London Match Read Online Free PDF Page A

merely in love with the idea of herself in love.
    Werner seemed not to notice the mention of Erich Stinnes's name. That was Werner's way — honi soil qui mal y pense . Evil to him who evil thinks — that could well be Werner's motto, for Werner was too generous and considerate to ever think the worst of anyone. And even when the worst was evident, Werner was ready to forgive. Zena's flagrant love affair with Frank Harrington — the head of our Berlin Field Unit, the Berlin Resident — had made me angrier with her than Werner had been.
    Some people said that Werner was the sort of masochist who got a perverse pleasure from the knowledge that his wife had gone off to live with Frank, but I knew Werner too well to go in for that sort of instant psychology. Werner was a tough guy who played the game by his own rules. Maybe some of his rules were flexible, but God help anyone who overstepped the line that Werner drew. Werner was an Old Testament man, and his wrath and vengeance could be terrible. I know, and Werner knows I know. That's what makes us so close that nothing can come between us, not even the cunning little Zena.
    'I've seen that Miller woman somewhere,' said Werner. 'I never forget a face.' He watched the wasp. It was sleepy, crawling slowly up the wall. Werner reached for Zena's newspaper, but the wasp, sensing danger, flew away.
    Zena was still thinking of Erich Stinnes. 'We do all the work,' she said bitterly. 'Bernard gets all the credit. And Erich Stinnes gets all the money.' She was referring to the way in which Stinnes, a KGB major, had been persuaded to come over to work for us and given a big cash payment. She reached for the jug, and some coffee dripped onto the hotplate making a loud, hissing sound. When she'd poured coffee for herself, she put the very hot jug onto the tiles of the counter. The change of temperature must have made the jug crack, for there was a sound like a pistol shot and the hot coffee flowed across the counter top so that we all jumped to our feet to avoid being scalded.
    Zena grabbed some paper towels and, standing well back from the coffee flowing onto the tiled floor, dabbed them around. 'I put it down too hard,' she said when the mess was cleared away.
    'I think you did, Zena,' I said.
    'It was already cracked,' said Werner. Then he brought the rolled newspaper down on the wasp and killed it.

2
    It was eight o'clock that evening in London when I finally delivered my report to my immediate boss, Dicky Cruyer, Controller German Stations. I'd attached a complete translation too, as I knew Dicky wasn't exactly bilingual.
    'Congratulations,' he said. 'One up to Comrade Stinnes eh?' He shook the flimsy pages of my hastily written report as if something might fall from between them. He'd already heard my tape and had my oral account of the Berlin trip so there was little chance that he'd read the report very thoroughly, especially if it meant missing his dinner.
    'No one in Bonn will thank us,' I warned him.
    'They have all the evidence they need,' said Dicky with a sniff.
    'I was on the phone to Berlin an hour ago,' I said. He's pulling all the strings that can be pulled.'
    'What does his boss say?'
    'He's spending his Christmas vacation in Egypt. No one can find him,' I said.
    'What a sensible man,' said Dicky with admiration that was both sincere and undisguised. 'Was he informed of the impending arrest of his secretary?'
    'Not by us, but that would be the regular BfV procedure.'
    'Have you phoned Bonn this evening? What do BfV reckon the chances of a statement from him?'
    'Better we stay out of it, Dicky.'
    Dicky looked at me while he thought about this and then, deciding I was right, tried another aspect of the same problem. 'Have you seen Stinnes since you handed him over to London Debriefing Centre?'
    'I gather the current policy is to keep me away from him.'
    'Come along,' said Dicky, smiling to humour me in my state of paranoia. 'You're not saying you're still suspect?' He