The Pathfinder (35 page)

‘The father who is General Sir Arnold Harrison. Recently retired from the British army.'

Nico, she thought bitterly. Nico has told them all these things. The Russian said, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking, ‘It's not very difficult for us to find out, Fräulein. One can look it up in a moment. When is Squadron Leader Harrison returning?'

‘I've no idea. When his father is better, I expect.'

‘And he will come hurrying here to see you as soon as he can.'

‘Perhaps.'

‘In which case, we should like you to continue your pillow talks and to relay these to us.'

‘And if I do?'

‘Your brother, Dirk, will be released from Sachsenhausen and allowed to return here.'

‘And if I don't?'

‘You will never see him again.'

She steadied herself enough to reply quite calmly. ‘What would you want me to talk about?'

‘You will be told.'

‘He might suspect.'

‘Love is blind, Fräulein Leicht.'

‘If I am to do this, then my brother must be released now. Immediately.'

‘You're in no position to bargain, Fräulein.'

She met his eyes without flinching. Eyes that seemed to probe into her mind, detect every lie, divine every thought. ‘I don't trust you, Herr Silogov. I want to see him back home, alive and well. Before I do anything.'

In the silence that followed, she held her breath. He smoked the cigarette, staring at her. She could not tell whether he was angry or amused, or what he was thinking. Or deciding.

Dirk came home that night. Lili had gone to bed and was lying in the darkness, unable to sleep. At first she thought the scraping, scratching noise from the direction of the hallway was a rat, but it went on and on. She got up to investigate and found that it came from outside the front door.

When she summoned the courage to open the door, her brother fell inwards at her feet.

He slept for more than twenty-four hours. She had managed to drag him to his bed and wash the blood from his face, but there was nothing she could do about the bruises and the two missing teeth and the split lip and the black eye. When, at last, he woke up she fed him with warm soup and a little bread. She spooned the soup in carefully, trying not to hurt his swollen mouth. When he began to speak, it was a mumble.

‘Bastards kept beating me . . . asking questions.'

‘What sort of questions?'

‘Where I'd got the stuff, names, places . . . didn't tell them, though, Lili.' His one open eye gleamed triumphantly at her. ‘Not a thing.'

She knew he expected her to be proud of him but she said harshly, ‘They were going to send you to a labour camp in Russia, do you realize that? For years. Perhaps for ever. I warned you what might happen.'

‘Anyway . . . they let me go.'

‘Because of Nico. I went to him for help. I had to.'

‘Good old Nico . . . knows everyone . . . can always fix things.'

‘Oh, yes, he can always fix everything. They came here. One of the Russians. To see me.'

The gleam faded. ‘You? What for?'

‘To get me to spy for them. In exchange for letting you go.'

‘Spy . . .
you
? How?'

‘They want me to find out things from the squadron leader. About the British at Gatow. Everything I can. And tell them. I said that I would. That's why they let you go.'

‘Oh, Lili . . .'

‘You have to get out,' she said. ‘As soon as you can. Out of Berlin. Nico says you must and he's right. Ask your American friends at Tempelhof to help you get away in one of their planes. Give them everything you have. All the jewellery in that box you've hidden . . .
everything
. I'm not going to betray the squadron leader, Dirk. Not even for you. And when the Russians realize I'm not going to help them, they'll come and get you. You must go at once so that you'll be safe. Far away. Go to America, if you can. You've always said how much you'd like to.'

He looked very scared and uncertain suddenly – the small kid brother again from years long ago when something had gone badly wrong. She wanted to break down and weep but she had to be strong.

‘I can't, Lili . . . won't leave you.'

‘Do you want to end up in a labour camp in Russia? You must go, Dirk.' She felt in her pocket. ‘Look, here's your lighter. Nico brought it back.'

‘Took it away . . . the swine.'

She fetched a packet of Camels and put one between his bruised and split lips. She spun the Zippo wheel with her thumb and held the flame to the cigarette's end for him. ‘Have one yourself, Lili,' he urged her, the way he often did. ‘They're good.' She took another from the packet and lit it, keeping her hand firm and steady because Dirk was watching her.

‘You'll be all right, Lili, won't you? The squadron leader . . . he'll marry you. Take you to England. Rudi and Grandfather too. I'll come and find you. It's not such a problem.' He seemed almost jaunty, his eye bright again. He even tried to smile at her, though she could tell that he, too, was close to weak tears. He blinked them away. ‘We'll survive, won't we, Lili? Somehow we always survive.'

Harrison spent some time at RAF Honington in Suffolk, a nerve centre for the needs of the airlift squadrons, before he flew back to Berlin in the middle of March. From the air, Lake Havel looked as cold and grey as before, the landscape just as lifeless, but the worst of the winter was over. In his absence, the airlift had continued without cease and, in spite of some bitter weather towards the end of February and hurricane-force winds in early March, tonnage records had been broken and the fifty-thousandth German civilian had been flown out of Gatow. Station morale was high, the mood quietly confident. Tubby, when he encountered him in the Mess, was positively jubilant.

‘Got 'em licked, dear boy. No question about it. We're in Berlin to stay. Here's to us.'

Harrison raised his glass, too, but less jubilantly. The headaches were still there – aircraft maintenance one of the worst. Engines and airframes were badly overstrained by non-stop flying with maximum loads and there was still a chronic shortage of mechanics, tools, spare parts and basic equipment needed to keep the planes flying. The whole show, he reckoned, had been a damn fine-run thing from the start and would go on being so until the finish. No letting up. No resting on laurels. No premature celebrations. They couldn't afford to relax for a moment.

‘Went to see your little fräulein and deliver your
billet-doux
,' Tubby told him. ‘Shocking place she lives in. Shook me to the core, I can tell you.

‘I know. I should have warned you. Was she all right?'

‘Seemed to be. More or less. She asked after you, of course. Wanted to know if I'd any idea when you'd be back. I'd no clue, naturally.'

‘I wrote to her several times from England. God knows if she'll have got the letters.'

‘One certainly feels the post in that sector might be somewhat unreliable. Well, I dare say you'll be popping over to see her, as soon as you get the chance. Set the wedding day yet?'

He shook his head. ‘There's so much bloody red tape, not to mention everything else going on. You still think I'm mad, don't you, Tubby? It's written all over your face.'

‘I'm just worried for you, dear boy. Wouldn't like you to make a mistake.'

‘I'm not making one.'

‘Well, you know best. Who am I to utter a word – an old bachelor like me? By the way, I almost forgot to mention it – that charming little WAAF radar operator gave me a message for you. About the frock.'

She opened the door to him and threw herself straight into his arms. He held her close for a long time, stroking her hair, soothing her. After a while, he led her inside, closing the door behind them.

He was shocked to see how ill she looked. How pale and drawn, eyes red-rimmed either from exhaustion or crying, or perhaps both. He made her sit down at the table and held her hands in his while she told him about Dirk being arrested and taken to Sachsenhausen.

‘I had to ask Nico for help. I didn't know what else to do. He went to see the Russians at the camp and in the end they let Dirk go.'

He said grimly, ‘I wonder how he managed that.'

She bent her head. ‘I don't know.'

‘Never mind. The main thing is that Dirk's free. Where is he now?'

‘He's gone.'

‘Gone? Where?'

She told him, then, about the Americans at Tempelhof who had arranged to smuggle Dirk on board a plane flying to Frankfurt in the American zone. How he was going to try to get to America from there and ask for asylum.

Harrison said, ‘Well, he'll be much safer out of Berlin. So will you, Lili. I'm taking you away from here as soon as I can.' He held out the brown paper package that he had brought with him. ‘Something for you.'

‘What is it?'

‘Your wedding dress.' He watched while she undid the string and opened up the paper. ‘I hope you like it.'

She stared down at the soft folds of cream-coloured silk. ‘Oh, Michael . . . Is it
new
?'

‘Brand new. Made specially for you.' She seemed almost stunned. ‘When did you last have a new dress?'

‘I can't remember . . . years and years ago. I really can't remember . . . Where did you find such a thing?'

‘I have ways and means – like Nico – only rather more straightforward ones. I'm sorry it couldn't be a proper wedding one with a long train and everything, like brides are supposed to have. It was the best I could do. Hold it up against you.' She did so, and he could see how well it would suit her. How lovely she would look. ‘Will you try it on for me?'

‘That would be very unlucky.'

He smiled. ‘In that case, you'd better not. You're not wearing my ring any more.'

‘It was too loose,' she said. ‘I was afraid of losing it.' She went over to the cupboard by the stove. ‘I hid it in the flour. Here it is, quite safe.'

‘Well, I've something to replace it soon.' He took the small box out of his greatcoat pocket and opened it. He'd chosen the plain gold wedding ring from a jeweller's in Bond Street. ‘She has very small hands,' he'd told the man at the counter, who'd fetched one of the female assistants to try it on. Her hands had been very small, too, and soft and white, without a single mark or blemish. Hands that had never toiled among ruins. ‘Let's see if this fits all right or we'll have to get it altered.' He slid the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand. ‘Is it OK?'

‘Oh yes.'

‘Sure?'

She nodded. ‘Here is your ring to take back.'

‘No, you hang onto it until the day we're married.' He put the wedding ring back in its box and replaced the signet ring on her middle finger. ‘When we're in England we'll go to a jeweller's together – the same place where I bought the wedding ring – and I'll buy a proper engagement ring for you. You must choose whatever you want.'

She started to cry and he had to get out his handkerchief to wipe away her tears. Then he held her close again and kissed her. And went on kissing her. The love he felt for her overwhelmed him and he wanted so much to take her to bed. He sensed that she wanted it as much as he did – that it would have been easy. But not now, he told himself firmly. Not yet. Not in this godforsaken, miserable rat hole. That wasn't how he wanted it.

The Russian, Silogov, came to the apartment again. Lili had begun to hope that, after all, he might have decided that she was no use to them. She had dared to think of the future that could lie ahead – marriage to Michael, a home in England. Happiness, far away.

‘Good evening, Fräulein Leicht.' This time he didn't ask permission to enter, but pushed his way past her. There was another man with him in police uniform, following at his heels. A German. She stood frozen in terror while the policeman made a rapid search of the whole apartment. The Russian moved to stand in front of her.

‘Where is your brother, Fräulein?'

‘He left,' she said. ‘Disappeared, with all his belongings. I don't know where he went.'

‘You're lying.'

‘I'm speaking the truth. He was very afraid. One day I went to work and when I came back he had gone. I have heard nothing from him since.'

He stared at her for a moment before he turned away and spoke sharply to the German, who left the room. She heard the front door open and slam shut. Then he said, in different, friendlier tones, as though the man had been an impertinent and unwarranted intrusion, ‘Sit down, please, Fräulein. We can talk now.' She sat at the table and he took the chair opposite: Michael's chair. ‘Cigarette?'

‘No, thank you.'

‘Which brand does Squadron Leader Harrison smoke, I wonder. Player's? State Express? Senior Service? Du Maurier, perhaps?'

‘I've never really noticed. Player's, I think.'

He struck a match to light his cigarette and then blew it out slowly, replacing the dead match carefully in the box, as he had done before. ‘He has returned recently from England and we know that he has visited you. What did you talk about this time?'

‘Nothing in particular. His father's health. The weather in England.'

That amused him. He actually smiled. ‘I told you that the English love to talk about the weather. Did he bring you anything? A present?'

We know that he has visited you.
They must have been watching. Waiting. Don't lie. There's no point. ‘Yes, he brought a frock.'