'Where, in Praga?'

Sparks cracked from the boom and the iron wheels rolled. No go. She was for the labour camps.

'My hotel. The Dubienski Hotel.'

A Volkswagen was coming up, not too fast for the conditions but steadily, its chains thumping. It would pass between the tram and where we stood.

'Very well.' He put the visa inside the passport and gave them to me. In English: 'Goodnight.' Then suddenly in his own tongue — 'Uwazaj!'

He may have tried to grab me because of the danger but it would be dangerous only if I slipped: the twin horns of the Volkswagen were blaring and I knew it wouldn't be able to pull up if I fell in front of it. The rear doors of the tram were abreast of me and I ran at an angle to allow for the acceleration: the doors weren't closed yet because they weren't automatic-hydraulic. At the end of my run they began sliding together and then I suppose the conductor saw me because they opened again and someone gave me a hand, pulling me in. I heard the Volkswagen slithering past, a shout coming, yes, if you wish, I am a bloody lunatic, yes, but the point is that I have made some progress.

On the condensation of the rear glass the sidelights of the Warszawa shifted a bit as its wheels were deflected by the tramlines, then it steadied and followed. There wasn't a lot of time left now: the next stop was only three hundred yards from here, just this side of the stuck trailer truck, say forty-five seconds. I couldn't see her uniform; it was the same as the hostesses wore, with a dark blue military-style forage cap, easy to identify among all the black fur kepis, but I couldn't see it. People were standing in the gangway, blocking my view of the forward seats, and I started easing my way through them. One of them was the conductor.

Where to?

Ulica Solec.

But that's the next stop, didn't you know?

Yes, never mind.

So forth. A handful of coins, most of them 1-zlotys, take your pick, change can be expensive, cost you ten seconds, twenty, depended.

We'll forget it, he said. It made them feel better, robbing the state, a zloty's-worth of revenge, not much but a gesture. You can use the rear doors, there's no need to -

Someone I know, the girl from the airline, I think she's up here somewhere. Edging through the heavy leather coats, not easy, they were helpful but there just wasn't much room, swaying together, say twenty-five seconds now, twenty-four, three. I couldn't see her. Sorry, did I tread on your — ? Sorry, przepraszam. We all lurched, grabbing at the seat-backs, varnish cracked, a lot of it chipped off. The wheels moaned iron on iron. She couldn't have got off earlier because they'd have seen her and taken her slamming the doors but they were still following, I knew that.

She'd do well to be here somewhere because as I'd told him half the population of Warsaw's going to be in a strict-regime camp in the Urals. Or the Komi Republic or Murmansk, the schizoheterodoxy political cases in the special mental hospitals of Chita Province, the Potma complex, the sawmills or making heavy boots till your fingers bleed, a bit of barbed wire but no guards because it's too far across the snow, you'd never make it alive. Sorry, przepraszam. Dzeikuje. Another lurch then I saw her but it was an inside seat, bad luck, have to be very quick now, very quick indeed because if we overran this stop at Solec the Fiat wouldn't be there and the whole thing depended on that, Slowing.

We were slowing;

Ulica Solec, he called out.

A plump surprised man looking up, a wieprzowina sausage in greaseproof paper on his lap, looking up with a jerk and the fear coming at once into the eyes, who was I, what did I want, he had done nothing against the state, as I leaned over him towards the inside seat and spoke close to the dark head as it turned.

'Alinka.' To show that I knew her and might therefore know other things, could perhaps be trusted to know them. 'We'll speak in English. Police want you. Police. Come with me and you'll be safe. Be quick.'

The wheels had stopped rolling.

Her eyes wide, staring into my face, the pupils enlarged. 'I understand.'

The doors thudded open against the rubber shock-stops. 'Utica Solec!'

Yes, I called to him, I was getting off here.

The man with the sausage was twisting sideways to let her, pass and then she was in the gangway and as we went to the forward doors I told her to take her cap off and she did it with a natural gesture, shaking her hair free. Two other people had left their seats and I took her arm, holding her still so that they could go first, and while we waited I gave her as much as I could: the U.B. car was behind the tram and they'd be watching for her; the grey Fiat was parked in front of the trailer truck and she must get into it without losing time and then crouch low; she should be ready for any word I threw at her and if we had to run she must take care not to slip. All right, she said.

I held her gloved hand so that I could guide her, taking her forward to follow the two people closely; the man got out first and helped the woman down and I drew Alinka past me — 'Keep on that side of them and hold your head low.' I let her hand go but followed close to make additional cover, trying to judge their angle of view and blocking it, gripping her hand again and forcing her across the packed snow, keeping exact pace with the man and the woman and listening now, listening. We reached the pavement, the four of us, breaking the crests of the ruts, our breath steaming under the tall lamps. Stefan might not be home yet, the man was saying to the woman, and they had no key. Why must he always forget, she asked him, to bring the key? A red lantern stood on the snow not far from the rear of the truck, to warn traffic. It looked as if they'd decided to abandon it for the night. The tram moved away and I held my head turned to that one ear could hope to catch the sound I was listening for, against the noise of the tram. The air froze against our faces. Then the woman slipped.

Her hand was flung out and the man tried to save her and nearly managed it, at least breaking her fall, but she went down, squealing unnecessarily like a pig. The cover was gone and I said run just before the sound came, the click of a door opening but no shout yet, they weren't certain, just alerted by the colour of her coat but fractionally thrown by the altered image, her cap being off. I kept to a steady walk but couldn't hope to judge their angle of view at this distance, an aching temptation to look behind me but not possible and then a second click and a voice calling a sharp order to the one who'd got out. This was the break-off point and I began running too.

When the colonel comes round you shove some dandelions in a jam-tin and kick the crapboard under the bed and the corporal gets good marks for keeping a tidy billet so tonight the beer's on him and the same principle operates when the capital of any given state receives a foreign delegation: everyone's so busy brushing the worst of it under the rug that you can hardly walk on it for the lumps.

I was in Yugoslavia when Battista Farinelli made a ten-day visit to Belgrade to steer through the U.C.A. Trade Referendum and although I was between missions I chanced to have access to the security service directive that was passed to all units a week prior to the visit and paragraph three stipulated that firearms would not be used unless the life of an officer were 'manifestly in jeopardy' during the execution of his duties. You can put out as many flags as you like but foreign journalists are going to suspect things are a bit untidy if they can't hear the church bells for bangs.

It's standard practice, otherwise they'd have put one into my legs and although you can keep going if it's lodged in the flesh or the bone it's no go if it hits a major nerve. Her arm went out once and I thought she was off her balance but it was all right and by the time I reached there she'd dragged the door open and was hunched on the passenger's seat with her head against the dashboard.