The Unquiet Heart (20 page)

“You know where Mulder is?” I asked. She nodded. “OK, what’s your plan?”

SEVENTEEN

It was too late to try to get back to the British zone. The curfew was in force. Eve tossed me a blanket and I lay down as best I could on the bare floorboards. My head hurt no
matter how I lay, and I wasn’t ready for sleep. Maybe it was the bad coffee. I listened to the sound of the others’ breathing, easily distinguishing Eve’s in the dark. I wondered
what was going through her mind. Was she wishing we were lying together back at my place? Or had I simply become a nuisance, someone getting in the way of her plans to murder Heinrich Mulder?
Frankly, I wasn’t opposed to his removal. I just didn’t think it would change things. But the repercussions for her could be immense. On the other hand he hadn’t arranged for the
death of
my
parents.

It was a bad night, and a grim morning. I had the world’s worst hangover without any of the pleasure. We made our plans over stale bread and bitter coffee. They gave me back my gun and
papers, then Joseph escorted me to the British sector. The streets were quiet, but it wasn’t the quiet of peace. Mist was clearing from the broken buildings and a wind was stirring the dust
and debris. The reek of decay made me gag. There was a feeling that we were only in the lull of battle and that war could break out again at any time.

Vic was waiting for me outside the Tiergarten mess, pacing up and down, smoking like an expectant father. He saw me and came charging over.

“Where the fuck have you been, Danny?” Gone was any pretence at ‘sir’.

I must have looked a sight. My suit was crumpled like a tramp’s, my shirt had blood on it and my tie was in my pocket.

“I had a bit of a run-in with some thugs last night. I’m OK, but that’ll teach me to go out looking for action.”

Vic looked a little mollified. “Looking for a bint, were you? All you had to do was ask old Vic, you know. Any size, any shape. Where did you end up, then? The state of you.”

I tried to look suitably chastened. “Two of them. I got away when a patrol came by. I begged a bed for the night somewhere in the Red zone. An old biddy let me in. Cost me five bucks. I
need some breakfast and a wash.”

“The Colonel is waiting for you. But you’d better get cleaned up and fed first. C’mon.”

Colonel Toby was keen to know what progress I’d made. I expressed disappointment and frustration but vowed to go on trying at least for a few more days. Toby was encouragement personified
and urged me to keep my pecker up. I vowed to do so, and left his office wondering how I was going to keep the pretence up and for how long.

“Vic, I need to do this my way. Thanks for your help. I can get around myself now.”

“Sure, Danny. It’s just that I was ordered to look after you. Look what happened when I wasn’t around.”

“My fault. I’ll sign something to get you off the hook if you like. I just want some space. That’s how I work.”

“Tell you what, let’s meet for a drink at the end of each day. That way I can check you’re OK, and maybe I can help too.”

We split up and I went straight back to my room and fell into a coma till early afternoon. I woke a little dazed, but human again. Even the bumps were going down. I dressed and walked out into
the hot July sun, feeling amazingly cheerful for someone getting himself involved in an assassination. I was beginning to know my way about, and headed for the entrance to the U-Bahn on
Kurfurstendamm. By the time I found it I was regretting not wearing a hat; my head was frying.

The station gave welcoming shade, but the respite was brief. Beyond expectation, Berlin’s underground was operating again. But because it was one of the few cheap modes of transport left,
other than bikes and the rare tram, the station was heaving with sweaty humanity. Strike that; this wasn’t humanity, it was a mob. When the train got in they surged forward and besieged the
doors, so that people wanting to get off couldn’t. It was chaos, and every man for himself. I called on my training on the Northern Line and plunged in with elbows and feet. We shot off into
the tunnels, heading east. By the time I fought my way out of the carriage six stops down the line, I was nearly asphyxiated with the stench and heat.

The warm afternoon air was a blessing; I gulped it in hungrily and lit up to get the taste of the journey out of my mouth. I gave uncle Joe a big smile as I left the U- Bahn station and headed
towards my rendezvous with Eve in Holzmarktstrasse. I was close to the main station and the river Spree now. The area had taken a lot of hits, but as she promised I found the little cake-house open
at the corner of Warschauerstrasse. She was sitting in the cracked window wearing her beret and looking just like the girl I’d left a hundred years ago in the Strand. She even raised a smile
for me when I joined her at the table, and we kissed on both cheeks. Berlin suddenly seemed the most welcoming place on earth. All I had to do was talk her out of this mad idea.

“You really speak the language?” she asked in German.

I replied in kind. “Camp Deutsch. I don’t know how it sounds compared to the real stuff.”

She giggled. “You’ve got a northern accent.”

“Two of my bunk mates were from Hamburg.”

“Keep it up. It’s fine. And better than English around here. How’s your head?”

“Healing.” I looked round. There were a few other customers supping from cups and nibbling at a flat grey slice of cake. “Just like old times.”

She got serious. “No, Danny. It isn’t.”

Message received. “So what are we here for?”

“Don’t look now. Across the road, to the left of the gutted building, there’s an intact one. Do you see it?”

I waited a second, sipped the tea – it tasted of nettles – and casually turned and looked through the net curtains. “A four-storey building with a Russian flag. Looks like a
hotel. Two Russian soldiers on guard duty. A big car outside, with a driver.”

Eve smiled as though we were talking about the weather or the price of sauerkraut. “That’s the District Controller’s office.”

“You mean…?”

She nodded. “Mulder. That’s his office. That’s his car. Those are his bodyguards.”

“Same routine?”

“Clockwork. But we only found him four days ago. Around now – 14.30 – he comes out by himself. The guards salute and his chauffeur jumps out to greet him. He ignores them and
walks off down the road and turns left.”

“Then?”

“He goes into a house halfway down the street. It’s a block of apartments. He comes back exactly one hour thirty minutes later. He goes to his office… he leaves at
six.”

“Where does he live?”

“We don’t know. We’ve tried to follow him but all we had was a bike. We think it’s in one of the suburbs. They still have trees there.”

“Who’s in the apartment? A girl?”

“There are ten names. We watched but couldn’t see where he went inside. Yesterday after he’d gone in, we saw a curtain close on the second floor. We can’t be
sure.”

“But you’re not going to take him on the way in or out?”

“No. We need that hour and a half. You can get a long way in that time.”

“But not out of Berlin, Ava.”

“Don’t
you
call me that,” she hissed.

“Trying to stay in character. The point is, this bloody place is an island. It’s surrounded by red sharks. You can’t just drive off into the sunset.”

“So what do we do, mister smarty pants?”

“Let it go, Eve. It won’t bring them back. There’s been enough.”

Her eyes tightened with anger and her mouth thinned. “You don’t know what it’s like, Danny.”

“I’ve been on the receiving end.” I pointed at my head.

She shook hers. “You just got in their way. They tried to kill us
all
, Danny. Do you have any idea what that’s like? To be hated so much? It wasn’t just my mother and
father. Not just my aunts and cousins. Though they’re all gone. It was my
people
. My
race
.” Her throat was flushed with anger.

“But this… won’t end it. Come back with me to London. We can work it out. We can put this behind us.”

She rubbed her eyes with her sleeve till they were red and sore. “You can. I can’t. Go, Danny. Go back and leave me to this.”

Customers were looking. I didn’t care. “Eve, I had to ask. Had to be sure. I’ll help.”

She peered at me to see if she could trust me. “How?”

“I’m not new to this business.”

She acknowledged it with a nod. “If you have any bright ideas about how to get in to the flats while he’s there, I’d welcome them.”

“That’s the easy bit. How are you going to get away? You need to plan an exit. Let’s talk to your boyfriends.”

“They are not my boyfriends.”

“Four beds, one room? Very modern.” I wished sometimes I could shut up.

“Do you really see it like that?” she said with a piranha smile.

“When I can’t say what I feel I make a joke of it. You know that.”

“Danny, this isn’t the time or the place for feelings.” She swivelled her eyes round the handful of customers in the café.

“Or the language. I have big holes in my vocabulary. We didn’t get much practice chatting up girls in my language school.”

She looked exasperated. “Let’s go.” She picked up her bag and got to her feet.

“Tell me one thing first?”

“What?”

“Before. When we first met.” I didn’t know how to say it. Either in English or German. “Was it a set-up? Was it all a sham?” Like I said, I wished sometimes I could
let things go.

She hovered, and I thought she was going to walk away. Then she sat down, clutching her bag. I tried to read her eyes. They were dark and serious.

“Let’s just say I hadn’t intended to get involved. But I did. And then I began to worry about what I was getting you into. That’s why I tried to get you to back
off.” She smiled and touched the stubble of hair peeping out under her beret. I felt an iceberg melt inside.

She went on more forcefully, “You’re a bloody limpet, Danny McRae. But I’m glad you’re here. You can help with the plans. But I’m not letting you get involved in
the job itself. Now, can we get out of here before I have to drink another cup of this stuff?”

I took her arm as we picked our way past the potholes and abandoned wrecks. Inside I was feeling good. At another level I was more scared for her than ever. It took us half an hour to walk back
to her flat. We were about to turn into the alley when we heard the shouting. Then the shots. We ran to the corner and peered round. A military truck blocked the way. Some Russian soldiers stood on
guard less than ten feet away with weapons at the ready. Eve made to go into the alley. I grabbed her arm and steered her on. We heard an order, someone was shouting in our direction. We stopped
and turned. An officer and two soldiers walked towards us.

In bad German he demanded, “Papers. Papers! Where do you live?”

“How are your papers?” I whispered.

“Finest German forgeries. Let me do the talking.” She smiled and turned to the Russian.

“Of course, Colonel. What is the problem? We live down there, Staufenstrasse.” She pointed back in the direction of the British zone, then dug in her bag and produced her documents.
I did the same.

The officer was young and tough, a lieutenant who didn’t mind being called colonel by a pretty girl, but clearly took his job too zealously.

“This says you are British.” He peered at her suspiciously. I could see the dark stain of sweat round his serge green thick shirt collar. He wore one of their enormous hats as though
he’d stolen it from someone much bigger. His two soldiers stood either side of him, weapons raised and pointing at us. They looked nervy.

“We are both British. I am a journalist accredited to the occupation forces. This is my research assistant.” She pointed at me. I smiled and nodded.

“What are you snooping for here? This is the Russian-controlled sector.”

“It is not illegal?”

He agreed it was not, but his tone suggested it was only a matter of time. There was more shooting and shouts. The young man got more flustered. He didn’t know whether to run and see if he
could join in the action or keep sightseers away.

“There is nothing to see here. Get on your way.” He stuffed the papers in Eve’s hand. I took her arm. She held her ground.

“But what is going on, Colonel? Is there a riot? Do you have a black market gang pinned down? There are so many criminals. It is so brave of you and your men.” She gave him her most
dazzling smile and I could see him almost bursting to tell her just how brave he was.

“It is nothing. Some Jewish agitators, we are told.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Between you and me, the Germans were on the right track, you know. These Jews are
still up to their old tricks.” He all but winked at her. She screwed her face up sympathetically. He stood back, and saluted.

“Good day, Fraulein.” He nodded to me and turned and ran his men back to the side of the truck to see what was going on.

Eve’s cheeks were red points. Her eyes were ablaze. “You see?”

“All I see is we need to get the hell out of here and come back later. Let’s go.” I took her arm, this time without encountering resistance, and marched her off down the
street, bitter tears coursing down her face.

We holed up in my room. The guard at the door barely lifted his head from his paper. He was used to afternoon dalliances. For a while she sat on one of the chairs in the
sitting room. I made tea and we drank it in silence, looking out the net curtains as the day faded. For that little while I was almost at ease. Just being able to turn my head and see her there. To
make fresh tea and get her smile of thanks. I knew the world was revving up outside and was like enough to crash through the door at any time. But for an hour or two we were out of it.

As the light turned yellow she stood up and walked through to the bedroom. I sat still.

“Danny?” Her voice was soft. I stood up and walked to the door. It was dark and I waited till I could see. She’d drawn the curtains and was lying under the covers in the bed.
Her clothes were piled neatly on the chair. It was a flashback.