A Matter of Honour (10 page)

“Thank you,” said Romanov. “May I be
permitted to add how much I appreciate your
thoroughness.
”

“My pleasure, Comrade, let’s just say that I
still owe your grandfather a favour, and perhaps one day you will find you owe
me one, and leave it at that.”

Romanov tried to fathom the meaning of the
old man’s words. There was no clue to be found in Poskonov’s expression and so
he left without another word. But as Romanov walked down the wide marble
staircase, he considered the banker’s sentiment again and again because
throw-away lines were never delivered to an officer of the KGB.

By the time Romanov had returned to
Dzerzhinsky Square, his secretary informed him that Herr BischofTs assistant
had telephoned from Zurich to confirm his appointment with the chairman at ten
o’clock the following morning. Romanov asked him to call the manager at the St
Gothard Hotel and book two rooms. “Oh, and confirm my flight with Swissair,” he
added before walking up two floors to see the Chairman and brief him on the
meeting he had had with the head of the National Bank.

“Thank God for that,” were Zaborski’s first
words. “With only nine days left at least you’ve given me something to discuss
with the General Secretary when he calls at one tomorrow morning.”

Romanov smiled.

“Good luck, Comrade. Our Embassy will be
alerted to your every need. Let us fervently hope that you will be able to
return the masterpiece to the walls of the Winter Palace.”

‘If it is in that bank, it will be in your
hands by tomorrow night,” said Romanov, and left the Chairman smiling.

When he walked into his own office he found
Petrova waiting for him.

“You called for me, Comrade?”

“Yes, we’re going to Zurich.” Romanov looked
at his watch.
“In three hours’ time.
The flight and
the rooms are already booked.”

“In the names of Herr and Frau Schmidt, no
doubt,” said his lover.

When Adam emerged from the interview he felt
quietly confident. The chairman’s final words had been to ask him if he would
be available for a thorough medical in a week’s time. Adam had told them he
could think of nothing that would stop him attending. He looked forward to the
opportunity of serving in the British Foreign Service.

Back in the waiting room Wainwright looked
up and handed him back his piece of paper.

“Thank you very much,” said Adam, trying to
look casual by slipping it into his inside pocket without looking at the
results.

“What was it like, old chap?” his companion
asked cautiously.

“No trouble for a man who has German,
French, Spanish and Italian as part of his armoury,” Adam assured him.
“Best of luck, anyway.”

“Mr Wainwright,” said the secretary, “the
Board will see you now.”

Adam took the lift to the ground floor and
decided to walk home, stopping on the corner of Wilton Place to buy a bag of
apples from a barrow boy who seemed to spend most of his time on the lookout
for the police. Adam moved on, going over in his mind the Board’s questions and
his answers – a pointless exercise he decided, although he still felt confident
the interview had gone well. He came to such a sudden halt that the pedestrian
behind only just stopped
himself
bumping into Adam.
What had attracted his attention was a sign which read: ‘The German Food Centre’.
An attractive girl with a cheerful smile and laughing eyes was sitting at the
cash register by the doorway. Adam strode into the shop and went straight over
to her without attempting to purchase a single item.

“You have not bought anything?” she enquired
with a slight accent.

“No, I’m just about to,” Adam assured her, “but
I wondered, do you speak German?”

“Most girls from Mainz do,” she replied,
grinning.

“Yes, I suppose they would,” said Adam,
looking at the girl more carefully. She must have been in her early twenties,
Adam decided, and he was immediately attracted by her friendly smile and
manner. Her shiny, dark hair was done up in a pony tail with a big red bow. Her
white sweater and neat pleated skirt would have made any man take a second
look. Her slim legs were tucked under the chair. “I wonder if you would be kind
enough to translate a short paragraph for
me?
”

“I try,” she said, still smiling.

Adam took the envelope containing the final
section of the letter out of his pocket and handed it over to her.

“The style is a bit old-fashioned,” she
said, looking serious. “It may take a little time.”

“I’ll go and do some shopping,” he told her,
and started walking slowly round the long stacked shelves. He selected a little
salami, frankfurters, bacon, and some German mustard, looking up now and then
to see how the girl was progressing. From what he could make out, she was only
able to translate a few words at a time, as she was continually interrupted by
customers. Nearly twenty minutes passed before he saw her put the piece of
paper on one side. Adam immediately went over to the cash register and placed
his purchases on the counter.

“One pound two shillings and sixpence,” she
said. Adam handed over two pounds and she returned his change and the little
piece of paper.

“This I consider a rough translation, but I
think the meaning is clear.”

“I don’t know how to thank you,” said Adam,
as an elderly woman joined him in the queue.

“You could invite me to share with you your
frankfurters,” she laughed.

“What a nice idea,” said Adam. “Why don’t
you join me for dinner tonight?”

“I was not serious,” she said.

“I was,” smiled Adam. Another person joined
the queue and the old lady immediately behind him began to look restive.

Adam grabbed a leaflet from the counter,
retreated towards the back of the store, and began to scribble down his name,
address and phone number. He waited for the two customers in front of him to
pay, then handed over to her a ‘once in a lifetime’ Persil offer.

“What’s this?” the girl asked innocently.

“I’ve put my name and address on the centre
page,” Adam said. “I will expect you for dinner at about eight this evening. At
least you know what’s on the menu.”

She looked uncertain. “I really was only
joking.”

“I won’t eat you,” said Adam.
“Only the sausages.”

She looked at the leaflet in her hand and
laughed. “I’ll think about it.”

Adam strolled out on to the road whistling.
A bad morning, a
good
afternoon
and – perhaps – an even better evening.

He was back at the flat in time to watch the
five forty-five news. Mrs Gandhi, the new Prime Minister of India, was facing
open revolt in her cabinet and Adam wondered if Britain could ever have a woman
Prime Minister. England
were
117 for seven in their
first innings, with the West Indies still well on top. He groaned and turned
off the television. Once he had put the food in the fridge he went into his
bedroom to assemble the full text of the Goering letter. After he had read
through all the little slips of paper he took out his notepad and began to copy
out the translations in order: first, the paragraph supplied by the girl from
the YMCA, then Wainwright’s handwritten words from the notepad, and finally the
section of the letter translated by the lovely girl from Mainz. He read the
completed draft through slowly a second time.

Nuremberg October 15, 1946

Dear Colonel,

Over the past year, we have come to know
each other quite well. You have never disguised your distaste for the National
Socialist party, but you have at all times behaved with the courtesy of an
officer and a gentleman.

During the year you cannot have failed to
notice that I have been receiving from one of the guards a regular supply of
Havana cigars – one of the few pleasures I have been permitted, despite my
incarceration. The cigars themselves have also served another purpose, as each
one contained a capsule with a small amount of poison.
Enough
to allow me to survive my trial, while ensuring that I shall cheat the
executioner.

My only regret is that you, as the officer
in charge of the watch during the period when I am most likely to die, may be
held responsible for something to which you were never a party. To make amends
for this I enclose a document in the name of one Emmanuel Rosenbaum which
should help with any financial difficulties you face in the near future.

All that will be required of you...

“Anyone at home?” shouted Lawrence. Adam
folded up the pieces of paper, walked quickly over to the bookcase and inserted
them alongside the original letter in the Bible seconds before Lawrence put his
head round the door.

“Bloody traffic,” said Lawrence cheerfully. “I
can’t wait to be appointed chairman of the bank and be given that luxury flat
on the top floor, not to mention the chauffeur and the company car.”

Adam laughed. “Had another hard day at the
office, darling?” he mimicked, before joining him in the kitchen. Adam started
removing food from the fridge.

“Guess who’s coming to dinner,” said
Lawrence as each new delicacy appeared.

“A rather attractive German girl, I hope,”
said Adam.

“What do you mean, ‘hope’?”

“Well, it could hardly have been described
as a formal invitation so I’m not even certain she’ll turn up...”

“If that’s the situation I may as well hang
around in case she gives you the elbow and you need someone to help you eat
that lot.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I
think you’ll find it’s your turn to be missing, presumed dead. Anyway, what
about Carolyn?” said Adam.

“Carolyn was yesterday’s girl, to quote the
esteemed Harold Wilson. How did you come across
your gnãdiges Frãulein?”

“She was serving at a food store in
Knightsbridge.”

“I see. We’re down to shop assistants now.”

“I have no idea what she is or even what her
name is, come to that,” said Adam. “But I am hoping to find out tonight.
As I said, your turn to disappear.”

“Naturlich.
As you see, you can rely on me to provide a helping hand if you need
anything translated.”

“Just put the wine in the fridge and lay the
table.”

“Are there no serious jobs for a man of my
accomplishments to be entrusted with?” chuckled Lawrence.

When eight o’clock chimed, the table was set
and Adam had everything ready on the boil. By eight thirty both of them stopped
pretending and Adam served up two plates of frankfurters, salami and lettuce
with a baked potato and sauerkraut sauce. He then hung up his Goons apron
behind the kitchen door and took the chair opposite Lawrence, who had begun
pouring the wine.

“Oh,
mein
liebes Mãdchen,
you look ravishing in that Harris tweed jacket,” said
Lawrence, raising his glass.

Adam was just about to retaliate with the
vegetable spoon when there was a loud knock on the front door. The two men
stared at each other before Adam leaped to open it. Standing in the doorway was
a man well over six
foot
with shoulders like a
professional bouncer. By his side, dwarfed by him, was the girl that Adam had
invited to dinner.

“This is my brother, Jochen,” she explained.
Adam was immediately struck by how beautiful she looked in a dark blue
patterned blouse and pleated blue skirt that fell just below the knee. Her long
dark hair, now hanging loose, looked as if it had just been washed and shone
even under the forty watt light bulb that hung in the hall.

“Welcome,” said Adam, more than a little
taken aback.

“Jochen is just dropping me off.”

“Yes, of course,” said Adam. “Do come in and
have a drink, Jochen.”

“No, I thank you. I have a date as well, but
I will pick up Heidi at eleven o’clock, if all right by you?”

“Fine by me,” said Adam, at last learning
her name.

The giant bent down and kissed his sister on
both cheeks. He then shook hands with Adam before leaving them both on the
doorstep.

“I am sorry to be late,” said Heidi. “My
brother did not get back from work until after seven.”

“It was no problem,” said Adam, leading her
into the flat. “If you had come any earlier I wouldn’t have been ready for you.
By the way, this is my flatmate, Lawrence Pemberton.”

“In England the men also need a chaperone?”
said Heidi.

Both men laughed. “No, no,” said Lawrence. “I
was just on my way out. Like your brother, I already have a date. As you can
see the table is only laid for two. I’ll be back around eleven, Adam, just to
make sure you’re safe.” He smiled at Heidi, put on his coat and closed the door
behind him before either could object.

“I hope I don’t drive him away,” said Heidi.