'I know. Here's us, heading for trouble and God knows what else, and in the middle of you talking about Nordhausen, I start wondering what Peter’s up to.'
'Stop knocking yourself.'
'Makes a change. I usually leave that to you.
He burst out laughing.
'Okay tough guy. What's got you so tickled?'
'Here we are, crammed in a small compartment in a train, hurtling across America being chased by the CIA, the FBI and god knows who else, and you're worried about your ex husband's sex life. Christ, he must've been good.'
'He was a shit.'
'So why…?' Adam stopped and shook his head.
'Because some of us like shits. Don't ask me why.' She laughed with him. 'He's cheap, too. He once bought me a Louis Vuitton handbag. Your travel case reminded me of it when we left the hotel. It was for our second anniversary. I broke the lock and took it back to the shop in La Jolla. They told me it was a fake. A fucking Hong Kong fake. Can you believe that?'
'What did he say?'
'That he'd bought it in New York when he was there on a visit. And if he could remember where the shop was, he'd go back and sue the bastards. That's Peter for you. A cheapskate liar and womaniser. And I can't let him go. That's really pathetic, isn’t it?'
'No. Just human.'
'Very understanding. What would you know?'
'Maybe not women, but…my parents. And my twin brother.'
'You're a twin?'
'Was. They all died when I was nine.'
'Was he an identical twin?'
'Yes.'
'That means you came from the same egg. That right?'
'Something like that.' He didn't add that he had studiously learnt everything about twins and their relationships.
'My first boyfriend at High School, he was a twin and his brother played on the football team. If he got hurt, my guy used to suffer, too. We used to watch the game together and I'd suddenly see him wince in pain. Just like that. And I'd look on the field and it was his brother who'd been tackled.'
'Yes. Something like that.' He laughed. 'I remember once getting a tap round the head from my dad. I'd done something wrong. I remember him saying it was a shame that he had to punish us both when only one of us was being naughty. That tap sorted us both out.'
'Do you still feel he's with you?'
'He is.'
'Then you're lucky. You're not alone. Is that so bad?'
'I don't know why I'm alive and he's dead.'
'What's his name?'
'Marcus.'
'Nice name. It’s good you've got someone. It's important.
Ch. 53
They came out into the corridor together, Rostov holding back as he allowed the older and more senior man to go before him.
'Your head's on the block,' said the Director as Rostov caught him up. 'You know that, don't you?'
The younger man shrugged. It came with the stripes he wore on his shoulder.
They walked along, slowly, at the old man's pace. This was not the place to talk, here in the corridors of power where every wall had ears.
'Not a job I would want,' said the Director, 'being President at this time. With all the problems. But then, there are always problems. It is not a job I would ever want.'
They had spent half an hour with the President, the Director sitting back and letting Rostov take him through all the details of the last few weeks.
'A confused sequence of events,' the President had said when Rostov finished. 'No doubt there is a logic to it. There always is. My main concern, after the safety of our people, is to ensure that the Americans and ourselves keep the faith. It's always difficult to trust old enemies. When I meet with the American President in Berlin, I want him to believe he can trust me.'
He said little more, only asked to be kept informed. He respected the American President. He didn't want this to come between them.
'He doesn't totally trust them either,' the Director said to Rostov as they came out into the open. It was a bright day and the official Zil lurched forward toward them. The Director waved the driver to stop where he was. There were still things to be said out of earshot. 'But he has to try. Just like we do. And, I suppose, the Americans. It was easier in the old days. We knew where we were. Now, in this time of peace, it's a fragile trust. I hope it went well for Dimitri Dimitrovitch.'
'His report should be ready when I get back.'
'Was it wise to tell them about Bormann?'
'It was only a titbit. To excite them.'
'I suppose they'll think we have Hitler as well.'
'Our sources always reported that they believed Bormann had come here. He was seen by that General's daughter.'
'He was seen everywhere. Excellent misinformation. Now that they know about the money, there is always a possibility that they'll tell the Germans. They could ask for its return.'
'That's between them and the Swiss Banks. What's left of it.'
The Director laughed. 'Not much. It all helped fund Stalin's five year plan.' He paused, then turned to the younger man. 'The Lucy Ghosts. It's important they don't leave Russia. Not until this matter is settled.'
'We deported over thirty thousand Germans after the War. It's not going to be easy. Not in this time of perestroika.'
'I know. I know. But Germany has been peaceful because the East Prussians were under our control. You know…as I do…that the Prussians have always been the warmongers. We cannot allow them…the neo Nazis…to stir up trouble. Not at a time when the rest of Germany is in turmoil, when the economy is struggling.'
'Fascist extremism…it's in the Prussian's nature. That won't change, however rich they become.'
'Are you sure you are taking the right course of action?' The Director couldn't ask what it was, not without implicating himself if it went wrong.
'Yes.'
'And if it fails?'
'That will be my mistake.'
'It's a sad moment when a man realises he is expendable.'
'I won't be the first.'
'No. We've all been through it. When you have to stand by your own actions. You appreciate why, don't you?'
'Yes. Nothing must damage the relationship between us and the West.'
'If it works, nothing will ever be known. If it doesn't, then…' he shrugged. They both knew that was the end for Rostov. The Director waved his car over.' Are you coming back with me?'
'No, sir. I want to walk. It's a nice day.'
'To church?'
'To church.'
'Well, I hope He can help where the rest of the KGB can't.'
Rostov walked out of the Kremlin, past the KGB guards with their blue-ribboned caps, and along the river. He mixed with the tourists and other passers-by, enjoyed being nobody in a bustling city.
He thought of the action he had instigated. He knew it was dangerous, knew that his only hope was to flush them out.
All they could do was watch and wait, trigger off several fuses and watch them burn until one of them, hopefully, ran its full course. His instinct told him the Englishman's disappearance was their best chance. He wasn't in hiding. He wasn't the type. He was after something. He could be their salvation.
He would pray for the Englishman's safety.
He needed all the help he could get.
Ch. 54
The AmTrak Crescent was stopping at Culpeper, Virginia, when Peter Frick called the Council meeting to order.
The twelve were there, in the big room that had once served as a dining room in this grand old house. Frick sat at the head of the long table, in his rightful place as their leader. Helmut Kragan sat on his right, his seat away from the table, as befitted the recorder of minutes who wasn't a council member.