by John Gardner
Herbie shook his head, giving a sharp ‘No!’ followed by ‘Take care. If the Russians catch you – ’
The boy shrugged and moved away, muttering that he could lead the Russians a dance if he wanted to.
At the end of the road, Herbie turned, looking back, trying to find a vantage point from where he could observe the scene. Finally he came across a tall pile of uncleared rubble. He made a circuit and then began to climb it from the back. If he lay on the hard bricks at the top, he had an unrestricted view of this little street where the boys paraded, appearing and vanishing as men came into view.
He saw a short, well-dressed, middle-aged man stroll slowly down the pavement. One by one the boys came out to speak to him. Three times he shook his head, but when he was approached by the fourth, they stood together, near a wall, talking. He saw the boy’s hand come up to caress the man’s cheek, and then the pair walked away, cutting through an alleyway which had once been a building, now reduced to a pair of walls and weed-encrusted masonry.
At around one-thirty a car turned the corner. Other vehicles had come that way, but they drove at normal speed. This one was a drab-colored little Volkswagen. He could clearly see the numbers on its registration plate – 85942.
The car seemed to falter, and, instead of driving straight through, it began to crawl, first up one side of the street, turning just below the point where Herbie lay, to go back down the other side, still moving slowly. As it passed, young men would appear from their hiding places, showing themselves and retreating again as the car passed by. Finally it stopped near one tall youth who wore what appeared to be a spotless white shirt and dark trousers which were tucked into boots, stolen no doubt from some hapless officer during the last days of battle in Berlin.
The boy moved quickly to the car. There was a short conversation, then the door opened and he seated himself beside the driver. The VW did not linger, drawing away at top speed.
Herbie smiled grimly and nodded to himself. As the car had come toward him, he had clearly seen the driver. It was Gennadi Aleksandrovich Rogov.
*
One way or another, the whole team had sighted the NKVD officer. Herbie sat calm and quiet, his large hands, fingers spread, over his knees, listening to each of their stories, one at a time, never interrupting, so that they all felt important.
When it was over and they sat back full of their own pride and excitement, Herbie began to talk. ‘Through you, I know where this man now goes on his Wednesday afternoon jaunts.’ He beamed at them, making them feel irreplaceable. ‘He has no secret woman here in Berlin. In fact just the opposite.’ Herbie held the pause, dropping his voice to keep their attention. ‘None of this would have been possible to discover without your assistance.’ Always give your agents a sense of their own importance, they had taught him at Warminster. Always flatter them.
‘You will be well rewarded, but the most difficult part of this operation has yet to come – next Wednesday.’ Again the pause, counting to ten in his mind. ‘For this we need one more actor to play a leading role. It is up to you to find him for me.’
They bent their heads closer, eyes raised expectantly – the muscular Willy; dark, angular Gertrude; the insignificant-looking Kurt; and the scruffy blonde Ingrid.
‘You must find me a very pretty boy,’ he said slowly. ‘The most pretty boy in the Russian Zone. Very beautiful – and not one who usually flaunts his body on the streets near the Platz am Opernhaus.’
The girls both gave a sharp intake of breath. Willy laughed. ‘You want a bum bandit,’ he said, using an untranslatable slang word.
‘Quite.’
Kurt said, ‘You mean this man is a queer?’
‘Exactly.’
‘He picks up those boys off the Platz am Opernhaus?’ – from a wide-eyed Ingrid.
‘So it would seem.’
Willy sniggered. ‘Good God! He’s a windjammer.’
Herbie gave him a stern look. ‘Do not mock, Willy. Don’t ever do that. There but for the grace of God goes you.’
They looked at one another shiftily, as though each was reluctant to allow the others to know they could name such a person. At last it was Ingrid who spoke.
‘I think I know someone.’
‘Yes?’
‘He is beautiful, one cannot deny it – strong, good muscles, the face of a woman, with lovely blond hair. He also hates the Russians, but is afraid of them.’
‘Then you will have to bring him here and we will teach him not to be afraid.’ Herbie gave her a wonderful smile. ‘His name?’
‘Just call him Nikolas.’
‘Good. Can you persuade him to come here tomorrow night?’
‘I think so.’
‘Make sure of it.’
When they had gone, Herbie turned to Helene. ‘What has to be done will be done here,’ he said. ‘It will be quite safe when it’s finished. I shall have help from the British Zone. And when we do it – which should be next Wednesday – I hope to provide this Colonel Rogov with Nikolas as bait.’ In the far corner of his mind he prayed that Nikolas would find the strength to go through with what would be asked of him.
‘He must bring the Colonel here, and we will have to remove certain things from this room.’ His eyes moved toward Helene’s wardrobe. ‘If your clothes are taken from there, do you think I would fit inside?’
She gave a nervous laugh. ‘You are to hide in my wardrobe, Eberhardt? Like a husband trying to catch his wife with her lover?’
‘Something like that. I will have a small camera – the shutter makes little noise. We will have to make a small hole in the wardrobe door, I fear, but you will be compensated for that. The pictures will not be good – dark and grainy, I think. But they will serve their purpose.’ He looked about him, brow creased. ‘I shall also require somewhere to place the recording apparatus.’
‘Recording…?’
He gave her his most innocent smile, which was really full of guile, and began to pace around the room, peering inside the wardrobe, looking under the bed. At last he finished. ‘Good. Next Wednesday, when you come home from work, it will be finished. Silence, though. No speaking of this to anybody. You understand?’
Somehow, in his words and actions, Herbie appeared to have taken on a new authority. Helene did not know if she liked it. However, she understood.
On the following evening Ingrid brought Nikolas to the room. He was tall and slim, walked with a firm masculine stride, but, once seated, gave himself away by his effeminate movements and the way in which he spoke. To begin with, these things were not noticeable, but as he relaxed, realising he was among friends, so his sexual predilection became apparent.
After a while Herbie began to speak to him of what would be required. Nikolas was frightened at first, then started to gain strength from Herbie’s own confidence. At last the only remaining worry was that of going into the street off the Platz am Opernhaus. ‘They know each other there. I have a friend who was so short of money that he tried his luck on the street. They beat him up and sent him packing.’
Herbie told him that he would be protected. Finally he agreed.
‘We must dress you superbly, and you have to be placed at the most favourable vantage point,’ Herbie said. ‘It is essential that he choose you – and only you. The trick has to be like the way a conjurer forces one of his audience to take a certain card from the pack.’ He was glad Willy was not there. Willy would have said something about making the Colonel take the Queen of Hearts.
It was finally arranged, and Herbie gave the boy his instructions. He must keep out of sight until the following Tuesday night. On that evening he would be brought, by Ingrid, to this room. He would stay in the room, with Herbie and Helene, until Wednesday, when Willy and Kurt would take him to the Platz am Opernhaus.
He agreed, and Herbie then gave instructions to Helene. She would tell the others what to do – Willy and Kurt were to go and spy out the lie of the land around the Platz am Opernhaus. All would meet again – here – next T
uesday night.
When the boy had left, Herbie produced a brace and bit from the bag he always carried to and from ‘work’ and started to bore the hole in the wardrobe door. He made many tests to check its correct position before making the first small hole.
The following morning he crossed into the British Zone as usual, but this time he went straight to the safe house he had last shared with Naldo. There he sat and waited until the telephone rang at twelve noon. It rang twice, then stopped. Thirty seconds later it rang again.
Herbie picked up the instrument and spoke –
‘ Treacle, ‘ he said.
*
In London, Naldo and Arnie went about their business, doing turn and turn about in the Northolt house.
As the days went by, their inner tension increased. Neither would admit it, but they both worried about the Kruger boy. Naldo thought he was really too young to go into the field and run an operation like this; Arnie did not so much think of his age, he was more concerned with Herbie’s experience. He knew from his first days of handling the lad that he was naturally streetwise. But this was something else – working close to the Russians on their home ground.
Never once did they discuss their fears, but as time began to stretch, they also worried about hearing nothing from C. For all they knew, the whole of Brimstone could have been blown sky high.
Only once did Arnie meet Fry, who called a crash meeting five days after it started.
They met in the Reptile House of the Regent’s Park Zoo. Fry was engrossed in watching the cobras through their thick protective glass. During the war all of the dangerous creatures had been moved out of London to places of greater safety. It would not have done for cobras, rattlers, or even tarantulas to have been released by a Nazi bomb shattering their warm glass boxes.
‘The cobra is a beautiful creature,’ Fry said, as if to nobody. ‘We should have agents with that kind of hypnotic power – or interrogators at least.’
‘If you like that kind of thing.’ Speaking for himself, Arnie did not care for snakes.
‘Washington wants to know what’s going on.’ Fry had taken to speaking out of the corner of his mouth, like Cagney or Bogart in convict movies. He seemed to have become conscious of his own irreplaceable position in the grand strategy of worldwide political actions. Like many intelligence officers, before and after him, Fry’s view of things had warped his perception, making him subject to folie des grandeurs.
‘I fear Washington’ll have to wait.’
‘Arnie, you’re under discipline,’ Fry reminded him.
‘I know. You ever heard of an Italian play called The Servant of Two Masters?’
‘Theatre isn’t my thing.’
‘Well, I’m under discipline twice over.’ Arnie spoke gruffly. ‘And if you want to blow everything, and put a lot of people’s lives as risk, you get Washington to give me a direct order.’
‘They might have to.’
‘You’ll know when I have the full story. At this moment I could only give you half-baked information,’ Arnie lied. ‘Just leave it be, Roger. As soon as I’m able, you’ll have everything. You are going to be cut in after all.’
Arnold stayed for a few more minutes, listening to Fry make threats of the ‘there’ll be trouble if we’re not cut in’ variety.
He left feeling quite happy. It was his free day and he would be seeing the redhead Liz No-Name that night. They were going to the theatre – a farce called Worm’s Eye View at the Whitehall. He knew there would be a lot of British jokes which he would not understand, but that did not matter. He would be with Liz and they would have dinner afterward, somewhere in Soho. He did not care that she would only shake hands with him at the door to her apartment block afterward. Arnold had reached the stage of feeling it was enough – for the time being – just to be with her. He had, in fact, been with her – in cinemas, theatres, and restaurants – practically every other night since their first date. He had once reached for her hand in the cinema, and, on the last occasion, she had allowed him to hold it until their palms became damp with sweat and she had taken her hand away, pointedly drying it off with her handkerchief.
It was all a bit adolescent, he knew that, but it did not worry him.
In the end, that night turned out to be different. He quite enjoyed the play, and they had excellent Spaghetti Neapolitan in Gennaro’s. When the cab stopped outside the block of flats off the Earl’s Court Road, Liz leaned across to him and whispered, ‘Why not send the cab away.’
Slightly bemused, he did so, and allowed Liz to lead him into her flat, where she gave herself to him with eager passion. Two hours later he realised that he must call Naldo and report the number where he could be reached. He did so, and as soon as the receiver was back on it rests, Liz reached for him again. She was insatiable once roused.
Arnold did not complain.
Meanwhile, Naldo was not as lucky as Arnie. Barbara Burville, not to mention her parents, was putting the pressure on. ‘Look, darling,’ she said, all wide-eyed and innocent. ‘You know I don’t mind, but the Ma and Pa are getting pretty restless. They go on and on about setting a date.’
Naldo would sigh and tell her there was no possibility as yet, unless she wanted to fix a time that might have to be changed later.
‘Can’t you speak to your wretched boss?’
‘At the moment, no. But I’ll do it as soon as possible. Barb, I want to get it legalised as well. I also have more than a suspicion that my mother and father know exactly what’s going on and want things on a proper footing – not to mention my grandmama once removed, or whatever Sara is.’
Barbara gave a mock pout. ‘I want to be Mrs Railton, Nald. Really I do.’
‘I’ll talk to… to my Chief as soon as I hear from him.’
In fact he heard from him on the following afternoon when the telephone rang in the Northolt house and C said, ‘It’s on. He’s waiting at our place for you now.’
Naldo telephoned Arnie and within two hours they were both heading – by separate routes – toward Berlin.
In the safe house within the British Zone, Herbie all but crushed Naldo’s ribs with his bear hug.
‘Well?’ Naldo asked.
‘Wednesday afternoon, Nald. On Wednesday afternoon I’ll have Colonel G. A. Rogov all trussed up for you like a Christmas pudding. Okay?’
‘Turkey, Herb. Trussed up like a turkey.’ Naldo Railton grinned.
Chapter Twenty-three
The final phase of Brimstone began on Tuesday night. In the few days available to them, Naldo went through the details with Herbie, who continued to move between the Russian and British zones. This time he brought more items back from the British Sector.
During the two days preceding Tuesday, Helene grudgingly helped move most of her clothes from the room off the Alexanderplatz to Herbie’s hovel near the river.
‘There must be no traces that a woman has ever been here,’ young Kruger said, repeating what Naldo had already told him. On Tuesday night, with most of her more intimate belongings gone, Helene tacked up a poster showing a red flag which backed the faces of Lenin, a Russian soldier, and an obviously Germanic family all linked together in harmony. ‘Just to make Rogov feel at home,’ Kruger said.
An hour before curfew, Ingrid brought Nikolas, whose face bore the strain of one awaiting execution, to the apartment. When Ingrid left, Helene and Herbie began the slow job of putting the boy at ease.
Helene washed his hair, using a good shampoo Herbie had brought from the West. Then they showed him the clothes, which made him feel even better. He changed behind a makeshift screen they had put up by hanging a blanket over a string stretched across the room. When Nikolas emerged he did so looking much happier. He had been given fresh cotton underclothes, stout woollen socks, a blue shirt, some nicely cut cavalry-twill slacks, and black leather shoes which matched the short leather jacket that was in much better condition than the one proudly worn by Willy.
Scrubbed and with his lig
ht hair clean and bouncing with body, Nikolas paraded up and down the room to the praise of both Helene and Herbie.
They ate a good meal and, before retiring to their respective sides of the blanket screen, Herbie sat down with the boy and went over the moves again – like a coach rehearsing his team in the changing room.
‘There will be no danger,’ Kruger repeated for the umpteenth time. ‘The only danger will come from yourself. Show no fear. A man like this will be nervous about what he is doing. Like an animal he’ll pick up the scent of any anxiety from you. Just do it.’ He gave a small laugh. ‘Lie back and think of Germany if you have to, and don’t forget the only time you’ll really be alone with him will be in his car. In the street Willy and Kurt will be near, and once you’ve reached this place you won’t be alone. But for God’s sake take care – don’t draw attention to the wardrobe or the door. He can panic easily.’
Nikolas nodded and gave a weak smile. Herbie continued, forcing confidence into him.
Later, when they were behind their separate sides of the blanket, Helene whispered. ‘You will be going when this is over, yes?’
‘We’ll see. If I go, it won’t be for long, Liebling. I’ll be back.’ Herbie lied easily, knowing that he could well be out of the Russian zone for a long time.
‘Please promise you will return. That you’ll come back to me, Eberhardt. Please.’
‘I promise.’ He fondled her, realising that he would miss some of the comforts she provided. He stayed awake long after Helene had dropped into quiet sleep.
Herbie thought about life and the multitude of things he had already done. In England they had pointed out some boys to him – they were in the uniform of some very privileged school. ‘Those kids are just your age, Herbie,’ one of the instructors told him. ‘How’d you like to go to a school with kids like that?’
He had shaken his head, and afterward looked at himself in the long mirror which hung on the wall of his room at Warminster. Compared to those boys he looked an old man – thirty almost. He had grown up in a different kind of school. Yes, he remembered his parents – particularly his father – with love and regret; but his life had been one of incident and a different kind of learning. He knew the ways of the street, the ways of deception and death. Having learned all this, he was bound to look older. He would not change it for… what was it they said in English? For a king’s ransack – or something. No, Eberhardt Lucas Kruger would not want it any other way.