Then it was over and the nerves steadied and the street came back into focus and I went on walking, keeping up a good pace, business to do, so forth, because one of the things I had to do this afternoon was to make them believe that I didn't know they were there.
'Tewson.
He was one of Cone's people, a man I knew, and he was fifty yards behind me on the other side of the street.
You'llhave support.
Cone didn't use amateurs. He would have hand-picked them as soon as he'd reached Berlin and he might even have brought some of them with him or sent them ahead. Yesterday it had taken me almost two hours to throw one of them off before I could start out to Werneuchen. Today it would be quicker. I'd made arrangements, because these streets were strictly a red sector and I didn't want anyone coming in to help me when I could be into a close hold with one of Volper's men and getting the answers I wanted.
Tewson wasn't keeping to my pace; he wouldn't have to shorten the distance before I reached a corner: there'd be relay men, two, even three, somewhere ahead to take over and pass me on.
This was all Cone could do. We'd chewed the whole thing on the mat and he knew I was liable to go solo at any minute and he could only try to follow Shepley's instructions. Viktor Yasolev had his heavy responsibilities but so did Cone. He wouldn't be shot at dawn if he failed to bring me home from Quickstep but he'd find sleep hard to come by for a long time afterwards. He was one of the few field directors — Ferris was another, and Bainbridge — who took a personal pride in protecting their executives, and he'd brought them home again and again, sometimes from last-ditch situations where other directors would have left them for dead and pulled out. This afternoon he'd try to make sure I was never alone, never without support, but I couldn't let that happen because when it came to the crunch I wanted a clear field to work in.
Charlottenstrasse, and I turned the corner and walked north, a damp chill in the air, the river smell drifting through the streets from the Spree. I felt better now; the nerves had reacted to the fear of imminent death when I stepped into the street but the gooseflesh had gone by this time and I was walking steadily and the organism was gradually eliminating the excess adrenalin. Not all of it. I could need more, at any time.
The relay man was a hundred yards ahead of me on the other side. I couldn't see his face but I knew he'd be there somewhere and I picked him up fairly soon; if I hadn't been looking for him I could have missed him easily: he was using good mobile cover — other people — and had his back to me most of the time.
'How are things, Gunter?'
I got in and slammed the door and sat back straight away. There was a Mercedes SEL behind us and I didn't want to overlook anything.
The relay man was at the intersection of Charlottenstrasse and Franzstrasse by now and he'd seen me get into the cab and he was turned away from us and using his walkie-talkie, but there wasn't anything he could do unless Cone had put a vehicle into the field and that wasn't likely with a relay tag in operation.
'I was on time?'
'Yes.' He wanted praise, and I should've thought of that; in this trade we don't give it. 'Exactly on time. Take a right and a left as fast as you legally can.'
'Whatever you say.'
Give me your wife's name and her sister's address, and by the end of the month I'll see she gets a permit to visit the cemetery on the other side.
He didn't think I'd give him a bill. I hadn't put it specifically but I'd given him the cover of being what they called a live-body entrepreneur. Ever since the Wall had gone up there'd been a steady trade in people who needed to reach the other side. Prices varied, and the cost of getting young people across was higher, their working life and value to the German Democratic Republic making them expensive: in the region of twenty-five thousand US dollars. For this man's wife the price would normally be a quarter of that: she was middle-aged and a woman. But he didn't think I'd give him a bill because I'd told him there were things he could do for me.
'Get into Unter den Linden.'
He nodded his head.
I wanted Unter den Linden because we'd have more room to manoeuvre. The Mercedes had been behind us when we'd pulled out from the kerb in Charlottenstrasse but that didn't mean anything. I didn't think it was Cone's because it was a four-door model and too big, too noticeable for a tracking vehicle and too expensive for the Bureau's economies. It could be Volper's, making a series of sweeping passes ever since I'd walked out of the Steingarten. It couldn't have shadowed Gunter from his apartment because I'd taken extreme care before I'd decided on it as a safe-house. The SEL could have more than one, more than two men in it. The object of their operation was to get onto my track and stay with me until they'd set up the kill and could trigger it but it didn't have to take all afternoon — they could pull into the next traffic lane at any time and come alongside and put out a burst of rapid fire. But I didn't expect that. The streets of East Berlin are well policed and the bleak, quiet atmosphere would deter anyone from calling attention.
And I was beginning to know Horst Volper's style. The first attempt at a kill had been carefully organised, and designed to look like a hit-and-run. He wouldn't start lashing out in a panic.
'Gunter. What kind of car have we got behind us?'
'A VW.'
'And behind that? Don't move your head.'
He let the cab drift a couple of feet to the left side and checked the mirror again.
'A Mercedes SEL.'
'Find me a phone box.'
It took us another three blocks and he pulled into the kerb and waited for me while I got out and crossed the pavement to the telephone and called the Soviet Ambassador.
12: SHARK
'Liaison.'
'How can I help you?'
'Is Major Yasolev still in the embassy?'
'I will see.'
It was only three o'clock but the rooftops were already losing definition. Dark would soon be coming down.
'Yasolev.'
'Liaison.'
'Yes?'
'Have you put a tag on me?'
'No.
The Mercedes had pulled into a space well ahead of us; I could only just see its rear numberplate. Within that distance Gunter wouldn't be able to make a U-turn legally and there was no sidestreet. All they had to do was wait, and if I didn't go back to the cab they'd simply deploy people on foot.
'Are you sure?' I asked Yasolev.
'Of course I am sure. We agreed.'
'It's not that I don't trust you. I'm just checking.'
'Where are you?'
'I'll be in touch,' I said, and rang off and went across the pavement and got in and saw the small black Audi reflected in a window on the flier side. It had swung into Unter den Linden three blocks ago and I’d seen its image in windows at the first and third intersections. I thought it was best to leave it alone and blow the Mercedes.
'Gunter, that SEL is parked about seventy metres ahead of us on this side. When you go past it, put your foot down hard and take a right into Spandauerstrasse and then a left as fast as you can.' He started the engine. 'If the lights are against us at Spandauer, go into it when they change and then do whatever you think best to lose the Merc.'