicked through it and passed it to his colleague.
‘For your information, my name is Drachmann and my colleague is Muller. Why is an Englishman here — ’ he gestured around him at the trees and bushes, and then at the body — ‘in such a quiet place?’ His eyes flickered coolly across to include Hefflin in his words. ‘Perhaps you do not know, but this is a restricted area, Mr Tate. Do you not have restricted areas in England?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Harry said carefully. ‘That was my fault. I put pressure on Mr Hefflin, here.’ He indicated Ulf, who looked relieved but still worried.
‘Pressure?’
‘Yes.’ He produced the Warrant Officer card and passed it over. ‘I came looking for a member of our military who has gone missing. Mr Hefflin was handed his passport and a mobile phone, and called my number. I came to see if the soldier was in the region.’ It was as near to the truth as he wanted to get, and he hoped Ballatyne had the clout with the British Embassy in Berlin to back it up when the official questions progressed further along the diplomatic and police lines.
‘And why would this. . man be here?’
Harry shrugged. ‘We can only make a guess at that. He left his unit and disappeared, that’s all we know.’
‘A deserter?’ Drachmann looked faintly disapproving.
‘Technically, yes. But there may have been extenuating circumstances. He has been under severe stress recently.’
‘Afghanistan?’
‘Yes. We wanted to find him before he did anything drastic. My job is to persuade men like this to return to their units.’
The policeman nodded and pursed his lips. ‘It is understandable. He is important, this man?’
Harry hesitated. Drachmann was quick on the uptake. ‘He has — had — specialized knowledge, yes. We wouldn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands.’
‘Of course. I understand.’ Drachmann nodded slowly. ‘But I have two questions: how did you know he was here? And how did Herr Hefflin know to contact you?’
Harry took a deep breath. This could be tricky and he hoped Hefflin was quick on the ball. ‘I was in London. I was keen for Barrow to get in touch with me, so I left a voicemail message with my number. When Mr Hefflin called me to say he’d found the passport and phone, it seemed reasonable to come and look around. I thought Barrow might have been in a car accident. I asked where the items had been found, and when Mr Hefflin told me, I persuaded him to bring me down here. Any blame for him being here is mine.’
The policeman lifted his eyebrows, but did not seem overly impressed. ‘You did not think to work through the
