that? Please—'
'I must,' he murmured, unfolding the paper. Margaret got up stiffly and left the room. A moment later, they heard the running of a bathroom tap, the clink of a glass.
Massinger felt Zimmermann's gaze on him, felt the man's hostility stalking the room like an interrogating officer. He looked up sheepishly.
'If I had known,' Zimmermann began, 'that this was your opinion—'
Massinger held up his hand. 'Please,' he said. 'Please. I have to know. Margaret has to know. Christ, I don't know what I believe—!'
'But you suspect…?'
Massinger nodded miserably. 'Yes.'
Zimmermann shifted uncomfortably in his chair, as if he was disarmed by the American's unguarded display of misery. 'I do not understand,' he murmured at last. 'I do not understand why you have these — suspicions. But, you have the address now, whatever good it will do you. I have requested the BfV to trace this woman you claim was involved with Aubrey and your wife's father. The man whose name you have was one of the people employed by Aubrey in Berlin, one of many such who later became good BfV officers. The Allies trained many of our best people — to catch other Germans.' There was no expression on Zimmermann's face. 'The man lives in Cologne. You will need a car.'
Massinger looked up. 'What?' he asked numbly.
'The sooner you get this business over, the sooner I can begin to help you and your wife — and Aubrey and perhaps even England. I do not know. Your wife will not, I suspect, wish to see you when she has — repaired the damage?' He smiled quizzically. 'I suggest that you allow me to entertain her for lunch while you pursue your demon in Cologne. Then, perhaps this evening, you can be of help to me, I to you…?' There was a thin, quick knifecut in the final words, and a sense of knowledge. Massinger felt his dilatoriness, his selfishness, his guilt laid under a hard light and dissected.
'You've spoken to this man, haven't you?' he guessed.
Zimmermann smiled. 'Perhaps.'
'Then tell me—!'
'No. Hear it for yourself.'
Massinger glared at Zimmermann like a malevolent puppet for a moment, then he stood up stiffly. His hip twinged like his conscience. There was hope, too, if Zimmermann despised his doubts about Aubrey—? He could not tell. 'Very well,' he said. 'Very well. I'll do as you suggest.'
'There is a car booked in your name. You have only to ask at the desk.' Zimmermann's handsome features twisted in bitter contempt. 'I will not wish you good luck,' he added acidly.
Deputy Chairman Kapustin of the KGB watched the traffic in Dzerzhinsky Square below his window, the transcript of the coded signal from Kabul in his hand, his thumb and forefinger clenched upon the flimsy sheet of paper. Its ragged top edge suggested the urgency with which it had been torn from the pad and hurried to his senior secretary in the outer office. A small motorcade of black, official Volga saloons turned out of the square beneath the swirl of driving snow towards the Kremlin. The Chairman and some of his senior advisers attending a select Politburo meeting. Kapustin wondered why he should feel like a boy not invited to a party. More appropriately, perhaps, he was like the mouse about to play during the cat's absence.
Snow flurried more thickly across the square. Opposite his second floor window, the lights — burning early in the afternoon — of the KGB's own exclusive beriozhka shop gleamed like an illuminated hoarding. As he turned to the senior secretary who had brought in the message, he glowered with appropriate anger, and quashed the rising sense of possible failure and the fear that accompanied it.
'How positive is this identification?' he asked.
'Colonel Petrunin's team questioned the guard detail very thoroughly, Comrade Deputy.'
'You checked—?'
'Sir. The code clerk informed his superior — there was a full exchange of signals with Kabul before the message was sent upstairs.'
'And—?'
'Kabul concludes—'
'Who in Kabul?'
'Petrunin's senior KGB captain — our man.'
'Very well. His conclusions?'
'The kidnapper of Colonel Petrunin was undoubtedly a British agent.' The secretary appeared uncomfortable, sensing himself on a limb.
'Nothing more particular?' Kapustin asked heavily.
'Our man thinks he knows him.'
'From hurried impressions — from the description here?'
The secretary nodded. 'I — placed a call myself, Comrade Deputy. I considered the delay — worthwhile, in view of the implications.'
'Implications?'
'Sir — Petrunin's second-in-command was our appointment. When Colonel Petrunin was disgraced, he asked for one of his closest confederates to accompany him when he was posted to Kabul. You, sir, thought it wiser to send someone we could trust.'
Kapustin's laugh was like a dog's bark. 'I remember!' he exclaimed. 'Poor devil. I remember the look on his face.' Then his mood darkened, and he added: 'Well?'
'He claims that the man involved is a British agent. He even claims to be able to positively identify him. He says the man is Patrick Hyde.'
Kapustin appeared puzzled. 'Who—?'
'Hyde was with Aubrey in Helsinki, and Vienna. He was with him during many of your meetings.'
Kapustin's eyes widened. 'Him?' he breathed. 'In Kabul? I don't believe it. He's skulking somewhere in Europe…'
'Our man is positive — he knows the man. Sir, if there's even the slightest possibility—'
'
'I don't know, sir. We can't afford to take the chance, however. In my opinion, sir.'
Kapustin studied his face, then the sheet of paper in his hand. Then he looked up again. 'You've checked — double-checked?'
'Yes, sir. Our man sticks by his word.'
Kapustin was silent for some time. Then he said, 'Then there is only one solution. A pity—' The sentiment sounded blatantly hollow. ' — but we have no choice. There mustn't be the slightest possibility. Very well. Issue the damned army its orders. Tell our man to take full command. Get rid of Petrunin, Hyde — find them all and get rid of them all.'
'Sir.'
It was evident to Eldon that Sir Andrew Babbington revelled in the congratulations that Eldon had felt, in duty and sincerity, he should offer his superior. Babbington had been confirmed as the first Director-General of Security and Intelligence Directorate that morning. Eldon knew he would rise with Babbington, but it had not affected the spirit in which he had offered his good wishes. There was only one small element of personal calculation — Eldon was embarrassed and angry at the disappearance of Aubrey and wished to deflect what he anticipated would be Babbington's similar anger. Otherwise, he considered SAID a satisfactory innovation and Babbington its natural DG.
'Thank you, Eldon. A pity, however, that our euphoria must be incomplete, thanks to the laxity your men displayed with regard to Aubrey.'
'You'll remember, Sir Andrew, that I originally suggested a closer method of surveillance?' Eldon observed with studied lightness.
Babbington glared momentarily, then waved his hand to brush the subject aside as easily as crumbs from the white linen tablecloth. The club's dining-room was almost full, but Babbington's table was well removed from its
