'Here,' said Cork in to his ear, 'listen. You remember that tip you gave me?'
'Sorry, old boy?'
'South African Diamonds. Consols. They're down six bob.'
'Hang on to them,' Crabbe urged with total insincerity, and withdrew prudently to the edge of the marquee. He had barely found the kind of dark, protective crevice which naturally appealed to his submerged nature when a hand seized his shoulder and swung him roughly round on his heel. Recovering from his astonishment he found himself face to face with a plain clothes policeman. 'What the hell - ' he broke out furiously, for he was a small man and hated to be handled. 'What the hell - ' But the policeman was already shaking his head and mumbling an apology. He was sorry, he said, he had mistaken the gentleman for someone else.
Urbane or not, de Lisle was meanwhile growing quite angry. The journey from the Embassy had irritated him considerably. He detested motor-bikes and he detested being escorted, and a noisy combination of the two was almost more than he could bear. And he detested deliberate rudeness, whether he or someone else was the object of it. And deliberate rudeness, he reckoned, was what they were getting. No sooner had they drawn up in the courtyard of the Ministry of the Interior than the doors of the car had been wrenched open by a team of young men in leather coats all shouting at once.
'Herr Siebkron will see you immediately! Now, please! Yes! Immediately, please!'
'I shall go at my own pace,' Bradfield had snapped as they were ushered in to the unpainted steel lift. 'Don't you dare order me about.' And to de Lisle, 'Ishall speak to Siebkron. It's like a trainload of monkeys.'
The upper floors restored them. This was the Bonn they knew: the pale, functional interiors, the pale, functional reproductions on the wall, the pale unpolished teak; the white shirts, the grey ties and faces pale as the moon. They were seven. The two who sat to either side of Siebkron had no names at all, and de Lisle wondered maliciously whether they were clerks brought in to make up the numbers. Lieff, an empty-headed parade horse from Protocol Department, sat on his left; opposite him, on Bradfield's right, an old Polizeidirektor from Bonn, whom de Lisle instinctively liked: a battle-scarred monument of a man, with white patches like covered bulletholes in the leather of his skin. Cigarettes lay in packets on a plate. A stern girl offered decaffeinated coffee, and they waited until she had withdrawn.
What does Siebkron want? he wondered for the hundredth time since the terse summons at nine o'clock that morning.
The Conference began, like all conferences, with a resumé of what was said at a previous occasion. Lieff read the minutes in a tone of unctuous flattery, like a man awarding a medal. It was an occasion, he implied, of the greatest felicity. The Polizeidirektor unbuttoned his green jacket, and lit a length of Dutch cigar till it burned like a spill. Siebkron coughed angrily but the old policeman ignored him.
'You have no objection to these minutes, Mr Bradfield?' Siebkron usually smiled when he asked this question, and although his smile was as cold as the north wind, de Lisle could have wished for it today.
'Off the cuff, none,' Bradfield replied easily, 'But I must see them in writing before I can sign them.'
'No one is asking you to sign.'
De Lisle looked up sharply.
'You will allow me,' Siebkron declared, 'to read the following statement. Copies will be distributed.'
It was quite short.
The doyen, he said, had already discussed with Herr Lieff of Protocol Department, and with the American Ambassador, the question of the physical security of diplomatic premises in the event of civil unrest arising out of minority demonstrations in the Federal Republic. Siebkron regretted that additional measures were proving necessary, but it was desirable to anticipate unhappy eventualities rather than attempt to correct them when it was too late.
Siebkron had received the doyen's assurance that all diplomatic Heads of Missiori would cooperate to the utmost with the Federal authorities. The British Ambassador had already associated himself with this undertaking.
Siebkron's voice had found a hard edge which was uncommonly close to anger. Lieff and the old policeman had turned deliberately to face Bradfield, and their expressions were frankly hostile.
'I am sure you subscribe to this opinion,' Siebkron said in English, handing a copy of the statement down the table. Bradfield had noticed nothing. Taking his fountain pen from an inside pocket, he unscrewed the cap, fitted it carefully over the butt and ran the nib a long line after line of the text.
'This is an aide-memoire?'
'A memorandum. You will find the German translation attached.'
'I can see nothing here that requires to be in writing a tall,' Bradfield said easily. 'You know very well, Ludwig, that we always agree on such matters. Our interests are identical.'
Siebkron disregarded this pleasant appeaclass="underline" 'You also understand that Doktor Karfeld is not well disposed towards the British. This places the British Embassy in a special category.'
Bradfield's smile did not flinch. 'It has not escaped our notice. We rely on you to see that Herr Karfeld's sentiments are not expressed in physical terms. We have every confidence in your ability to do so.'
'Precisely. Then you will appreciate my concern for the safety of all personnel of the British Embassy.'
Bradfield's voice came quite close to banter. 'Ludwig, what is this? A declaration of love?'
The rest came very fast, thrown down like an ultimatum: 'I must accordingly ask you that until further notice all British Embassy staff below the rank of Counsellor be confined to the are a of Bonn. You will kindly instruct them that for their own safety they will please be in their residences-' he was reading again from the folder before him -'henceforth and until further notice, by eleven o'clock at night, local time.' The white faces peered at them through the swathes of tobacco smoke like lamps through an anaesthetic. In the momentary confusion and bewilderment, only Bradfield's voice, fluent and decisive as the voice of a commander in battle, did not waver.
It was a principle of civil order which the British had learnt by bitter experience in many parts of the world, he said, that unpleasant incidents were actually provoked by over elaborate precautions. Siebkron offered no comment.
While making every allowance for Siebkron's professional and personal concern, Bradfield felt obliged to warn him strongly against any gesture which might be misinterpreted by the outside world.
Siebkron waited.
Like Siebkron, Bradfield insisted, he himself had a responsibility to preserve Embassy morale and thus fortify the Junior Staff against strains yet to come. He could not support any measure at this stage which would look like a retreat in the face of an enemy who as yet had barely advanced... Did Siebkron really wish it said that he could not control a handful of hooligans?...
Siebkron was standing up, the others with him. A terse inclination of the head replaced the obligatory handshake. The door opened and the leather coats led them briskly to the lift. They were in the wet courtyard. The roar of the motorcycles deafened them. The Mercedes swept them in to the carriageway. What on earth have we done? de Lisle wondered. What on earth have we done to deserve this? Whoever has thrown the rock through teacher's window?
'It's nothing to do with last night?' he asked Bradfield at last, as they approached the Embassy.