'Gerda,' she said, 'do you mind if I call you back? I'm just out of the shower and dripping all over the floor.'

I wondered if she'd thought the easy lie was necessary, or if it was just social habit. When she'd hung up I said, 'She's a friend of yours?'

'Yes. Gerda Schilling. I've known her for -'

'I want to keep the line clear for Willi, so if anyone else rings, tell them the same thing. You'll call them back.' And then I asked her – 'How did Gerda know you were here?'

She looked contrite. 'I rang her from Heathrow, before I left. I shouldn't have, should I?'

'Did you ring anyone else?'

'No. Only Willi.'

She watched me with something close to fear in her wide grey eyes, the fear of authority. It told me a little more about George Maitland.

'You didn't tell anyone at all that you were staying at the Steglitz, or that you were coming to Berlin?'

'No.' She didn't look away. 'Nobody else.' 'Then don't worry. Don't talk to anyone until we've met Willi.'

'Whatever you say.' In a moment: 'You probably think I'm a bit – I don't know – naive, don't -'

'You're just not used to subterfuge, that's all.'

'Oh,' she said, looking down, 'I don't know about that. I tell lies easily, don't I?' She looked up again and the shimmering smile came. 'I think it's just that I'm not terribly bright. I was a model, that was all, before I met George. I've never had to use my brain.' A soft laugh – 'It makes life awkward for me.'

'A touch of innocence,' I said, 'is refreshing in this day and age.'

'You're very -' and she was looking for the right word when the phone rang again, and I picked it up and gave it to her.

'Hallo?' She turned to me and nodded slightly. Yes, Willi. Don't worry, it's still not late. Would you like to have a word with Mr Locke?' She listened for a moment. 'All right. But he wants you to know that he guarantees your' – looking at me – 'safety, was it?'

'His absolute protection.'

'He guarantees your absolute protection, Willi. So everything's all right.'

She listened for another minute and then said goodbye and put the phone back. 'We're to meet him at the Cafe' Brahms in twenty minutes.'

'Do you know where it is?'

'Oh, yes. Ten minutes from here.'

'Have you been there before?'

'Yes. I -'

'How often?

She began looking anxious again, as if she'd done something wrong. 'Oh, just a few times, when -'

With Willi?'

'Yes.'

'And with George?

'Yes.'

Then Hartman wasn't terribly bright either. I said, 'I just need to know things like that. Don't worry.'

In a moment, 'You'll be rather glad to be rid of me, won't you, when I leave Berlin?'

'Not really. But I've guaranteed your absolute protection, too, so we've got to take a few little precautions.'

But yes, in point of fact, I would be very glad indeed when I could put Helen Maitland onto a plane for London. In Reigate I'd thought she was vulnerable, and she was; but here in Berlin I realised she was also a distinct risk to security – her own, mine and the Bureau's. Solitaire was running close to exposure.

There was a cold drizzle in the air when we walked out of the lobby at the Steglitz and got a cab and drove through the late evening traffic.

'How big,' I asked Helen, 'is the Cafe Brahms?'

'Not very.' She sat close to me, her thigh against mine. Her face looked cold and pinched in the coloured light from the street; she was sitting close because she wanted to touch someone who knew much more about what was going on than she did; she needed to feel the protection I'd told her about. This was my impression. 'It's a basement,' she said. The Cafe Brahms.

'I'm going to drop you off there,' I said. 'I want you to sit as close as you can to the bar, where I can find you easily.'

'Why aren't you coming in with me?'

'I've got a chore to do. I'll be there as soon as Willi is, don't worry. What does he look like?'

She was picking at her nails, looking out of the windows at the street. 'Willi? Oh, he's short, thirty or so.' With a nervous smile – 'He usually wears a rather rakish trilby.'

'Face?'

She thought about it. 'He's got blue eyes – he's German-looking in that way, blond hair, thinning a bit – he's self-conscious about it.'

We were going east along Steglitzer Damm, crossing Bismarck; the pavements were shining under the drizzle.

'What kind of nose?'

'I can't really say I've noticed.'

'Pale skin? Red? A heavy face?'

'Oh no. Pale, and sort of soft.'

'Mouth?' I kept on at her until I'd got all I could. It was going to be a situation where I could make a mistake if I weren't careful.

'Will he be coming by car, do you think, or by taxi?

'I don't think he's got a car. If he leaves the city, he flies.'

'I see. How far is it now?'

'We're almost there. The next block.' Her arm was resting along my thigh; I could feel its warmth. 'Everything's all right, is it?'

'Of course. As I told you, we're just taking precautions. Don't worry. By this time tomorrow you'll be back in Reigate. Are your people there?'

'Mummy is. They're separated.'

'You see your father much?'

Nervous smile. 'I haven't seen him for ages. He's all right, I suppose, but he likes playing the patriarch. Mummy finally couldn't stand it.' The taxi began slowing. 'I'd like to see Gerda, before I leave Berlin, and some other friends.' Her head was turned to watch me.

'I'd forget it for now. Wait till things have blown over. And please don't leave the hotel, or even phone anyone, unless you check with me first. Do that for me?

In a moment, Whatever you say.'

'And I'm not being patriarchal.'

A soft laugh – I know.'

'Cafe Brahms.'

'Danke.'

I opened the door for her but stayed where I was. 'I'll see you in a few minutes.'

As she crossed the pavement her long fair hair caught the light from the marquee; she didn't look back. I had a moment of doubt, which I'd expected, because she looked so alone as she opened the door of the cafe and vanished.

'Fahren Sie und lassen Sie mich an der Ecke aussteigen.'

'Sehr gut.'

I got out at the next corner and paid the driver and walked back towards the Cafe Brahms on the other side of the street and then crossed over, looking at the jade and ivory chess sets in the window of a store, putting in time. Hartman was a German and would be punctual, and that made it easier.

There were canopies over most of the stores here and I stayed under them; the rain hit their canvas with the sound of distant drums. People came by, some of them stopping to take shelter, looking along the street for a taxi. A police car slowed at the traffic lights and went through as they changed to green.

A BMW stopped at the kerb and two people got out, going across the pavement and into the Cafe Brahms; the chauffeur drove away. A bus pulled in at the stop on the other side of the street, its massive tyres hissing on the wet tarmac. A taxi drew in to the kerb on this side and a man got out and paid the driver and turned across the pavement and I checked him against Helen's description and he matched it but I didn't move. I was working on the assumption that Hartman was under surveillance, just as Helen Maitland had been in Reigate; she was the widow of the dead man and Hartman had been his close friend. It made sense, and as the small black Mercedes slid to a stop behind the taxi and a man got out I started off and opened the heavy wooden door of the Cafe Brahms and let it swing shut behind me.

There was a tiny hallway and then stairs and I began going down them as the door opened again and I heard someone coming across the hall and then down the stairs behind me. A door marked Damen was on the right and a door marked Herren was just beyond.it and then there were three telephones on the other side of the passage, and I stopped and turned and looked at the man and said in German: 'You're to phone Dieter Klaus right away. Tell him that Hartman has just got here.' He said, 'Very well. But who are you?' There was no one else in the passage so I dropped him with a swordhand to the carotid artery and dragged him into the men's room and pulled out his wallet and searched him for weapons and left him propped in a cubicle.