'Not the first scene of GPU, surely?'
'That may have the whole cast in stitches. I hope so. If everyone knows what rubbish it is, then we really can have some fun with it. But if the director thinks he's making an important statement, then God help us.' She smiled a quite dazzling smile at Russell. 'But I do love it most of the time. If it wasn't for the getting up at four-thirty in the morning, and the fact that we hardly see each other when I'm filming…'
'I know. Particularly now, when I may be whisked out of the country at a moment's notice.'
She reached a hand across the table. 'I've been meaning to tell you. Just in case you don't know. I shall be waiting for you, however long it takes. Though I can't guarantee that I'll still have my film star looks. '
'I love you too,' he said. 'And with any luck at all we'll soon be enjoying regular conjugal visits in Switzerland, courtesy of the Abwehr.'
'Conjugal, eh?'
'I was hoping.'
'I shall miss our bed, though.'
'It is an excellent bed.'
'And waiting for us right now.'
'I'll get the bill.' Russell was still half asleep when he heard the knock on the door, and his first thought was that Effi had returned, having forgotten her keys and God knew what else. He was almost at the door when he noticed the clock, and realised that she would be in front of the cameras by this time.
It was Kuzorra, and this time he was alone. Russell stood aside to let the detective in, and offered him a cup of coffee.
'Real coffee?' his guest asked.
'I'm afraid not. Even we pampered foreigners have trouble getting that.'
'Then I'll pass.'
Kuzorra took the seat he had occupied the evening before. 'There's a phrase you journalists use when you want a quote, and the person concerned doesn't want anyone to know that it came from them…'
'Off the record.'
'That's the one. Well, I'd like you to tell me what you know about this business – off the record.'
'What makes you think I know anything more than what I've already told you?'
Kuzorra smiled. 'A journalist who loathes the Nazis meets a journalist who loves them for unexplained reasons. And before you can say "Joseph Goebbels" the second journalist is apparently beaten to death. It's hard to believe there's no connection.'
'I didn't kill him.'
'I didn't say you did. But I do think you know more about this than you're telling me. Hence the unofficial visit. Without my new assistant.'
Russell considered. 'These are strange times we live in,' he said finally, 'when the police are asking questions off the record.'
'These are strange times.'
'Why can't it have been a robbery?' Russell asked, still prevaricating. Kuzorra smiled again. 'According to the Luftwaffe weather people it only stopped raining around two in the morning on Sunday. The body was wet underneath but dry on top when it was found an hour or so later.'
'So he was killed during that hour.'
'He'd been dead for well over twelve hours when the pathologist examined him at eight this morning.'
'Ah.'
'Ah indeed. He was killed just a few hours after your missed appointment, and placed in the park a lot later, between two and three in the morning.'
'And I don't suppose you're looking for a gang of Jewish-Bolshevik cut-throats?'
'They're thin on the ground these days.'
Russell had run out of wriggle room. 'Off the record,' he began, 'I didn't lie to you yesterday, but I didn't tell you the whole truth either. I didn't meet with Sullivan, but I did see him arrive at Stettin Station.' He paused, wondering how to explain his preliminary surveillance. 'I was a bit worried about meeting him in public,' he went on, improvising heroically. 'Sullivan was a Nazi, after all, and I could imagine him agreeing to help trap me in some sort of indiscretion. Anyway, I watched him go into the buffet and then waited a few moments to make sure that he wasn't being tailed. No one appeared, and I was just about to join him when two goons in suits beat me to it. They took Sullivan out to their car and drove off with him. I had no idea why, and I still haven't. I try and stay out of arguments between Nazis.'
'What did these men look like?'
Russell described them, and the car.
'I don't suppose you noticed the number.'
In for a penny, Russell thought. He collected the notebook from his jacket pocket, and read the number out.
'Anything else?' Kuzorra asked, once he had noted it down.
'Nothing.'
'Did Sullivan say, or hint, that he had something for you? Something material, I mean. Documents perhaps, or photographs.'
'No. But if he had brought something to show me, then presumably his killers will have it now.'
'Perhaps.' Kuzorra ran a hand across the grey stubble which passed for his hair, a personal habit which Russell remembered from their previous meetings. 'This is a strange case. While we're off the record – I presume this works both ways?'
Russell nodded, intrigued.
'The officer who was with me yesterday evening – Obersturmfuhrer Schwering – was appointed as my assistant less than two hours after Sullivan's body was found. He's on secondment from the Sicherheitsdienst. The first thing he suggested was a thorough search of Sullivan's apartment in Dahlem, and when he got there he seemed very insistent on conducting it himself. I let him get on with it, but kept an eye on him. He seemed rather put out when he didn't find anything.'
'Interesting,' Russell murmured.
'He may insist on searching this flat,' Kuzorra added.
'He won't find anything here,' Russell said flatly. Having their home ransacked by the SD was not a welcome prospect. Particularly if only Effi was here to receive them. 'I'm off to Prague this evening,' he told the detective, 'and I'll be gone for a couple of nights. So if you want to search the place, I'd be grateful if you'd do it now. '
Kuzorra gave him a lengthy stare. 'Consider it searched,' he said at last, and got to his feet. 'I'll give Schwering the car number, and tell him I got it from a witness at the station. It should keep him busy for a day or so.'
'Busy failing to trace it?'
'If it's a car from the SD pool. If it isn't, then he'll be the hero of the hour.'