'Are they tarts over there?'

A man in a black leather coat rocked our table as he squeezed through.

'Verzeihen Sie.'

Place blue with smoke.

'Tarts?' Pollock said. 'I don't think so. I've never been propositioned, anyway.' A clean white smile, his glasses reflecting the coloured lights over the miniature dancefloor. 'I think they're just here for a good time.'

'Any swallows?'

'What? I suppose they might be, some of them, anyway. We get a few KGB chaps in here from their embassy, though of course they call themselves attaches of some sort or another. In fact a lot of the people who come here are from the embassies — American, British, French, Soviet. It's in walking distance for most of them. Are you sure you won't have anything stronger?'

'I'm too thirsty.'

'This is my favourite haunt, actually. I mean, apart from the embassy connection it's close to the Wall — that's why it's called Charlie's. There's always some kind of intrigue going on.' Another clean smile. 'People talking about getting across, especially now that the guards have stopped shooting to kill.' He waved for the waiter. 'But most of the talk's political, and of course very pro-Gorbachev at the moment. They're hoping he's going to do something big for Germany.'

'For the DDR.'

'For both, actually. Dasselbe nochmals, Willi. Everybody's seized on the idea of seeing one Germany again. You know something? A couple of months ago I had the chance of Rome — second cultural attache — think of all that gorgeous art! But I turned it down. I've got a feeling something rather interesting's going to happen here before long, and I don't want to miss it. I mean, later I can always say, I was there.' Quick smile.

One of the girls was watching me from a corner table, under the amber lamp.

'You think he is going to do something big?'

'Our Miki? Absolutely.' The waiter banged another pitcher of Heineker onto the table and altered the tab. 'Danke schon. Of course he's taking a huge risk with his glasnost policy. I mean it's all very nice to hear him talk about "more flexible" relations between Moscow and the satellites but it's going to stir up the people in the streets. Once they get a whiff of freedom they're liable to want the whole thing, and we could easily see an outbreak of rebellions like the one here in '53 and the ones later in Hungary and Czechoslovakia and Poland. That'd put Gorbachev straight out of office and bring the tanks in again. But you probably know all this.'

'Not all.'

'Does it interest you, or would you rather — '

'It interests me very much.'

Not actually watching me, just passing her glance across me now and then. Blonde hair, blue eyes, the archetypal Aryan, bare-shouldered in a slip of a dress, smoking the whole time. She'd come in soon after we had.

'Well, obviously,' Pollock said, 'the East Germans are fervently hoping for some kind of reunification, because so many of them have got relatives in the West and they've been cut off from them all this time by the Wall. On the other hand, some people are scared to death, because if Europe becomes denuclearised — which is the way things are heading — the US is going to withdraw most of its forces and that'll leave West Germany without a security umbrella — and she's liable to look for a new one in Moscow.' He spread his hands flat on the table and looked at me steadily. 'Can you imagine what the rest of Europe Would feel like with a reunited Germany as an ally, not a slave state, but an ally of Soviet Russia? That's why lots of people are scared stiff.' No quick smile this time.

'Jesus.'

'Didn't mean to spoil your evening.' He drank half his beer in one go and then looked at his watch. 'But anyway, I think they're wrong. I see a united capitalist Germany.'

'And anyway it'd take time.'

'Unless Gorbachev decides on a grand gesture. A symbolic gesture that would make its own statement and cut out half a dozen summit conferences.'

'You're thinking of something specific.'

'I am, actually. I believe it's on the cards, and that's why I'm staying on here, in case our Mikhail takes a sledgehammer to the top of that wall and knocks the first brick off.'

'You're serious, are you?'

'Absolutely. It'd be typical of him: he's a brilliant public relations man and a gesture like that would rate more live coverage world-wide than the Olympic Games. Go down in history, wouldn't he?' He finished his beer. 'Well, I've got to get some shut-eye. H.E. wants me up early for a meeting tomorrow. But I'd really like to leave you with something more interesting to drink.'

'I'm fine. I shan't be long myself.'

It was 11:13 when he paid the bill and told me to phone him if I needed anything and left me, pushing his way between the crowded tables and dodging a waiter's tray.

She came over within a minute.

'I didn't want you to be lonely.'

'I'm touched.'

'This is the first time I've seen you in here.'

'Yes?'

'My name's Hedda.' She pulled another cigarette out of the pack. 'What's yours?'

'Kurt.'

There was a lot of noise from the jazz trio and she leaned close to me over the table, her blonde hair hanging across her face. 'He's from the British embassy?'

'Who?'

'Your friend.'

'Yes.'

'I haven't got any friends.' Small, rather pointed teeth, a shred of tobacco on her lip, smoke curling as she spoke. 'I talk all the time about getting across, and it bores them.'

'About what?'

'Getting across.' She leaned closer, spoke louder. 'I'm completely fed up, you know? They call this a workers' and peasants' state but it's a two-class system — you've got West German currency or you haven't. The roof of the Metropole's full of Lancias and BMWs and all most people can afford is a Volkswagen. You're not here looking for somebody?'

'No.' I wasn't certain she meant a girl.

'I thought you might be.'

'What would you like to drink?'

'I've had too much. You can't tell?'

'It doesn't show.' If not a girl, then who?

'You know what I think? I think Moscow ordered a boycott of the Olympic Games in Los Angeles because they knew the DDR would beat them hands down.'

'It wouldn't surprise me.'

'Are you frightened of AIDS?'

'No.'

'That means you're either married or careful.'

'Careful.'

'Isn't it terrible, though? Everyone's too scared even to fuck.'

'Why did you think I was here looking for someone?'

'I thought — I was mistaken, that's all.'

Her eyes didn't make any connection with mine; she looked as if she were speaking on the telephone. She could be stoned. I tried a long shot.

'When did you start working for the KGB?'

'For what?' Smoke curling out of her mouth, her eyes meeting mine but without any expression.

'The KGB.'

'Are you out of your mind?' But they still didn't change; she was like talking doll. 'I saw a Soviet military truck make an illegal U-turn today across Unter den Linden, and one of our Vopos stopped him — but he didn't get a ticket. I hate those people; it's like they rape us every day. You're not looking for Volper?'

'Who?'

'Horst Volper.' Her eyes blank, indifferent.

I said, 'No.'

She pulled another cigarette out. 'You want one?'

'I quit.'

'I don't know how I'd live without them.'

I was losing a word now and then because of the noise. 'Have you got relatives over there?' Across the Wall.

'Yes.' A flicker of emotion came into the ice-blue eyes. 'My father. I've only seen him three times since I was five. Don't you think that's terrible?'

'He came through to see you?'

'Yes. God, it's like I'm in gaol, isn't it? But then I suppose I am. You know the worst thing? To me, the BDR is Deutschland. West Germany isn't a foreign country; it's German, and so am I. It only feels foreign because I can't go there. Don't you feel that?'