Uninvited, Reimann took the only visitor’s chair, further analysing and balancing. His arrival route had been confused enough. He looked at his watch. Two hours already in East Berlin. And the nostalgic – now-useful – detour to the Stasi headquarters. They’d have made any seizure before now, if they were going to move at all. Reimann felt the confidence flow back. ‘Just that?’ he asked. ‘Just confirmation that the bill was going to be settled by a bona fide insurance company?’
‘The inference is obvious!’ Turev insisted.
‘Is it a bona fide, properly trading company?’ demanded Reimann. There was an opportunity to impress the bearded man, who clearly had the greater authority.
‘Of course it is! Just as the magazines are,’ said Turev.
‘And they provided the confirmation they were asked for?’ Reimann was aware of a growing alertness from the man at the desk.
Sorokin said: ‘Naturally they did.’
It pleased Reimann to feel superior to both men. To Turev he said: ‘You told me my legend could withstand any investigation?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Turev. Nervous doubt stayed in the man’s voice: at last a cigarette flared into life.
Reimann smiled. ‘I don’t think there was any mistake at all,’ he said. ‘I think we’ve been extremely fortunate.’ He had to be wary against appearing over-confident.
‘Explain that,’ Sorokin insisted. He was glad he had allowed Turev to lead the attack, outwardly preserving his own composure.
‘Explain something to me, first,’ said Reimann. ‘When did you learn of the security check in Australia?’
Just over twenty-four hours ago,’ said the bearded man.
‘Yet you’re here, both of you. Knowing that I could be under surveillance, liable to be swept up, you kept the meeting?’
‘Not blindly,’ said Turev, falling into the trap.
‘Exactly!’ seized Reimann. ‘When did your surveillance pick me up?’ He realized, as he asked the question, that he was disclosing his own failing, not having identified it.
‘When you crossed where the Wall used to be,’ Sorokin admitted, almost enjoying the exchange now.
‘I wasn’t being followed, was I? If I had been, this meeting would not be taking place. There would have been a radio warning, to get you out ahead of any squad trailing me here.’
Sorokin smiled. ‘So?’
‘We’ve been extremely fortunate,’ Reimann repeated. ‘I don’t know – and it doesn’t really matter – if it was Elke Meyer who reported to security. Let’s assume, let’s hope even, that it was. As I tried to explain through Jutta, the involvement of the police inherently gave me credibility, as an honest person. And if the concealment of the Australian company and my legend is as unbreakable as you insist, we’ve not got the slightest cause for alarm. Just as there wasn’t any cause for alarm about this meeting today. This security check is going to guarantee me completely. And not just to her, if she made the report. Now any further security inquiries won’t be necessary, if anyone becomes curious at the relationship I hope to form. I will have been investigated by Bonn counter-intelligence and possess a full clearance.’
It was a formidable, convincing argument, Sorokin accepted. There had definitely been no hostile surveillance during the time Reimann had been in East Berlin. Despite the apprehension about becoming involved at ground level, Sorokin was glad to meet Reimann, to judge for himself the man’s ability. Moving to take over the meeting, he said: ‘We have to assume that it was the woman who made the security report. Which makes her extremely cautious.’
That awareness had registered with Reimann several minutes earlier. Tidy-minded and birdlike nervous though she was, Reimann would not have guessed at Elke running to counter-intelligence because of what had so far occurred between them. Certainly she’d queried one or two things he’d told her about the car, but those queries had been about the insurance, not suspicion openly directed at him. He supposed she might have discussed it with someone at the Chancellery who’d then made the report, but here again he would still not have expected such a degree of sensitivity. He was going to have to be careful. A further awareness came to him: the Russians appeared to have conceded his argument to look at the security check as a bonus instead of a danger. Then he had proved himself. ‘So am I being cautious,’ he said.
Sorokin stretched across the desk, offering the photostats of the two anonymous documents received in Vienna. ‘Something else you should know.’
Reimann studied the papers unhurriedly, feeling very self-assured now. He looked up and said: ‘How?’
It was Turev who explained, and when he finished Reimann said: ‘A deception. It’s got to be.’
‘That’s obviously the way we have to treat it at the moment,’ Sorokin agreed. ‘Unless we can get independent corroboration from you that such matters are being discussed by the Bonn government.’
Reimann glanced back at the photostats. ‘Troop strengths and NATO are predictable subjects: it’s inevitable that they would be discussed.’
‘All the public assurances – all the Summit declarations – are that a united Germany will not constitute an aggressive partner in NATO,’ said Sorokin. ‘That’s your assignment, above all else. To confirm that, from the Meyer woman.’
Reimann disliked the other man’s attitude of arrogant superiority. He realized they were attaching more importance to anonymous papers in the post than to him: that he was being relegated to a subordinate role again, that of authenticating someone else’s information.
‘So!’ demanded Sorokin, almost with the impatience of Cherny, back in Moscow. ‘Do you think you can get it from her? That and a lot more?’
‘In time and at the proper pace,’ said Reimann, refusing to be bullied. ‘To push too fast – particularly if she is responsible for the security check – would frighten her away. Be disastrous.’
‘But do you believe, eventually, that you will get as close and be able to manipulate Elke Meyer as much as will be necessary?’ Turev persisted. ‘Necessary for everything we want?’
They were demanding far more than impressions. He determined not to be panicked into an over-commitment, so that any future failures or mistakes could be blamed upon him. He said: ‘I am reasonably sure. But it is far too soon to go any further than that. We’ve met. I’ve shown her a lot of kindness but stopped short very positively of going any further than that. I think she’s responsive, but I can’t be definite …’
‘How soon, before you can be more definite?’ said Sorokin.
My speed, not yours, thought Reimann. He said: ‘We have only reached the very beginning.’
Both Sorokin and Turev nodded, but each with visible reluctance. ‘Just as long as you fully appreciate the importance,’ said Sorokin. ‘We have to know the NATO undertakings are genuine: to be able to guard as much as possible against any misunderstanding, or some unexpected diplomatic move being made by the United States or by a combined Europe believing that Soviet weakness is allowing too many changes from which they can take further advantage.’
‘I do understand that,’ insisted Reimann, angered at their lecturing attitude towards him.
‘Has Jutta passed my message on?’ asked the chain-smoking Russian, much too directly.
‘Which message?’ queried Reimann, instantly cautious.
‘Our congratulations at what you have achieved so far,’ smiled Turev.
‘That’s very encouraging to hear,’ said Reimann, the words carefully chosen. His reply neither denied nor confirmed any message through Jutta. Which there hadn’t been. Why, out of everything, had the Russian isolated that? There could, of course, be several explanations, but the one Reimann seized upon was that the man already knew the praise had not been relayed. From which a number of other conclusions could be reached. One was that Jutta had intentionally withheld the praise. Which meant she was stupidly still trying to retain the old position of dominance. Another conclusion was that his wife’s apartment at Nord-Stadt was
electronically monitored, like the apartment in Moscow.
‘Have any operational difficulties arisen between you and your wife?’ asked Sorokin, re-entering the discussion.
‘Not in any way that I’ve been aware,’ said Reimann, still with guarded ambiguity.
‘I think, however, that these secondary personal meetings are advantageous,’ Turev insisted.
‘Definitely,’ Reimann agreed. His initial inclination had been to persuade Jutta to move away from Nord-Stadt as soon as he got back to Bonn after this encounter. But just as quickly he changed his mind again, recognizing the personal protection the situation provided. It would be virtually pointless to move anyway: the KGB would simply bug any new apartment, in Jutta’s absence. But what if he used what already existed in reverse? It didn’t matter a damn whether Jutta fulfilled every instruction or not: anything she failed to communicate, in her resentment, would be realized by the Russians and given to him at these private sessions. But by knowing in advance about the hidden ears, Reimann could ensure that everyone who listened to the tapes would hear whatever he wanted transmitted. And never guess they were eavesdropping on what he intended them to hear! It would mean, of course, they would listen also to every private conversation and moment between himself and Jutta, but Reimann decided he couldn’t give a damn about that.
‘Which is why we will arrange today the reciprocal contact procedure,’ Turev announced. From an inside pocket he took a small piece of card and extended it to Reimann. ‘We’ll go on using Rome, where the card came from that summoned you today. Memorize that box number. It’s a poste restante facility the embassy rezidentura uses as a dead-letter drop.’
‘But not a postcard,’ anticipated Reimann, ever anxious to prove himself. ‘People don’t send postcards to poste restante box numbers.’
Turev nodded approvingly. ‘We’re sure the drop is undetected, but no, certainly not a postcard. An unaddressed and unsigned card but sealed in an envelope. And never traceably posted from Bonn, against the risk of any interception. Cologne is less than an hour away, by car. The postal volume there is sufficient to conceal any overseas letter.’
‘What should the card say?’
Just a number: nothing to identify it as a date. Five days after the number written on the card, I shall be here, expecting you,’ Turev promised.
‘We’re imposing great reliance upon unreliable postal systems,’ Reimann pointed out. ‘If I allow three days for the envelope to reach the dead-letter drop and another day for transmission to Moscow we are working with a delay period of at least a week. What if the need is more urgent?’
‘Come directly here unannounced,’ ordered Turev. ‘I can reach here in less than twenty-four hours.’
Reimann decided that from now on, working on the assumption of Nord-Stadt being an open channel, he was operating from a greatly enhanced position. He said: ‘I don’t expect such an emergency to arise. I just wanted the provision.’
Turev was determined against overreacting to what amounted to a very small failure on Jutta Reimann’s part, but passingly he wondered how Reimann would react to Jutta being removed entirely from the operation. It would be premature even to attempt such a discussion. At the moment there was insufficient cause; and there was still the overwhelming, remote-control reason for the woman to remain in place. ‘There’s been some progress from our end,’ he said. ‘Our computer experts have finally broken the entry code to Elke Meyer’s bank records. As we might have guessed, she’s obsessed with detail and order. Not just the monthly payments for apartment rental and services. She never deviates, on her personal drawings, not in the amount or on the precise dates when those drawings are made. She receives her salary cheque on the thirtieth of every month, and the saving into deposit or insurance is made the day after. And she’s a creditor’s dream; bill presented, bill paid, practically always on the same day.’ He paused. ‘But there is one intriguing item. Last month there was an outgoing payment of thirty thousand marks. The cheque was presented against her account the day after it was issued.’
‘No details of the payee?’ asked Reimann hopefully.
‘The ledger records aren’t computerized: all we can access are the account details, which only gives us a cheque number.’
Reimann sat reflectively for several moments. ‘To whom could the frugal, careful Elke Meyer be suddenly paying out thirty thousand Deutschmarks?’
‘Which was about half what she had in her accounts,’ said Turev, in further disclosure. ‘And you are right. She is frugal and she is careful. So it must have been extremely important. Any ideas?’
Reimann shook his head. ‘Not yet. But I’d like to know. That’s quite a lot of money by her standards.’
‘By a lot of people’s standards,’ said Sorokin.
‘It would be good if it provided some point of pressure.’
‘We’ll continue to monitor,’ Turev undertook.
‘I want a poison,’ Reimann announced, almost casually. ‘It won’t need to be particularly strong: it’s only a minimal body weight.’
‘What for?’ demanded Sorokin, bewildered.
‘She’s very attached to the dog,’ said Reimann. ‘She can’t be allowed another attachment, other than me. I am going to kill it.’
‘Nothing!’ queried Günther Werle. He was relieved. At the beginning, when he’d first necessarily proposed to the security service what he intended for Elke Meyer, there had been concern at her having had an illegitimate child.
‘Nothing whatsoever to concern us,’ confirmed the counterintelligence officer. ‘Or you. We’ve had the fullest cooperation from the American FBI and from Australian counter-intelligence. Otto Reimann checks out everywhere. He’s quite genuine. We even had some of our analysts look at articles he had written. They were pretty dull but politically very sound.’
So he could go ahead, Werle decided. He wondered how Elke would respond. In her usual way, he guessed: calm, unflustered, utterly competent. He wanted very much to make the announcement but there were still the final formalities to be completed. Not much longer, though. His mind lingered upon her involvement with another man. Not really an involvement: certainly not in any way that should concern him. Which in itself was a premature reflection. There was nothing in their relationship which gave him any right to be jealous. Not yet. And in any case, jealousy was an immature emotion, one he was sure he did not possess.
Chapter Seventeen
Despite his dismissing the danger of a security investigation, Reimann remained cautious in returning to Bonn, glad in hindsight that he had taken similar precautions at the outset of the journey. He actually stayed a full day in Frankfurt inquiring among financial institutions about the importance of a stable Deutschmark in the European Exchange Rate Mechanism, material he could use in the next article for Australia. Throughout he was nerve-stetched alert for any surveillance and detected none, nor did he relax on his arrival at Cologne that night or during the drive into Bonn. He paid off the taxi two streets before Rochusplatz to approach on foot, but saw nothing to make him fear observation on his apartment. At the press centre the following morning he was greeted quite normally by journalists or officials of whom inquiries might have been made by intelligence officers. He began to feel easier.
After fulfilling his duty attendance at the press headquarters, Reimann went directly to the garage, initially ignoring his own restored vehicle to concentrate upon the Volkswagen. It had been repaired superbly. Reimann handed over the promised bonus and added a personal cheque for fifteen hundred marks to the prepared bank draft to settle in full the original estimate and the excess charges. He had the amount of that provisional estimate receipted to the Australian cover insurance company, with a separate receipt for the additional charges to be attached to his monthly expenses account. He had a second full receipt, which represented Elke’s authority to retrieve her car, put into the Volkswagen.
Elke answered the telephone on the second ring, slightly breathless, as if
she had hurried to it.
‘The car is ready,’ Reimann announced. ‘It’s waiting for collection.’ Had she hurried? he wondered: he hoped so.
‘That’s wonderful,’ said Elke. It seemed a word she was constantly using in conversations with him. It always appeared appropriate.
‘I inspected it today: they’ve done a first-class job. You wouldn’t know it’s been in an accident. I’m sorry it took longer than I promised.’ The work had been finished on schedule: the Berlin visit had delayed Reimann from completing the financial formalities.
‘What do I have to do?’ asked Elke, predictably.
‘Nothing,’ said Reimann, airily. He wished they had been face to face so that he could have gauged her reaction to his clear indifference. But then talking on the telephone instead of personally going to Kaufmannstrasse, which he was sure she had expected, was all part of that dismissal.
‘Nothing!’ she echoed.
‘It’s all fixed,’ Reimann repeated. ‘I’ve left the release forms, all signed, with the car. All you’ve got to do is pick it up.’ She couldn’t misunderstand what he was saying now: goodbye, brief acquaintance. Finished.
‘Oh,’ Elke said. The disappointment was obvious.
‘Is there a problem?’ asked Reimann, solicitously.
‘No … I … No problem at all.’
All alone with no one to help any more, thought Reimann: just as I planned this moment to be. He said: ‘I think the garage expect you to collect it tomorrow, if it’s convenient. If it’s not, you’d better give them a call.’
‘Yes … of course … I’ll get it tomorrow.’ Elke strained to think what she had to do, how she had to do it. Ask Günther for time off again, she supposed. Make an appointment with the garage, so the car would be immediately ready for collection. But Otto (she was mentally calling him Otto now?) had already said it was ready. No purpose then. She’d call, though. So that it would be waiting on the forecourt when she arrived to drive directly back to the Chancellery. Only be away for an hour. Two at the most. Wouldn’t it have been wonderful (that word again!) if he’d collected it for her: driven it to Kaufmannstrasse and come up to the apartment to hand over the keys and whatever a release document was? She had another bottle of whisky. Two, actually, just in case. In case of what? Nothing. Not important. Somehow she’d fixed her mind upon his bringing the car back to her, that’s all. It would have finished everything off. It would have been so …
Little Grey Mice Page 18