30.

  When she reported to Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse, she was interviewed by a bald, middle-aged man in a leather waistcoat. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and on the desk in front of him was a manila file. He told her to sit pleasantly enough, and offered her a cigarette, which she accepted, hoping it would calm her nerves,

  Throughout the subsequent interview, Margarita assumed the Gestapo agent was laying some trap for her. The questions were general to begin with, before concentrating on the whereabouts of Kai-Olaf. Margarita claimed ignorance. She took on a vague air about everything, as if she was rather forgetful. She even plucked up the courage to tell him how inconvenient it was to have to keep renewing the permit which allowed her to work in Berlin.

  ‘That does sound like an unnecessary nuisance.’ He looked at her benignly, before rummaging inside the file and producing her passport, which he placed on the desk in front of her.

  ‘That’s why I’d like to offer my assistance.’

  Margarita stubbed out her cigarette. Here it comes, she thought.

  Sure enough, the man pulled his chair up closer to the desk, and proceeded to tell her what she’d have to do effect the return of her passport. As a loyal citizen, he felt sure she would be more than willing to report on the internal affairs at her workplace. Naturally, he was asking a great favour, he fully understood that; he didn’t want her to give him an answer that second, she should think it over. He added that an intelligent young woman like her surely understood what was at stake. After all, there was more than trade going on at the Soviet Union’s Department of Trade in Berlin, was there not?

  He threw her passport back in the file, and told her that the interview was concluded.

  31.

  ‘Did he say anything else?’ asked Anton Kovrin, after listening closely to Margarita’s account of the meeting.

  Margarita passed him the card with the telephone number on it. The bald man had placed it in her hand – like giving sweets to a favourite niece – as she left his office.

  Her boss thanked her for bringing the matter to his attention so promptly.

  ‘You did the right thing. We’ll let you know in due course how we want you to proceed.’

  That was all very well for him to say. But as the days went past with no instructions forthcoming, she became increasingly worried, so when she saw Anton Kovrin one morning in the corridor, she asked if she could have a word with him. He lifted a finger to his lips and asked her to follow him to his office, but after shutting the door, he was quite short with her.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Has any decision been reached about my case yet?’

  ‘Not yet, no. Why?’

  Because she needed to know what the next step was. What they would expect her to do.

  He dropped his voice and told her the matter had been ‘passed on’.

  That was all very well, but what if the Gestapo picked her up in the meantime? What then? What was she meant to do?

  But all he would say was, ‘The answer will come in due course.’

  32.

  Late one November afternoon, Alyosha went over to Pesotskistrasse. It was some weeks since his last visit to the apartment, and he wanted to collect his winter coat, as the weather had turned. Everything was in its place exactly as he had left it, and he was just taking his coat out of the wardrobe in the bedroom when he heard a knock on the door. Thinking it must be Frau Kempowska, he opened it without thinking twice, only to be hurled back as if by a tornado, banging his head on the corner of the table and sending an empty plant pot crashing onto the floor, where it shattered in pieces.

  A blonde man in a sharp suit held a razor under his chin. A second man in a mackintosh closed the door quietly after him. He took a chair and sat on it backwards, slinging his legs either side of its back.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ spluttered Alyosha.

  They didn’t seem to want to chat.

  ‘There’s no money here, if that’s what you’re after.’

  Alyosha tried to sit up but the blonde man pressed the razor against his flesh: he felt a sticky wetness as blood trickled down the side of his neck. Then, the second man bent over and stubbed his cigarette slowly and thoroughly on the back of his hand. Alyosha screamed with pain, but was too aware of the razor at his neck to try to move.

  The man in the mackintosh spoke quietly but menacingly. He had betrayed the Polish cause – he was a coward of the first degree. More than that, he was the most unprincipled, underhand bastard that had ever walked God’s earth, not giving a shit about anything or anyone but his own yellow skin.

  ‘Ever heard about making a sacrifice for a cause? Eh?’

  He had twenty-four hours to disappear, and if they saw him on the streets of Berlin after that, they’d carve him up properly.

  Ludwika was shocked when he told her what had happened. She ran her finger over the narrow cut the razor had made on his skin, which was already knitting together. Alyosha was shaken, but furious, and was all set to confront Captain Malinowski, until she persuaded him to wait. He shouldn’t rush over there while he was still so angry; better to calm down, and then decide how best to proceed. That was important. In the end, they decided between them that it would be wiser if Ludwika went to speak to her cousin first, in order to get to the bottom of what had just happened. If Przemek was in any way behind those louts threatening him, he would see a very different side of her. But in spite of her bravado, Ludwika was clearly worried, and the last thing Alyosha wanted was to have her put in any danger on his account. He walked her over to the Hotel Adlon.

  ‘Don’t wait for me,’ she told him, ‘and don’t worry, I’ll be back in no time.’

  They kissed, and Alyosha spent the next couple of hours loitering around the Hotel Kaiserhof. After considering the matter further, he thought perhaps Captain Malinowski might not be involved after all, and that Colonel Flezar had been responsible. When she still hadn’t returned, he became so restless, he decided to go outside for some air, even though Ludwika had told him to say in the hotel room so that she could telephone him. He only walked as far as the square, and sat there watching the minute hand of the clock inching forward, his thoughts turning back to Ludwika constantly: how much influence did she really have? Could she persuade them that they could trust him, and that he would never betray their secrets to the Reichswehr or the Gestapo or anybody else?

  The lights around the square came on, and around him, people with their own troubles hurried by. He sucked the cold air into his lungs and walked about aimlessly. He was desperate to see Ludwika, to find out exactly what was happening. He felt an overwhelming urge just to hear her voice. He found a kiosk and dialled. As he was waiting to be connected, he watched an old beggar trying to settle his dog to sleep at his side.

  ‘Hello?’

  It was a woman’s voice, but not Ludwika’s, and it took him a few seconds to recognise it as belonging to the Baroness, as she sounded different over the telephone.

  ‘It’s Alexei Fyodorovich… Is Ludwika there?’

  There was a loud click. Had she dropped the receiver? In his mind’s eye, he could see Ludwika clearly, see her mouthing, ‘Who is it?’ as she got up from her chair. He could hear some low murmurs, and a sound like a drawer being opened and shut, not that he was certain of that…

  ‘Alexei?’

  Had she spoken to her cousin yet? He found it difficult to follow the thrust of her answers: her words were ambiguous, and he didn’t understand what she was trying to tell him. He kept asking Ludwika questions which she wouldn’t answer. What had she said to Captain Malinowski? More importantly, what had he said to her? Had she seen Colonel Flezar? Was he there? Her answers seemed to be coded, only he didn’t have the cipher, and felt he as though he was going mad. Then, she said something so quietly he barely caught it.

  ‘…not safe.’

  Her voice shrivelled.

  ‘What?’

  He could barely hear her against the roar of the traffic. He pressed the receiver closer to his ear. Was there anybody else in the room with her apart from Baroness Kosub?

  She was whispering now, ‘Alexei? Listen… Alexei? Are you still there?’

  He told her he was.

  ‘Are you listening?’

  ‘I’m listening…’

  ‘Closely, are you listening closely?’

  ‘Closely, yes…’

  Ludwika didn’t want him to go anywhere near the Hotel Kaiserhof; he should keep well clear, and meet her later outside Frankfurter Allee station. Had he understood what she had just told him? Yes, he knew the place well, it was by the fields of the Stadtpark.

  33.

  He arrived half an hour early, and walked along the platform, to the very end, where it stopped in the gloom, though the red spot of a signal was visible further down the line. There were just one or two people waiting for their train. He went down the stairs, into the underpass, and emerged into the twilight of the street, which appeared greyish-yellow under the lamps.

  It was utterly silent. Four motor cars parked nearby looked like monsters, huddled there for the winter. Opposite him were the black park railings, and beyond them, the silhouetted bushes and the stillness of the trees. He crossed the street, and stood in the shadows of the park, frost already chill beneath his feet. He kept one eye on the hands of the station clock, measuring the minutes ticking away one by one. Five trains slowed to a stop, before thundering off once more, bright ribbons into the night, their roar gradually fading into the distance. He stamped his feet, and did up the top button of his coat, under his chin.

  At eleven o’clock, he saw a yellow light flashing along the railings from the furthest bend of the road. The motor car came to a halt in front of the station. Alyosha watched the red tip of a cigarette like a firefly, before it disappeared into the dark. He looked again intently, and he recognised the shape of her head: she was keeping an eye on the street, looking out for him. After waiting a while, she eventually got out of the car, and was about to climb the stairs up to the platform, but, by then, he had crossed the road and had grasped the sleeve of her coat. He gave her a shock, and she let out a little gasp, but then she hugged him tightly.

  He kissed her, and smelt the cognac on her breath. Alyosha held her face in his hands and looked searchingly into her eyes. Her lips were slightly parted, showing her white, even teeth.

  ‘This way,’ he said, taking her hand and leading her into the park, making for where the bushes provided cover. It was only then that he started to question her.

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘I tried my best, I promise.’

  ‘Who sent them, Flezar or Malinowski?’

  ‘For your own good I’m saying this…’

  ‘Answer me, Wisia. Who set those two on me with a razor?’

  ‘I can’t do anything for you,’ she said mournfully. ‘They’re determined to kill you.’

  He was listening to her with one ear, the other alive to the sounds of the street.

  ‘Alexei, you have to leave Berlin. If you don’t get out…’

  ‘Hush!’

  She whispered, ‘What is it?

  ‘Hush!’

  Ludwika whispered sadly, ‘Go far enough away.’

  The sound was approaching and Alyosha pressed his hand over her mouth.

  ‘Ssh!’

  A kind of rustling came nearer, step by step. Alyosha held his breath, every hair on his body raised, until he realised it was only a stray dog. Alyosha caught Ludwika’s hands in his. Her hands were never cold, because she always wore gloves. Why not tonight?

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  He didn’t trust her. The sickening realisation swept over him in a wave of agonising disillusionment. How had he been so blind? He knew what she was, knew exactly what kind of a person she was, after Paris. She hadn’t changed at all.

  Now there was something else moving in the dark.

  He grabbed her and yanked at her savagely for her to follow him. Low-hanging branches were scratching her face, and she tried to shake herself free from his grasp. He was white-hot with anger.

  ‘Will you come with me to Paris tonight?’ he demanded.

  ‘Alexei, listen.’

  ‘We’ll take your car and drive to the border…’

  ‘Stop, Alexei, stop!’

  ‘We’ll find a way over somehow.’

  He couldn’t see her eyes in the darkness.

  ‘Me? Or your own people? Who is more important to you? You have to choose.’

  Instead of answering him, Wisia pulled him to her and kissed him hard.

  ‘There’s your proof,’ she whispered in his ear.

  Alyosha kissed her – kissed her with all the strength of his creation.

  ‘Too hard – don’t…’

  ‘Wisia…’

  ‘You’re hurting me, let me go, I can’t…’

  Over her shoulder, Alyosha saw the glint of a pair of eyes for a moment between the branches. He flung Ludwika away from him furiously, and she fell backwards, half screaming something in Polish. Alyosha was already running for his life, crashing purblind through twigs and branches, as men shouted behind him. At the edge of the trees lay level fields, their edges blurring into the darkness, but he would be too visible crossing such an open space. He turned abruptly on his heel and plunged back on himself, into the rhododendron bushes. He heard the voices approach. Then, a gun being fired. He ran on through the trees, his heart thumping, until he reached the iron railings at the park’s boundary. He leapt over them, catching his leg on the spike, though he didn’t feel a thing, and collapsed heavily onto the other side, He heard a motor engine accelerating.

  ‘Ludwika!’

  The motor gathered speed down the street: she was driving, but she didn’t stop.

  ‘Ludwika!’ he shouted again.

  He heaved himself back to his feet and ran after her, but the distance between them grew. She was driving as fast as she could. Then, he noticed a train pulling into the platform. He sprinted through the tunnel, chased by the echo of his own feet, and took the steps two at a time, until he reached the platform, and continued running to the end. He leapt through the open door of the last carriage and crouched out of sight, praying for the doors to shut, praying and praying.

  Once the train had started moving, he peeped out of the window and saw Captain Malinowski and two or three men capering like madmen, rushing up and down the platform, their coats whirling like dancers, shouting and firing their guns into the air. He could still feel her Judas kiss on his lips, and without warning, hot tears filled his eyes. He felt the need to hide his face under a handkerchief, so that nobody saw them fall.

  34.

  Margarita was still waiting for Kai-Olaf’s reply to the last letter she had sent him. In the meantime, she had been discussing her situation with members of the IKD. Most of them thought she was playing with fire by staying. Then, as if she didn’t have enough on her plate, she returned from work one day to find Larissa, Ella and Clara standing outside the apartment block, waiting for her, with two suitcases There was something pitiful about the three of them, and poor little Clara was shivering with cold.

  After giving them all hot drinks and settling the children with a puzzle and a picture book which Larissa had packed, Margarita asked her sister what had happened. Larissa told her that Bruno had found some letters from Walter that she had hidden. Their contents were unambiguous, and Bruno had lost his temper with her, shaking her violently and shouting so loudly the entire household must have heard. Larissa had crumpled and confessed her affair to him.

  ‘However frightened I was, I was relieved to tell the truth. It’s been unbearable these last few months, living a lie all the time.’

  ‘What about Walter?’ Margarita asked, ‘Does he know you’ve left Bruno?’

  ‘No, not yet, I’ll write to him at his work to explain what’s happened. I’ll give him this address. We can stay for a bit, can’t we?’

  Margarita’s tenants were none too happy that they were expected to share the apartment with three extra people. That was not part of their original agreement, and if they’d realised that this was going to happen, they’d never have become her tenants in the first place. Margarita tried her best to keep the peace, and reduced their rent, but the couple took an instant dislike to her sister, while Larissa was too bound up in her own worries to care what they thought of her. She was very low, and felt that her future was unravelling in front of her. Every time Walter called by (and he did so frequently, sitting with Larissa on Margarita’s bed, where they talked earnestly for hours), the couple looked at him with utter contempt. They hated him even more than they hated Larissa, because he was a Jew.

  Walter was a quiet, thoughtful man, as different from Bruno as it was possible to be. There was nothing pompous or ponderous about him. He was unassuming, kind to the little girls, and tenderly protective of Larissa. He was an engineer by training, but had not been able to find work in the field, and made a modest living working in a shop which sold string instruments. It was when Larissa was looking for a child’s violin for Ella that the two had met. He was desperate to make a new life with Larissa and her children, but he felt responsible for his wife. But, after a long discussion one evening, he seemed to have come to a resolution.

  ‘He’s going to tell her,’ Larissa told her sister once he’d left, ‘But we’ll have to leave Berlin. We’ve decided. It’s impossible for us to live here. We have to go somewhere where he can work again, where he can make some sort of a livelihood. And I have to get away from Bruno, too.’