Mexico Set

‘Oh yes, cash. Strictly no cheques.’ He shifted uneasily in his seat, and I had the feeling that he now regretted this confession. ‘High-denomination notes in plain envelopes. No registered letters; that would mean a lot of names and addresses and post-office forms. Too risky, that sort of thing, they said.’

‘And where has all this money been going to?’

He put his coffee on the table and began searching the pockets of his pants as if looking for a cigarette. Then he stood up and looked round. Eventually he found a silver box on the table. He took one for himself. Then he offered the open box to me. It was, of course, that sort of evasive temporizing that armchair psychologists call ‘displacement activity’. Before he could repeat the whole performance in pursuit of matches, I threw him mine. He lit his cigarette and then waved the smoke away from his face nervously. ‘You know where it’s been going to, Bernd. Trade unions, peace movements, “ban the bomb” groups. Moscow can’t be seen making donations to them. The money has to come from “little people” all over the world. You weren’t born yesterday, Bernd. We all know the way it’s done.’

‘Yes, we all know the way it’s done, Paul.’ I swung round to see him. On the side-table there was the bottle of brandy that Stinnes and I had plundered. I wondered if that was what had attracted his gaze when he had stared over my shoulder. He wasn’t looking at it now; he was looking at me.

‘Don’t damn well sneer at me. I’ve got my relatives to worry about. And if I hadn’t koshered their bloody contributions someone else would do it for them. It’s not going to change the history of the world, is it?’ He was still moving round the room, looking at the furnishings as if seeing them for the first time.

‘I don’t know what it’s going to do, Paul. You’re the one that had the expensive education: schools in Switzerland, schools in America and two years’ postgraduate studies at Yale. You tell me if it’s going to change the history of the world.’

‘You weren’t so high and mighty in the old days,’ said Biedermann. ‘You weren’t so superior when you sold me that old Ferrari that kept breaking down.’

‘It was a good car. I had no trouble with it,’ I said. ‘I only sold it because I went to London. You should have looked after it better.’ What a memory he had. I’d quite forgotten selling him that car. Maybe that’s how the rich got richer – by remembering in resentful detail every transaction they made.

He kept his cigarette in his mouth and, still standing, fingered the keys of the computer as if about to use it. ‘It’s getting more and more difficult,’ he said. He turned to look at me, the smoke of the cigarette rising across his face like a fine veil and going into his eyes so that he was squinting. ‘Now that the Mexicans have nationalized the banks, and the peso has dropped through the floor, there are endless regulations about foreign exchange. It’s not so easy to handle these transactions without attracting attention.’

‘So tell your Russians that,’ I suggested.

‘I don’t want them to solve my problems. I want to get out of the whole business.’

‘Tell them that.’

‘And risk what happens to my relatives?’

‘You talk as though you are some sort of master spy,’ I said. ‘If you tell them you’ve had enough, that will be the end of it.’

‘They’d kill me,’ he said.

‘Rubbish,’ I said. ‘You’re not important enough for them to waste time or effort on.’

‘They’d make an example of me. They’d cut my throat and make sure everyone knew why.’

‘They’d not make an example of you,’ I said. ‘How could they? The last thing they want to do is draw attention to their secret financing network. No, as long as they thought you’d keep their secrets, they’d let you go, Paul. They’d huff and puff and shout and threaten in the hope you’d get frightened enough to keep going. But once they saw you were determined to end it they’d reconcile themselves to that.’

‘If only I could believe it.’ He blew a lot of smoke. ‘One of the new clerks in my Mexico City office – a German fellow – has been asking me questions about some of the money I sent out. It’s just a matter of time …’

‘You don’t let the staff in your office address the envelopes, do you?’

‘No, of course not. But I do the envelopes on the addressing machine. I can’t sit up all night writing out envelopes.’

‘You’re a fool, Paul.’

‘I know,’ he said sadly. ‘This German kid was updating the address lists and he noticed these charities and trade unions that were all coded in the same way. It was in a different code from all the other addresses. I said it was part of my Christmas charity list but I’m not sure he believed me.’

‘You’d better transfer him to one of your other offices,’ I said.

‘I’m going to send him to Caracas but it won’t really solve the problem. Some other clerk will notice. I can’t address the envelopes by hand and have handwritten evidence all over the place, can I?’

‘Why are you telling me all this, Paul?’

‘I’ve got to talk it over with someone.’

‘Don’t give me that,’ I said.

He stubbed out his cigarette and said, ‘I told the Russians that the British secret service was becoming suspicious. I invented stories about strangers making inquiries at various offices.’

‘Did they believe that?’

‘Phone calls. I always said the inquiries were phone calls. So I didn’t have to describe anyone’s physical appearance.’ He went over to the side-table and picked up the bottle of brandy. He put it into a cupboard and shut the door. It looked like the simple action of a tidy man who didn’t want to see bottles of booze standing around in his office.

‘That was clever,’ I said, although I thought such a device would sound very unconvincing to any experienced case officer.

‘I knew they’d have to give me a respite if I was under surveillance.’

‘And talking to me is a part of that scheme? Did you tell them about my phone call? Was it that that gave you the idea? Is that why they came here last night?’

He didn’t answer my question, and that convinced me that my guess was right. Biedermann had thought up all this nonsense about the British becoming suspicious only after I’d phoned him. He said, ‘You’re something in the espionage business, you’ve admitted that. I realize you’re not in any sort of senior position, but you must know people who are. And you’re the only contact I have.’

I grunted. I didn’t know whether that was Paul Biedermann’s sincere opinion or whether he was hoping to provoke me into claiming power and influence.

‘Does that mean you can help?’ he said.

I finished the coffee and got to my feet. ‘You copy that list of addresses for me – London might be interested in that – and I’ll make sure that Bonn is told that we are investigating you. You’ll become what NATO intelligence calls “sacred”. None of the other security teams will investigate you without informing us. That will get back to your masters quickly enough.’

‘Wait a moment, Bernd. I don’t want Bonn restricting my movements or opening my mail.’

‘You can’t have it both ways, Paul. “Sacred” is the lowest category we have. There’s not much chance that Bonn will find that interesting enough to do anything: they’ll leave you to us.’

Biedermann didn’t look too pleased at the idea of his reputation suffering, but he realized it was the best offer he was likely to get. ‘Don’t double-cross me,’ he said.

‘How would I do that?’

‘I’m not up for sale to the highest bidder. I want out. I don’t want to exchange a master in Moscow for a master in London.’

‘You make me laugh, Paul,’ I said. ‘You really think you’re a master spy, don’t you? Are you sure you want to get out, or do you really want to get in deeper?’

‘I need help, Bernd.’

‘Where did you hide your car?’

‘You can drive along the beach when the tide is out.’

I should have thought of that one. The tide comes in and washes away the tyre tracks. It had fooled Stinnes and his pal too. Sometimes amateurs can teach the pros a trick or two. ‘The tide is out now,’ I said. ‘Get it and give me a lift into the village, will you, before someone starts renting my Chevvy out as a bijou residence.’

‘Keep the sweater,’ he said. ‘It looks good on you.’

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