Part 4 (2/2)

Nine.

There was no time for brooding. Two days after Maria left, a hydraulic jack was brought to the head of the tunnel to pull the cables down. It was bolted in position under the vertical shaft. The double doors were sealed and the room was pressurized. John MacNamee was there, and Leonard and five other technicians. There was also an American in a suit, who did not speak. To adjust their ears to the rising pressure, they had to swallow hard. MacNamee pa.s.sed around some boiled sweets. The American sipped water from a teacup. Traffic noise resonated in the chamber. Now and then they heard the roar of a heavy truck and the ceiling vibrated.

When a light flashed on a field telephone, MacNamee picked it up and listened. There had already been confirmations from the recording room, from the people running the amplifiers, and from the engineers responsible for the power generators and the air supply. The latest call was from the lookouts on the roof of the warehouse, who were watching the Schonefelder Chaussee through binoculars. They had been up there all through the digging. They used to bring work to a halt whenever Vopos were directly over the tunnel. MacNamee put down the phone and nodded at two men who were standing by the jack. One of them hung a wide leather strap over his shoulder and climbed a ladder to the cables. The strap was being pa.s.sed behind the cables and attached to a chain, which was rubberized to stop it c.h.i.n.king. The man at the foot of the ladder fixed the chain to the jack and looked at MacNamee. When the first man was down and the ladder had been stowed, MacNamee picked up the phone again. He then put down the phone and nodded, and the man began to work the jack.

It was tempting to go and stand under the shaft to watch the cables being drawn down. They had calculated just how much slack there would be, and how much was safe to take up. No one knew for sure. But it would not be professional to show too much curiosity. The man turning the jack needed s.p.a.ce. They waited in silence and sucked their sweets. The pressure was still rising; the air was sweaty and warm. The American stood apart. He glanced at his watch and made an entry in a notebook. MacNamee kept his hand on the phone. The man straightened from his work and looked at him. MacNamee went to the shaft and looked up. He stood on tiptoe and reached. When he brought his hand down, it was covered in mud. ”Six inches,” he said. ”No more,” and he went back to be by the phone.

The man who had been up the ladder brought a bucket of water and a cloth. His colleague unbolted the jack from the floor. In its place was lifted a low wooden platform. The man with the bucket took it over to MacNamee, who rinsed his hand. Then he carried it back to the shaft, hauled it onto the platform and washed the cables, which Leonard guessed were only six feet from the ground. A bath towel was pa.s.sed up for the man to dry the cables with. Then one of the other technicians, who had been standing next to Leonard, took his place near the platform. In his hand was an electrician's knife and a pair of wire-strippers. MacNamee was on the phone again. ”The pressure's good,” he whispered to the room, and then he murmured some directions into the receiver.

Before the first cut was made, they allowed themselves their moment. There was just room on the steps for three men. They put their hands on the cables. Each one was as thick as an arm, dull black and cold, and still sticky from the moisture. Leonard could almost sense the hundreds of phone conversations and encoded messages flas.h.i.+ng to and from Moscow beneath his fingertips. The American came and looked, but MacNamee hung back. Then only the technician with the knife remained on the platform, and he was starting work. To the others, standing watching him, he was visible from the waist down. He wore gray flannel trousers and polished brown shoes. Soon he pa.s.sed down a rectangle of black rubber. The first cable had been exposed. When the other two had been cut, it was time for the tap. MacNamee was on the phone again, and nothing happened until he gave the signal. It was known that the East Germans kept a regular check on the integrity of their high-priority circuits by sending a pulse down the line which would bounce back if it encountered a break. The thin skin of concrete above the tap chamber could easily be smashed open. Leonard and all the others had learned the evacuation procedures. The last man was to close and bolt all the doors behind him. Where the tunnel crossed the border the sandbags and barbed wire were to be pulled into place, and so too the hand-painted wooden sign that sternly warned intruders in German and Russian that they were entering the American sector.

Supported on brackets along the plywood wall were the hundreds of circuits in neat multicolored bunches, ready to be clipped to the landline. Leonard and another man stood below and handed up wires as they were called for. The pattern of work was not as MacNamee had outlined it. The same man stayed on the platform, working at a speed Leonard knew he could not match. Every hour he took a ten-minute break. Ham and cheese sandwiches and coffee were brought from the canteen. One of the technicians sat at a table with a tape recorder and a set of headphones. In the third or fourth hour he raised his hand and turned to MacNamee, who went across and put one ear to the set. Then he handed it to the American, who was at his side. They had broken into the circuit used by the East German telephone engineers. There would be advance warning now of any alarm.

An hour later they had to evacuate the chamber. The moisture in the air was heavy enough to be condensing on the walls, and MacNamee was worried that it would interfere with the contacts. They left one man monitoring the engineers' circuit while the rest of them waited beyond the double doors for the moisture level to drop. They stood around in the short stretch of tunnel before the amplifiers with their hands in their pockets, trying not to stamp their feet. It was far colder out here. They all wanted to go back up to the top for a smoke. But MacNamee, who was chewing on his empty pipe, did not suggest it, and no one was prepared to ask. During the following six hours they left the chamber five times. The American left without a word. Finally McNamee sent one of the technicians away. Half an hour later he dismissed Leonard.

Leonard pa.s.sed unseen through the noiseless excitement round the racks of amplifiers and walked slowly along the tracks, back toward the warehouse. He had the long stretch to himself, and he knew he was delaying leaving the tunnel, leaving the drama and returning to his shame. He had stood outside Maria's apartment two nights before with his flowers, unable to come away. He persuaded himself that she had gone out shopping. Each time he heard footsteps on the stairs below, he peered over the rail and prepared to meet her. After an hour he posted the flowers, expensive hothouse carnations, through her door, one by one, and ran down the stairs. He went back the next evening, this time with marzipan-filled chocolates in a box whose lid featured puppies in a wicker basket. This and the flowers cost him almost a week's money. He was on the landing below Maria's when he met her neighbor, a gaunt, unfriendly woman whose apartment exhaled a carbolic breath through the open door behind her. She shook her head and her hand at Leonard. She knew he was foreign. ”Fort! Nicht da! Bei ihren Eltern!” ”Fort! Nicht da! Bei ihren Eltern!” He thanked her. She repeated herself loudly when he continued up the stairs, and she waited for him to come down. The box would not fit through the door, so he posted the chocolates through, one by one. When he pa.s.sed the neighbor on his way down, he offered her the box. She crossed her arms over her chest and bit her lip. The refusal cost her some effort. He thanked her. She repeated herself loudly when he continued up the stairs, and she waited for him to come down. The box would not fit through the door, so he posted the chocolates through, one by one. When he pa.s.sed the neighbor on his way down, he offered her the box. She crossed her arms over her chest and bit her lip. The refusal cost her some effort.

As more time pa.s.sed, the more unbelievable his attack on Maria seemed, and the less forgivable. There had been some logic, some crazed, step-by-step reasoning that he could no longer recall. It had made good sense, but all he could remember now was his certainty at the time, his conviction that ultimately she would approve. He could not recall the steps along the way. It was as if he were remembering the actions of another man, or of himself transformed in a dream. Now he was back in the real world-he was pa.s.sing the underground border crossing and beginning to ascend the slope-and applying the standards of the world, his actions appeared not only offensive but profoundly stupid. He had chased Maria away. She was the best thing to have happened to him since ... His mind ran over various childhood treats, birthdays, holidays, Christmases, university entrance, his transfer to Dollis Hill. Nothing remotely as good had ever happened to him. Unsummoned images of her, memories of her kindness, of how fond of him she had been, made him jerk his head to one side and cough to cover the sound of his agony. He would never get her back. He had to get her back.

He climbed the ladder out of the shaft and nodded at the guard. He made his way up to the next floor, to the recording room. No one had a drink in his hand, no one was smiling even, but the atmosphere of a celebration was unmistakable. The test row, the first twelve tape recorders to be connected, were already receiving. Leonard joined the group watching them. Four machines were running, then a fifth started, then a sixth; then one of the original four stopped, and immediately after it another. The signal activation units, the ones he had installed himself, were working. They had been tested, but never by a Russian voice, or a Russian code. Leonard sighed, and for the moment Maria receded.

A German who was standing close by put his hand on Leonard's shoulder and squeezed. Another of Gehlen's men, another Fritz, turned around and grinned at them both. There was lunchtime beer on their breath. Elsewhere in the room last-minute connections and alterations were being made. A handful of people with clipboards stood in a self-important cl.u.s.ter. Two Dollis Hill men were sitting close in on a third who was on the phone, listening intently, probably to MacNamee.

Then Gla.s.s came in, raised his hand to Leonard and strode toward him. He had not looked better in weeks. He had a different suit and a new tie knot. Lately Leonard had been avoiding him, but half-heartedly. The job for MacNamee had made him ashamed to spend time with the only American he could claim a friends.h.i.+p with. At the same time, he knew that Gla.s.s was likely to be a good source. Gla.s.s was tugging him by the lapel into a relatively deserted part of the room. The beard had resumed its old light-trapping forward thrust.

”This is a dream come true,” Gla.s.s said. ”The test row is perfect. In four hours the whole thing'll be rolling.” Leonard started to speak, but Gla.s.s said, ”Listen. Leonard, you haven't been completely open with me. You think I wouldn't know when you go behind my back?” Gla.s.s was smiling.

It occurred to Leonard that the tunnel might be bugged along its length. But surely MacNamee would know about it. ”What are you talking about?”

”Come on. This is a small town. The two of you have been seen. Russell was in the Resi on Sat.u.r.day, and he told me. His considered judgment was that you'd been the whole way many times. Is that true?”

Leonard smiled. He could not help his ludicrous pride. Gla.s.s was being mock stern. ”That same girl, the one who sent the note? The one you said you got nowhere with?”

”Well, I didn't at first.”

”That's amazing.” Gla.s.s had his hands on Leonard's shoulders and was holding him at arm's length. His admiration and delight seemed so forceful that Leonard could almost forget recent events. ”You quiet Englishmen-you don't horse around, you don't talk about it, you get in there fast.”

Leonard wanted to laugh out loud; it was, it had been, quite a triumph.

Gla.s.s released him. ”Listen, I phoned you every evening at your apartment last week. You moved in with her or what?”

”Only sort of.”

”I thought we might have a drink, but now you've told me, why don't we make a double date? I have this nice friend, Jean, from the U.S. emba.s.sy. She's from my hometown, Cedar Rapids. You know where that is?”

Leonard looked at his shoes. ”Well, the fact is, we've had a sort of row. Quite a big one. She's gone off to stay with her parents.”

”And where are they?”

”Oh, in Pankow somewhere.”

”And when did she leave?”

”The day before yesterday.”

Leonard was halfway through answering this last question when he understood that Gla.s.s had been on the job the whole time. Not for the first time in their acquaintances.h.i.+p, the American had taken him by the elbow and was steering him somewhere else. Apart from Maria and his mother, no one had touched Leonard in his life more than Gla.s.s.

They were out in the quiet of the corridor. Gla.s.s took a notebook from his pocket. ”You tell her anything?”

”Of course I didn't.”

”You better give me her name and address.”

The misplaced stress on the first syllable of this last word released in Leonard a surge of irritation. ”Her name is Maria. Her address is none of your business.”

A small display of feeling from the Englishman seemed to refresh Gla.s.s. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, as though inhaling a fragrance. Then he said in a reasonable way, ”Let me reorder the facts, then you tell me if it's worth my job to ignore them. A girl you've never seen before makes a highly unconventional approach to you at a dance hall. Finally you make it with her. She's chosen you, not you her. Right? You're doing cla.s.sified work. You move in with her. The day before we lay the taps, she disappears into the Russian sector. What are we going to say to our superiors, Leonard? That you liked her a whole lot so we decided not to investigate? Let's have it.”

Leonard felt physical pain at the thought of Gla.s.s with legitimate reason to be alone with Maria in an interrogation room. It started high in his stomach and spread downward to his bowels. He said, ”Maria Eckdorf, Adalbertstra.s.se 84, Kreuzberg. Erstes Hinterhaus, funfter Stock, rechts.” Erstes Hinterhaus, funfter Stock, rechts.”

”One of those cold-water walkups on the top floor? Not as cla.s.sy as Platanenallee. Did she say she didn't want to stay at your place?”

”I didn't want her there.”

”You see,” Gla.s.s spoke as though Leonard had not replied, ”she'd want you at her place if it was wired.”

For the duration of a single pulse of sheer hatred, Leonard saw himself seizing Gla.s.s's beard with two hands and ripping it off, bringing face flesh with it, throwing the mess of red and black to the floor and stamping on it. Instead he turned and walked away without thought for his direction. He was back in the recording room. There were more machines running now. Up and down the room they were stopping and starting. All checked and fitted by him, all his own lonely, loyal work. Gla.s.s was at his side. Leonard started to head down one of the rows, but two technicians were blocking the way. He turned back.

Gla.s.s came up close and said, ”I know it's tough. I've seen this before. And it's probably nothing. We just have to run through the procedure. One more question and I'll leave you in peace. Does she have a day job?”

No thought preceded the action. Leonard filled his lungs and shouted. ”A day job? A day job? You mean, as opposed to her night job? What are you trying to say?”

It was almost a scream. The air in the room hardened. Everyone stopped work and turned in his direction. Only the machines went on.

Gla.s.s pushed his palms downward, miming a lowering of volume. When he spoke, it was just louder than a whisper. His lips barely moved. ”Everyone's listening, Leonard, including some of your own big boys over by the phone. Don't let them think you're a nut. Don't let them put you out of a job.” It was true. Two of the Dollis Hill senior staff were watching him coolly. Gla.s.s went on with his ventriloquist's voice. ”Do exactly as I say and we can save this. Bang me on the shoulder and we'll walk out of here together like good friends.”

Everyone was waiting for something to happen. There was no other way out. Gla.s.s was his only ally. Leonard threw him a rough punch to the shoulder and immediately the American burst into loud, convincing laughter and put his arm around Leonard's shoulder, and once more walked him to the door. Between laughs he murmured, ”Now it's your turn, you son of a b.i.t.c.h, save your a.s.s and laugh.”

”Heh-heh,” the Englishman said croakily, and then louder, ”Hahaha. Night job, that's a good one. Night job!”

Gla.s.s joined in, and behind them a low murmur of conversation, a friendly wave, swelled and bore them to the door.

They were back in the corridor, but this time they kept walking. Gla.s.s had his notebook and pencil out again. ”Just give me the place of work, Leonard, then we'll have a drink in my room.”

Leonard could not give it to him in one. The betrayal was too great. ”It's an Army vehicle workshop. British Army, that is.” They walked on. Gla.s.s was waiting. ”I think it's REME. It's in Spandau.” Then, outside Gla.s.s's room, ”The CO is a Major Ashdown.”

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