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acute, and apparently genuine, interest in the work on view. Only when both men were satisfied that they were not being watched did the Russian quit the building and lead Ballard into the polite suburbs of Dahlem to a mutually agreed safe house. There, in a small and unheated kitchen, they sat down and talked. Mironenko's command of English was uncertain, or at least appeared so, though Ballard had the impression that his struggles for sense were as much tactical as giammatical. He might well have presented the same facade in the Russian's situation; it seldom hurt to appear less competent than one was. But despite the difficulties he had in expressing himself, Mironenko's avowals were unequivocal. 'I am no longer a Communist,' he stated plainly, 'I have not been a party-member - not here -' he put his fist to his chest'- for many years.' He fetched an off-white handkerchief from his coat pocket, pulled off one of his gloves, and plucked a bottle of tablets from the folds of the handkerchief. 'Forgive me,' he said as he shook tablets from the bottle. 'I have pains. In my head; in my hands.' Ballard waited until he had swallowed the medication before asking him, 'Why did you begin to doubt?' The Russian pocketed the bottle and the handker- chief, his wide face devoid of expression. 167 'How does a man lose his ... his faith?' he said. 'Is it that I saw too much; or too little, perhaps?' He looked at Ballard's face to see if his hesitant words had made sense. Finding no comprehension there he tried again. 'I think the man who does not believe he is lost, is lost.' The paradox was elegantly put; Ballard's suspicion as to Mironenko's true command of English was confirmed. 'Are you lost nozi>?' Ballard inquired. Mironenko didn't reply. He was pulling his other glove off and staring at his hands. The pills he had swallowed did not seem to be easing the ache he had complained of. He fisted and unfisted his hands like an arthritis sufferer testing the advance of his condition. Not looking up, he said: 'I was taught that the Party had solutions to every- thing. That made me free from fear.' 'And now?' 'Now?' he said. 'Now I have strange thoughts. They come to me from nowhere . . .' 'Go on,' said Ballard. Mironenko made a tight smile. 'You must know me inside out, yes? Even what I dream?' 'Yes,' said Ballard. Mironenko nodded. 'It would be the same with us,' he said. Then, after a pause: 'I've thought sometimes I would break open. Do you understand what I say? I would crack, because there is such rage inside me. And that makes me afraid, Ballard. I think they will see how much I hate them.' He looked up at his interrogator. 'You must be quick,' he said, 'or they will discover me. I try not to think of what they will do.' Again, he paused. All trace of the smile, however 168 humourless, had gone. 'The Directorate has Sections even I don't have knowledge of. Special hospitals, where nobody can go. They have ways to break a man's soul in pieces.' Ballard, ever the pragmatist, wondered if Mironenko's vocabulary wasn't rather high-flown. In the hands of the KGB he doubted if he would be thinking of his soul's contentment. After all, it was the body that had the nerve-endings. They talked for an hour or more, the conversation moving back and forth between politics and personal reminiscence, between trivia and confessional. At the end of the meeting Ballard was in no doubt as to Mironenko's antipathy to his masters. He was, as he had said, a man without faith. The following day Ballard met with Cripps in the restaurant at the Schweizerhof Hotel, and made his verbal report on Mironenko. 'He's ready and waiting. But he insists we be quick about making up our minds.' 'I'm sure he does,' Cripps said. His glass eye was troubling him today; the chilly air, he explained, made it sluggish. It moved fractionally more slowly than his real eye, and on occasion Cripps had to nudge it with his fingertip to get it moving. 'We're not going to rushed into any decision,' Cripps said. 'Where's the problem? I don't have any doubt about his commitment; or his desperation.' 'So you said,' Cripps replied. 'Would you like something for dessert?' 'Do you doubt my appraisal? Is that what it is?' 'Have something sweet to finish off, so that I don't feel an utter reprobate.' 169 'You think I'm wrong about him, don't you?' Ballard pressed. When Cripps didn't reply, Ballard leaned across the table. 'You do, don't you?' 'I'm just saying there's reason for caution,' Cripps said. 'If we finally choose to take him on board the Russians are going to be very distressed. We have to be sure the deal's worth the bad weather that comes with it. Things are so dicey at the moment.' 'When aren't they?' Ballard replied. 'Tell me a time when there wasn't some crisis in the offing?' He settled back in the chair and tried to read Cripps' face. His glass eye was, if anything, more candid than the real one. 'I'm sick of this damn game,' Ballard muttered. The glass eye roved. 'Because of the Russian?' 'Maybe.' 'Believe me,' said Cripps, 'I've got good reason to be careful with this man.' 'Name one.' 'There's nothing verified.' 'What have you got on him?' Ballard insisted. 'As I say, rumour,' Cripps replied. 'Why wasn't I briefed about it?' Cripps made a tiny shake of his head. 'It's academic now,' he said. 'You've provided a good report. I just want you to understand that if things don't go the way you think they should it's not because your appraisals aren't trusted.' 'I see.' 'No you don't,' said Cripps. 'You're feeling martyred; and I don't altogether blame you.' 'So what happens now? I'm supposed to forget I ever met the man?' 'Wouldn't do any harm,' said Cripps. 'Out of sight, out of mind.' 170 Clearly Cripps didn't trust Ballard to take his own advice. Though Ballard made several discreet enquiries about the Mironenko case in the following week it was plain that his usual circle of contacts had been warned to keep their lips sealed. As it was, the next news about the case reached Ballard via the pages of the morning papers, in an article about a body found in a house near the station on Kaiser Damm. At the time of reading he had no way of knowing how the account tied up with Mironenko, but there was enough detail in the story to arouse his interest. For one, he had the suspicion that the house named in the article had been used by the Service on occasion; for another, the article described how two unidentified men had almost been caught in the act of removing the body, further suggesting that this was no crime of passion. About noon, he went to see Cripps at his offices in the hope of coaxing him with some explanation, but Cripps was not available, nor would be, his secretary explained, until further notice; matters arising had taken him back to Munich. Ballard left a message that he wished to speak with him when he returned. As he stepped into the cold air again, he realised that he'd gained an admirer; a thin-faced individual whose hair had retreated from his brow, leaving a ludicrous forelock at the high-water mark. Ballard knew him in passing from Cripps' entourage but couldn't put a name to the face. It was swiftly provided. 'Suckling,' the man said. 'Of course,' said Ballard. 'Hello.' 'I think maybe we should talk, if you have a moment,' the man said. His voice was as pinched as his features; Ballard wanted none of his eossip. He was about to 171 refuse the offer when Suckling said: 'I suppose you heard what happened to Cripps.' Ballard shook his head. Suckling, delighted to possess this nugget, said again: 'We should talk.' They walked along the Kantstrasse towards the Zoo. The street was busy with lunchtime pedestrians, but Ballard scarcely noticed them. The story that Suckling unfolded as they walked demanded his full and absolute attention. It was simply told. Cripps, it appeared, had made an arrangement to meet with Mironenko in order to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |