The Looking Glass War (33 page)
Softly, like animals, the Vopos dismounted from the two trucks, their carbines held loosely in their hands, advancing in a ragged line, ploughing the thin snow, turning it to nothing; some to the foot of the building, some standing off, staring at the windows. A few wore helmets, and their square silhouette was redolent of the war. From here and there came a click as the first bullet was sprung gently into the breech; the sound rose to a faint hail and died away.
Leiser unhooked the aerial and wound it back on the reel, screwed the Morse key into the lid, replaced the earphones in the spares box and folded the silk cloth into the handle of the razor.
‘Twenty years,’ he protested, holding up the razor, ‘and they still haven’t found a better place.’
‘Why do you do it?’
She was sitting contentedly on the bed in her nightdress, wrapped in the mackintosh as if it gave her company.
‘Who do you talk to?’ she asked again.
‘No one. No one heard.’
‘Why do you do it, then?’
He had to say something, so he said, ‘For peace.’
He put on his jacket, went to the window and peered outside. Snow lay on the houses. The wind blew angrily across them. He glanced into the courtyard below, where the silhouettes were waiting.
‘Whose peace?’ she asked.
‘The light went out, didn’t it, while I was working the set?’
‘Did it?’
‘A short break, a second or two, like a power cut?’
‘Yes.’
‘Put it out again now.’ He was very still. ‘Put the light out.’
‘Why?’
‘I like to look at the snow.’
She put the light out and he drew the threadbare curtains. Outside the snow reflected a pale glow into the sky. They were in half-darkness.
‘You said we’d love now,’ she complained.
‘Listen; what’s your name?’
He heard the rustle of raincoat.
‘What is it?’ His voice was rough.
‘Anna.’
‘Listen, Anna.’ He went to the bed. ‘I want to marry you,’ he said. ‘When I met you, in that inn, when I saw you sitting there, listening to the records, I fell in love with you, do you understand? I’m an engineer from Magdeburg, that’s what I said. Are you listening?’
He seized her arms and shook her. His voice was urgent.
‘Take me away,’ she said.
‘That’s right! I said I’d make love to you, take you away to all the places you dreamt of, do you understand?’ He pointed to the posters on the wall. ‘To islands, sunny places—’
‘Why?’ she whispered.
‘I brought you back here. You thought it was to make love, but I drew this knife and threatened you. I said if you made a sound, I’d kill you with the knife, like I – I told you I’d killed the boy and I’d kill you.’
‘Why?’
‘I had to use the wireless. I needed a house, see? Somewhere to work the wireless. I’d nowhere to go. So I picked you up and used you. Listen: if they ask you, that’s what you must say.’
She laughed. She was afraid. She lay back uncertainly on her bed, inviting him to take her, as if that were what he wanted.
‘If they ask, remember what I said.’
‘Make me happy. I love you.’
She put out her arms and pulled his head towards her. Her lips were cold and damp, too thin against her sharp teeth. He drew away but she still held him. He strained his ears for any sound above the wind, but there was none.
‘Let’s talk a bit,’ he said. ‘Are you lonely, Anna? Who’ve you got?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Parents, boy friend. Anyone.’
She shook her head in the darkness. ‘Just you.’
‘Listen; here, let’s button your coat up. I like to talk first. I’ll tell you about London. You want to hear about London, I’ll bet. I went for a walk, once, it was raining and there was this man by the river, drawing on the pavement in the rain. Fancy that! Drawing with chalk in the rain, and the rain just washing it away.’
‘Come now. Come.’
‘Do you know what he was drawing? Just dogs, cottages and that. And the people, Anna – listen to this! – standing in the rain, watching him.’
‘I want you. Hold me. I’m frightened.’
‘Listen! D’you know why I went for a walk: they wanted me to make love to a girl. They sent me to London and I went for this walk instead.’
He could make her out as she watched him, judging him according to some instinct he did not understand.
‘Are you alone too?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why did you come?’
‘They’re crazy people, the English! That old fellow by the river: they think the Thames is the biggest river in the world, you know that? And it’s nothing! Just a little brown stream, you could nearly jump across it some places!’
‘What’s that noise?’ she said suddenly. ‘I know that noise! It was a gun; the cocking of a gun!’
He held her tightly to stop her trembling.
‘It was just a door,’ he said, ‘the latch of a door. This place is made of paper. How could you hear anything in such a wind?’
There was a footfall in the corridor. She struck at him in terror, the raincoat swinging round her. As they came in he was standing away from her, the knife at her throat, his thumb uppermost, the blade parallel to the ground. His back was very straight and his small face was turned to her, empty, held by some private discipline, a man once more intent upon appearances, conscious of tradition.
The farmhouse lay in darkness, blind and not hearing, motionless against the swaying larches and the running sky.
They had left a shutter open and it banged slowly without rhythm, according to the strength of the storm. Snow gathered like ash and was dispersed. They had gone, leaving nothing behind but tyre tracks in the hardening mud, a twist of wire, and the sleepless tapping of the north wind.
PENGUIN CLASSICS
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia
(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)
Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi – 110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand
(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London
WC2R 0RL
, England
First published in Great Britain by William Heinemann Ltd 1965
Published in Penguin Classics 2011
Cover photograph © Ronald Startup/Picture Post/GettyImages.
Copyright © le Carré Productions, 1965
All rights reserved
The moral right of the author has been asserted
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental
Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
ISBN: 978-0-14-196747-9
