'Will they -' she began, and then the telephone rang and she jumped slightly and looked at me and I shook my head. The answering-machine cut in.

This is George Maitland. I can't come to the telephone now, but if you'll leave your name, number and any message, I'll phone you back as soon as I can.

We were listening to a dead man's voice but she didn't react in any way. She was sitting on the floor with her legs to one side, cupping her tea in both hands. The beep sounded.

'Er, yes, this is Jim, down at the garage. We can pick up your car any time you say, and have the oil changed and everything before seven tonight. Give us a buzz if you want us to fetch it, will you? Number's 483-2230. Thank you.'

Another beep. I said, 'Is it all right if we have someone sleep here while you're in Berlin?' A place like this would have a guest room.

She seemed surprised. 'If you think it's necessary.' She hadn't got the message yet. A lot of things were going to be necessary now.

'Yes.'

'All right,' she said. 'There's always a bed made up in the guest room.'

'We'll need the keys.' I went over and picked up her bag. The initials GKM on the leather in brass. She didn't have luggage of her own?

'All the keys?'

'Just the front door.'

She got them from her worn suede bag. She liked old places; perhaps old things, too. 'I'd better lock up all round,' she said.

'Don't worry. They'll move in the minute we've left.' It took her a moment to accept that too. She didn't ask where they were coming from or how long it would take them. The only clue she had was that she hadn't asked her garage to do an oil change and there probably wasn't a man working there called Jim. She was learning not to ask questions if she could help it, and that was going to be very convenient. I said, We'll be on our way then, shall we?'

It was nearly dark when we went outside again. 'When you're away for any length of time, you leave the answering-machine on, do you?'

'Yes.'

I dropped her bag into the boot of my car and shut the lid quietly. They'll monitor every message and send the daily take to you in Berlin. Will that be all right?'

'It's not important, really. They'll only be from, you know, the tradespeople or Marjorie next door, or my mother. They need to -'

There won't be any calls for George? From people who haven't heard?'

'He never had many calls. He was in Berlin most of the time.'

I opened the passenger door for her and she got in, her fair hair swinging. I shut the door without slamming it and went round to the other side. The street lights had come on, but they weren't very high, or very bright; this was a quiet street on the edge of the town. A cat was loping across the pavement opposite, its eyes trapping the light for an instant as it turned to look at us.

Would you like to slide down a bit,' I asked Helen, 'on the seat?'

She turned to look at me. 'All right.'

I picked up the phone and dialled 483-2230 and waited.

The head of the cat moved like a hunter's; its shoulders flexed rhythmically under the dark fur. There'd be a small gift of some sort on the mat by morning, an offering to its patrons, perhaps the bloodied entrails of a rat.

'Jim here.'

I said, 'The house is open, and I've left the key of the front door on the tea-tray in the sitting room. That all right?

'Sure. We'll be there.'

'What's your set-up?' I asked him.

'I'll give you a countdown, then you can move. Okay?

'All right. Listen, if a boy called Billy from next door comes and asks for his railway engine back, give it to him. It's in the little conservatory, next to the amaryllis pot.'

'Will do.'

I started the engine. 'Ready when you are.' I put the phone back and looked at Helen and said, 'Seat belt.'

'I'm always forgetting,' she said.

Jim's voice started sounding over the speaker. 'All right – ten – nine – eight -'

'A bit lower,' I said to Helen, 'can you?' She slid down some more, easing her thin hips under the lap strap. -Just for a minute,' I told her, 'then you can sit up again.' I didn't want her silhouette presenting a target against the street lights.

'Five – four – three -'

I shifted into gear.

'Two – one – zero.'

I took it gently at first because I didn't want any squeal from the tyres but as soon as we were out of the driveway I gunned up a little and then a lot as we straightened, a lit of a whimper from the treads but it didn't matter now because Jim was going into the routine in the street up there and we heard a crash of metal and then glass smashing as I hit second and gave her the gun and then there was quite a lot of tyre scream from behind us as the Vauxhall tried backing up and swinging clear but Jim would have been waiting for that and got in its way again with a lot of noise as we reached the corner and I took the side street and said, 'You can sit up now.'

Chapter 4: SOLITAIRE

Shatner lit another cigarette, screwing up his eyes against the smoke.

'What's she like?

I don't think he'd slept, as I had, since I'd seen him last. I would say he'd been in Signals with Berlin again, exhaustively.

'Shy,' I said, 'quiet, nervy, guileless, subservient.'

He'd told me we were putting her up at the Holiday Inn at Heathrow until the plane left; they'd had a car waiting for her when we'd reached Whitehall.

'Subservient?' Shatner said. 'Dominated by Maitland, do you think?'

'Yes. But I'd say she was like that when he married her.' We were trying to get a bearing on Maitland's character: it could be important. 'I mean, women don't usually let a man dominate them unless they've been set up by their fathers first.'

Shatner dropped ash. 'What was their relationship, would you say?

I told him how she'd spoken of her husband. Not lovingly. 'Look,' I said, 'she's got to come with me to persuade Willi Hartman to talk to me, and he's our only access for the moment. But as soon as I can, I want to send her back home. She's appallingly vulnerable.'

Shatner watched me through the smoke, the light yellowing his dry pale face, the bags under his eyes making shadows. 'Is she attractive?'

'Yes. But I want to get her out of Berlin anyway, the minute Hartman's accepted me. It doesn't matter a damn what she looks like.'

'I take your point.' In a moment – 'Now tell me how this Maitland affair strikes you.'

I thought about it. 'I'd say his death wouldn't have looked very important, as an isolated incident taken out of context. But the opposition cell – presumably the Red Army Faction – sent some people over here from Berlin to monitor McCane, and when they knew he was going to see Maitland's widow they thought it was worth killing him to prevent it. They put a peep on Maitland's house in Reigate and they bugged the telephone and when your support group got me away from there the opposition went crazy – I heard them. So I believe Maitland's death is now looking very important and I'd say he was killed because he had something on the Faction and it was something quite big. Big enough for us to take an interest in.'

The telephone rang and Shatner took the receiver off and dropped it into a drawer. 'I happen to have reached the same conclusion. I think we should give it mission status and send you in as the executive. You're still ready to offer your services?'

'Yes.'

I thought it was a rather elegant way to put it, and it pleased me. If at some time in the future I fetched up in a wrecked car or a smashed telephone box or a cell running with rats it was going to help a little, just a little, to know that Control was running things with a certain degree of elegance and that I might, because of it, survive.

'I've set a few things up,' he said, and opened the drawer and put the phone back, 'and if you've had enough sleep we can get you cleared right away. I've called in Thrower from Pakistan to direct you in the field. Has he handled you before?'