Lilstein has calmed down, he turns the pages of Flash Gordon, he smiles, he feels better, Morel has not betrayed him, Morel is a historian, a great historian, Roosevelt and the Japanese dagger between the shoulder-blades.
At last Morel and Lilstein have left the bookshop, they have made for the southern exit of the Passage Marceau, the girl watches them leave, she is alone again, she has decided to ring Gilles, they’ll meet up at the Turk’s, then they’ll come back to the bookshop for a coffee, I’m not fair on Gilles, I love his skin, best if Gilles comes here at lunchtime, we’ll eat in the back of the shop, I’ll pop out and buy a few things, mayo salad, two small quiches, half-bottle of wine, apple tart, I’ll behave as if we had all the time in the world, we behave as if we didn’t know, without rushing, and when I’m on the table, I can stroke Gilles’s ears with my feet.
Lilstein has begun to feel a lot better. Just before they reached the exit from the alleyway, an object turning in a shop window caught his attention, a rotating disc about fifty centimetres in diameter, on it a representation of the Knights of the Round Table, Lilstein cheers up, eleven miniature knights standing by their chairs, around the Table, and King Arthur in front of his throne, tin figures, less than ten centimetres tall, their right arms extended horizontally, pointing with their swords to the middle of the table, and on their left arms each holds a large helmet with a more or less fabulous creature on it, wolf, dragon, boar or hippocampus. Lilstein looks at the price-tag, six hundred francs for each Knight, nine hundred for the King, five hundred per chair, the Table is priced at one thousand three hundred francs and Lilstein bursts out laughing:
‘See that? Electric motor for turning the disc one thousand francs!’
They have emerged on to the Boulevard des Italiens, Lilstein repeated ‘a thousand francs for legend-turning, a thousand francs’, Morel is happy to see him so relaxed. Lilstein had gone through a brief persecution crisis, he had doubted his friend, had come close to breaking off almost half a century of friendship, he blames himself, he feels he can trust him again, they have walked up the Boulevard des Italiens towards the Opera, grey sky, with blue breaks in it and a few drops of non-threatening rain.
‘Could we take a leisurely stroll down the avenue de l’Opéra?’ asked Lilstein, ‘I’d like to stay with you.’
‘Misha, sure it won’t tire you?’
Lilstein said it was probably the last chance of a walk he’d have, the people in Bonn, oh yes, I know, these days we have to say the people in Berlin, but I haven’t got used to it yet, strolling, it won’t be long before the people in Bonn won’t be letting me do much strolling.
They started making their way down the avenue de l’Opéra, after they’d gone a couple of dozen metres Morel stopped. He asked Lilstein: ‘Are you really sure you want to go all the way to the end? No cinemas, no restaurants, just the one bookshop, stocks books for tourists, there are just banks, bureaux de change and travel agents.’ Morel’s hand pointing to the signs around them:
‘Voyages Melia, Thomas Cook, Tourscope, Czech Airlines! All that’s left of this row of shop are businesses which enable you to get the hell out of here. Come on!’
Morel took Lilstein’s arm, Lilstein put up no resistance, they went along the rue Daunou, emerged on to the Boulevard des Capucines, then on to the Madeleine.
Lilstein’s mood was gloomy:
‘Gorbachev, perestroika, glasnost, truth, socialism with a human face, we almost won, a whole life vindicated, Morel, I’m going to turn myself in to the people in Bonn, I won’t say anything about us, I’m embarrassed that I suspected you of betraying me, please forgive me, very sincerely, if they interrogate me about you I’ll say I came to see you because you are a historian, I’ll make them believe I told you things for a big article you’re writing about the Cold War, that will give you something to exert pressure with, do you remember, my first words at Waltenberg, “You won’t be caught because there’ll be nothing to get caught for”, Morel, you have nothing to fear.’
They went as far as the Madeleine, which Lilstein thought very ugly. Morel pointed out to his friend the old shop front of Berck’s, the stamp-dealer’s, and the mustard maker’s emporium just next to it. In the distance, to the north, they could make out the church of Saint-Augustin, Morel talked about a small square next to the church, he’d grazed his knees there and pushed toy cars around it over a period of years, he added:
‘There’s also the Army Club, you can’t see it from here, it’s on the left, just before you get to Saint-Augustin, you’ve never been there? not even by proxy?’
In the end they walked along the rue Royale, towards the Place de la Concorde. Morel was moved. At last Lilstein found a note of gentleness in Morel’s voice. When they reached the rue Saint-Honoré, Morel stopped, he looked at the Obélisque, he asked:
‘Misha, do you know why I betrayed you?’
Chapter 14. 1991, We Never Suspected You for One Moment!
In which we learn the reasons that motivated the mole after the fall of the Berlin Wall.
In which we hear final revelations concerning the life of Lena and the death of Hans.
In which the question arises of who should serve the tea in the White House.
In which young people have a great time without giving a second thought to what old persons think.
What’s the good of a vacuum cleaner if the power’s cut off?
Paris, the
quais
of the Seine, September 1991
Lilstein did not react to Morel’s question.
Morel continued:
‘Do you know why I went over to the CIA, Misha? Because I’m a better Marxist than you.
‘I betrayed you because I realised it was all over. You remember advising me to have two souls? I went over to the Americans when I realised your precious socialism was fucked, that Gorbachev wouldn’t last long, that my idealistic soul would never float back down to earth, Gorby is currently making a hash of it, and is taking the old dream down with him.
‘I had a head start on you, for a long time I’d been seeing it clearly, output potential, production outcomes, fifteen million Germans available and all that could be manufactured was plastic motor cars, I ask you!
‘The Trabant on the motorway, next to the Audis, the Mercedes, and the official slogan, “Overtaking — our way”, I had a start on you because I’m more materialistic than you are, Misha, you’d placed all your hopes in Gorbachev but without having an “objective reason” for doing so, you had too much faith in the spirits you’d been summoning to the rescue since you were a teenager, whereas I knew that Gorbachev couldn’t rely on those “real social forces” as they used to be called once, perestroika, glasnost, hot air. The future isn’t something to put on a pedestal.
‘I’m a historian, a historian has a feel for these things, the role of material conditions, and that held even truer for Honecker, you remember Honecker with his panama hat and big round glasses, saluting youth march-pasts by waving a small yellow and red teddy bear? That’s all there ever was, march-pasts, and a regime which was only right twice a day, like a stopped watch, and to get a lawn-mower you had to recycle an electric drill and to make an electric drill you had to recycle a hair-drier, and you fingered dissidents in order to hide what you were really up to, those were the material conditions, the housewife saying to her hubby “go to town and even if you can’t find anything bring me back something!”