'She will be walking east, past the Universum, towards the Memorial Church. Please.'
'Okay.'
Russell sank down onto the booth seat. He had a mental picture of Ho Lung leaving the restaurant, hurrying down the snow-covered boulevard, cursing himself in Chinese for agreeing to this mad search in almost total darkness.
The telephone demanded another infusion of cash, and Russell leapt back to his feet, frantically rummaging through his pockets for the necessary pfennigs. Several coins fell to the floor, but there was enough in his hand to prolong the call. He squatted down to retrieve the others, and rose to his feet just as an impatient-looking woman tapped on his door. He raised five fingers and turned his back on her.
'John,' Effi said, in the tone of someone who'd been kept waiting for an hour.
'The Gestapo are after me,' he said without preamble. 'Kuzorra tipped me off, and I assume they're waiting at Carmerstrasse. I've got to get out of Berlin, but I want to see you before I go…'
'Why are they after you?' she asked, wondering as she did so where such a sensible question had come from. 'How serious is it?'
'The business two years ago. It couldn't be more serious.'
'But where can you go?'
'I've no idea, but…'
'Where shall we meet?' she interjected.
They were both about fifteen minutes from Zoo Station. The buffet would be crowded at this time of night, but it was also well lit. 'Zoo Station, the eastbound platform,' he decided.
'Where are you?' she asked.
He told her.
'I've got a better idea,' she said. 'You remember that bar on Friedrichstrasse, just up from the station? Siggi's. Let's meet there.'
'But…'
'I'll explain later. Trust me.'
'All right.'
'I'll make sure I'm not being followed.'
There was a click as she hung up the phone. Why Friedrichstrasse, he wondered. He hung up his own earpiece, and thought about calling Paul. He felt an intense need to tell his son, to prepare him for what was coming, to say how sorry he was. But he knew he couldn't. The Gehrts' line might be tapped by now, and the less he implicated them the better.
The same applied to Thomas.
A different woman was now raising a hand to tap the window. He acknowledged her and exited the booth, scanning the concourse for uniforms and leather coats. There were none in sight, but if they were watching the main line stations they would be at the entrance to the platforms. Was that why Effi had vetoed Zoo Station? If so, she was proving a lot quicker on her feet than he was.
He could take the S-Bahn to Friedrichstrasse, but a tram would probably be safer. Back out on Alexanderplatz he waited impatiently for one to arrive. Behind him the huge bulk of the police building was screened by snow and darkness, but he could almost feel its presence, as if the energy of all those men engaged in tracking him down was sweeping out across the city like a psychic searchlight.
The tram came. It wasn't full, and everyone on board had the opportunity to examine him and raise the alarm. No one did. He was just another German heading home.
The tram rumbled slowly down Konigstrasse, its thin blue headlights revealing nothing but rails and snow. With no visual clues as to location, the passengers were all cocking their ears for familiar sounds, like the echoing rumbles provided by the bridges across the Spree River and Canal. Thinking he had made out the vague silhouette of the Franzosische Church, Russell got off at the next stop and found himself close to Friedrichstrasse.
He walked north towards the station, passing Cafe Kranzler and crossing the snow-swept Unter den Linden. Continuing up Friedrichstrasse, he passed under the iron railway bridge and eventually singled out Siggi's Bar from the line of blacked-out premises beyond. The light inside was momentarily blinding, but his eyes soon adjusted and took in the usual Sunday evening customers – a group of older men playing skat, several individual soldiers with female company, a couple of men in a corner who looked to be holding hands under the table.
Assuming Effi was taking the S-Bahn, the trip should take her about half an hour, which meant another ten minutes. He ordered whatever was passing for schnapps, and drank it down in one gulp. He ordered another, and took that to one of the tables, ignoring the middle-aged barman's obvious desire for a chat. He looked like one of those men who were always recognising Effi.
Not that this would matter unless Russell's own name, and his association with hers, had already been broadcast on the radio. It didn't seem likely, but the possibility had obviously occurred to Effi as well – she arrived with hat pulled almost over her eyes, scarf wrapped round her mouth and nose.
'Let's go,' she said through the scarf, before Russell had time to offer her a drink. Outside on the pavement she grabbed him tightly by the arm and began steering him back towards the station.
'Where are we going?' he asked, amused in spite of himself.
'Wedding,' she said succinctly.
'Wedding?' It was north Berlin's most down-at-heel area, full of factories and old apartment blocks. Before the Nazis it had been a KPD fortress.
They reached the wide bridge which carried the Reichsbahn and S-Bahn tracks across the street, and Effi pulled him into a niche beside the closed newspaper kiosk. 'There's something I've kept from you,' she said, placing a hand on each of his shoulders. 'I have an apartment in Wedding. On Prinz-Eugen-Strasse.'
'You what?'
'Well, it's not mine. I rent it. Since the end of last year actually.'
'But…'
'I thought this day would come,' she said simply.
He looked at her, dumbfounded. 'But aren't the neighbours a bit surprised to have a film star living in their block? And won't they…'
'They don't know I'm a film star,' Effi said patiently. 'I don't rent it as myself. I rent it as a fifty-five-year-old woman who spends most of her time with her children on their farm in Saxony, but who wants somewhere to stay in Berlin, where all her old friends are. I didn't go through all those lessons in make-up from Lili Rohde for fun. No one on Prinz-Eugen-Strasse has seen me out of character, and we have to pray that no one sees us going in tonight.'
For the second time that evening, Russell was lost for words.
'We can't hide there for ever,' Effi continued, 'but it should give us a breathing space while we work out what we're going to do.'
'We?'
'Of course "we". But we can discuss all that when we get there. Let's get on the U-Bahn.'
There was no watch on the U-Bahn entrance, but the train was just crowded enough to inhibit further conversation, and neither spoke again before they reached their Leopold platz stop. Russell was still struggling to adjust. How had she arranged all this without his noticing? He had always known that Effi had many strengths, but he had never thought that strategic planning was one of them.
Back on the surface, it seemed noticeably darker than downtown, but Effi picked their way through the grid of streets without apparent difficulty. 'It's not the Adlon,' she said, as they reached the end of Prinz-Eugen-Strasse, 'but there is a private toilet. I thought we should see as little of the neighbours as possible. The concierge is old and deaf, which has to help, and the original block warden seemed like a nice man. He was one of my reasons for choosing this place, but he died in the summer. I haven't met his replacement, but the woman across the landing doesn't like him. Her husband is in Russia by the way. From the way she talks I'd say he was a Red in the old days.'
She stopped by the entrance to a courtyard. 'This is it,' she said, pulling her keys from her coat pocket, and heading for the doors on the left hand side. The walls of the buildings rose up into darkness, leaving Russell with the impression that he was standing at the bottom of a deep well.
The key turned smoothly, and Effi pushed into the dimly-lit interior. There was no sight or sound of the portierfrau, and they climbed the two flights of stairs to the first floor. Another door, another key, and they were safe inside the apartment.
It was better than Russell had expected. The block's heating was obviously adequate, and the flat, though decidedly cramped, seemed pleasant enough. The living room had space for two armchairs, a side table and two upright chairs. The kitchen, though essentially a passage leading to the small bathroom, had an electric stove and several wall cupboards well-stocked with provisions. 'A film star's perks,' Effi explained. In the bathroom itself, the various elements of her make-up kit were laid out on another narrow table.
The bedroom was just large enough to accommodate a double bed and wardrobe. Opening the latter, Russell was surprised to find a selection of his own clothes, including several of the items he had given up for lost. 'I brought all the photographs of you,' she said behind him. 'I'm afraid they won't have any trouble finding ones of me.'