Little Grey Mice (28 page)

‘How can I answer that? Socially, I've only been in his company once: I'm not counting the other times, when we met about the car.'

‘You can answer it honestly,' insisted Ida. ‘I told you, stop running for cover.'

Elke smiled, shyly. ‘He's very nice,' she allowed.

‘My butcher is very nice,' Ida complained. ‘Let's do better than that.'

‘I like him,' admitted Elke, finally. ‘He's nice and he's funny and he's quite good-looking and …' She struggled to a stop, shrugging. ‘… he seems to be a lot of things, all of which I like.'

‘What about looking like Dietlef?'

‘I don't think about that resemblance any more.' She thought of Otto as himself, not as somebody else.

‘Could this be love!' mocked Ida.

‘We met again, by accident,' said Elke, patiently. ‘He came to my apartment for about two hours. He borrowed a book. That's it.'

‘Which he's got to bring back?'

‘Yes,' agreed Elke. ‘And …'

‘And what?'

‘There are probably others he might borrow.'

‘Did you offer or did he ask?'

Elke hesitated. ‘I think I offered, very generally. He said he didn't want to take more than one at a time but there were some he'd like to read.'

‘This isn't the swiftest romance that the world has ever seen,' was Ida's verdict. ‘But I think it's got possibilities.' Dear God, don't let Elke be hurt again, she thought once more.

‘I'm frightened.' The confession had begun as a thought and emerged as words and Elke wished, having uttered them, that she hadn't.

‘Step back a little!' Ida spoke soothingly, all joking cynicism forgotten. Believing that Ursula was somehow still the worry, she said: ‘She can't be a reason for you feeling like that: really she can't.'

‘It's not just Ursula,' said Elke, in partial confirmation.

‘What then?'

Elke shrugged, a little-girl-lost gesture. ‘I can't put it into words, not really. I do think, despite what you say, that no man is going to be interested in me, with an illegitimate child. But then there's
me.
I don't know how to maintain a relationship: I never had a relationship, apart from Dietlef, and that wasn't one at all, not really: not what I now imagine a proper relationship should be …'

It became Ida's turn to shrug, even more helplessly. ‘I don't understand …'

‘… I don't know how to behave!' Elke spoke quietly because they were in a public place, but there was desperation in her voice.

‘Stop being so fucking wet!'

Elke grimaced at the obscenity and Ida saw and said: ‘Like that was wet, as if you've never heard the word before and think you risk going to hell, because it's sullied your ears. OK, you've had some rotten things happen to you: so have a lot of other people. But a lot of other people haven't let it wipe out their self-confidence: haven't wrapped themselves up in an inferiority complex, like a comfort blanket. You've met a man you like: maybe, with luck, he likes you. If you are going to agonize about everything, like you're agonizing and bleating about everything now, do you know what you're going to do?'

‘No,' said Elke, dully.

‘You're going to fuck it up! There, you've heard it twice, in one day! Snap out of it, darling! It sounds like you've got a chance of something good here.'

‘Don't you see that's what I'm frightened of?' said Elke, her thoughts coalescing. ‘I really want there to be a chance; and I'm terrified of losing it. through doing something – saying something – wrong!'

‘You will!' Ida insisted. ‘You'll lose it if you wallow about like this. And it'll be entirely your fault.'

She wouldn't, Elke determined, positively. If Otto Reimann showed any interest in deepening the relationship she'd do everything she could to make it work. Everything? she asked herself, at once. Too soon to start posing questions like that. ‘We'll see,' she said.

‘I hope we do,' said Ida, always someone who wanted the last word.

‘The Soviet Union is disintegrating into chaos!' protested Cherny. ‘The Russian Federation is ignoring us! Lithuania and Estonia and Latvia are defying central control! We are going to end up at best a confederation, bowing to the God of Market Forces. Have you any conception how exposed we'll be then, as a country? No buffer states! No protection!' In deference to his rank, Sorokin had today come to Cherny, to the General's personal dacha set among the wooded military complex on the outskirts of Moscow, off the Zagorsk highway.

‘I know the arguments. And the fears,' said Sorokin. It was the nearest the General had come since they had been brought together to hinting that he was only paying lip-service to glasnost and perestroika and that he might regret the passing of the old order. Sorokin supposed it was an understandable attitude, particularly for a soldier. He'd had problems adjusting himself. Sorokin held up his thumb and forefinger, allowing the narrowest of gaps. ‘Reimann's that close. He made a convincing argument against going too fast and losing her.'

Cherny, who was wearing his uniform but with the tunic undone and his shirt collar open, shook his head. ‘You know what worries me? I still can't imagine how we could stop them building up a military machine again, if we discovered it was going to happen.'

‘That wouldn't be our responsibility,' Sorokin pointed out. ‘That would be the task of the politicians.'

‘That worries me, too,' said Cherny. ‘It's politicians who have destroyed the Soviet Union!'

Chapter Twenty

It was a morning when Gïnther Werle had no meetings away from his office, and at the end of their daily diary discussion he asked Elke to return directly after he had given the low-classified dictation to the secretaries. Werle was at the window overlooking the Chancellery park, seemingly deep in thought, when she re-entered the Cabinet Secretary's suite. He was still reflective when he turned to her, the smile coming as an apparent afterthought. ‘Congratulations!' he said. He'd tried to rehearse the announcement but remained unsure of the words to convey precisely what he wanted.

Werle was not a man given to obscure remarks, and Elke wondered why he was doing it now. It was as if he was trying to impress her, something she could not remember his so obviously doing before. She said: ‘Upon what?'

‘Your security classification is being raised, to Top Secret, Eyes-Only rating,' he declared.

Elke was utterly astonished. It gave her access to every grade of classified material passing through the office: it was, she supposed, the ultimate acknowledgement of her professional ability. An honour, in fact, although she didn't think that was quite the right description. Inadequately she said: ‘This is totally unexpected!'

Werle's smile widened. ‘It was upon my personal recommendation. And for a particular purpose.'

‘What is that?' She had to prove herself worthy, whatever the responsibility. And so she could. This was work: she knew what she was doing, always, when it came to the workplace.

Werle seated himself finally, leaning forward towards her at her smaller desk. In his soft, barely andible voice, he said: ‘A Cabinet committee is being created: at the moment it is undesignated, although some title will be evolved. Its function is to consider all ongoing and developing aspects of the East German situation … the entire situation in the East, if necessary. And more than that. There is our position in NATO, after full unification. There have already been exchanges between the American State Department and our Foreign Ministry: soon there is to be a delegation here from Washington, in advance of a possible visit from the Secretary of State himself.'

‘I thought the NATO position had been virtually resolved?' said Elke. She realized that she was going to be privy to the innermost workings and secrets of the government on perhaps the most important changes in its post-war history. What had she to feel inferior about in her private life if this degree of trust and approval could be accorded to her, here at the Chancellery? It would have been good if she were able to tell someone, boast a little, to show how highly she was regarded. She couldn't, of course. Top Secret meant top secret in everything. She suddenly felt very important, a privileged person able to look out from a situation into which everyone else was looking in. Or wanted to look in.

Werle rocked his hands back and forth, in an uncertain gesture. ‘The United Kingdom is arguing against any military relaxation. The British attitude is that the changes have all occurred too quickly: that there should be a period of stasis for everything to be properly analysed. Washington has rejected the Russian idea of some link between NATO and the Warsaw Pact.'

‘If there were to be a linking, without any military purpose, it would virtually rival the European Common Market,' said Elke, wanting to demonstrate some political grasp.

‘That's a point already being made by some Common Market countries,' Werle accepted. ‘A lot of analysts consider the Warsaw Pact as already defunct. Certainly it's no longer subservient to Moscow. What's the point – or the logic – of NATO absorbing something that doesn't exist any more?'

‘Is
that an argument?'

‘Certainly one that some countries in the Alliance – America particularly – find easy to accept. And then there's the military position of NATO itself. Which is
very
political. The US arms industry is the major financial supporter of the US Republican Party. Without some tension, some suspicion, who needs an arms industry?'

‘It's very complex,' Elke responded. What other questions were there to show a political awareness? ‘How will a united Germany fit into the European Economic Community?'

Werle nodded, acknowledging her anticipation. ‘Another remit for the committee,' he confirmed.

‘How often will it convene?'

‘Whenever it's considered necessary. At least twice a month, I would have thought. More frequently, if situations arise which need immediate consideration and recommendation, to full Cabinet.' Apart from any personal feelings and hopes he might additionally have, Werle had known he was right in sponsoring Elke as strongly as he had: her instant acceptance of what he was outlining showed sound political adaptability. Intellect, too.

‘And what will my part be in it all?' She
so
much wished she were able to tell someone.

‘I shall officially be the committee secretary, of course. But the practical duties of secretary will be entirely yours. You will handle everything, with no delegation whatsoever throughout the department …' He hesitated, to make the point, then said: ‘It will obviously be necessary for you to attend the sessions, as a support to me.'

The responsibility being put upon her was very great. Immediately showing the practicality about which her chief had spoken, Elke said: ‘I am to take care of all records and transcripts, either relayed by you or recorded by me personally?'

‘Yes.'

‘Researchers?'

‘Only in extreme and urgent circumstances. Always to be authorized by me.'

‘Otherwise?'

‘Conduct your own research.'

‘Records?'

‘The exact number, from each meeting, has yet to be decided. As far as this Secretariat is concerned, just one copy. Always locked in my personal safe, to which only you, myself and security have access.'

The mention of security reminded her. Elke said: ‘I'll have to undergo positive vetting, I suppose?'

Werle smiled again, shaking his head. ‘You've been checked, extremely thoroughly, over several months. Your new classification was only possible
after
such checks. The verbal question and answer stuff isn't considered necessary, after all you've gone through in the past.' It had been another of Werle's decisions, to obviate that.

The idea of being spied upon, which she supposed was how they had done it, mildly disturbed Elke. But then there was nothing in her private life that gave her cause for embarrassment or concern. Her security credentials
were
incontestable. ‘When is the next meeting?'

‘Five days.'

Tuesday, she identified. ‘Will I attend?'

‘Naturally.'

‘Anything else I should know?'

‘There will be a salary increase, of course: the security classification automatically carries with it a job description upgrade.'

She'd bank or invest entirely whatever the increase was, Elke decided: it would go towards rebuilding her depleted savings after the loan to Ida. She hadn't expected any repayment so soon there were the other more pressing debts – but Elke had looked to Ida to mention it occasionally, and her sister hadn't. ‘What about preparation?' she asked.

‘Nothing that I can anticipate, at this stage. The actual mechanics will be the same as those to which you're already accustomed. There will be official stenographers, supplying transcripts.'

The very
centre
of political power and influence, she thought, excitedly, and said: ‘I'm very aware of the trust you've placed in me.'

‘It will involve our working more closely together than we have in the past,' said Werle pointedly.

‘Yes,' agreed Elke. Why was he stating the obvious? It wasn't necessary to explain operational practice in that much detail.

‘Sometimes necessarily late.'

‘That will not be a difficulty,' said Elke. There was only Poppi to consider and that was no problem. What about…? Elke refused to let the question form. Ridiculous to invest with expectations a situation that hadn't even arisen, she reminded herself. The workload involved in the promotion, which was how she believed she should regard it, would not be that onerous or time-consuming anyway, not to the exclusion of any private life.