The Helsinki Pact (31 page)

"Good morning, Miss List, good
morning. How good of you to come. I hope you found your way easily
to our offices." Here he waved his hand in a vague gesture as if
apologising for the fact that they weren't as grand as she was no
doubt used to. And taking full personal responsibility for the
weather, added "I'm so sorry about this dull and rather dreary day
but it's what we often have at this time of year, I'm afraid. Do
sit down Miss List. Coffee?"

She shivered involuntarily in
response then sat down at one end of the large leather sofa
indicated and placed her briefcase on the low glass-topped table in
front. "Thank you. That would be very welcome, particularly after
the fog outside."

She judged his height at around
1.8m and thought that his file picture didn't do him justice,
couldn't bring out except faintly his charisma and air of confident
authority. He was handsome, with well groomed hair, clean shaven,
regular, chiselled features, and was wearing an understated but
clearly expensive suit which looked as if it had been tailored for
him, and a pair of hand-made black shoes. His voice was firm,
almost without regional accent, and well modulated and she caught
herself listening to as a series of sounds and so missing the sense
of what he was saying. "He could be an actor" she thought "and
probably a highly successful one at that." She caught a hint in the
air of some musky scent.

She shook her head slightly and
consciously made herself more alert. "I must be very careful." she
thought, remembering how his manner when she entered his office had
almost disarmed her, instinctively made her feel friendly towards
him, privileged that he was paying her attention.

She looked away, took out a file
and busied herself with the papers it held. When she looked up
again she saw that Roehrberg was in a large leather armchair at an
angle to her and which he appeared to dominate, despite its size.
He was looking at her, playing to perfection the role of the
courteous host giving his guest all the time necessary to settle
down yet now, alert, she noticed the line of his mouth and the
hardness in his steady gaze. Annoyed with herself as soon as it
happened she found herself unable to hold his gaze and again had to
look away.

"How very good of you to come."
he repeated. She looked sharply at him but he appeared to be
sincere. "We're really appreciative of that, of the help that you,
as a representative of central office, will be able to give us to
solve this mystery. It would be a difficult situation at any time,
of course, but it's a bigger mess than usual, now that we've
officially been disbanded."

She noticed a slight smile
flicker across his face as he laced his fingers together and leaned
forward, apparently to confide something to her. Crossly she
reminded herself that they were not partners working together to
solve a mystery but antagonists. Her role was to suspect Roehrberg
and his colleagues, to find out exactly how and why the money had
been stolen - and now the further puzzle of why Henkel had died. "I
must be very, very careful and keep alert" she reminded herself.
She pulled a pen and pad from her briefcase, breathed deeply, and
interrupted firmly." Have you had many changes since the
announcement?” she asked.

“Well, we’ve had to clear our
prison, here in this building. We had twelve prisoners. Nine are
now with the police in normal cells, three we’ve discharged. The
Interior Ministry still hasn’t told us which personnel are to be
transferred to them and which aren’t, and what’s more people are
resigning every day. I’m unsure if we’ll even receive in time the
money to pay the salaries at the end of the month. It’s difficult
to keep things running properly in these conditions. Very
difficult.”

Roehrberg’s secretary entered
with a tray and transferred china cups and saucers and jugs of hot
milk and coffee to the glass table. Roehrberg waited and smiled
encouragingly at Bettina who found herself pouring coffee for each
of them. With irritation she took a biscuit without offering him
the plate. She leaned back, disappeared awkwardly into the sofa, a
diminished figure, and struggled back to an upright
position.

“So Mr Roehrberg, I’ve been told
... ”

“Rudolf, please. It’s from my
days in the United States and I rather prefer it.” Again there was
the urbane tone, the sense of privileged inclusion being offered to
her. Again she picked up the slight undertow of menace.

“Fine. Rudolf. OK, fine. Please
go through what happened with this financing, this money that's got
lost. Please could you tell me when it disappeared and anything
else of relevance. I really need to know this.” She didn’t like the
way she had formulated the request. It was stupid and
unprofessional, the words and phrasing of a supplicant, she
thought. But Roehrberg was effortlessly dominating and had taken
control of the meeting, subtly implying that her role as a woman
was to deal with domestic matters but he would graciously allow her
some of his valuable time. She found it difficult to articulate her
thoughts clearly, censoring her comments in case she displeased
him.

"There's not a great deal of
detail I can give you on that. You will know, I'm sure, that it's
Henkel who, as Treasurer, deals with all that side of it and has
responsibility for most things to do with the financing of the
Dresden operation."

"You've not had a chance to meet
Henkel yet, I suppose?" he added. He raised his eyebrows briefly
and paused, looking at her. "When exactly was it you arrived in
Dresden?"

Bettina felt a sudden chill as
she remembered Henkel lounging in his chair, blood on his temple
and the floor, looking at them with his lop-sided smile as they
carefully opened the door. Just how much did Roehrberg know? Had
Henkel told him that he and Bettina were to meet? If he knew that
and already knew of Henkel's killing he was astute enough to work
out that she probably knew about it as well and would probe to find
out how much more she knew. This was going to be far more difficult
than she'd imagined. At least he didn't know about Thomas. Well,
she hoped not. She swallowed and drank some coffee.

"Yes, I knew that Henkel was, is,
Treasurer. I hope to talk with him shortly." She swallowed again.
"I appreciate you may not concern yourself with the detail but
don't you have overall responsibility? You manage at a high level
what the funds are requisitioned for and what they're used for.
"

"Yes, that's true. In both
respects. You'll have to ask Henkel about the detail but, at least
within the limits of what I have to keep confidential, I can tell
you some things from that higher level. These particular funds were
to be used for three international missions in France, England and
West Germany. I’d prefer not to mention the specifics – unless, of
course, you feel that knowing is of vital importance to you. They
are classed at the highest security levels.”

"'Don't get any ideas about
probing too deeply, my girl', that's what you mean." she thought,
and again she felt a shiver run down her spine.

"No, I don't think that's going
to be particularly relevant, not right now at any rate." she said.
"If there's something there that we might need to follow up then we
can perhaps discuss that with you later."

"We?"

Bettina looked at him.

"You said 'we'. I thought you'd
come to Dresden alone." He rested his chin on his hands stared
impassively at her. Again she had to drop her gaze.

"We? Ah, yes. Me and my
colleagues in the office in Berlin, I mean."

There was silence. Roehrberg
drank some coffee and looked again at her, waiting politely, head
very slightly cocked.

"Because of the reorganisation
Dieter couldn't spare anyone to come, ah, to work on this so he
asked me to take on the investigation of the missing funds myself."
She felt sick. "He said I could count on help from your office if I
needed it."

"Of course." said Roehrberg.
"That goes without saying. We'll be very happy, within our
currently limited staff means of course, to give you all the help
you need. I'll instruct Henkel and Spitze, that's my deputy, that
that's the case." He looked at her for a moment. "And I'll let
Modrow know that we've promised to keep a close eye on you. You can
be confident of that."

He glanced at the antique clock
standing on a small table at the back of the room.

"Would you forgive me, Miss List.
I have an important telephone call to take in a few minutes but as
Henkel should be in now you might it useful to talk with him and
then the three of us, or four, Spitze as well, could meet later -
for lunch perhaps, if you'll permit me."

He returned to his desk without
waiting for any response, lifted the telephone receiver, dialled a
short code, waited, then put the phone down and pressed a white
button; moments later his secretary appeared.

"Gina, do you know where Mr
Henkel is? I've just tried his office but there's no
reply."

"He's not arrived yet, Mr
Roehrberg. Mr Spitze was also asking for him just now. I'll give
him a call at home, see if he's been delayed for some reason, and
I'll let you know."

Roehrberg looked at the clock
again before deciding. It was five to ten.

"Thank you. Yes, give him a call.
He may have forgotten that our colleague from head office, Miss
List, was due today. It's important that he talk with her. Tell
Spitze to keep himself free as well. We’ll all go out to lunch
together later. Please make reservations at the usual place. 12
noon.” He sat down again in the leather armchair and beamed at
Bettina.

"Do you know Dresden at all Miss
List. It's a beautiful city. Was a really beautiful city and is
becoming one again. I'd be pleased to show you round some of the
historic sights this evening or perhaps tomorrow if that interests
you."

"I know Dresden well, as it
happens, but thank you. Now, when the money arrived ...
"

"Ah, but perhaps only the well
known public places, Miss List. It's the hidden Dresden that's so
fascinating. For instance, when the Semper Oper was being
reconstructed workmen discovered a small, bricked-up room in the
cellars and in that they came across ... "

The phone on the desk rang,
suddenly and harshly, making Bettina jump.

“Excuse me. This will be the call
I mentioned. I must answer it but I'll put him on hold for a moment
while you leave. We can meet later and discuss things with the
others.” Roehrberg stood and lifted the receiver on the sixth
ring.

“Roehrberg! ... Yes? ... What?!
... I can’t believe that. When did this happen?" He listened for
some moments and Bettina could hear an excited squawking coming
from the instrument.

"Thank you." He said and replaced
the receiver slowly in its cradle. His face had gone grey and the
former authoritative expression had disappeared. The skin edging
his eyes and his mouth drooped slightly and for a moment or two he
looked shrunken and much older before recovering something of his
earlier manner. He sat there in silence at his desk looking at but
apparently not registering Bettina. He blinked, then screwed up his
eyes and passed a hand over them, holding it in place for a moment
before drawing it down to hold his pursed mouth. He took a deep
breath and addressed the room without looking directly at
Bettina.

“That was the police." There was
a long silence. "A woman called them and said she had found Henkel
dead. His cleaning lady. It seems he may have committed suicide in
his study.” He stood up, leaning on his desk as if to gather
strength. “Please excuse me but I should go and see what's
happened. Miss Schmidt will look after you.” He crossed the office,
opened the door but then turned back to Bettina. “I apologise, I
should have asked if you wanted to join me. It’s just that it’s
probably not a pleasant sight, and instinctively ... But I do
understand that you might want to come. It could be
important.”

Bettina rose, gathering her
things and trying to bring the right note of surprise and dismay to
her voice. “Dead?! Henkel? And suicide?! That’s dreadful. I’m so
sorry. How terrible.”

“It is terrible, isn't it? Yes.
Terrible.” he repeated. “He was a good man and a great colleague. I
don’t understand. I just don’t understand what could have led him
to this.”

As they walked to Roehrberg's
car, the latest model of Lada, Bettina watched him carefully. As
far as she could tell, he looked and acted genuinely shocked and
distressed. His remarks to her seemed sincere and she began to
wonder about her earlier suspicions.

In two or three minutes they were
Henkel’s home where a pair of agents were waiting for them. Bettina
glanced at the garden, noting its beauty and serenity and
contrasting that with her feelings of the previous evening. She was
tense, fearful that they might have left traces of their visit in
Henkel’s house or in the garden, even expecting Thomas to stroll
out of one of the rooms as they arrived. She wondered suddenly if
the cat was about. As they entered she looked around carefully to
see if anything was out of place but could see no suspicious marks
of an earlier visit to the house.

“He’s in the study.” the first
agent said. “This way. It happened yesterday, apparently between
six and eight in the evening. A single shot through the
head.”