The Old Enemy

by Henry Porter

  ‘Where did you get this?’ asked Samson. ‘She whitewashed her record and destroyed all the incriminating entries.’

  ‘Maybe she forgot about the arrest. Even if she remembered it, she probably forgot that her fingerprints were in the records. To answer your question about where I got it, I stole it from the archive. Also, I stole this.’ He held up the jam jar, which contained a ball of cotton wool that had yellowed with age. He placed it on the table and took some more cognac. ‘It was one of the Stasi’s most distasteful practices. When an interviewee or arrestee left the chair they had been sitting on, the Stasi took a swab from the seat using cotton wool which they immediately placed in a jar. They believed they were capturing the unique pheromones of an individual. Who knows what was in their minds? You will see the name is written on the label, and the date.’ He smiled. ‘It was actually on show in the former headquarters at Dittrichring 24, Leipzig, together with many other similar specimens. I happened to notice that this one’s label was intact. A piece of good fortune – some would say divine providence. And it has never been opened.’

  ‘But you’re not suggesting that we can use this to identify her?’

  ‘If these samples had any value, it has long since faded. But look closer.’ He handed the jar to Anastasia. ‘Do you see them?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The hairs at the bottom! They are almost certainly hers, because the Stasi would never allow a sample like this to be contaminated by extraneous material. They collected her hair after the interview and placed it in the jar, quite unaware that science would later find a way of identifying someone by their DNA. That was a decade or so later. If this is her hair, it is conclusive of her recruitment by the Stasi and subsequent career.’

  Samson sat back. ‘I’m overwhelmed, Herr Frick. Did Bobby know you had this material?’

  ‘Yes, but he didn’t show any interest.’ He stopped. ‘No, that is a misrepresentation. He said he would need these items at a later stage, but to be candid, I think he’d forgotten them, or did not properly recognise their importance.’

  Samson looked at Anastasia. ‘I think we need to find a lawyer to take a sworn statement from Herr Frick as soon as possible.’

  ‘That has already been effected. I have deposited an account with my lawyer in Frankfurt and everything has been notarised to an international standard. The items were kept in her safe. Should I return them?’

  ‘Will you entrust them to us, on the understanding that we will return them as soon as we can?’ asked Anastasia.

  The precise, courageous little man said, ‘It will be my pleasure,’ and patted her knee again.

  She shook her head in mock reprimand.

  ‘Ha, these days one is not allowed to acknowledge a beautiful woman like you. Forgive me, but it is my policy to show my appreciation. I have long since ceased to be a threat to the opposite sex, if, indeed, I ever was. Unlike Mr Samson here, who is too handsome for his own good. If you ever require my testimony in person, please be assured that I will come whenever and wherever you need.’ He picked up the cognac again. ‘I will send you by email the statement. It is not an easy document to read.’ He looked down and took a sip. ‘Mila Daus broke me – that is my story. I am not the person I was. Superficially, I am the same man who loves opera and orchestral music and the good things in life, but there is a hole at the centre of me. That is the only way I can describe it to you. The lies they told to my wife about my activities destroyed her also. She committed suicide in 1988, a year before the revolution.’ He put down the glass unfinished and reached for his raincoat. ‘Now I must go to see Bobby’s paintings. I wish you good fortune.’

  Chapter 27

  Confession

  They sat in silence after Bruno Frick departed, leaving a small card on the table with his name and email printed in an elegant typeface. At length Anastasia picked it up, smiled and handed it to Samson. ‘He has class. Did you notice – no self-pity whatsoever.’ She studied him with a smile. ‘Ulrike tells me you want to run this from now on.’

  ‘That was her idea, but you are paying for it and this is Denis’s operation. I can walk away. I’ve done what I was paid for, though I wish Macy had told me that I was being used as the decoy for Harland’s daughter.’

  ‘You’re not going to walk away. They’ve tried to kill you three times. It’s not in your character to walk away.’

  Samson disliked her telling him what was and wasn’t in his nature. ‘I don’t think you have the first idea of what we’re taking on. This is going to be hard.’

  She straightened. ‘No idea? I just saw my husband poisoned and his lawyer dying right in front of me. Of course I know how hard this is going to be. Don’t be so bloody patronising.’ She looked away.

  ‘My apologies. I meant . . .’

  ‘That’s okay.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘I’m sorry. I need sleep, and I’m worried about Denis. Sorry. Just don’t be an arsehole! This is your world, Samson, not mine. You run it, you decide, and you get that bitch.’ She pointed to the envelope and the jar. ‘We need to get these things in a safe place. Your hotel? Would you mind if I took a nap? Say if you do! Really!’

  ‘Of course not. We’ve got time to kill and . . . it would be good to talk. Two years is a long time. I have things to say – clarifications.’

  She made a face. ‘I look forward to your clarifications.’

  At the hotel, he pulled a heavy desk to block the door and opened the doors on to their balcony, where there were a couple of chairs. They went outside and sat down. The balconies either side were empty.

  ‘You stopped calling me. Why?’ she said.

  ‘You didn’t return my calls, so I waited until you were ready. I thought you needed space. It was all pretty agonising. Later, I saw a story about your work in Lesbos and you looked fine in the photographs, so I thought you were happy without me. I did think of coming to see you, but then I thought I’d be—’

  ‘Getting in the way?’

  ‘No, pressurising you.’

  He got up and went inside to fetch beers from the mini-bar. When he handed her one, she said, ‘I’m not going to sleep with you.’

  ‘How do you know I want to?’

  ‘It’s the only way it works between us.’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry you think that and, anyway, it’s totally untrue.’

  ‘Okay, I’m sorry. Bed is always out of this world. You know that. And it’s always a temptation. But I can’t while my husband is in a coma. He saved me and I can’t betray him again. That’s just how it is.’

  ‘Really, it’s no big deal.’ He stopped to sip the beer. ‘I love you and, to be honest, that is a big inconvenience in my life, but I get you don’t want to and you don’t have to mention it again.’

  ‘Fuck off,’ she said, and smiled.

  He looked over the city’s roofs towards Alexander Nevsky Cathedral. ‘If you want me to try to run this, I will. But I’ll do it my way, even though I’m not sure what that will be.’

  Without warning, she said, ‘I was pregnant. I lost the baby. It was from our last time together. Our baby. I had a miscarriage and I went to pieces. That’s why I didn’t call. Denis got me through it, although he must have known it was yours. He was magnificent, and I will never forget what he did for me. That’s why . . . that’s why we can’t just hop into bed, like old times. I hope you understand, Samson.’

  Samson’s mother appeared in his mind: she had so wanted him to have a family with Anastasia, and before her death was endlessly pleading with him to win Anastasia back and marry her. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you. I wish . . . I had no idea.’

  ‘What could you have done? Really, there was nothing. It is the way things are with us. Bad timing. I understand that now.’

  ‘I wish you’d told me.’

  ‘What would have been the point, to make
you feel bad and helpless? Besides, I couldn’t talk about it. I had a breakdown, Samson. Me, the damned psychologist, with a breakdown! I was out of it. Being kidnapped and shot didn’t help – that all came out. The shock, the terror, the sleepless nights. Classic PTSD, and losing the baby sent me crazy. Actually, I can’t remember which was first, the miscarriage or the breakdown.’

  He leaned forward, shaking his head, and took her hand. He began to say something but ended up again muttering that he was sorry.

  ‘It’s not your responsibility, and I know you did try to contact me. It was two years ago, and I recovered. I am myself again.’ She made a dramatic flourish, as though taking a bow. ‘But all that – the miscarriage and my breakdown – is why Denis didn’t tell me that he was going after Mila Daus. I didn’t even know her name until today. You see, he really does care for me and he didn’t think I could take any more pressure. Turns out he was wrong about that – I seem to be okay after being chased by carloads of killers through two countries. Actually, three, if you count Macedonia.’

  ‘I want to hear about Macedonia.’

  ‘It was delightful. The farm is as it was, but there’s a new barn that I suspect Denis paid for. There’s much more to say, but I really have to sleep. Can I crash on your bed? I really can’t say another word more.’

  He led her to the bed and they lay down and he held her.

  ‘Even this seems wrong,’ she said. She wriggled round and looked up from his chest. ‘I know you love me, Samson. I understand.’ She turned again and wrapped his hand around her breast. You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘No, I don’t mind.’

  She closed her eyes and was immediately asleep.

  ‘I’ll wake you in a couple of days,’ he murmured.

  At 5.35 p.m. Anastasia’s phone went off. She raised her head from the bed then let it fall back, wrapping an arm across her eyes and groaning. She felt much worse than when they had lain down. Samson pulled his arm from beneath her and shook the circulation into his hand. ‘Maybe you should see who called.’

  She groaned. ‘Water.’

  He went to fetch a glass from the bathroom. ‘I’ve just had a message from Warren Speight’s office,’ she said on his return. ‘They want me to appear in front of Congress within the next seven days.’

  He absorbed this. ‘They surely can’t question you on Denis’s affairs when he’s lying in the bloody hospital?’

  She shook her head and dialled Jim Tulliver.

  ‘What’s going on, Jim?’

  ‘They just called. The committee want you there Friday or Monday.’

  ‘What are they going to ask me? I know nothing.’

  ‘Speight is pushing for it. Did he give you any idea he was going to do this?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘Well, I guess you just go along and say you can’t answer questions on things you don’t know about.’

  ‘He kind of trapped me with all that schmoozing, and I thought he was on our side and wanted not to persecute Denis. I don’t understand. He went on about what was in the lawyer Steen’s briefcase – you remember that? Said there was something in it to be used in extremis and asked did I know what it was.’

  ‘Well, I think you should come back anyway. Denis is frail, but they think he’s out of danger and his heart appears to be beating normally so that’s good news. I’ll talk with the lawyers, and we can get a damn great wall built around you. You go in and you say you would of course be honoured to help the committee, but since you had your own life and your own problems, how can you respond on things that you don’t know about? That kind of thing. We’ll get a statement drafted.’

  ‘But I do know how much money we spent on relief and medical aid. And maybe I can give evidence to support that. Shall I call the staffer? He left a message.’

  ‘Yeah, you do that. His name is Matthew Corner. I could send the plane, but it’s going to be as quick for you to fly from Tallinn to Helsinki on the early flight, then to DC. There’s a seat for you. I’ll send details.’

  ‘Did Marty Reid get in touch?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, he did. He heard some rumour that Denis was out of his coma and he came to the hospital, only to find that Denis was in surgery. He wants to talk to you, but I stalled. Didn’t tell him where you were. He’s very anxious to help. Believes he has something new on the TangKi business; says he’s identified the ultimate source of where the money came from to support European fascists.’

  ‘Does that matter?’

  ‘He seems to think so.’

  ‘Do you trust him?’

  ‘Denis has always had his doubts about Marty.’

  Her phone was on speaker and Samson heard all this. He went to the desk he had dragged in front of the door and found some hotel notepaper in a folder. He wrote, ‘Can you bring evidence to the committee?’ And handed the paper to her.

  She asked the question. Tulliver replied, ‘I see no reason why not. You can respond to questions how you see fit, and you can support what you’re saying by the submission of documents.’

  ‘Okay. I’m going to speak with Matthew Corner, and I’ll take that plane you booked.’

  She hung up. ‘Are you thinking what I am?’

  ‘We can be ready by then. There is the very large issue of proof. We have to show that the woman now known as Mila Gaspar is the Mila Daus, and there’s only one way of doing that, and besides, the only thing I have seen is a colour chart with names – some of them well known, others not. But there’s no proof attached to them. It’s nothing more than a list.’

  ‘Naji has it all.’

  ‘Yes, but there was a reason that Denis didn’t use it. They weren’t ready. Mila Daus knew this and moved to head them off. I don’t believe she thought there was anything in that briefcase, and we know Denis’s case had nothing important in it. Bobby was out painting. If he thought Denis was going to reveal everything in Congress, he would have wanted to be near a TV to watch it. There’s nothing like that at the cabin.’

  ‘Why use nerve agent? Why not shoot Denis on the way to Congress? We had no protection.’

  ‘That’s a very good question, and I’ve been thinking about it, because it seems too downright crazy for her. Also, as I keep on saying, the people contracted to kill me, Bobby and, I guess, you and Naji are all amateurs and gangsters. The Mila Daus that we know about would have made sure of the hit every time. There’s so much that doesn’t make sense. I repeat, we don’t have a case against her.’

  ‘You’re forgetting about Naji.’

  That didn’t give Samson a lot of confidence, although it was true that Harland had trusted him. ‘Yes, but I don’t yet know what he has.’

  She dialled Matthew Corner in Speight’s office, put him on speaker and started explaining that she was out of the country attending a funeral of her husband’s dear friend.

  The staffer said, ‘Hold it right there, I have Congressman Speight for you.’

  Speight came on. Concern was expressed for Denis, pleasantries were exchanged, and a particularly hot spring day was commented upon. ‘Mrs Hisami, I have spoken with my good friend Harry Lucas, who, you may recall, is the chair of our committee, and he is in agreement with me that we need to clear up one or two matters of detail. Then, I feel, we could put the matter to rest.’

  ‘What detail? I cannot answer for my husband.’

  ‘These would be matters that directly relate to you, Mrs Hisami, and I think we both know it’s important for those around the globe who witnessed the shameful events of last week to understand that American democracy will not be cowed by an act of terrorism. Our flame will not be doused, if you follow my drift.’

  She looked at Samson, who had certainly picked up on the use of the word ‘douse’ – a homophone for Daus. He thought it might be intentional and nodded to her. ‘I understand you, Congressman. It will not b
e doused, but why the rush?’

  ‘I knew you would grasp what I was saying. I hope that I can take this as your acceptance of our invitation. But we do need to expedite these matters. Much depends on it. My staff will be calling with the arrangements but, in the meantime, I’d like to leave you with this quotation, from a law enacted in the year of our Lord 1954. It concerns the evidence of witnesses to a congressional committee in respect of investigations concerned with national security subjects. And the matter in hand does seem to me, Mrs Hisami, to be one that falls into the remit of the Foreign Affairs Committee.’ He cleared his throat and read, ‘“No witness shall be prosecuted or subjected to any penalty or forfeiture for or on account of any transaction, matter, or thing concerning which he or she is so compelled, after having claimed his privilege against self-incrimination, to testify or produce evidence, nor shall testimony so compelled be used as evidence in any criminal proceeding . . . against him or her in any court.”’ He paused, ‘I want you to be clear on the import of this passage, Mrs Hisami – it means you have protection.’ After more silky reassurance, he bid her good day and rang off.