Eyelids flickering. Posts and stanchions, a forest of them reaching to infinity, charred shadows against the ashen frost — 32 LG-RR/4I45/42SILCB-T/6/45/5 — Bearing 3: 2nd post Left of Guard-hut to line with Right edge of Ruin, Spaces, 45° to Bearing 4: 2nd stanchion from 1st post Left of Central Bush to line with Tree, 6 paces, 45° to Bearing 5 — the earth cold against my back, my spine a perfectly articulated thread of life lying at an unknown angle among perfectly ordered points of potential death, a man seeking on ancient principle his own survival, men seeking by remote artifact his extermination.

Who are you?

Quiller.

I mean who are you?

This bit of gristle cast up in no man's land where no man safely goes, nursing a bandage full of blood and the high ambition of crawling through a wire where the cows come to scratch their backs and where the hemispheres of the planet Earth divide. The sky flickering. Get up. Get on your bloody feet.

53RT-LF6/45/61S2LCB to Bearing 7.

Keep still.

'Poor sod.'

Still. Reference shifting: second marker seventh series had T doubled. There was no tree there before. R3-check and make four paces.

'You'd not think it were worth it, would you?'

Voices low. Assimilate new situation and discount alien markers and proceed. Prominence — watch it\ Fed it. Feel its edge. Stone.

It had brought the sweat out.

'He's not the only one that's tried. It must be bad over there.'

The gleam of their guns.

To line with Left edge of Guard hut, 4 paces.

But I was weakening now and the second marker swayed and I couldn't get a true fix on the background reference but it was no good flaking out again because the next time I'd fall on top of one and I didn't want that, all I wanted was sleep.

'Come on, son, you'll do it yet.'

I suppose so. I suppose so. Bearing 10.

The hiss of the frost underfoot, 6 paces.

The wire. The barbs bent under with pliers. Now don't fall over. There's no need.

'Are you — are you blokes Rhine Army?'

'Christ — he's English!'

One of them caught me.

Chapter Nineteen — FINAL APPROACH

They put me in the back of their Jeep and one of them slung his greatcoat round me. They were already calling up base as we drove off. The wind cut cold. I shouted against it.

'I left a car here. Can I pick it up?'

'You what?' They talked together. 'You can't drive it because we can't authorize you, see? And we can't drive it because no one can authorize us, get it? So I should just sit tight and look happy. We shan't be long.'

They were in good spirits. It wasn't often they picked anyone off the wire.

At the B.A.O.R. unit a captain questioned me and went into his office next door to use the phone. I could hear most of it through the pinewood partition. A very odd bod indeed. Thorough bad shape but lucid enough, h Mister Bates there?

A corporal brought me a cup of tea.

I dunno, frankly. He wants to talk to someone in Hanover. Yes. Thing is, do we let him?

I burnt my lips but went on drinking just to feel the heat The corporal was passing on the news somewhere outside: He's in there now. Caught him on the Strip. Eh? No, English. Honest! Fair enough. We'll hold him for you.

Boots in the passage. Thomson!'

'Sir?'

'Bring some tea for this chap, soon as you can.'

'He's got some, sir.'

'Fair enough.'

The door opened. 'You can phone Hanover but we have to listen in, that do you?'

He took me into his office and I gave him the number. We waited for the connection. Tall, clean, pink-faced, very interested, a boyish smile. The last customer we had was two months ago. I mean a live one.' That was how they must come to see the 'Strip': as a wire where birds perched, some of them falling.

When the phone rang he used the extension, watching me the whole time as I talked.

'Sapphire.'

'Needle.' He listened for bugs.

'All right' I said: 'Company.' Third party this end.

'Understood.'

'I'm in B.A.O.R. Bucholz. Get me out, will you?'

This time of night?'

He was giving himself time to think. The Rhine Army wouldn't pick anyone up unless they were right in the Zone.

'Wake people up,' I told him.

'Yes. Which way are you facing?'

'Home.' He wanted to know if I were going across or coming back.

The young captain tapped my arm: 'It's getting a little obscure. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to — '

'All right,'I said.

'Anything for me?' Ferris was asking.

'Practically the lot.'

'Oh yes?' He was very good at not sounding galvanized. 'Anything for London?'

'Not yet'

'I ought to give them at least a rough — '

'Look, stuff London. Just get me out I want one more day.'

'Where?'

'Linsdorf. Do I need smoke out?'

'No. We fixed that.'

The captain reached across and cut us off. His smile was rather strained. 'I do apologize, but you see my position. Most of that was in verbal code and I've already stuck my neck out letting you phone at all.'

I gave him the receiver.

'I appreciate that.' The heat was off now and the need for sleep was urgent. 'Appreciate it a lot. Don't worry, there'll be no kickback.' Up to Ferris, the rest of the night.

'That's fine. But the thing is, you could be Commander Crabb or someone.'

'He's got brown eyes, didn't you know?'

They woke me just before dawn and I let them take me along to the sick-bay to get the hand re-stitched.

'There's not so much room left for making new holes, that's the trouble. What have you been doing?'

'I had to go on all fours for a bit.'

Taking pots, were they?' The M.O. laughed gustily. They all knew where the 'very odd bod' had been. It was a routine patrol unit and I was as good as the telly.

The captain took me back to his office.

'Well I'm not quite sure what's going on but we've had a call through and my orders are to release you and offer limited facilities.' He sounded frustrated: he wasn't averse to letting me go but he realized that he would never know who it was who had gone. 'Perhaps you'd give me some idea as to what facilities you need.'

I didn't ask for much: some biscuits, a duffle-coat, some petrol and a ride in the Jeep as far as the ruined military depot.

The 17M was still there, stuck in the bush, and they filled the tank while I scraped the frost off the wind-screen. The tank had been split on the blind run from Neueburg and I didn't want to go dry. I made sure the engine would start before I let them go, then while it warmed I stood looking east across the wire and the flat grey land beyond. The light seeped from a cold sky and there were crows about: it was morning, and I had a warm coat with biscuits in a pocket and I hoped the night had gone well for her, as it had gone for me.

The front wing rattled but the roads smoothed out when I cleared the Zone and headed north towards Linsdorf.

Clive? This is George. Listen, something's come up and we'd rather like your help. Well apparently there's one of those chaps — you know? — struck a spot of trouble in Western Germany. Yes Name's Martin and he's officially attached to the Accidents Investigation Branch working at an air-base called Linsdorf. Now this is what seems to have cropped up, you listening hard?

I ate the biscuits slowly, a crumb at a time.

Number Three? This is Beacon Nine. Will you be in Bonn tonight? Well you'll see General Schmidl, obviously. Subject: an Englishman, Walter Martin, has become wanted for murder since early hours this morning. All we need is that the good Herr General is tipped off that his K.P. branch is wasting its time: Martin was not, repeat not, responsible. They'll thus avoid unproductive search tactics. M'm? If it could be done officially I wouldn't be asking you, would I? No, we're relying on Schmidl's confidence in our integrity and that should suffice. Finally, if the Kriminal-polizei require the said Martin as witness at a later date, we guarantee his availability. Now I'll give you what details I have.