Shadow of Shadows

by Ted Allbeury

  ‘What’s that?’

  The guy Kramer. He’s a film director. Party member, influential, well-paid, and they live together. It was he who got her into better jobs. They seem to have a settled relationship.’

  ‘What else do you know?’

  ‘She works part-time at the studios as a production assistant. She’s certainly worn well. Looks younger than her years. It’s not going to be easy to get her away from all that. Not voluntarily anyway.’

  ‘That’s the only way it’s going to be.’

  ‘Let’s talk about it after you’ve had some kip.’

  It was a long time before Lawler slept. His mind was too full of his thoughts. Thoughts that were crowding in, uncontrolled, and uncontrollable, like people crowding into a subway. Petrov and Maria Grazyna Felinska, long, long ago, when all was well. Before a few public criticisms had smashed up their lives. Just a few words that sent them in different directions. Joanna, screaming drunk at a party, asking why the men were looking at other girls, and not at her. And coming back to the empty flat. The vision of Siobhan Nolan in bed with Petrov, her long legs spread wide, just as they were for him. Silvester and his little secrets. Petrov and his little secrets. And would anyone cuddle little Sarah when she was afraid or unhappy. Petrov, as happy as a love-struck adolescent, waiting impatiently for his love to fly to his arms. But what if his love was happy in her house on the river Spree? What the hell could he say to her? The first words, the opening sentence. What, in God’s name, did you say? And back to Siobhan Nolan. Who knew more about him than he knew himself. What would she do to him? What form would her wound take? Asleep in the next room, safe in her self-knowledge. If Petrov went in to her even now, would she let him sleep with her? His eyes ached and burned as he tried to sleep, and not think, his body rigid and tense. Then suddenly, and silently, she was there, looking down at him, smiling, her hand reaching for his. She sat on the edge of the bed. Not speaking, just holding his hand, waiting for him to sleep. And as the tensions melted away his heavy eyelids closed and he slept, and she lay on the bed alongside him, her foot touching his leg.

  21

  BERLIN 1960

  About a month after Blake had settled in the rented house at Shemlam a blonde woman was shown into an office near West Berlin s Town Hall. The man who came from behind his desk to show her to a chair was young and fair-haired, and he nodded dismissal at the man who had escorted her to his office. Some instinct kept him from going back behind his desk and he sat in the red leather chair facing her.

  ‘They told me that you had phoned and asked to speak to a security officer. My name is Berger. ‘I’m an officer of the BjV. What can I do to help you?’

  He watched her face as he spoke. He guessed she was in her middle thirties. An attractive woman who must once have been pretty. But now her face was gaunt and pale, her eyes red-rimmed and strained.

  ‘I want to report a man who is a spy for the Russians.’

  ‘Are you sure that you re not mistaken?’

  ‘Quite sure.’

  ‘OK. Tell me about it.’

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘Is the man German?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘In Berlin?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What makes you think he’s a spy?’

  ‘He told me so.’

  Berger smiled. ‘You’re a very attractive lady, if I might say so. Men sometimes do claim to be involved in espionage to impress their girl-friends.’

  ‘He’s not my boy-friend.’

  ‘Could I ask you your name, madam?’

  ‘I’d rather not say.’

  ‘OK. What about the man s name?’

  ‘Horst Heinz Eitner. ’

  ‘Tell me what he told you. ‘

  ‘He said his code-name is “Paulus” and he reports to a Colonel Willi Seegebrecht, head of an East German intelligence organization. ‘

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘And the Russian he reports to is based at Karlshorst, and his name is Petrov. He’s KGB. ‘

  Berger looked at her for several minutes before he spoke.

  ‘Am I right in thinking that Herr Eitner is your husband? ’ He saw the flush suffuse her face, and she said in almost a whisper, ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘I didn’t, Frau Eitner. But to know that kind of specific detail you would need to be either his wife or his mistress. You already said you were not his girl-friend. ’

  ‘It s true all the same, what I told you. ‘

  ‘Em not doubting that for a moment, Frau Eitner. But I have to ask you why you are telling me this. ’

  ‘Why is that necessary ?’

  ‘Let me explain. Before we can take any action against Herr Eitner we have to have evidence that would be acceptable to a court. A statement by anybody that he told them such and such is not evidence. It s what the courts call hearsay. When that evidence comes from the accused’s wife it creates other problems. There are two possible motives for a wife to give evidence that would convict her husband. If she were doing it because she was a patriot it could carry some weight. If the defence could suggest to the court that it was done out of jealousy or spite then that evidence would not be enough. In either case we should have to carry out our own investigations and provide quite independent evidence. ‘

  ‘You think I’m lying out of jealousy?’

  ‘By no means. Eighty per cent of information given us, or the civil police, with jealousy as a motive, turns out to be true. There are many other ways a jealous woman, or man, can take revenge. But I do need to know your motive.’

  ‘He wants to leave me for a young girl.’

  ‘Has he said so?’

  ‘No. But he sees her every day. Most afternoons at her flat.’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘I paid a private detective to find out.’

  ‘Have you got reports in writing?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘In my hat-box at home.’

  Berger reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a leather wallet. He took out a card and reached over and gave it to her.

  ‘You can ring that number any time of the day or night. Ask for me — Major Berger. What’s your forename?’

  ‘Brigitte.’

  ‘Right. Just give the name, Brigitte. If l happened to be out of Berlin they will tell you so, and when I shall be back. If I am in Berlin, ring again fifteen minutes later, and they will put you through to me. Don’t use your own telephone at home. If Herr Eitner really is doing what he told you the telephone might well be tapped. Does your husband have a job?’

  ‘Just what I’ve told you. ‘

  ‘Does he have money enough?’

  ‘Plenty. He’s got all the money he needs.’

  ‘Just from these two sources?’

  ‘And from the British.’

  ‘What does he do for the British?’

  He spies for them too.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  And for the first time she saw that he was really interested. ‘He does it with a Dutchman who works for British intelligence.’

  ‘What’s the Dutchman’s name?’

  ‘Max van Vries.’

  ‘Your . . . Herr Eitner told you this?’

  ‘Max comes to our house. He’s a really nice fellow. I liked him.’

  ‘Regularly?’

  ‘Oh yes. Two or three times a week.’

  ‘Do you know when he’s due to come again?’

  ‘Oh, he doesn’t come anymore. He went back to England last year. To London.’

  ‘Have you got a family, Frau Eitner?’

  ‘A little girl.’

  Berger sat in silence for several minutes. Then he reached out his hand. ‘Give me back the card, please.’ He took it and placed it on his desk.

  ‘Frau Eitner. Unless you were actually afraid for some reason, don’t ring me. I want you to go back home and forget that you’ve ever been here. Fo
rget our conversation. Put all this out of your mind. Understand? It never happened. Just continue whatever relationship you have with Herr Eitner as normally as you can.’

  ‘What will happen?’

  Berger stood up and smiled. ‘So far as you are concerned, nothing. But I am grateful for your help. I shall do my best to see that you are not involved in any way. ‘

  ‘What will happen to him?’

  He took her arm gently, opened the door and led her down the corridor. ‘I’m taking you down to the side door. Walk down the side passage and you’ll come out by the shops. Its more discreet this way.’

  She took the hint and accepted that he didn’t intend answering her question. She wished that he had asked the girl’s name and address. And that reminded her.

  ‘Do you want my address?’

  ‘No, that’s all right. Leave it all to us.’ He took her hand, holding it for a moment. She really was quite attractive.

  ‘Thank you again. If you need help some time in the future, please contact me.’ He bowed slightly and she turned and left.

  He walked slowly back to his office and dialled a number on the internal phone. When the red light came on he said, ‘I think we’ve got a real lead to Viktor at last.’

  Berger and the lawyer from the Office of the Public Prosecutor went through the reports page by page, and Berger answered the lawyer’s queries from a pile of official notebooks. It was the third full day given to examining the case of Horst Eitner.

  ‘And that’s the lot, Karl. What do you think?’

  ‘You’ve certainly got enough to pull him in and interrogate him.’

  ‘No more than that?’

  ‘It depends on what his answers are. The court won’t like the jealousy motive on the part of the wife.’

  ‘Do we need to use her?’

  ‘Definitely. She’s the only evidence that this Dutchman Max van Vries was ever in the flat. We’ll have to declare the jealousy angle. If we don’t the defence will.’

  ‘What do I need to establish when I interrogate him?’

  ‘The money in the three banks. He’ll try all the usual things. Gambling winnings. Gifts. Maybe black market. Make him give detail after detail. He won’t be able to, he’ll claim he can’t remember. Tell him we shall class it as obstruction of evidence.

  ‘Then you’ve got the meetings in East Berlin with known KGB and SSD agents. The court will agree to evidence in camera on that sort of stuff so that you don’t have to give away too much. Try and get the British to give evidence that they used him and paid him. They’ll have dates and amounts of payments that you can relate to bank deposits. ’ He pursed his lips. ‘And that’s about all you’ve got.’

  ‘Will it stick, d’you think?’

  Karl Bonner shrugged. Its hard to say. Fifty-fifty as it stands. Anything more could turn it our way.’

  I’m going to pull him in tomorrow at the girl’s place. When are you back from leave?’

  ‘Two weeks. I’ll leave a number, but don’t use it unless you have to. I need all the sunshine I can get.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Costa del Sol. A small place called Nerja.’ He smiled.

  ‘Why are you picking him up at the girl’s place?’

  Berger smiled back. ‘That poor bloody wife deserves some sort of pay-off, doesn’t she?’

  Bonner nodded. ‘I guess so.’ He picked up his brief-case and walked to the door. ‘Try and get the British to make that fellow van Vries available to give evidence. He at least establishes that Eitner dabbled as an agent. ‘

  ‘They’re never very co-operative when it means exposing one of their people in court. We should be the same. ’

  ‘Try anyway.’

  ‘OK.’

  Berger looked at his watch and turned to Klaus Messel. ‘He’s been there an hour. I think well go in. ‘

  ‘OK, Chief.’

  When the BMW pulled up outside the girl’s building Berger said, I Cover the fire-escape at the back. I don’t think hell be any trouble. I’ll signal from the window when I’m leaving.’

  Berger gave Messel ten minutes to get into place and then walked up the stairs to the third floor. He rang the bell and waited. It was several minutes before the door opened. The girl was wearing a man’s towelling bath-robe.

  ‘Fraulein Lange?’

  She nodded. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I’d like to talk to Herr Eitner.’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘My name’s Berger. Otto Berger.’

  And when she hesitated he spread open his identity card. When she looked back at his face she looked scared.

  I don’t understand.’

  He said very quietly, ‘It’s nothing to do with you. Just let me in.’

  Slowly and hesitantly she opened the door and he walked inside.

  The small living-room was empty, and he pushed open a half-open door. It was the bathroom. The other door was slightly ajar. As he walked in Eitner was reaching for a packet of cigarettes on the bedside cupboard.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’

  ‘Herr Eitner?’

  Eitner pushed back the sheets and got out of the bed. He was wearing only his socks.

  ‘Get out, you cheeky bastard, whoever you are.’ And he lurched forward, his fists clenched. Berger leaned back against the door to close it. ‘I’m a Federal Investigator, Herr Eitner, I should calm down if I were you. ’

  Eitner stood with one fist raised aggressively. ‘You’re what?’

  Berger showed him his identity card and Eitner s arm fell to his side.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’

  Get dressed, Herr Eitner. I want you to come with me and answer some questions.’

  ‘What authority do you have?’

  ‘A warrant from the Public Prosecutor’s Office.’

  Eitner took a deep breath, opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind. Berger stood watching as Eitner slowly dressed. He wasn’t going to make trouble.

  Eitner had heard about the BfV villa in Grunewald, and the bars on the windows confirmed his worst fears. Berger had left him alone for a couple of days before starting the interrogation. It lasted ten days, almost full-time. It gave him enough to charge Eitner with half a dozen offences but none of them added up to high treason. Eitner was transferred to a normal prison. Berger had made clear that the court would be asked to give consecutive sentences that would add up to over twenty years. He was given no indication of when his trial would take place.

  At the end of the first month Eitner had smuggled out a letter to his friend George Blake at his Lebanon address, asking for help. When, after two months, he had received no reply he asked for an interview with Berger. It was a bitter and angry Horst Eitner who was ready to talk. He was taken back to the villa in Grunewald for the interview. It started one mid-evening in February 1961, and Berger was cool and distant as he went down the list of questions.

  ‘Does that mean that you want to retract your statement about being kidnapped by the East Germans and forced to work for them?’

  ‘Yes. But I want to do a deal.’

  ‘What sort of deal?’

  ‘I can give you details of a British intelligence officer who is a double-agent for the Russians. ’

  Go on.’

  ‘I want charges dropped against me if I give you this information. ‘

  ‘You’ve been seeing too many American films, Herr Eitner. We don’t work that way. You are a German citizen and you will be tried under German law.’

  Eitner shrugged. ‘You must have some discretion about what charges you put forward.’

  ‘Look, Eitner, you’ve wasted days of my time telling me a pack of lies about being kidnapped, and all that crap about Seegebrecht and being forced to work for him. Tell me anything you’ve got to tell me, and I’ll decide what action we take against you yourself.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘But just remember. The first lie I catch you with you go straight
back to jail, and I’ll stick down every charge I can find against you. Is that understood?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘OK. Carry on. D’you want a cigarette?’

  Eitner nodded, and Berger passed him a lighter and a full pack of Benson and Hedges King Size. After he had inhaled, Eitner started.

  ‘I lied about not knowing Max van Vries. I did know him. I worked for him. He wasn’t Dutch, he was British, and his real name was Blake. George Blake. He worked for SIS at the Olympic Stadium.’

  ‘What was your relationship with him?’

  He paid me sixty pounds sterling a week and I ran two small networks for him. I was getting the same from the Russians. They just wanted documents. Blake was definitely authentic, I checked on him. A few months before he went back to London he told me how he knew I was working for the Russians. I thought he was going to chop me or put me inside but he didn’t. It was then I knew he must be working for the Russians too.’

  ‘Did you ask him about that?’

  ‘I didn’t need to. I checked with my SSD contacts in East Berlin. They wouldn’t confirm it, but they didn’t deny it either. I gather that it caused a few heads to roll. And then Blake took me to meet a Russian named Petrov. He was Blake’s controller. I thought he was going to use me, but I heard later that he’d been posted back to Moscow. Almost the same time that Blake went back to London.’

  ‘Is Blake still in London?’

  ‘No, he’s just gone to Beirut, to the spy-school there.’

  ‘Have you had any contact with Blake since he went back to London?’

  ‘Just a personal letter to say they’d had another child.’

  ‘Have you still got that letter?’

  ‘I’m not sure, I’d have to check.’

  ‘You realize I can check all this out with the British?’

  ‘Sure I do.’

  ‘And if it’s not true you’ll be in for life?’

  ‘Do all the checking you like. It’s all true.’

  ‘I’ll fix you a comfortable room here. You’ll be here until I’ve checked this out. Is there anything you particularly want?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Who put you on to me.’