'Let me help you,' said Zena Volkmann.

Gloria said no, but Zena insisted on helping her to clear the table and load the dishwasher. The two women seemed to be getting along well together; I could hear them laughing when they were in the kitchen. When Zena came back to collect the last plates from the table, she was wearing an apron.

'How did it go, Werner?' I asked when finally there was a chance to talk to him. I poured my precious vintage brandy, passed him his coffee, and offered him the jug. But Werner resisted the suggestion of cream in his coffee. I poured the rest of it into my cup. 'Cigar?'

'No thanks. If you can stop smoking, so can I,' said Werner. He drank some coffee. 'It went the way you said it would go.' He had given evidence to the committee.

He slumped back in his chair. Despite his posture, he was looking very trim – Zena's strict diet routine was having an effect – but he looked tired. I suppose anyone would look tired if they were married to Zena as well as giving evidence to the committee. Now Werner pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he always did when he concentrated. But this time his eyes were closed, and I had the feeling he would have liked to go right off to sleep.

'No surprises?' I asked.

'No bad surprises. But I wasn't expecting to see that damned Henry Tiptree on the committee. That's the one who gave you so much trouble. I thought he was attached to Internal Security.'

'These Foreign Office attachments float from department to department. Everyone tries to unload them. The committee is probably a good job for him; it keeps him out of the way.'

'Bret Rensselaer is the chairman.'

'It's Bret's final chance to be the golden boy,' I joked.

'I heard he was in line for Berlin after Frank retires.'

'I heard the same thing, but I could tell you a few people who'll do everything they can to stop him getting it.'

'Dicky, you mean?'

'I think so,' I said.

'Why? Dicky would become Bret's boss. Isn't that what he's always wanted?'

Even Werner didn't fully understand the nuances of London Central's command structure. I suppose it was uniquely British. The German desk is senior to Berlin Resident in certain respects, but has to defer to it in others. There is no hard-and-fast rule. Everything depends upon the seniority of the person holding the job. When my dad was Berlin Resident, he was expected to do as he was told. But when Frank Harrington went there, from a senior position in London Central, he wasn't going to be taking orders from Dicky who'd spent a lot of his departmental career attached to the Army.'

'Dicky should never have had his Army service credited to his seniority,' said Werner.

'Don't get me started on that one, Werner,' I said.

'It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to you, it wasn't fair to the Department, and it wasn't fair to anyone who works for the German desk.'

'I thought you were a supporter of Dicky,' I said.

'Only when you try to tell me he's a complete buffoon. You underrate him, Bernie, and that's where you make a bad mistake.'

'Anyway, Dicky will probably oppose the idea of Bret getting Berlin. Morgan – the D-G's hatchet man – hates Bret and wants Dicky to oppose it. Dicky will do as Morgan wants.'

'Then you'll get it,' said Werner with genuine pleasure.

'No, not a chance.'

'Why? Who else is there?'

'A lot of people will be after that job. I know Frank keeps saying it's the Siberia of the service and the place where careers are buried, and all that may well be true; but everyone wants it, Werner, because it's the one job you've got to be able to say you did.'

'You have enough seniority, and you're the only one who has the right experience. They can't pass you over again, Bernie. It would be absurd.'

'The way I hear it, I'm not even going to be shortlisted.'

'See the D-G,' suggested Werner. 'Get his support.'

'He doesn't even remember my name, Werner.'

'What about Frank Harrington? You can count on him, can't you?'

'They won't listen to what Frank says about who should take over. They'll want a new broom in there. A strong recommendation from Frank would probably be counterproductive.' I smiled; 'counterproductive' was one of Dicky's words, the sort of jargon I used to despise. I was going soft behind that desk.

Werner said, 'Did Frank Harrington oppose the idea of letting MI5 people sit on the Stinnes committee?'

'I was there, Werner. Frank just said, "Yes, sir", without discussion or argument. He said it was 'an admirable solution'. He's close to the D-G. The D-G must have told Frank what he intended and got his support beforehand.'

'Frank Harrington said okay? Why? It's all a mystery to me,' said Werner. He stopped pinching his nose and looked at me, hoping for a solution.

'The D-G wants Bret out of the Department. There's a lot of discussion about Bret right now. Hysterical discussion.'

Werner looked at me for a long time. He was wearing his plastic inscrutable mask and trying not to look smug. 'This is a new development,' he said, unable to keep the note of triumph out of his voice. 'I seem to remember a Christmas party when you'd come back from Lange – your head was filled with suspicions of Bret Rensselaer.' He was grinning. Only with effort was he able to keep his voice level now, as though he wasn't poking fun at me, just retelling the story.

'I only said that all the leads should be investigated.'

Werner nodded. He knew I was retreating from my former position as prosecutor and it amused him. 'And now you don't think that?'

'Of course I do. But I hate to see the way it's being done. Bret is being railroaded. And I especially don't like the way he's being isolated. I know how it feels, Werner. Not so long ago I was the one whose friends were crossing the street to avoid me.'

'Did you take it any further? Did you report your suspicions?'

'I was with Uncle Silas for the weekend… this is some time back… before Christmas. Brahms Four was there. I asked him about the receiving end of the intelligence over there.'

'You told me all that. But what does he know about it?' said Werner scornfully.

'Not much, but as I told you, it was enough to convince me that the Miller woman was running two agents.'

'In London Central? Make up your mind, Bernie. Are you still trying to prove that Bret is a KGB man or not?'

'I don't know. I go round and round in circles. But there were two agents: Fiona was coded, pig iron, the other was jake. Brahms Four confirmed that, Werner.'

'No, no, no. If Bret was feeding material back to Moscow… it doesn't bear thinking about. It would mean they knew about all the Brahms Four material as soon as we got it…'

'So we have to find out if Moscow was monitoring the Brahms Four material all the time we were getting it.'

'How would you discover that?'

'I just don't know if we could. It would be the hell of a task to go through the archives, and I'm not sure how the D-G would react to a suggestion that we do it.'

'It would look damned funny if they forbade you going to the archives, wouldn't it?'

'They wouldn't have to say they didn't trust me,' I said. 'They could simply point out how difficult it would be to ascertain that from the archive material. They'd also point out that if the KGB had a good source, they wouldn't compromise it by acting on every damned thing they got. And they'd be right, Werner.'

'I can't believe that Moscow knew what Brahms Four was telling us all those years and let him get away with it. Even if Bret was monitoring the stuff for them.'

'Finally they let Brahms Four escape,' I said.

'They didn't exactly let him escape,' said Werner. 'You rescued him.'

'We rescued him, Werner, you and me together.'

'If Bret was reporting to Moscow, Brahms Four would still be in East Berlin.'