Mexico Set

25

You look out for the tacheria which always has smoke from the open fire and a line of people waiting for the fresh tacos. Across the road there are the buses that bring pilgrims to the Shrine of Guadalupe. Buses of all shapes and sizes and colours. Huge air-conditioned monsters that bring people from the big international hotels downtown and bone-rattling old wrecks which convey pilgrims from across the mountains. But the customers buying tacos are not all from the shrine; locals come here too.

Next door to the smoky tacheria is the place where I was to meet Stinnes. It is a large, shed-like building with a ramshackle frontage. Across the bright-red overhang, 'Angel – body shop' is crudely lettered in bloody script. Inside there are trucks and motor cars in various stages of repair and renovation. And always there is the intense flashing light, and the intermittent hiss of the welding torch. There is always work for skilled car-repair men in Mexico City.

I got there early, drove through the workshop, and parked in the backyard. Angel Morales, a small, sad-eyed man with dark skin and a carefully trimmed moustache, came out to see who it was. 'I'm meeting someone, Angel,' I said. 'It's business.' I passed him an envelope containing money.

Angel nodded mournfully. Angel was a friend of a friend of mine but we'd put things on a proper business footing from the time we first met. It was better than using any of the safe houses that the SIS people at the embassy would provide for me. He took the envelope and tucked it into a pocket of his oily overalls without looking inside it. 'I want no trouble,' said Angel. That must have been the only English that Angel knew, for he'd said the same words to me on the two previous meetings.

'There'll be no trouble, Angel,' I said, giving him the sort of wide smile that I'd seen on carefree men with easy minds.

He nodded and went back to shout abuse at an Indian youth who was bolting a new section of metal on to the back of a badly broken truck.

They arrived exactly on time. Stinnes was driving his own car. He stopped the car in the yard and got out but didn't switch off the engine. Then Werner got into the driver's seat and – waiting only long enough for Stinnes to get clear – he gave a brief wave of the hand before reversing back. Carelessly he knocked the rear fender against the wall. Embarrassed, he swung the car round and accelerated loudly to drive away. It was arranged that Werner would return with the car in half an hour. I wondered if Werner was angry at being excluded from the meeting. But then I dismissed that idea from my mind. Werner was enough of a pro not to let that bother him.

Stinnes was dressed in a green tropical suit which repeated washings had faded to a very light colour. The collar of his white shirt was buttoned, but he wore no tie. It gave the impression of an absent-minded man who'd dressed hurriedly, but I knew that Stinnes was not absent-minded, and the way in which he'd dragged out the arrangements for his enrolment was the mark of a man who never hurried.

Stinnes was solemn as he got into the car. There is nothing wrong, I hope,' he said, when the greetings were over.

'What sort of a game are you playing, Erich?' I said. 'I wish I knew.'

'What games are there?'

'There are many different ones,' I said. 'There is the Moscow game in which you lead us by the nose, and then say no thanks.'

'I know only the Bernard Samson game,' he said. 'I do as you propose. I get my money and a few months of interrogation and I retire in comfort.'

'What about the Erich Stinnes game? You grab the money and you take off on your own and disappear.'

'You'll find a way to prevent that, I'm sure. That's your job, isn't it?'

'What have you arranged with London behind my back, Erich?' I said.

'That's what really annoys you; the way your own department have behaved. You have no complaint against me. I have kept my word all along the line.'

'We haven't gone very far yet,' I pointed out.

'The London game, that's what you haven't mentioned,' said Stinnes.

I said nothing. He was trying to rile me in order to see what he could discover. It was to be expected; it was what I would do to him under the same circumstances.

'The London game…' said Stinnes. 'You take the blame for all their mistakes. Is that perhaps the London game, Mr Samson?'

'I don't know,' I said. I was tired of this silly conversation.

But Stinnes persisted. He said, 'If you disappear, it would leave your people in London with a convenient scapegoat for all their failures, wouldn't it?'

'No. They'd have a lot of explaining to do,' I said, with more bravado than I could spare.

'Not if the money also disappeared with you.'

'What are you telling me, Erich?' I kept it light and tried to act as if I found his suggestions amusing. That London would murder me and make the money vanish and pretend that I'd been a KGB agent for many years?'

He smiled but gave no reply.

'And how would you fit into that scenario? Me dead. Money gone. Erich Stinnes where?'

'I'll keep to my agreement. I've told you that. Do you have any reason to doubt?' I followed Stinnes's gaze. The ground sloped up at the back of the yard. On a grubby white wall a youth in faded jeans and a purple T-shirt was spraying a slogan on the tall stucco wall: La revolutión no tiene fronteras – the revolution has no frontiers. It was to be seen all over Central America, wherever they could afford the paint.

'We're still on opposing sides, Erich. On Friday we'll be meeting under different circumstances. But until then I'm treating you with great suspicion.'

He turned his head to look at me. 'Of course. Perhaps you're waiting for some gesture of good faith from me. Is that what you're saying?'

'It would raise my morale.'

'This particular gesture of good faith might not,' said Stinnes. He reached into his pocket and got a Russian passport. He gave it to me. There was nothing special about it – it had been issued two years before and was convincingly marked and dog-eared – except that the photo and physical description were mine. I went cold. 'Keep it,' said Stinnes. 'As a souvenir. But don't use it. The serial numbers are ones that will alert the frontier police. And there are invisible marks that when seen under fluorescent light will mean a phone call to Moscow.' He smiled, inviting me to join in the fun.

'There was a plan to kidnap me?'

'A silly contingency plan that has long since been abandoned… on my instructions.'

'And no one suspects you might be coming to us?'

'A frustrated fool suspects, but he had cried wolf too often with too many others.'

'Take care, Erich.'

'Take care? How safe is this place? Angel's body shop. Can we be sure we're not observed.'

I said, 'Werner knows his job. And Angel's yard is as safe as anywhere in this dangerous town.'

'Do you observe what those men over there are doing with that chisel?' he asked. 'They are cutting the number from that truck engine. They are criminals. The police probably have this workshop under observation. You must be mad to bring me to such a place.'

'You've got a lot to learn about the West, Erich. This fellow Angel regularly works on transforming American trucks and cars that are stolen in Texas and California. The first time I came here I walked into the office and saw him with a box of US licence plates that had been ripped off cars before they were resprayed.'

'And?'

'Well, you don't think he can go on doing that year after year without attracting the attention of the police, do you?'

'Why isn't he in prison?'

'He bribes the police, Erich. What do they call them here – "the biting ones" – come regularly to collect their fees. This is the safest place in the whole town. No cop would dare come in here and disturb our peaceful conversation. He'd have the whole force at his throat.'

'I can see I have much to learn about the West,' said Stinnes with heavy sarcasm. It was interesting that he chose to pretend that bribery and corruption was not plaguing the Eastern bloc. He took off his spectacles and blinked. 'It was hard to say goodbye to my son,' he said, as if thinking aloud. 'He asked me if I'd ever thought of defecting to the West… He'd never said such a thing before. Never. It was very strange, almost like telepathy. I had to say no, didn't I?'

For the first time I felt sorry for him, but I made sure it didn't show. 'We'll meet in Garibaldi Square,' I said. 'Take a cab there and pretend you want to listen to the musicians. But stay in the cab. Arrive at nine o'clock. The time might change if the plane is late. Phone the number I gave you between six and seven to confirm. Whoever answers will give a time but no place. That means Garibaldi Square. No baggage. Wear something that won't look too conspicuous in England.'

'I'll be there.'

'And don't tell Mrs Volkmann.'

'Don't tell her where I'm meeting you?'

'Don't tell her anything.'

'She's with your people, isn't she? I thought I'd be travelling on the plane with her.'

'Don't tell her anything.'

'Are you sure that you're in charge of this operation?'

'As one pro to another, Erich, let me admit to you that these jobs make me nervous. You will not be armed; understand? I will be armed. And the moment I see any sign of KGB heavies, or any other evidence of a stake-out, I will blow a hole in you so big that daylight will shine through you from the other side. No offence, Erich, but I felt it better to tell you that in advance.'

'As one pro to another,' said Stinnes with more than a trace of sarcasm, 'I appreciate your frankness.' He wasn't looking at me as he spoke. He was looking right through the open doors of the workshop to where a jeep had stopped in the street. There were three military policemen in it, all wearing US-army-style equipment complete with helmets painted white. One of the MPs climbed out of the jeep and came through into the yard where we were parked. He stared right at us for a long time. Stinnes stopped talking until the MP turned round and went back inside. We watched him go into the large crate that Angel used as an office. The outside of the crate was covered in girlie pictures, calendars and travel posters; one said, 'Sheraton Hotels let you move to the rhythm of Latin America.'

After a few minutes the military policeman reappeared, buttoning his top pocket. He grinned to his driver as the jeep drove away.

'It's the same everywhere in this town. Cops even prey on the cabs taking the tourists to the airport,' I said. 'Everyone pays off.'

Stinnes looked at his watch to see how long it would be before Werner returned. He said, 'You realize how much you need my goodwill, don't you?'

'Do I?'

'London Central want to know one thing above all else. They want to know if you are Moscow's man. If I say 'yes' you'll be finished.'

'If you say I'm Moscow's man, they will discover you are lying,' I said calmly.

'Perhaps they would; perhaps they wouldn't.'

'The debriefing panel are not stupid,' I said, with more conviction than I truly felt. 'They don't use thumbscrews or electric prodders or even a bread-and-water diet, but they'll discover the truth.'

'Eventually, perhaps. But that might come too late to do you any good.'

'They won't take me out and shoot me,' I said.

'No, they won't. But you'd be removed from your job and discredited. If they cleared you afterwards you wouldn't be rehabilitated and reinstated.'

'If I thought this was all a KGB plot to discredit me, I'd kill you now, Stinnes.'

'That would make matters worse for you. If I was killed, you would immediately be suspected. Your position would be worse than having me slander you. With me alive you could argue against me, but London Central would see my dead body as convincing proof of your guilt.'

'Is that how it looks to you?'

'It's how it is,' said Stinnes. 'Is there anything else?'

'Did my wife arrange the death of the boy at Bosham?'

'Why?'

'I have to know.'

'He recognized her.'

'But did she kill him?'

'Your wife? Of course not.'

'Did she authorize it?'

'No, it was a local decision. Your wife was not consulted.'

I looked at him, trying to see into his brain. 'You'd say that anyway,' I said.

I could see by his face that he could not be bothered to discuss the matter. But then he seemed to realize that from now onwards he might have to get used to doing things our way. 'Pavel Moskvin, one of my people, was trying to make himself famous.'

'By murdering one of our junior staff?'

'Moskvin was using my name; he was in England impersonating me. He got the idea that MacKenzie was you.'

'What?'

'He knows nothing about you, except your name and that you wanted to get into contact with me. He was in England on a routine task; he was no more than a back-up for your wife's team. But, when MacKenzie arrived, Moskvin couldn't resist it. He pretended he was me.'

'What a fiasco,' I said.

'Moskvin is a meddling fool. He thinks it's all so easy. Finally he killed your man rather than have to report what a mess he'd made of everything. No, your wife was not involved. Your wife is furious about it.' A workman wheeled a trailer pump from the shop and started the motor. It made a loud thumping sound until the pressure built up. Then the man began to spray a car door. The spray gun hissed loudly as clouds of pink paint came rolling across the yard.

'You came here after the Volkmanns arrived, didn't you?'

'I told her you'd guess that. Chronology is always the first element of deduction.'

'The Volkmanns arrived here, and then you came and let them discover you here.'

'Your wife was sure her scheme would make you run.'

'Was she?' I had my doubts about whether she'd discuss such things with Stinnes, or with anyone else. It was not Fiona's style.

'She thought London Central would be flaying you alive by now. Instead you seem to have talked your way out of trouble there. And instead of you fleeing East I am coming West. It will be a double defeat for her, and there are people in Moscow who'll not allow her to escape without blame. She will have within her an anger that only women know. She will take revenge upon you, Samson. I would not like to be in your shoes when she seeks retribution.'

'You win some; you lose some.' I could smell the paint now. It had that acrid taste of cheap boiled sweets that all such quick-drying paints have.

'You say that because you are a man,' said Stinnes.

'I say it because I'm a pro. Just as you are one, and just as my wife is. Professionals don't take revenge; they have enough trouble doing their job.'

'You may be a good agent,' said Stinnes. 'But you have a lot to learn about women.'

'The only thing a man has to know about women is that he'll never know anything about them. Now let me back up the car before the radiator goes pink.'

I started up the car and moved it out of the way of the mad spray-man. Stinnes said, 'Are you still in love with your wife?'

'No,' I said. I was getting fed up with everyone concerning themselves about how much I loved Fiona. 'Are you still in love with Mrs Volkmann?' I retorted.

Stinnes was startled. His head moved as if I'd given him a slap in the face.

'You'd better tell me,' I said. 'It could have a bearing on the enrolment.'

'How?'

'Have you arranged to go to England with Mrs Volkmann?'

'She arranged it. Your people approved.'

'Did they, by God.'

'She told them it must be a condition. I am in love with her. And she's in love with me.'

'Are you serious, Erich?'

'I love her. Have you never been in love?'

'Not with Zena Volkmann.'

'Don't try to change anything. It's too late now. We're going to start a new life together in England. If you tell her husband or try to interfere I will not go ahead.'

'You must be a bloody fool,' I said. 'A man like you, listening to the sweet talk of a little chiseller like Zena Volkmann. She wants to get her hands on the money. Can't you see that?'

'It's my business,' he said peevishly.

'Your fight with your wife… her bruised face. Was that something to do with Zena Volkmann? You didn't punch her in the face just to make it all look right, did you?'

'When I told Inge there was another woman she became hysterical. I didn't want to hurt her but she tried to kill me. She had a metal poker.' He sighed. 'Zena said I must tell her. Zena insisted upon a clean break. Otherwise, she said, Inge might keep trying to find me. This way, perhaps she'll forget me and marry again.'

'You didn't tell your wife that you were going to defect?'

'I am in love, but I am not insane. No, of course I didn't tell her.'

'Then stay sane about Zena too,' I said. 'I'll give Zena a ticket to London, for the flight after yours. You make sure you arrive alone on Friday. Or I'll have to get rid of Zena the hard way.'

Stinnes seemed not to take my threat seriously. He said, 'I suppose every tourist going to London wants to see 221B Baker Street.'

'What's in Baker Street?' I said. But even before I'd finished saying it I recognized it as the fictitious address of Sherlock Holmes. 'Oh, yes, of course. We'll go along there together,' I promised.

'It's something I've always wanted to see,' said Stinnes. But before he could get started about Holmes, Werner arrived in Stinnes's car. He got out, leaving the door open, and walked over to us.

'Are you finished?' said Werner. 'Or do you want me to give you a little more time?'

Stinnes looked at me. I said, 'We're all through, Werner.'

As Stinnes got out of the car he touched his forehead in a salutation. 'Auf Wiedersehen,' he said, with a more than a trace of mockery in his voice. I noticed the way he abruptly introduced the subject of Sherlock Holmes; he hadn't promised not to bring Zena with him.

'Sayonara,' I said. I still didn't know what to make of him.

'What's biting you?' said Werner as he got into the car alongside me. I looked in the mirror until Stinnes had got into his car and driven away. Then I gave Werner the Russian passport to look at. 'Holy Christ,' said Werner.

'Yes, they were going to snatch me.'

'And Stinnes prevented it?'

'He's bound to want the credit,' I said. 'They might just have dropped it in favour of other plans.'

'London would have thought you'd gone voluntarily,' said Werner. 'It's a smart idea.'

'Yes, Moscow are having a lot of smart ideas about me lately.'

'Fiona, you mean?'

'It's tempting to think it's all coming from her,' I said. 'But I don't want to become obsessed about it.'

'Did he say anything about Zena?' said Werner.

'We've been all through that, Werner. You make sure Zena is kept busy on Friday. You tell her nothing is planned and you're flying her to Acapulco for a long weekend and swim and get a tan. Send her off on her own on Friday morning so you can be my back-up at the airport on Friday night. Then fly out on the late plane to join her.'

'She won't fall for that, Bernie. She knows it's getting close.'

'You convince her that you both could do with a couple of days off. Make it sound right, Werner. You know what this one means to me. I need Stinnes in London.'

'And I need Zena here with me,' said Werner grimly.

'Stinnes thinks Zena is eloping with him.'

'Eloping?'

'You know what I mean,' I said.

'Zena is just stringing him along,' said Werner. 'She's trying to help you, Bernie.'

'She's bloody devious, Werner. She's your wife, I know. But she's too bloody devious.'

Werner didn't deny it. 'She's seen that man Tiptree,' said Werner.

'Seen him?'

'That's where she went this afternoon when we were talking. She went to meet Henry Tiptree. She told me when she got back.'

'What are London playing at?' I said wearily.

'Why put up with it?' said Werner. 'Why don't you go and see Tiptree? Tell him to either take over the whole operation or stay out of it.'

'I thought of that, Werner,' I said. 'But Tiptree is sure to say he'll take over. And we both know that Tiptree might well make a botch of it. I'm convinced that Erich Stinnes is serious. If he turns up on Friday I'll deliver him to the bloody plane; at gunpoint if necessary. I'll get him to London or die in the attempt. If I hand it over to Tiptree, and it all goes wrong, London will say I deliberately abandoned the operation because I didn't want Stinnes debriefed in London.'

Werner turned away from me and wound down the window as if suddenly interested in something else. He was avoiding my eyes. I suppose he was upset at the prospect of losing Zena.

'Zena's not going anywhere with Stinnes,' I promised him. 'You'll be at the airport, Werner. You can stop her if she tries.' He didn't reply. I started up the car and turned round in the yard. Then I drove through the workshop. The flashes of the acetylene torch lit up the wrecked cars like the flashguns of a thousand paparazzi. Outside a blue-and-white police car was parked. The driver was inside talking to Angel.