The Spy Who Came in from the Cold s-3

by John le Carré

  "Toward the end of 1959, Mundt informed his London masters that he had found within the Präsidium a man who would act as intermediary between them and Mundt. That man was Karl Riemeck.

  "How did Mundt find Riemeck? How did he dare to establish Riemeck's willingness to cooperate? You must remember Mundt's exceptional position: he had access to all the security files, could tap telephones, open letters, employ watchers; he could interrogate anyone with undisputed right, and had before him the detailed picture of their private life. Above all he could silence suspicion in a moment by turning against the people the very weapon" —Fiedler's voice was trembling with fury—"which was designed for their protection." Returning effortlessly to his former rational style, he continued:

  "You can see now what London did. Still keeping Mundt's identity a close secret, they connived at Riemeck's enlistment and enabled indirect contact to be established between Mundt and the Berlin command. That is the significance of Riemeck's contact with de Jong and Leamas. That is how you should interpret Leamas' evidence, that is how you should measure Mundt's treachery."

  He turned and, looking Mundt full in the face, he shouted: "There is your saboteur, terrorist! There is the man who has sold the people's rights!

  "I have nearly finished. Only one more thing needs to be said. Mundt gained a reputation as a loyal and astute protector of the people, and he silenced forever those tongues that could betray his secret. Thus he killed in the name of the people to protect his fascist treachery and advance his own career within our Service. It is not possible to imagine a crime more terrible than this. That is why—in the end—having done what he could to protect Karl Riemeck from the suspicion which was gradually surrounding him, he gave the order that Riemeck be shot on sight. That is why he arranged for the assassination of Riemeck's mistress. When you come to give your judgment to the Präsidium, do not shrink from recognizing the full bestiality of this man's crime. For Hans-Dieter Mundt, death is a judgment of mercy."

  21

  The Witness

  The President turned to the little man in the black suit sitting directly opposite Fiedler.

  "Comrade Karden, you are speaking for Comrade Mundt. Do you wish to examine the witness Leamas?"

  "Yes, yes, I should like to in one moment," he replied, getting laboriously to his feet and pulling the ends of his gold-rimmed spectacles over his ears. He was a benign figure, a little rustic, and his hair was white.

  "The contention of Comrade Mundt," he began— his mild voice was rather pleasantly modulated—"is that Leamas is lying; that Comrade Fiedler either by design or ill chance has been drawn into a plot to disrupt the Abteilung, and thus bring into disrepute the organs for the defense of our socialist state. We do not dispute that Karl Riemeck was a British spy— there is evidence for that. But we dispute that Mundt was in league with him, or accepted money for betraying our Party. We say there is no objective evidence for this charge, that Comrade Fiedler is intoxicated by dreams of power and blinded to rational thought. We maintain that from the moment Leamas returned from Berlin to London he lived a part; that he simulated a swift decline into degeneracy, drunkenness and debt, that he assaulted a tradesman in full public view and affected anti-American sentiments—all solely in order to attract the attention of the Abteilung. We believe that British Intelligence has deliberately spun around Comrade Mundt a mesh of circumstantial evidence— the payment of money to foreign banks, its withdrawal to coincide with Mundt's presence in this or that country, the casual hearsay evidence from Peter Guillam, the secret meeting between Control and Riemeck at which matters were discussed that Leamas could not hear: these all provided a spurious chain of evidence and Comrade Fiedler, on whose ambitions the British so accurately counted, accepted it; and thus he became party to a monstrous plot to destroy—to murder in fact, for Mundt now stands to lose his life—one of the most vigilant defenders of our Republic.

  "Is it not consistent with their record of sabotage, subversion and human trafficking that the British should devise this desperate plot? What other course lies open to them now that the rampart has been built across Berlin and the flow of Western spies has been checked? We have fallen victim to their plot; at best Comrade Fiedler is guilty of a most serious error; at worst of conniving with imperialist spies to undermine the security of the worker state, and shed innocent blood.

  "We also have a witness." He nodded benignly at the court. "Yes. We too have a witness. For do you really suppose that all this time Comrade Mundt has been in ignorance of Fiedler's fevered plotting? Do you really suppose that? For months he has been aware of the sickness in Fiedler's mind. It was Comrade Mundt himself who authorized the approach that was made to Leamas in England: do you think he would have taken such an insane risk if he were himself to be implicated?

  "And when the reports of Leamas' first interrogation in The Hague reached the Präsidium, do you suppose Comrade Mundt threw his away unread? And when, after Leamas had arrived in our country and Fiedler embarked on his own interrogation, no further reports were forthcoming, do you suppose Comrade Mundt was then so obtuse that he did not know what Fiedler was hatching? When the first reports came in from Peters in The Hague, Mundt had only to look at the dates of Leamas' visits to Copenhagen and Helsinki to realize that the whole thing was a plant—a plant to discredit Mundt himself. Those dates did indeed coincide with Mundt's visits to Denmark and Finland: they were chosen by London for that very reason. Mundt had known of those 'earlier indications' as well as Fiedler—remember that. Mundt too was looking for a spy within the ranks of the Abteilung...

  "And so by the time Leamas arrived in Democratic Germany, Mundt was watching with fascination how Leamas nourished Fiedler's suspicions with hints and oblique indications—never overdone, you understand, never emphasized, but dropped here and there with perfidious subtlety. And by then the ground had been prepared—the man in the Lebanon, the miraculous scoop to which Fiedler referred, both seeming to confirm the presence of a highly placed spy within the Abteilung...

  "It was wonderfully well done. It could have turned—it could still-turn—the defeat which the British suffered through the loss of Karl Riemeck into a remarkable victory.

  "Comrade Mundt took one precaution while the British, with Fiedler's aid, planned his murder. He caused scrupulous inquiries to be made in London. He examined every tiny detail of that double life which Leamas led in Bayswater. He was looking, you see, for some human error in a scheme of almost superhuman subtlety. Somewhere, he thought, in Leamas' long sojourn in the wilderness he would have to break faith with his oath of poverty, drunkenness, degeneracy, above all of solitude. He would need a companion, a mistress perhaps; he would long for the warmth of human contact, long to reveal a part of the other soul within his breast. Comrade Mundt was right, you see. Leamas, that skilled, experienced operator, made a mistake so elementary, so human that—" He smiled. "You shall hear the witness, but not yet. The witness is here; procured by Comrade Mundt. It was an admirable precaution. Later I shall call—that witness." He looked a trifle arch, as if to say he must be allowed his little joke. "Meanwhile I should like, if I may, to put one or two questions to this reluctant incriminator, Mr. Alec Leamas."

  "Tell me," he began, "are you a man of means?"

  "Don't be bloody silly," said Leamas shortly. "You know how I was picked up."

  "Yes, indeed," Karden declared, "it was masterly. I may take it, then, that you have no money at all?"

  "You may."

  "Have you friends who would lend you money, give it to you perhaps? Pay your debts?"

  "If I had I wouldn't be here now."

  "You have none? You cannot imagine that some kindly benefactor, someone perhaps you have almost forgotten about, would ever concern himself with putting you on your feet...settling with creditors and that kind of thing?"

  "No."

  "Thank you. Another question: do you know George Smiley?"

  "Of course I do. He was in the Circus."

 
; "He has now left British Intelligence?"

  "He packed it up after the Fennan Case."

  "An yes—the case in which Mundt was involved. Have you ever seen him since?"

  "Once or twice."

  "Have you seen him since you left the Circus?"

  Leamas hesitated. "No," he said.

  "He didn't visit you in prison?"

  "No. No one did."

  "And before you went to prison?"

  "No."

  "After you left prison—the day of your release, in fact—you were picked up, weren't you, by a man called Ashe?"

  "Yes."

  "You had lunch with him in Soho. After the two of you had parted, where did you go?"

  "I don't remember. Probably I went to a pub. No idea."

  "Let me help you. You went to Fleet Street eventually and caught a bus. From there you seem to have zigzagged by bus, tube and private car—rather inexpertly for a man of your experience—to Chelsea. Do you remember that? I can show you the report if you like, I have it here."

  "You're probably right. So what?"

  "George Smiley lives in Baywater Street, just off the King's Road, that is my point. Your car turned into Baywater Street and our agent reported that you were dropped at number nine. That happens to be Smiley's house."

  "That's drivel," Leamas declared. "I should think I went to the Eight Bells; it's a favorite pub of mine."

  "By private car?"

  "That's nonsense too. I went by taxi, I expect. If I have money I spend it."

  "But why all the running about beforehand?"

  "That's just cock. They were probably following the wrong man. That would be bloody typical."

  "Going back to my original question, you cannot imagine that Smiley would have taken any interest in you after you left the Circus?"

  "God, no."

  "Nor in your welfare after you went to prison, nor spent money on your dependents, nor wanted to see you after you had met Ashe?"

  "No. I haven't the least idea what you're trying to say, Karden, but the answer's no. If you'd ever met Smiley you wouldn't ask. We're about as different as we could be."

  Karden seemed rather pleased with this, smiling and nodding to himself as he adjusted his spectacles and referred elaborately to his file.

  "Oh yes," he said, as if he had forgotten something, "when you asked the grocer for credit, how much money had you?"

  "Nothing," said Leamas carelessly. "I'd been broke for a week. Longer, I should think."

  "What had you lived on?"

  "Bits and pieces. I'd been ill—some fever. I'd hardly eaten anything for a week. I suppose that made me nervous too—tipped the scales."

  "You were, of course, still owed money at the library, weren't you?"

  "How did you know that?" asked Leamas sharply. "Have you been—"

  "Why didn't you go and collect it? Then you wouldn't have had to ask for credit, would you, Leamas?"

  He shrugged.

  "I forget. Probably because the library was closed on Saturday mornings."

  "I see. Are you sure it was closed on Saturday mornings?"

  "No. It's just a guess."

  "Quite. Thank you, that is all I have to ask."

  Leamas was sitting down as the door opened and a woman came in. She was large and ugly, wearing a gray overall with chevrons on one sleeve. Behind her stood Liz.

  22

  The President

  She entered the court slowly, looking around her, wide-eyed, like a half-awakened child entering a brightly lit room. Leamas had forgotten how young she was. When she saw him sitting between two guards, she stopped.

  "Alec."

  The guard beside her put his hand on her arm and guided her forward to the spot where Leamas had stood. It was very quiet in the courtroom.

  "What is your name, child?" the President asked abruptly. Liz's long hands hung at her sides, the fingers straight.

  "What is your name?" she repeated, loudly this time.

  "Elizabeth Gold."

  "You are a member of the British Communist Party?"

  "Yes."

  "And you have been staying in Leipzig?"

  "Yes."

  "When did you join the Party?"

  "Nineteen fifty-five. No—fifty-four, I think it was—"

  She was interrupted by the sound of movement; the screech of furniture forced aside, and Leamas' voice, hoarse, high-pitched, ugly, filling the room.

  "You bastards! Leave her alone!"

  Liz turned in terror and saw him standing, his white face bleeding and his clothes awry, saw a guard hit him with his fist, so that he half fell; then they were both upon him, had lifted him up, thrusting his arms high behind his back. His head fell forward on his chest, then jerked sideways in pain.

  "If he moves again, take him out," the President ordered, and she nodded to Leamas in warning, adding: "You can speak again later if you want. Wait." Turning to Liz she said sharply, "Surely you know when you joined the Party?"

  Liz said nothing, and after waiting a moment the President shrugged. Then leaning forward and staring at Liz intently she asked:

  "Elizabeth, have you ever been told in your Party about the need for secrecy?" Liz nodded.

  "And you have been told never, never to ask questions of another Comrade on the organization dispositions of the Party?"

  Liz nodded again. "Yes," she said, "of course."

  "Today you will be severely tested in that rule. It is better for you, far better, that you should know nothing. Nothing," she added, with sudden emphasis. "Let this be enough: we three at this table hold very high rank in the Party. We are acting with the knowledge of our Präsidium, in the interests of Party security. We have to ask you some questions, and your answers are of the greatest importance. By replying truthfully and bravely you will help the cause of socialism."

  "But who?" she whispered, "who is on trial? What's Alec done?"

  The President looked past her at Mundt and said, "Perhaps no one is on trial. That is the point. Perhaps only the accusers. It can make no difference who is accused," she added, "it is a guarantee of your impartiality that you cannot know."

  Silence descended for a moment on the little room; and then, in a voice so quiet that the President instinctively turned her head to catch her words, she asked, "Is it Alec? Is it Leamas?"

  "I tell you," the President insisted, "it is better for you—far better—you should not know. You must tell the truth and go. That is the wisest thing you can do."

  Liz must have made some sign or whispered some words the others could not catch, for the President again leaned forward and said, with great intensity, "Listen, child, do you want to go home? Do as I tell you and you shall. But if you—" She broke off, indicated Karden with her hand and added cryptically, "This Comrade wants to ask you some questions, not many. Then you shall go. Tell the truth."

  Karden stood again, and smiled his kindly, churchwarden smile.

  "Elizabeth," he inquired, "Alec Leamas was your lover, wasn't he?" She nodded.

  "You met at the library in Bayswater, where you work."

  "Yes."

  "You had not met him before?"

  She shook her head. "We met at the library," she said.

  "Have you had many lovers, Elizabeth?"

  Whatever she said was lost as Leamas shouted again, "Karden, you swine," but as she heard him she turned and said, quite loud, "Alec, don't. They'll take you away."

  "Yes," observed the President drily; "they will."

  "Tell me," Karden resumed smoothly, "was Alec a Communist?"

  "No."

  "Did he know you were a Communist?"

  "Yes. I told him."

  "What did he say when you told him that, Elizabeth?"

  She didn't know whether to lie, that was the terrible thing. The questions came so quickly she had no chance to think. All the time they were listening, watching, waiting for a word, a gesture perhaps, that could do terrible harm to Alec. She couldn't lie unless she
knew what was at stake; she would fumble on and Alec would die—for there was no doubt in her mind that Leamas was in danger.

  "What did he say then?" Karden repeated.

  "He laughed. He was above all that kind of thing."

  "Do you believe he was above it?"

  "Of course."

  The young man at the Judges' table spoke for the second time. His eyes were half closed:

  "Do you regard that as a valid judgment of a human being? That is he above the course of history and the compulsions of dialectic?"

  "I don't know. It's what I believed, that's all."

  "Never mind," said Karden. "Tell me, was he a happy person, always laughing and that kind of thing?"

  "No. He didn't often laugh."

  "But he laughed when you told him you were in the Party. Do you know why? "

  "I think he despised the Party."

  "Do you think he hated it?" Karden asked casually.

  "I don't know," Liz replied pathetically.