The Conduct of Major Maxim

Chapter 5

Bush House was both different and the same in unsettling ways; always they changed the things you didn't expect and kept the things that should have changed long ago. Security was much stricter: now everybody walked about with security passes clipped to their lapels showing a coloured photograph of themselves. Visitors got a sticky label like a large coin. All ridiculous, of course – but then she remembered the Bulgarian and the Libyan who had worked for the BBC's External Service, both murdered. They never caught the killer of the Bulgarian; 'The arm of justice is longer than the legs of a traitor'. She shivered and asked for the lavatory and there finished the last of the brandy, then tried to wash the smell out of her mouth. She should never have come, and anyway, Leni couldn't still be here.

But incredibly, she was. After a lot of reluctant telephoning around, the man at the reception desk grunted that Leni was corning down and wrote out her own sticky label.

Dear sweet Leni, always small and frail, now smaller and frailer, but the blue eyes still bright behind the big glasses and the thin white hair carefully set in tight curls. And of course the long drooping cardigan that was almost a BBC uniform.

They hugged each other, close like men, not standing right back so that their breasts wouldn't touch, and tears were already trickling from under Leni 's glasses. "Darling Mina, you should have called me… why didn't you let me know? I thought you must be dead… Oh, Mina, Mina, it's so good to see you, but you should have called, you were lucky to catch me, I only come in on Mondays as a relief, just to give the young ones a full two days off… Oh, to see you again, why didn't you call?…"

The corridors were different ones but comfortingly still the same: roofed with all sorts of meaningless pipes and cables, walled with flimsy wood-and-frosted-glass partitions covered with junction boxes and noticeboards. How the BBC loved noticeboards! – she had forgotten that. All the dreadful warnings about fire and flooding and abandoned parcels, the cheery invitations to disco evenings, hockey clubs and hiking holidays…

At the door to theoffice Mina suddenly stopped and seized Leni 's thin arm with her twisted hand. She saw Leni lookdown at the hand, then quickly up again. "No -Leni, I don't want to meet anybody. Just you. I came to see just you. "

"Nobody will know you. They're all gone, they change so often… Only old Hunke. They won't know your name. Tell me – do I know your name?"

Mina ignored the question. "Somewhere we can talk together, just you and I. "

"Of course. "Leni led the way along the corridor, trying doors until she found a small empty room. She shut the door and started rummaging in a cupboard while Mina stared uncomprehending at the data system screen and the purring teletype. Leni came up with a half full bottle of vodka and two dusty glasses. She poured two tots."Prosit."

They sipped, and Mina asked: "The machines – do they do all the work now?"

"They can't translate. Not yet, anyway. "Leni smiled, still moist-eyed. "Do you hear us?"

"Oh yes, I hear it when I can. But where I live-" she stopped abruptly, shaking her head. "And now I don't know any of the voices…"Leni herself didn't broadcast. "Do they still jam you?"

"The Russian service. And they tried to jam the German, since the strike, but now we have this big Army transmitter in Berlin, on 90.2. It isn't so easy to jam that."

"The strike…"Mina took a quick drink. "What do they say about Gustav?"

"He's a big man, now. One of the new members of the Secretariat."

"Oh. That is important?"

Mina had always been totally vague about political structures, even one she had lived with for years. Leni said patiently: "It is the most important, the Secretariat of the Polit-bureau. There are now only eight members, including Manger who will not last more than a year, and your Gustavis one of the youngest. He has moved up fast: he came onto the Politbureau only five years ago. In a few years, who can tell?"

"Oh." Mina looked terribly serious, perhaps haunted. "And Manfred?"

"We don't hear so much about him. But we believe he's a full colonel – he's young, for that. So he pushes, Gustavpulls – you know how it goes. "

"Oh yes." Clearly Mina didn't. "So Gustavcould be very important."

"Yes, yes." Then Leni suddenly saw Mina 's fear. "You haven't been in touch with them?"

"No. "Mina shook her head and got a spasm of dizziness. She clutched at Leni. "It's all right… I have to take pills… They make me… No, they don't know about me. Leni, please don't tell anybody. Not anybody."

"Of course, of course." Keeping one arm around Mina 's shoulders, she poured them both more vodka. "I won't tell. But now they wouldn't make any trouble. Your coming was too long ago. For Gustavto be where he is, it shows they've forgotten it, theywant to forget it. "

"I don't know… there was another man… Walter… Walter somebody… He got very important and they ruined him."

"Walter Dürr. That was years ago. He had an affair with the daughter of another member and Frau Ulbrichtbroke him. But that was morality, Mina; youwere political – darling Mina who is the least political thing I have ever met!" She laughed, found they had both finished their drinks, and poured more.

But Mina would not be appeased. "When I first came over, they did things… voices on the telephone, saying I was a traitor and they would break my hands… messages that were wrong, that sent my luggage to somewhere else or madepeople believe I had cancelled a recital… they followed me, I know, they let me see…"

"You never told us. Did you tell the police?"

"No. No, I was afraid they would think I was a crazy woman and send me back. "

Leni had been broadcasting from London since wartime days and had listened to literally thousands of stories from refugees and defectors. She knew all about the techniques of the secret police and secret services, the little touches to keep you walking in fear, isolated and suspecting your own sanity. Cruelty doesn't change, only the politics behind it.

"Oh my poor Mina…"

"So you won't tell anybody you've seen me?"

"Of course not. But do you feel safe now? Do you have a new name?"

"Yes,"Mina said slowly. "I think I feel safe now, seeing you. I have a new name.

"Don't tell me if you don't want to. But Mina – write to me sometimes, please? I will give you my address…"

Gradually the gloom and the vodka seeped away, and the memories began. They giggled like schoolgirls at incidents of more than twenty years ago, at characters now dead, retired or gone home to the richer pickings of West German radio stations. Leni was a great mimic, bringing back every voice in every accent until, when the bottle was finished, they were both light-hearted and weeping with laughter.

Then Leni had the idea."Mina -play something for me!"

"Oh no. No, I can't."

"You must. Just for me, only for me…"

"But – you've seen my hand." Everybody saw her hand, but she would have mentioned it to nobody but Leni.

"Just one thing, one little Kinderszene…"

They rushed along the basement corridors, searching for a studio with a piano, persuading a reluctant engineer to take a recording without worrying too much about his beloved 'balance'.

In fact, at that time of day and after that amount of alcohol, her hands were probably at the best they could be. And though the piano was tuned too hard, with Leni watching enrapturedit was easy to turn back the years and forgive herself the little errors and awkwardnesses she knew would come. She took a deep breath and laid her tired old hands on the keyboard.