'Westmarks will buy anything on this side of the wall. And there are still mountains of treasures locked away in cellars and attics.'

I put my hat and coat alongside Werner's and followed him into the next room. Light came in through the window. Werner went across the room and looked out. Here was the River Spree. Bright moonlight fell on a grimy stretch of riverside land. Drawn against the sky was the complex ironwork of the elevated railway, chopped off abruptly on its way to the West, and left to rust. Nearer was a roofless factory building, derelict and untouched since the fighting stopped in 1945. To the right I could see along the dark river to the glaring arc lights of the Oberbaum bridge, one of the border crossing points, for here the river is the boundary between the East and West Sectors.

Werner closed the curtains abruptly and switched on the table lamps. 'We need a drink,' he said. There being no opposition from me, he produced a bottle of German brandy and some glasses. Then he got ice and a jug of water from a refrigerator alongside his big stereo TV.

'That's a sure sign of a separated man,' I said. 'A man with ice available in his living room. Married men have to go to the kitchen to get ice in their booze,'

'And what about a bachelor?'

'Ice in the bedroom,' I said;

'You've always got an answer,' said Werner. 'That used to irritate me when we were kids.'

'I know,' I said. 'I'm good at irritating people.'

'Well, you certainly irritated Zena,' he said.

'Why didn't you tell me you knew where she was?'

'And have you think she was having an affair with Frank Harrington?'

'Wasn't she having an affair with Frank Harrington?' I said cautiously. I sipped my brandy without the water that Werner was waving in the air.

'You drink too much. Do you know that?'

'Yes, I know because my wife keeps telling me.'

'I'm sorry,' said Werner. 'I didn't mean to criticize. But right now you can't afford to blunt your mind.'

'If that's what it does, give me another,' I said.

He poured more brandy into my glass, and said, 'No, that place in Lübars is a safe house. Zena was doing an undercover job for Frank Harrington. She's never been unfaithful to me. She would have told me more but she knows how much I've always disliked Frank.'

'Is that what she told you? An undercover job.'

'I've got her back,' said Werner. 'She's explained everything to me and we've started afresh. Sometimes there has to be a really bad disagreement before two people understand each other.'

'Well, here's to you, Werner,' I said.

'It was you who really got us back together again,' said Werner. 'You frightened her.'

'Any time, Werner,' I offered.

He smiled the sort of smile that showed me he was not amused. 'I did what you wanted. I went to London today and saw Dicky. It was a rush. I only just caught the flight back.'

'All okay? No problems at the checkpoint?'

'Was I followed, you mean? Listen, the East Germans don't give a shit about my going to London and straight back here again. London is now at the centre of the forfaiting market. I'm always in and out. How the hell do you think I get these deals for them? None of the West German banks are very keen to go into a syndicate unless I've got some nice juicy London or New York bank in it too.'

That's good.'

'The DDK need Westmarks, Bernie. They're desperate for hard currency. They're squeezed between the Russians and the West. They need oil from Russia, but they also need Western technology. And all the time, the squeeze is getting tighter and tighter. I don't know what's going to happen over here in a decade from now. And by the way, I paid Lisl back the money I borrowed – and interest too.'

'Don't sound so worried, Werner.'

'These people are Germans, Bernie. Of course I'm worried about what happens here.'

'Sure,' I said.

'Don't give me that look,' he complained.

'What look was I giving you?'

'That 'Why do you Jews always have to get so emotional?' look.'

'Stop being so paranoid,' I said. 'And why are you being so bloody mean with your brandy? It's not even French.'

He pushed the bottle over to me this time. 'I saw Dicky Cruyer, just as you said, and he agreed that I put you on tomorrow's truck. Your wife had spoken with you on the phone by then, so Dicky fixed it right away. As soon as you are in the Federal Republic, we'll bring your precious Brahms Four out.' Werner smiled. He knew that Dicky had sent me to Berlin to keep Brahms Four active and in place.

'Sounds good,' I said.

'I'll feel much easier when you're back in the West,' said Werner. 'There are too many people who could recognize your face.'

'And what if they do?'

'Don't be childish,' said Werner. He picked up the brandy, reco-rked the bottle, and put it back into an antique lacquer cabinet decorated with Chinese mountain scenery.

'Was that cabinet something else you picked up for a pair of Levis?' I asked, irritated by the way he closed the door of it.

'If some smart little bastard from the Stasis recognizes you, they'll take you in for interrogation. You know too much to be running round loose over here. I don't know why London permitted it.'

'Well, you don't know everything, Werner,' I said. 'There are a couple of things now and again that the D-G doesn't check out with you,'

'You don't think that was some kind of routine visit that the Stasis made to Rolf Mauser tonight? They know you're here, Bernie. They're looking for you – it's obvious.'

'Let me do the worrying, Werner,' I said. 'I've had more practice.'

Werner got to his feet and said, 'Let's go downstairs and I'll show you the truck you'll be hiding in.'

I got up and drained the dregs from my glass.

'Drinking makes you bad-tempered,' said Werner.

'No,' I said. 'It's having the bottle taken away that does that.'

The warehouse, which Werner leased from the Foreign Trade Ministry, was big. There were two thirty-ton trucks parked downstairs and there was still plenty of room for packing cases and workbenches and the office with two desks, three filing cases and an ancient Adler typewriter.

'We bolt you in,' said Werner, climbing into the back of the trailer. His voice echoed in the confined space. 'The first couple of times we did it, we welded that section after the people were inside, but we burned someone's leg doing it, so now we bolt it up and paint it with quick-drying paint. I hope you don't suffer from claustrophobia.' He pointed to the place at the front of the cargo compartment where two metal sheets had been opened to reveal a narrow compartment. 'Plenty of air holes, but they are not visible because of the baffles. These two brackets hold a small wooden seat, and we'll fix a soft cushion on it because you'll be a long time in here.'

'How long?'

'Those bastards at the customs don't work a long hard day,' said Werner. 'Ten minutes of writing out forms and they have to sit down and recuperate for an hour or so.'

'How long altogether?'

'Sometimes the trucks are parked in the compounds for two days before the officials even look up and nod. Drivers have been known to go crazy in the waiting room. Maybe that's the idea.'

'Three days, maximum?'

'We're talking about a game of chance, Bernie. Relax, and take along something to read. I'll fix a light for you. How about that? It could be they'll wave us through.'

'I won't be the one travelling in this metal box,' I said.

'I knew that,' said Werner in a voice that was more annoyed than self-satisfied.

'What did you know?'

'Right from the start, I thought, that bastard is going to pull some kind of switch. And here it is. So who is going?'

'Brahms Four goes first. He wants to take his wife. You could fit two people in here, couldn't you? It's better they go on the first trip.'