'I think Werner should go over into East Berlin and see what he can find out about Stinnes on his home ground.'

Dicky took his little finger and bit into the nail with a dedication that made our conversation a secondary matter. 'Dangerous,' said Dicky between nibbles. 'Dangerous for all concerned.'

'Let Werner be the judge of that. I won't force him to go.'

'No, you'll just give him the money, and tell him he's getting a contract. And then you'll ask him if he wants to go over there. You're a ruthless bastard, Bernard. I thought Werner was your friend.'

'He is my friend. Werner won't go unless he thinks he can do it without getting into trouble.' But was it true, I wondered? Was I really planning to manipulate Werner in such a cynical way? If so, would I even have realized it without Dicky's rejoinder?

'Ten thousand pounds,' mused Dicky. 'Couldn't I use a windfall like that. I don't know how I'm going to afford the boys' school fees next year. I just had a long letter from the headmaster. I don't blame the school; their expenses are rocketing.'

'The government say that inflation is down again,' I said. I wondered what Dicky would say if he got to hear that I was getting a supplementary 'Boarding School Allowance' and the money for the nanny.

'What do the bloody politicians care?' said Dicky. 'The first thing those bastards do when they get into office is to vote themselves some astronomical rise in salaries and allowances.'

'Yes,' I said. 'To the barricades.' So discontent was running through the ranks of Whitehall, despite index-linked pensions and all the rest of it.

'Yes,' said Dicky. 'Well, I daresay you have your own financial worries.'

'Yes, Dicky. I do.'

'So where shall I tell the driver to dump Werner when he brings him from the airport? You say you don't want to see him up here. And if he's in and out of the East all the time it's just as well he stays at arm's length.'

'Shall I tell your secretary to type out a chit for the money?'

'Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,' said Dicky irritably. 'I said yes. I'm not going to go back on my promise to your precious Werner. Get the chit and I'll sign it.'

I went back to my office with the chit. I wouldn't put it past Dicky to retrieve the signed form from his secretary's tray and start having second thoughts about it. My secretary had gone to early lunch but Gloria Kent was there. I had the feeling that she was slowing down on the filing so she could make sure she stayed upstairs.

'Take this money order along to the cashier's office. Tell them I want a cheque made out to cash. And I want it before lunch.'

'The cashier's office is awfully busy, Bernard,' she said.

'Stay there until you get it. And make yourself a nuisance while you're waiting.'

'How do I do that?' said Gloria.

'Talk to them,' I suggested. 'Or, better still, read all the paperwork you can find, and comment on what payments are going out to whom. That always makes them jumpy.'

'I'm never sure when you are joking,' said Gloria.'

'I never joke about money,' I said.

No sooner had she gone down the corridor than my phone rang. It was the operator telling me there was an outside call from Mrs Kozinski. I was always puzzled in the same way when I heard that name Kozinski. I never thought of Fiona's sister as being Mrs Kozinski, and I certainly never thought of dear old George, my.brother-in-law, with his cockney accent and his terrible jokes, as George Kozinski.

'Bernard here.'

'Oh, Bernard, I've been trying to get you for ages. Your people there guard you so well, darling. How I wish I had such suspicious guardians looking after me. It's like trying to get through to Buckingham Palace. Worse, in fact, because George has several customers in the royal household and I've seen him get through to them in no time at all.' It was the breathless syntax of the gossip column.

'How are you, Tessa?' So it was my amazing, sexy, scatterbrained, wanton sister-in-law. 'Is anything wrong?'

'Nothing I could possibly talk about over the telephone, darling,' she said.

'Oh, really,' I said, wondering if the call was being monitored by Internal Security. After everything that Frank Harrington had told me, it would have been very stupid of me to imagine I was not under some sort of surveillance, however perfunctory.

'Bernard. Are you free for lunch? Today, I mean. Right now, in fact. If you have an appointment, change it. I must see you, darling.' She was able to say this with strong emphasis upon each phrase and yet not convey any note of real urgency. I had the feeling that even if her house was on fire, Tessa would shout a stylish 'fire' in a manner that sounded more fashionable than desperate.

'I'm free for lunch.'

'Super.'

'Where would you like to go?' I knew that Tessa had always got some place she wanted to go to for lunch. Too many times I'd heard her acerbic descriptions of inadequate lunches in unfashionable places.

'Oh.' Only the English middle class have the gliding diphthong that makes them able to say 'Oh' like that. Tessa could make 'Oh' into a Bach cantata. Having had time to think, she said, 'I'm too bored with all these frightfully twee little restaurants run by young male couples who've been to Bocuse on holiday. What about the Savoy, darling? When you get right down to it, it's the only place in London with any real class. Everywhere is full of advertising people these days.'

'I'll see if I can get a table,' I promised.

'The Restaurant, darling, not the Grill. I never see any of my friends when I go to the Grill. Shall we say one o'clock? When you phone, ask for the chef, Mr Edelmann. George knows him awfully well. Mention George.'

'Is it just social, Tessa? Or is there really something special?'

'I had dinner with Daddy last night, Bernard. I must talk to you. It's about you-know-who and the children, darling. I heard about your visit to Leith Hill.'

'Yes, David wanted to see me.'

'I know all about it. We'll have a lovely lunch and we'll talk about everything. There's so much to tell you, Bernard. It seems ages since we last had a proper talk together.'

'And George is well?'

'George is always well when he's making money, darling. You know that.'

'I'm glad to hear he's making money,' I said.

'He has the Midas touch, darling. We've got an apartment in Mayfair now. Did you know that? No, of course you didn't. The change-of-address cards don't go out until next week. You'll love it; it's adorable. And so central.'

'We'll talk about it over lunch,' I said as I spied Dicky coming in.

'Savoy Restaurant, one o'clock sharp,' said Tessa. She was muddle-headed and vague about most things, but she was making sure there would be no mistake about our lunch. I suppose anyone who had the number of illicit love affairs and assignations that Tessa enjoyed would have to be methodical and precise about appointments.

'See you there,' I said.

'Who was that?' said Dicky.

I felt like saying it was none of his damn business but I answered him truthfully. 'Tessa Kozinski,' I said. 'My sister-in-law.'

'Oh,' said Dicky. As I understood it from Fiona, Tessa had had a brief mad affair with Dicky. I watched his face and decided it was probably true. 'I've met her. She's a nice little woman.'

Nice little woman was not the description that usually came to mind when a man met Tessa Kozinski. 'Some people think she's a sex bomb,' I said.

'I wouldn't say that,' said Dicky very coolly.

'Was there something you wanted?'

'Werner. Where shall I send him?'

'Send him along to the Savoy Restaurant,' I said. 'I'm lunching there with my sister-in-law.'

'I thought you were short of money,' said Dicky.

'Werner is joining me for coffee,' I said.

'Oh no you don't,' said Dicky. 'You're not going to charge that lunch. It's not on.'