Ultimate Issue (20 page)

She simply nodded.

“His point is that under the Visiting Forces Act an allied military tribunal in this country trying one of its own servicemen is entitled and empowered to summon any civilian witness it needs and that he could not really go against that.”

“But adultery,” said Serena.

Daventry shrugged. “He took the point. But he said it is not up to him to pass judgment on another country’s laws.’,

“My flat was searched,” she pleaded. “Did you tell him that?”

“Serene, they were entitled to do it with a warrant. It was quite legal.”

“So,” she said slowly, “there’s nothing else I can do.”

“Not at the moment.”

“I have to go to the trial.”

“Yes.”

“God.” She bit her lip.

“What we can try,” said Daventry, “is to talk them out of it.”

6`what?”

“I will attend the courtmartial with you. I will try to submit that to make you give evidence is … well, unreasonable. Unfair. I will ask them not to call you.”

“Can you do that?” she asked.

“I can try,” said Daventry. “If they’ll let me appear before them. I’m an English barrister, you see, and it’s an American court. But I’ll do my best.”

They made their way into the sunshine outside.

“Serene,” he said suddenly.

“Yes?”

They were standing by the arched entrance to the Law Courts.

“The judge asked a curious question.”

“What?”

“He asked me if I had any reason for thinking this case involved … well, security.”

She stared, wide-eyed. “Security?”

“He didn’t take it any further.”

“I don’t understand.”

Daventry looked around. “You don’t think your, er, boyfriend is involved in espionage?” He lowered his voice as he said it.

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“John? Of course not.”

For a moment he thought her voice lacked conviction. Then he felt ashamed for doubting her.

“Judges get ridiculous bees in their bonnet sometimes,” remarked Daventry.

They walked across the zebra crossing to the other side of the road.

Duvaldid not follow them. Instead he waved down a cab.

“U.S. Embassy,” he said. “Grosvenor Square.”

Karlsrahe

The little light glowed on Pech’s secure phone, and he picked it up at once. It was the direct connection to the chief’s office at B1.

“Pech here.”

‘This is Fraulein Scholtz.”

She was Herr Unrnh’s confidential secretary, and always very formal. She did not believe in first name departmental relationships.

“Yes, Friulein Scholtz?” said Pech respectfully. His boss’s secretary rated deferential treatment. Pech, as the Berliners say, knew which side his bread was buttered on.

“Has Herr Unruh left yet?” she asked.

“Herr Unrnbl” he repeated dumbly.

“Yes,” she said, with a hint of impatience. “Is he on his way back yet? I have an urgent message for him.”

Pech collected his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, Fraulein Scholtz,” he said at last, “but I haven’t seen him. Are you sure he was coming here?”

“Of course I am sure,” she snapped. “He was due at your office at ten A.M.”

“Nobody told me,” said Pech.

“He wanted to see you personally. It was something important.”

You bet it was, thought Pech. If the boss decided to turn up out of the blue, the ceiling must be caving in. Herr Unrnh was a stickler for protocol and the privileges of rank. He summoned subordinates, he didn’t call on them unexpectedly.

“You mean you haven’t seen him1” asked Friulein Scholtz.

“I regret, no. Ike been here since eight twenty this morning, and Herr Unrnh certainly hasn’t been here.”

It was now just after four.

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“I don’t understand it,” she said. For the first time her voice was a little uncertain. “It isn’t like him. He told me he would be back by lunch. I can’t keep stalling Bonn.”

“Bonn?” echoed Pech, interested.

“Yes, the minister wants him.” In her dismay, Fraulein Scholtz was being more indiscreet than she would normally ever allow herself.

“Oh.” Pech thought for a moment. “What about Herr Unruh’s chauffeur?”

“He drove himself this morning,” said Fraulein Scholtz. The disapproval was clear.

“Have you tried the radio?” Like all B1 cars, Herr Unruh’s Mercedes was fitted with two-way shortwave radio.

“Of course,” she snapped. “I would hardly be calling you if we had made contact.”

Pech decided to be greatly daring. “Do you happen to know what it was Herr Unruh wanted to discuss?”

“No, Herr Pech. It was obviously urgent and highly confidential. But Hern Unruh did not enlighten me. In any case,” she added severely, “it would hardly be up to me to discuss it.”

“No, you’re absolutely right. I wonder if he mentioned it to anyone else?” He was so anxious to know that he pressed his luck.

“I have no idea,” she said. “He did mention that he wanted to talk to the Americans urgently. He had put in a call to Mr. Unterberg in London just before he left to see you.”

“And?” Pech asked eagerly.

“He didn’t reach him. Mr. Unterberg was not in his office.” She sniffed. “I only mention it because I know you have been working with Mr. Unterberg.”

“I’m very grateful, Fraulein Scholtz,” said Pech, and he was.

“Well, obviously you can’t help me. I will try elsewhere. If by any chance you hear from Herr Unruh, kindly ask him to contact me at once. You can say that Bonn has called twice.”

“Of course, I will,” said Pech. “I’m sure he’ll be in touch quite soon.”

“Good-bye,” said Fraulein Scholtz coldly, and hung up. The light on the phone went out.

But Pech was wrong. Two hours later Herr Unruh was

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found. He was Iying slumped in the driver’s seat of his Mercedes. It was parked in a laybyon the autobahn.

He had a bullet hole in his right temple, and his right hand was still holding a Luger, with one bullet spent.

It was clearly a case of suicide, decided the first detectives to examine him. But then investigators from B1’s parent, the Offlce for the Protection of the Constitution, took over.

And they remembered that Herr Unruh was lefthanded.

London

The phone started ringing just as Daventry and his wife began eating dinner. Daventry answered it in the halL

“Sloane 7937,” he said.

There was no one at the other end.

“Hello,” said Daventry, a little irritably.

But there was only silence.

“Who is it?” Alex called from the dining room.

“Who’s there?” demanded Daventry, but the silence continued and then, suddenly, there was an abrupt break and the dial tone returned.

Daventry slammed down the receiver. “Bloody idiot,” he said.

“That was short and sweet,” Alex commented when he came into the room.

“Wrong number,” said Daventry. “But I wish they’d have the courtesy to say so. Rude bastard just hung up.”

“Hmmm,” said Alex.

He looked at her sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?” It had been an aggravating day, and he had a lot on his mind.

“The phone’s been behaving rather strangely recently.”

He frowned. “In what way?”

“Haven’t you noticed?”

“Noticed what?”

“Perhaps I’m imagining it, but I’m sure I’ve heard some curious noises. Like … the odd click.”

“Go on,” said Daventry, a little tersely.

“This morning, for instance. When you called me from your chambers. A sort of … background noise, and that wasn’t the first time. I had it last week. During a couple of calls.”

“Did you report it?”

Alex shook her head. “I just wasn’t sure. I mean, the

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phone’s working all right. Sometimes, thought, there’s the odd little tinkle. As if it’s about to ring. When I pick up the receiver, there’s nothing. Just the dial tone.”

“How long has this been going on?” said Daventry slowly.

“Oh, just a few days. They must be working on the line or something.”

He was silent.

“I think,” he said at last, “that perhaps our phone is being tapped.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “Good God, why on earth? Who by?”

Daventry reached for his wine glass. “I don’t know,” he said. “At least, I don’t think I do.”

“But you’ve got an idea.”

He drank from the wine glass. “I could be quite wrong,” he said.

Alex was not being put off. “No, you do know. Who is it? Who could possibly be interested in eavesdropping on us?” She was becoming indignant. “How dare they?”

“It could be a case,” he said, almost casually. “Maybe that business with Serena Howard.”

“Why, for heaven’s sake?”

“Well, she thinks she’s been kept under surveillance. She says somebody’s been watching her. Over that courtmartial.”

“That’s crazy,” said Alex. “And why tap your phone?”

“I made an application in chambers on her behalf.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“It was just a routine thing. To get her subpoena put aside. So they know I’m involved in her case.”

“They?”

“Whitehall,” said Daventry. ‘The authorities. You know how it’s all hush-hush with the Americans. They’re security crazy.”

“Give me some wine,” said Alex. He got up, and white he poured it out, she said firmly, “Well, you must take it up with somebody. It’s outrageous. They can’t just start listening in on you. What’s next, steaming open your mail?”

He sat down again. “There’s not much point in raising a stink,” he said. “If they are tapping the phone, they’ll never admit it. It’s all kept very secret.”

“My God, Gerry, this isn’t 1984, it’s England, it’s

1961.

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It’s … it’s like the Gestapo.” She was irate. “Go to the Bar Council. Raise hell.”

“Look,” said Daventry, “leave it to me. It won’t go on for long, if it’s going on at all. We may just be imagining it. One wrong number tonight, a few noises on the line, and we’re getting all worked up. Don’t worry about it.”

She looked unhappy. “You’re going to represent her at the courtmartial?” she asked.

“I may do. Yes.”

She nodded. “And you think our phone’s being tapped because of her? It’s getting a bit sinister, isn’t it?”

“I’ll talk to the GPO tomorrow,” he assured her, but inwardly he knew he would not even try because it was pointless. He had experience of Home Office orders. “It’s probably all a mistake anyway.”

What he didn’t tell Alex was that Pettifer had come plained about the phones at the chambers. He had said jokingly that it almost sounded as if they were being tapped.

London

They came out of the second house at the Palladium, and Ivanov took her by the arm and steered her through the crowd into Oxford Street.

He had a knack, Laurie discovered, for catching cabs, while others stood around waving in vain. He spirited one up, under the nose of the competition, and they got in.

“Where are we going?” asked Laurie.

“A little place you’ll love,” he said. “It is very intimate.”

And he grinned at her.

He was fun to be with, and so completely un-Russian. At least, thought Laurie, unlike the popular conception of the Russian heavy. Dangerous he might be, one of their top men, but his manner was charming, lighthearted. She actually enjoyed his company, and that made it doubly hazardous.

He had picked a small restaurant in Marylebone High Street, where they obviously knew him and had reserved a table for him in the corner.

“Stephen introduced me to this place,” he explained. “He often brings his girls here.”

“His girls?” said Laurie. “It sounds like a harem.”

Ivanav merely smiled.

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“I’m sorry about the show,” he said during the meal. “Why, I enjoyed it.”

“Good,” he said. “Personally, I didn’t think it lived up to its title.”

The show was called “Let Yourself Go,” and the program described it as a “revusical.”

‘A thought it was very provincial,” he added. “I shall have to take you to something really exciting, to make up for it.”

“Gene, I’ve had a very nice evening,” said Laurie.

He poured her some Chianti. “‘I’m having a very nice one,’ ” he corrected her.

Then, a little later, he got down to business.

“We can be very useful to each other,” he said. “Have you thought about it?”

She studied him across her wine glass. “Are you making me some kind of offer, Gene?”

“You work for the Americans. Out at Ruislip. You know what I do. It seems to me we have mutual interests.”

“Are you trying to get me into trouble?” asked Laurie.

“Oh, please, my darling, don’t be funny. We have the same rules, don’t we? For instance, they must always be told if we meet anyone from the other side. Isn’t that so? If you, who works for the Americans, come out with me, who works for the Soviet government, it can only mean two things….” He paused, and there was a twinkle in his eye. “Either you have fallen madly in love with me and don’t care, or they know all about it and you have your uncle’s blessing.”

“My uncle?”

“Uncle Sam. A cunning gentleman.”

The espresso coffee came, and they waited until the waiter left the table.

“Is that why you asked me out?” she said at last.

To her surprise, he took out a little piece of paper and slipped it under the saucer of her coffee cup.

She took it. It was folded in two, and when she opened it, one line was written in ink:

“I find you most desirable.”

Laurie read it and then suddenly glanced around the restaurant.

“Are you looking for somebody?” Ivanov asked.

“Yes, a man with a camera.”

“Please,” he said, “I don’t understand.”

“It would be a useful photo for you to have, would it

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not? An air force secretary receiving a piece of paper from a Soviet diplomat in a discreet little restaurant,” Laurie said coolly.

He appeared shocked “Laurie, my beautiful, how can you believe I would stoop to something so low. Look around, if you’re so suspicious. Where is your man with the camera? I am very upset.”

She nearly laughed at the schoolboyishsulk he put on.

“You see, I am really very shy,” Ivanov said earnestly, and now she did not attempt to disguise the smile. “I wanted to tell you that, but I did not know if I would have the courage. So I wrote the note, to give to you at the right moment.”