The Ends of the Earth (23 page)

‘You followed me from the Kojunsha Club?’

‘
Ja
. It is important. Can we … go somewhere?’

‘I can’t imagine we have anything to discuss, Frau Schmidt.’

‘But we do.’

‘Did Lemmer tell you to come after me?’

‘
Nein
.’ She shook her head energetically. ‘He does not know I am here. Please. Can we talk?’

They went to a café close to the station and found a secluded booth. Anna Schmidt shakily lit a cigarette and ordered a large brandy with her coffee. She looked around anxiously, as if afraid they had been followed. Max noticed how breathless she was. Whatever her motives, she was acting without Lemmer’s consent, a breach of everything she had long lived and worked by.

‘What was the answer he gave you?’ she asked in a furtive undertone.

‘The answer?’

‘To your … demands.’

‘Don’t you know?’

‘Please, Herr Maxted. Tell me.’

‘He won’t give up his spies, Frau Schmidt. I’m sure you realize that. He values them more highly than his son’s life.’

‘
Mein Gott.
’ She swallowed hard. ‘You met Lothar in Orkney. What did he say … about me?’

‘That you worship Lemmer. That you believe he can do no wrong.’

‘
Ja.
’ She nodded. ‘I believe that.’

‘Then why are we here? What do you want to say to me?’

‘I cannot bear it.’ She took a gulp of brandy. ‘It is …
zu wiel
.’

Something was too much for her. But she seemed reluctant to say what it was. Instead, without another word, she took an envelope from her handbag and placed it on the table in front of Max. The flap bore the name and crest of the Imperial Hotel.

‘What is this?’ he asked.

‘
Der Preis.
’

‘What do you mean?’

She did not answer. He tore the envelope open and removed the contents: several sheets of Imperial Hotel notepaper covered with writing in slanting capitals. It was a list, arranged in two columns. On the left-hand side were words of German, of no obvious meaning. On the right-hand side were names – surnames followed by Christian names. One leapt out at him immediately: GRIEVESON, NICHOLAS ARTHUR. Grieveson was Political, one of C’s senior lieutenants, exposed as a spy working for Lemmer and killed by Nadia in London to stop him revealing what he knew.

‘What is this?’

‘
Die graue Akte.
’ Anna Schmidt stared directly at Max. ‘There is no double code. There is his memory and my memory. That is all. Those are the names.
Britisch. Französisch. Amerikanisch. Italienisch. Russisch. Chinesisch. Japanisch.
They are all there. Every one.’

Max could hardly believe she meant it. Yet the names were there before him. Lemmer had said the file was double-encoded to defy decipherment. But Bostridge had speculated about a further private code between Lemmer and Anna Schmidt. And here was the proof of it. They had both memorized the identities that matched the pseudonyms. Lemmer’s reference to a double code had been a blind. It was simply a list only two people could read. Until this moment.

‘I will give you Count Tomura’s secret when you free Eugen. You
will
free him, won’t you, now you have the names?’

The bargain was as irresistible as it was incomprehensible. ‘Yes,’ said Max, awed by the significance of what she had given him. ‘We will. But … why have you done this?’

‘I cannot let my son die.’

‘
Your
son?’

‘
Ja
. Eugen. Lothar is not my child’s father.’

‘Lemmer is?’

She bowed her head. ‘
Ja.
’

‘We were told … Eugen’s mother had killed herself.’

‘That was to stop anyone looking for her.’

‘And Lothar? He knew?’

‘He has known always.’ She shook her head dismally. ‘He would do anything for Eugen, even though they are not the same blood. He does not know about the school in Switzerland or the name we chose for him: Hanckel. It was to make Eugen safe when the war ended. But it did not make him safe, did it? Dombreux found out. And Dombreux told you.’

‘He’ll be safe now, Frau Schmidt. I promise.’

She nodded. ‘
Danke.
’

‘His release will take a little while to arrange.’

‘But you will arrange it?’

‘Yes. I will.’

‘
Danke schön.
’ She swallowed some more brandy. ‘That is all I want.’

Max was left with a bewildering mixture of elation and unease by his encounter with Anna Schmidt. They had agreed to meet again at the same café at the same time the following day. By then Max should have been able to settle with Appleby how, where and when Eugen was to be released. Max would also have cabled the complete list of names to C using the embassy’s cipher. Appleby had appointed new, entirely trustworthy code clerks at HQ, with standing orders to communicate incoming messages directly to C himself.

At that point Max judged Anna could be persuaded to take the next step and reveal what Lemmer had offered to tell him about Count Tomura. But did she actually know what that was? Something in her manner made him doubt it. And she had not even mentioned the Terauchi–Zimmermann letter. He foresaw Appleby would resist taking the final step of freeing Eugen until they had everything they wanted. And Max supposed that was the rational, hard-headed way to deal with Anna Schmidt, moved though he had been by her desperation. He did not enjoy playing the role allotted to him, but he knew it served the greater good. It had to be done.

Meanwhile, he had to supply C with the names and Appleby with the news of what had happened. Transmitting the names was the most important step of all. It was the coup de grâce in the battle with Lemmer. But precautions had to be taken. Max could not afford to act hastily.

There was a public telephone inside Shimbashi station. He called the British Embassy from there, using the pseudonym that was now second nature to him.

‘Good morning, Mr Greaves,’ said Hodgson stiffly, when he answered his extension.

‘I need your help.’

‘What can I do for you?’

‘Meet me at your apartment in half an hour. Make any excuse you like for leaving the office. This is all-important.’

‘Well, I—’

‘You’ll be there?’

‘Er, yes. If … you think it’s necessary.’

‘It is. Do you have a typewriter?’

‘A typewriter? At home? No.’

‘Could you borrow one from the embassy?’

‘I … suppose I—’

‘Bring a machine with you, Cyril. And don’t be late.’

BEFORE LEAVING SHIMBASHI
station, Max telephoned Malory and told her she and Sam should sit tight for twenty-four hours. ‘The tide’s turned in our favour,’ he reported.

‘Has he agreed to do as we ask?’ Malory’s tone was disbelieving but hopeful.

‘It’s not that simple,’ Max replied. ‘But I think we may win this. Just try to be patient.’

‘Easy for you to say.’

‘I know. But do your best. I’ll be in touch as soon as there’s news.’

Max was waiting in the lobby of Uchida Apartments when Hodgson arrived, panting and perspiring. He was not accustomed to hurrying through the midday heat of Tokyo carrying a typewriter in its cumbersome case.

Mrs Hodgson had not responded to the bell, Max explained as they went up. This did not surprise her husband. ‘Friday … is a … shopping day.’ And Max was not sorry to hear it. He preferred them to do what had to be done in her absence.

Hodgson was initially incredulous when Max showed him the list. The number of names appalled him. ‘All these people … are traitors to their country?’

‘Yes,’ said Max. ‘But not for much longer.’

‘What do you intend to do?’

‘Cable the entire list to C.
After
we’ve made a copy. That’s what the typewriter’s for. We’ll send the cable this evening, when most of the staff will have left the embassy. Do you know which cipher clerk will be on duty?’

‘It’ll be … Duckett.’

‘Let’s hope his name’s not on the list.’

‘It can’t be. He’s virtually a child. No more than twenty-two or twenty-three.’

‘All right. We’ll see him later. Now, shall we get on with it? I’ll read. You type.’

Hodgson made no immediate move.

‘Cyril?’

‘Yes, yes. Of course.’ Hodgson sat down at his desk and rolled a sheet of paper into the typewriter. ‘Fire away.’

While Max’s dictation of names proceeded at Hodgson’s apartment, a door slid open at Sugamo prison and three prisoners were marched into a large, tatami-matted room, where a shoeless Westerner in a light suit, carrying a briefcase, was awaiting them.

‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ the man said. ‘My name’s Gordon Trumper. I’m with the American Embassy.’ He was a tall, thin, balding, slightly stooping fellow with glasses, a moustache and a bureaucratic air about him. ‘You’re Thomas Morahan, Grover Ward and Gazda Djabsu, right?’

‘We are,’ said Morahan, speaking for the others. Unshaven, unwashed and clad in dull red
yukata
s worn thin to the point of transparency by repeated use, they did not cut imposing figures. ‘Sorry we’re not looking at our smartest.’

‘Don’t worry about that.’ Trumper spoke in Japanese to the guards who had escorted them in and they left, closing and locking the door as they went.

There was a low table to hunker down round, but they were content to stand and so, it appeared, was Trumper. He set down his briefcase and opened it, pulling out a notebook and some packs of cigarettes. He handed a pack to each of them.

‘American,’ said Ward. ‘How’d you get these?’

‘Consignments come in from San Francisco. We have a fixed arrangement.’

‘I’ll bet you do.’

‘Nice,’ said Djabsu, lisping slightly on account of a swollen lip, following another fracas with a fellow inmate.

‘D’you want to complain about your treatment at all?’ Trumper asked, flicking open the notebook.

‘No,’ said Morahan.

‘How’d you come by those bruises?’

‘Some of the inmates are a little pugnacious.’

‘They have the more bruises,’ said Djabsu.

‘Well, I’m here to make sure your rights aren’t being abused.’

‘What rights would those be, Mr Trumper?’ asked Ward.

‘Ah, to be fed and clothed and … not tortured.’

‘Then it seems we’re basking in the full enjoyment of our rights as guests of the Japanese penal system,’ said Morahan.

‘I could name a few worse places in Chicago,’ said Ward. ‘Though the food would be better there.’

Trumper smiled. ‘Not much I can do about that.’

‘How about legal representation?’

‘Oh, that’ll be supplied if and when they decide exactly what to charge you with.’

‘And when’s that likely to be?’

‘Hard to say. The process is … opaque.’

‘
ta?
’ growled Djabsu.

‘He doesn’t know how long we’re going to be here,’ Ward explained.

‘My apologies, gentlemen,’ said Trumper. ‘What I can do for you I’ll gladly do. Fact is, you’re in a tight spot. But my impression is time’s on your side. And since little else is, I suggest you sit it out.’

‘Are they still intending to accuse us of plotting to assassinate the Prime Minister?’

‘Apparently not. Which is good news, believe me.’

‘But murdering Jack Farngold?’

‘That’s the crime you’re officially being held in connection with.’

‘What about Miss Hollander?’

‘Her whereabouts remain unknown. As do those of the Brit, Twentyman. More good news, I’d say.’

‘For them it sure as hell is,’ said Ward.

‘What about our former friends, Everett, Duffy and Monteith?’ pressed Morahan.

‘I’ve seen nothing of them,’ said Trumper. ‘My involvement is limited to supplying you with consular assistance and advice.’

‘And your advice is: bide our time.’

Trumper nodded. ‘That’s about it. Sooner or later, when the Kempeitai’s ruffled feathers have been smoothed and the police reckon they can claim to have done enough, the authorities will notify us they’d rather deport you than press charges for which the supporting evidence is …’

‘Opaque?’

Trumper seemed not to notice Morahan’s borrowing of his word. ‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘Look, I don’t know what there is between you and Count Tomura and frankly I don’t want to know, but this seems to be all about keeping you out of his hair. If we raise a stink, we might embarrass them into taking matters all the way. And embarrassing the Japanese is never a smart idea. So, my recommendation is … be stoical. I’ve seen this kind of thing a few times before.’ He treated them to what he clearly imagined would be a reassuring smile. ‘It’ll come right in the end.’

The typing of the list was complete. Hodgson pulled the last sheet of paper out of the machine and laid it with the others, then looked across at Max. ‘How on earth did Lemmer talk all these people into working for him?’

‘I doubt he
talked
many of them into it, Cyril. Corruption? Blackmail? Who knows what methods he used? But he sank his claws into them and he never let go.’

‘I ought to tell you … there’s a member of the embassy staff on the list.’

‘I know. Reynolds. The Secret Service’s man in Japan. We’ll have to watch out for him.’