If you wish.'

I spoke a telephone number into it and put it back. 'You can leave a message for me there at any time: it's an answering service. Tell Klaus that I can offer him a missile with a nuclear warhead, the American-made Miniver NK- 9, in case he feels like spelling out a really spectacular statement for the prime-time news.' The increase in her saliva was triggered immediately, and I saw her swallow. 'I'm talking,' I said, 'of taking out an entire international sports stadium during a world-class match or a major airport on Christmas Eve or the Houses of Parliament in London, with subsequent fallout megadeaths and mass evacuation and the closing down of the relevant city for the next hundred years – a lasting monument, if you like, to Nemesis.' I opened the door and got out of the car. 'You know how to find me, but you must tell Klaus that time is of the essence. If he'd like a rendezvous, I can only give him till midnight.'

The sun had cleared the airport buildings and floated in the haze, a pale membrane speared by the black antennae at the top of the control tower. Shadows had begun to form on the tarmac as I walked across the slip road to the underground car park where Roach had left his SAAB.

I could see no one, had seen no one since I'd left Inge, but the skin was crawling at the nape of the neck and the scrotum was tight because in the last hour I had taken appalling risks, however calculated, and if I were going to survive long enough to debrief to my director in the field he was going to blow my head off and send a report to London.

The roar of a jet came like a soft explosion as a British Airways VC10 cleared the buildings and tilted into the haze. Something was moving at the rim of the vision field and I turned my head; it was a radar scanner. Echoes began coming from the underground garage, echoes of footsteps, and I stopped, listening; I'd been making them myself. I don't like the nerves pulling tight when there's no reason, but I never ignore them. There are vibrations in human affairs that have nothing to do with speech or contact; they are there because the primitive brainstem still protects us in a world of technological sophistication, analysing the environment, interpreting data that the senses have picked up even without our knowing, and on that level we don't understand the signals; we just feel uneasy, on edge.

The black SAAB was standing where Roach had left it; the Mercedes had been too hot for me to use again, and he would have dumped Krenz somewhere in the field for support people to look after and then driven the car to the east section of the city and left it there.

The windows of the SAAB were up and the doors were locked; he'd given me the keys, but I handled them gingerly, slipping the door-key in and waiting before I turned it. There were other people down here, and I listened to their footsteps, and the echoes they made, expecting a rush, a closing in. There was nothing of that sort, and I opened the door and got in and sat behind the wheel and took a look at the instrument panel and waited again, listening, hearing the roar of another jet that was taking off, the sound setting up a metallic hum in the lid of the ashtray.

Then I put the ignition key in and sweat sprang instantly on my skin but I turned the key because there hadn't been time for them to rig a bang, it was just nerves, that was all, and the engine started right away and I shifted the gears in and got rolling and the BMW that was parked three cars away in the same line started up too and the tyres whimpered a little as it pulled ahead of me and swerved inwards and the 380SL on the other side went into the same manoeuvre and I gave the SAAB the gun and the tyres shrilled and the left wing hit the Mercedes and was ripped away as I kept going and felt a shudder from the rear as the BMW moved right in and tried to close the trap as a Volkswagen came in from the next line and swung across my bows in a curve and I rammed it and broke through.

Another car was moving past one of the concrete pillars and it braked hard and I saw a woman with a white face behind the windscreen and then the Mercedes pulled alongside the SAAB with his tyres yelping under the acceleration and I swung the wheel and bounced off the pillar and heard the offside wing tearing away. The windscreen snowed out as something glanced across it and I thought I heard the pop of a silenced gun and then it came again and the driving-mirror shattered and I kept low on the seat and swung the SAAB full-circle across the dry concrete and looked for a gap and found one and went for it but the VW blocked me and I swung the other way, ramming the front end of the Mercedes and bringing a burst of water from the radiator and a lot of clatter from the fan.

They were shooting and they were using silencers and the clock on the dashboard took a ricochet and the bullet dropped into my lap and I left it there. Something moved in from the left side and the SAAB rocked and I dragged it straight and saw another gap and took it and hit a pillar and broke free but the Mercedes was close and we rocked again and righted and then rolled over with the roof-metal screaming on the concrete and I hit the belt-buckle and got the door open and found the Mercedes alongside with the driver slumped at the wheel with blood on his face so I smashed the window and found his gun and saw the BMW moving in and fired twice and rolled clear as it lost control and hit the Mercedes and bounced back with the driver's foot still on the throttle and the engine screaming.

The Volkswagen was coming in and I dropped the gun and waited and saw the driving-window coming down and a muzzle poking out and I dropped flat as he fired and fired again and I came up from under the window and hit the gun and felt the shock as it went off and then I found the man's throat and smashed the larynx and dragged him out of the car and got in and gunned up for the exit and went through with the man in the box there shouting because I hadn't paid and he wanted to ask me about all the noise he'd heard. I merged with the main traffic from the terminal and kept going until I found a telephone and got out and called Thrower and he picked up on the second ring.

Chapter 10: THROWER

'I need all the information you can get me,' I told Thrower, 'on the NK-9 Miniver tactical nuclear missile. Ahmad Samala should have all I want, but ask London too, tell them to fax it to you.'

'How soon?'

'Now.'

I felt blood creeping on the side of my face and got my handkerchief; my head was throbbing, just over the right temple, and the cold air was sharp on the wound. The shoulder on that side was burning but I could use my arm all right. It had happened when the SAAB had rolled.

'I'll see to that,' Thrower said. 'Where are you?'

'Tegel Airport. I need to debrief.'

'All right. I've moved you nearer there, in point of fact. You're at the Hotel Klinghof in the Haselhorst district. You're booked in and your things are on their way. You can go there now.'

He must have his reasons but I wanted to keep the call short. I needed the information on the NK-9 as soon as I could get it: Inge could phone Kleiber's number at any time to make a rendezvous and if I were going to talk to Dieter Klaus I'd have to be absolutely sure of what I was saving.

'All right,' I told Thrower. 'What street?' 'Eiderstrasse. I shall be moving to the Prinzen, nearby.'

'When?

'I'll be leaving here in a few minutes; I was hanging on in case you signalled.' There was something about his voice that was different, I thought. It was just as smooth, but there was a note of frustration coming through. It wasn't because of what had happened in the underground garage; I hadn't told him about it yet because I didn't want to waste time.