Part 13 (1/2)
”You wouldn't think that a man whose photograph and personal particulars were filed at the Foreign Office as a member of a Foreign Mission would have a chance against the whole of British Security.”
”From what I hear,” Leamas said, ”they weren't too keen to catch him anyway.”
Fiedler stopped abruptly. ”What did you say?”
”Peter Guillam told me he didn't reckon they wanted to catch Mundt, that's all I said. We had a different setup then--an Adviser instead of an Operational Control--a man called Maston. Maston had made a b.l.o.o.d.y awful mess of the Fennan Case from the start, that's what Guillam said. Peter reckoned that if they'd caught Mundt it would have made a h.e.l.l of a stink--they'd have tried him and probably hanged him. The dirt that came out in the process would have finished Maston's career. Peter never knew quite what happened, but he was b.l.o.o.d.y sure there was no full-scale search for Mundt.”
”You are sure of that, you are sure Guillam told you that in so many words? No full-scale search?”
”Of course I am sure.”
”Guillam never suggested any other reason why they might have let Mundt go?”
”What do you mean?”
Fiedler shook his head and they walked on along the path.
”The Steel Mission was closed down after the Fennan Case,” Fiedler observed a moment later, ”that's why I didn't go.” - ”Mundt must have been mad. You may be able to get away with a.s.sa.s.sination in the Balkans---or here-- but not London.”
”He did get away with it though, didn't he?” Fiedler put in quickly. ”And he did good work.” - - ”Like recruiting Kiever and Asbe? G.o.d help him.”
”They ran the Fennan woman for long enough.”
Leamas shrugged.
”Tell me something else about Karl Riemeck,” Fledler began again. ”He met Control once, didn't he?”
”Yes, in Berlin about a year ago, maybe a bit more.”
”Where did they meet?”
'We all met together in my flat.”
”Why?”
”Control loved to come in on success. We'd got a h.e.l.l of a lot of good stuff from Karl--I suppose it had gone down well with London. He came out on a short trip to Berlin and asked me to fix it up for them to meet.”
”Did you mind?”
”Why should I?”
”He was your agent. You might not have liked him to meet other operators.”
”Control isn't an operator, he's head of Department. Karl knew that and it tickled his vanity.”
”Were you all three together, all the time?”
”Yes. Well, not quite. I left them alone for a quarter of an hour or so--not more. Control wanted that-- he wanted a few minutes alone with Karl, G.o.d knows why, so I left the flat on some excuse, I forget what. Oh--I know, I pretended we'd run out of Scotch. I actually went and collected a bottle from de Jong, in fact.”
”Do you know what pa.s.sed between them while you were out?”
”How could I? I wasn't that interested, anyway.”
”Didn't Karl tell you afterwards?”
”I didn't ask him. Karl was a cheeky sod in some ways, always pretending he had something over me. I didn't like the way he sn.i.g.g.e.red about ControL Mind you, he had every right to sn.i.g.g.e.r--it was a pretty ridiculous performance. We laughed about it together a bit, as a matter of fact. There wouldn't have been any point in p.r.i.c.king Karl's vanity; the whole meeting was supposed to give him a shot in the arm.”
”Was Karl depressed then?”
”No, far from it. He was spoiled already. He was paid too much, loved too much, trusted too much. It was partly my fault, partly London's. If we hadn't spoiled him he wouldn't have told that b.l.o.o.d.y woman of his about his network.”
”Elvira?”
”Yes.”
They walked on in silence for a while, until Fiedler interrupted his own reverie to observe: ”I'm beginning to like you. But there's one thing that puzzles me. It's odd--it didn't worry me before I met you.”
”What's that?”
”Why you ever came. Why you defected.” Leamas was going to say something when Fiedler laughed. ”I'm afraid that wasn't very tactful, was it?” he said.
They spent that week walking in the hills. In the evenings they would return to the lodge, eat a bad meal washed down with a bottle of rank white wine, sit endlessly over their Steinhager in front of the fire. The fire seemed to be Fiedler's idea--they didn't have it to begin with, then one day Leamas overheard him telling a guard to bring logs. Leamas didn't mind the evenings then; after the fresh air all day, the fire and the rough spirits, he would talk unprompted, rambling on about his Service. Leamas supposed it was recorded. He didn't care.
As each day pa.s.sed in this way Leamas was aware of an increasing tension in his companion. Once they went out in the DKW--it was late in the evening-- and stopped at a telephone booth. Fiedler left him in the car with the keys and made a long phone call.
When he came back Leamas said, ”Why didn't you ring from the house?” but Fiedler just shook his head. ”We must take care,” he replied; ”you too, you must take care.”
”Why? What's going on?”
”The money you paid into the Copenhagen bank-- we wrote, you remember?”
”Of course I remember.”
Fiedler wouldn't say any more, but drove on in silence into the hills. There they stopped. Beneath them, half screened by the ghostly patchwork of tall pine trees, lay the meeting point of two great valleys. The steep wooded hills on either side gradually yielded their colors to the gathering dusk until they stood gray and lifeless in the twilight.
”Whatever happens,” Fiedler said, ”don't worry. It will be all right, do you understand?” His - voice was heavy with emphasis, his slim hand rested on Leamas' arm. ”You may have to look after yourself a little, but it won't last long, do you understand?” he asked again.
”No. And since you won't tell me, I shall have to wait and see. Don't worry too much for my skin, Fiedler.” He moved his arm, but Fiedler's hand stifi held him. Leamas hated being touched.
”Do you know Mundt?” asked Fiedler. ”Do you know about him?”