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me inside.

      He closed the study door with great care. Then, in a sudden change of mood that was typical of him, he said, ‘Do you mind telling me what the bloody hell this is all about?’

      ‘What?’

      ‘Don’t what me, Bernard. You understand English. What the hell are you cross-questioning von Munte about?’

      ‘The arrested woman …’

      ‘Mrs Miller,’ he interrupted me, to show how well informed he was.

      ‘Yes, Mrs Carol Elvira Johnson, née Miller, father’s name Müller, born London 1930, occupation schoolteacher. That’s the one.’

      ‘That was quite uncalled for,’ said Silas, offended at my reply. ‘Well, what about her?’

      ‘Her testimony doesn’t fit what I know of KGB procedures and I wanted to hear about von Munte’s experience.’

      ‘About using multiple code names? Did the Miller woman say they used multiple code names?’

      ‘She handled two lots of exceptionally high-grade intelligence material. There were two code names, but the Department is happy to believe that it all came from Fiona.’

      ‘But you incline to the view that it was two lots of material from two different agents?’

      ‘I didn’t say that,’ I said. ‘I’m still trying to find out. It can’t hurt to improve upon our knowledge, can it?’

      ‘Have you spoken to anyone at the office about this?’

      ‘Dicky Cruyer knows.’

      ‘Well, he’s a bright lad,’ said Silas. ‘What did he say?’

      ‘He’s not interested.’

      ‘What would you do in Dicky Cruyer’s place?’

      ‘Someone should check it with Stinnes,’ I said. ‘What is the point of debriefing a KGB defector if we don’t use him to improve upon what we already know?’

      Silas turned to the window; his lips were pressed tight together and his face was angry. From this first-floor room there was a view across the paddock all the way to the stream that Silas called his ‘river’. For a long time he watched the flecks of snow spinning in the air. ‘Drive slowly. It will freeze hard tonight,’ he said without looking round at me. He’d suppressed his anger and his body relaxed as the rage drained out of him.

      ‘No other way to drive in that old banger of mine.’

      When he turned to me he had his smile in place. ‘Didn’t I hear you telling Frank that you’re buying something good from your brother-in-law?’ He never missed anything. He must have had superhuman hearing and, in defiance of the laws of nature, it improved with every year he aged. I had been telling Frank Harrington about it, and, in keeping with our curious father-son sort of relationship, Frank had told me to be very careful when I was driving it.

      ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘A Rover 3500 saloon that a couple of tear-aways souped up to do one hundred and fifty miles an hour.’

      ‘With a V-8 engine that shouldn’t be too difficult.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You’ll surprise a few Sunday drivers with that one, Bernard.’

      ‘Yes, that’s what Tessa’s husband said. But until it’s ready I have to manage with the Ford. And in that I can’t surprise anyone.’

      Silas leaned close and his manner was avuncular. ‘You’ve come out of the Kimber-Hutchinson business with a smile on your face, Bernard. I’m pleased.’ I couldn’t help noticing that his distant relative Fiona was now referred to by her maiden name, thus distancing both of us from her.

      ‘I don’t know about the smile,’ I said.

      He ignored my retort. ‘Don’t start digging into that all over again. Let it go.’

      ‘You think that’s best?’ I said, to avoid giving him the reassurance he was asking for.

      ‘Leave all that to the people at Five. It’s not our job to chase spies,’ said Silas and opened the door of his study to let me out on to the landing.

      ‘Come along, children,’ I called. ‘Tea and cake and then we must leave.’

      ‘The Germans have a word for the results of such over-enthusiasm, don’t they,’ said Silas, who never knew when to stop. ‘Schlimmbesserung, an improvement that makes things worse.’ He smiled and patted my shoulder. There was no sign of anger now. Silas had become Uncle Silas again.

       5

      ‘Why does anyone have to go to Berlin,’ I asked Dicky resentfully. I was at home: warm and comfortable and looking forward to Christmas Day.

      ‘Be sensible,’ said Dicky. ‘They’re getting this Miller woman’s body out of the Hohenzollern Canal. We can’t leave it to the Berlin cops, and a lot of questions will have to be answered. Why was she being moved? Who authorized the ambulance? And where the hell was she being moved to?’

      ‘It’s Christmas, Dicky,’ I said.

      ‘Oh, is it?’ said Dicky feigning surprise. ‘That accounts for the difficulty I seem to be having getting anything done.’

      ‘Don’t Operations know that we have something called the Berlin Field Unit?’ I said sarcastically. ‘Why isn’t Frank Harrington handling it?’

      ‘Don’t be peevish, old boy,’ said Dicky, who I think was enjoying the idea of ruining my Christmas. ‘We showed Frank how important this was by sending you over to supervise the arrest. And you interrogated her. We can’t suddenly decide that BFU must take over. They’ll say we’re unloading this one onto them because it’s the Christmas holiday. And they’d be right.’

      ‘What does Frank say?’

      ‘Frank isn’t in Berlin. He’s gone away for Christmas.’

      ‘He must have left a contact number,’ I said desperately.

      ‘He’s gone to some relatives in the Scottish Highlands. There have been gales and the phone lines are down. And don’t say send the local constabulary to find him because when I track him down, Frank will point out that he has a deputy on duty in Berlin. No, you’ll have to go, Bernard. I’m sorry, but there it is. And after all, you’re not married.’

      ‘Hell, Dicky. I’ve got the children with me and the nanny has gone home for Christmas with her parents. I’m not even on stand-by duty. I’ve planned all sorts of things over the holiday.’

      ‘With gorgeous Gloria, no doubt. I can imagine what sort of things you planned, Bernard. Bad luck, but this is an emergency.’

      ‘Who I spend my Christmas with is my personal business,’ I said huffily.

      ‘Of course, old chap. But let me point out that you introduced the personal note into this conversation. I didn’t.’

      ‘I’ll phone Werner,’ I said.

      ‘By all means. But you’ll have to go, Bernard. You are the person the BfV knows. I can’t get all the paperwork done to authorize someone else to work with them.’

      ‘I see,’ I said. That was the real reason, of course. Dicky was determined that he would not go back into the office for a couple of hours of paperwork and phoning.

      ‘And who else could I send? Tell me who could go and see to it.’

      ‘From what you say, it’s only going to be a matter of identifying a corpse.’

      ‘And who else can do that?’

      ‘Any of the BfV men who were in the arrest team.’

      ‘That

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