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  ‘Oh, two bedrooms should be enough. On the luxurious side. We want it indefinitely.’

  ‘OK. Anything else? What do we want to do with this apartment?’

  ‘Just rent it first. And when you’re looking at apartments, choose one with bedrooms that are easy to bug.’

  ‘Just listening devices, you mean?’

  ‘And cameras.’

  ‘Hang on, Charlie. I don’t have training in installing surveillance gear.’

  ‘That’s fine. I’m sending someone to help you. He’ll take care of all that. Name’s Sean Harrison.’

  ‘I see. And you want this up and running by when?’

  ‘In no more than a month. And there’s one more thing.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m going to give you the number of a woman in Berlin. Her name is Paula Klein. When the apartment is ready, call her and mention my name. Tell her we need her to make two of her girls available, whenever we need them. The same girls each time. They must be no younger than 20 and no older than 25, beautiful, sophisticated and above all, discreet. And they must speak English.’

  Max was struck dumb for a moment.

  ‘Did you hear me?’ asked Barton.

  ‘Yes, I think I got that.’

  ‘Ask her how much this service will cost us. And try not to fall off your chair when she tells you.’

  ‘Will do.’

  ‘And Max, this is strictly confidential. If I find out that either you or Sean Harrison has talked to anyone else about this, your career will be in ruins. Understood?’

  ‘Crystal clear. What’s this Klein woman’s number?’

  A minute later, Max hung up. He strolled back to the open window, his mind racing. What the bloody hell was Barton up to? He was obviously setting a honey trap for someone, that much was clear. But Max couldn’t for the life of him think of anyone he knew who might merit it. It wasn’t his concern, all he had to do was follow orders and set everything up as instructed. He would go to Berlin for a few days, starting tomorrow.

  That evening he went to the reception. It was ostensibly an informal dinner but that didn’t stop everyone from dressing up for the occasion. When he picked up Katharina from her apartment she was wearing a figure-hugging full length evening dress. She’d put her dark hair up in a bun and wore her diamond-studded silver earrings, with a fine silver filigree necklace to match them.

  ‘You look wonderful,’ he said. ‘We need to go; this thing starts in half an hour.’

  She smiled. ‘I’ll get my coat.’

  She was back in a minute and they descended one short flight of stairs to the apartment entrance doors. They were soon in the car and underway.

  Katharina Beck worked as the personal secretary to some high up legal adviser at the German foreign office. Max had met her at a reception not unlike the one they were attending tonight. She was in her late-twenties, personable and fluent in several languages, so she was often invited along to charm foreign dignitaries. On the night they met he rescued her from the clutches of two French businessmen who were visibly boring her to death with the finer points of their roboticised production line. She didn’t know him, and it was only more out of obligation than desire that she agreed to leave with him and find a bar where they could ‘have a real conversation’. And since then they’d been seeing each other on a regular basis.

  They arrived on time. The Japanese contingent consisted of six men, all ranging in age from 30 to something upwards of 50. One of them was acting as a translator. They were being entertained and softened up before being sent up to Berlin with a German adviser, to begin talks with the Treuhand people.

  ‘I don’t speak Japanese,’ said Katharina, as they stood sipping pre-dinner drinks outside the dining room. ‘Won’t be much use, tonight.’

  ‘Maybe they speak English,’ said Max. ‘We’ll find out soon enough.’

  Katharina went off to try her luck. Max was joined by one of the younger Japanese men. He was taller than the others; slim with thick black hair and dark, intelligent eyes.

  ‘Yoshi Mashida,’ he said, extending his hand. Max took it.

  ‘Max Blackwood. I’m with the British Embassy. They let me come to these things sometimes. Good for Anglo-German relations. You’re in the electronics business, is that right?’

  Mashida smiled a polite smile. ‘I’m here as an adviser. We have one translator,’ he said, gesturing at the man in question. ‘And the other four are senior managers.’

  ‘Advising on what?’

  ‘Nothing, really. I just ensure that everything runs on time. Help out with the translation at the meetings, that kind of thing.’

  ‘Looks like we have similar jobs,’ said Max. ‘I take the occasional British group to Berlin to talk to the privatisation agency. In fact, I’m going to Berlin tomorrow.’

  ‘Really? We should meet up. They’ll want entertainment in the evenings. Perhaps you could recommend somewhere?’

  ‘Better than that, I’ll take you myself. Where are you staying?’

  ‘The Adlon, I think it’s called. Do you have a card?’

  Max found one in a jacket pocket. ‘Call me when you all get bored,’ he said.

  ‘I will. And thanks for the offer.’

  The evening was pleasant enough. The Japanese wanted to quiz their hosts about anything other than work, tonight at least. Yoshi Mashida steered Katharina in the direction of his colleagues and acted as translator while she fielded their queries. She seemed to be doing a good job if the laughter from their group was any indication.

  Max was quite pleased with himself. By making himself available in Berlin he would be in the best possible position to gather the required ‘low level intelligence’ on this lot. He wasn’t sure about Mashida, though. He seemed to be more than just an ‘adviser’. He’d make it a point to find out more when they met again, in Berlin.

  The embassy had a Berlin apartment in Charlottenburg, only 20 minutes’ drive away from the Treuhand offices in Alexanderplatz. Max arrived there late afternoon. He was the only one who used it with any regularity, but if he wasn’t in residence it was often booked by colleagues for the weekend. Charlottenburg was a smart suburb and close to the centre. It met Charlie’s requirements, and it would be convenient having the new apartment nearby. There were a few agencies in the area, so after he’d unpacked and got in a few groceries, he visited one. He left with two viewing appointments for the following day.

  After dinner he tried Paula Klein’s number. When she answered he introduced himself and mentioned Charlie’s name.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘We have worked together before. How can I help?’ Her voice was soft, the English only slightly accented.

  Max repeated Charlie’s wish list. ‘And discretion is the most important item on that list,’ he said. ‘Let me make that very clear.’

  ‘I understand. You must leave it with me for a few days. I have perhaps three or four girls who could be suitable.’

  ‘What will such a service cost?’

  She laughed. ‘Well, that depends on what you want them to do, Mr Blackwood. If you want to meet a girl on a purely social basis for the evening, that will cost you 1,000 marks. If she goes on to sleep with you and then leave, that will be another 2,000 marks. If you want her for the night, that will be 4,000 marks. And if you have any unusual sexual demands, she can either refuse you or negotiate an extra price. That about covers it.’

  ‘I see.’ He hadn’t fallen off his chair, but it was close. ‘I think the best thing to do is pay you as we need you. I’ll let you know what the scenario will be in advance and we can take it from there.’

  ‘Yes, that’s fine. I’ll give you an account number, when we get to that stage.’

  ‘And I want to meet these two girls before the final decision to use them is made. Can you arrange that?’

  ‘Of course, I want you to be completely satisfied.’ She sounded slightly offended that he’d even had to ask. ‘I will call you as soon as I’ve
arranged it. Perhaps you’d like them to come and see you at your apartment? You could test their suitability for yourself.’

  ‘I’m not sure Charlie would like to see that on my expenses claim,’ he replied, half-jokingly.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mr Blackwood. For Charlie I operate a ”try before you buy” scheme. My girls are very good at what they do, and as we’re about to start a business relationship I want you to know what you’re getting for your money.’

  ‘Let’s discuss it when you call me.’

  ‘We will. Good night, Mr. Blackwood.’

  Christ, he thought, once he’d disconnected. She sounded serious. Call girls weren’t really his thing, so he couldn’t see himself test driving either of them. It was simple enough. If they suggested it, all he had to do was say no.

  The next day he went apartment shopping, but not for long. The second apartment, top floor, had a huge balcony with a view over the Spree river. You could see the Charlottenburg palace, too. It was spacious and light and within walking distance of the embassy apartment. He put down a holding deposit out of his own bank account and signed the agreement. In one week, the place would be his. But before then he needed to pay rent in advance. Lots of it. He needed to call Charlie and arrange to have access to those funds he’d promised. And also to tell him that Sean Harrison could now come to Berlin. Everything was proceeding as planned, and so far it had all been remarkably easy.

  He wondered if he should go back to Bonn once Harrison had bugged the new apartment. He’d had no indication from Barton as to whom it was they would be using this surveillance gear on, or when. He couldn’t justify his presence in Berlin for weeks on end, should anyone ask. And he was a little annoyed that he hadn’t got Yoshi Mashida’s contact details at the reception. If Mashida didn’t call sometime in the next 48 hours he’d go to the Adlon and see if he could initiate another meeting, under some pretext. It proved unnecessary. Mashida did call, late that evening. The conversation didn’t quite go as anticipated.

  ‘Would you mind helping me, Max?’

  ‘You mean as in taking your party out on the town?’ He checked his watch, it was almost 11pm. ‘A little late in the day to start, isn’t it?’

  ‘No, it’s something else. Do you have a car?’

  ‘Yes, actually. There’s an embassy car in the underground car park, if I can find the keys. What is it?’

  ‘I need you to pick me up. I’m at an address in Weissensee, near the Jewish Cemetery. It’s urgent.’

  ‘OK, if it’s urgent. I’ll be with you in half an hour.’

  The car wasn’t used that much and was reluctant to start. It came to life after several attempts and he set off. Forty minutes and a few wrong turns later he arrived outside the apartment block. He walked to the front entrance and rang the buzzer for number two. It was on the ground floor. As he approached the door, Mashida opened it from inside.

  ‘Come in, Max.’ Mashida looked a little shaken.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Follow me.’ He led Max down the hall, into a living room. When Max saw the two bodies lying on the living room floor, he came to an abrupt halt.

  ‘Give me one good reason not to turn around and walk out of here,’ he said.

  ‘Because I know you work for MI6, and I need your help.’

  ‘What makes you think I work for MI6?’ Max looked at the bodies more closely. They were definitely dead bodies. One was Japanese, he recognised the face from the embassy reception. The other was European.

  ‘Because I’m from Japanese Intelligence. I make it my business to know who people work for.’

  Max had known all along that Mashida was more than a simple ‘adviser’. But there was no way to verify the statement he’d just made.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘This is Masaru,’ said Mashida, indicating his countryman. ‘He was selling transistor technology to a European competitor. He came here tonight to deliver printed blueprints, it seems.’

  ‘Why not just email them?’

  ‘All employee email is monitored. He couldn’t download it to some other media, either. Look for yourself.’

  Max could see a thick stack of what looked like diagrams on the living room table.

  ‘So they looked at the blueprints, then killed each other. Not very rational, is it?’

  Mashida sighed. ‘Ah. I came here to catch them in the act.’ He nodded towards the other man. ‘When I did, that one pulled a knife and stabbed my colleague. Fatally.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I intervened. He wouldn’t drop the knife, so…’

  Judging by the unnatural angle of the man’s neck, it wasn’t too hard to work out the nature of the intervention.

  ‘But why call me?’

  ‘I can explain this to the other managers. But if the body is found and an investigation begins I don’t want the company to be implicated, or lose face. I need you to help me move him.’

  ‘Where the hell to?’

  ‘He needs to be buried. Will you help me, Max?’

  ‘Jesus.’ The two men looked at each other for a long moment. Max made up his mind.

  ‘OK. But I swear to god, if you’re not who you say you are he won’t stay buried.’

  ‘Thank you. Don’t worry, a few people inside your service know who I am. They will vouch for me.’

  ‘What about the other one?’

  ‘He can stay here. Now, we need something to wrap Masaru up in. Then we must get him out to your car, unseen.’

  They cleaned the place up and waited till 2am. Masaru’s blanket-shrouded body was manipulated into the boot of Max’s Audi and then he drove it back to his apartment. The body could stay there for another day until either Mashida or Max had got hold of a pick and two shovels. And figured out just where to dig the hole.

  The next day Max drove for an hour, just to get well away from Charlottenburg. He bought the required implements and the following night Masaru was laid to rest in Grunewald, the forest on the western side of the city. It took several hours to dig deep enough to ensure he wouldn’t be found anytime soon.

  Both men were exhausted and dirty when they arrived back at Max’s place, just before sunrise. They cleaned up and then Max poured them both a stiff shot of whisky.

  ‘Thanks for your help Max,’ said Mashida, and took a large sip. ‘I appreciate your trust.’

  ‘Not at all. I checked you out with my boss in London, yesterday. You’re on file with us. I didn’t tell him why I was asking.’

  Mashida gave him a tired grin, then his expression became stern. ‘I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention this event. When I return to Japan I will send you some information. A code name and contact details. If you ever need help, feel free to use them. I’m in your debt.’

  Mashida returned to his hotel. Max wondered what he should do with his newly acquired instruments of burial. He’d have to dump them somewhere, but it could wait until he’d had some sleep. He was bone-tired, and went straight to bed.

  The next day Paula Klein called. She was sending two girls around tonight, if that was convenient. He said that would be fine and immediately went out to get a couple of bottles of Riesling. That should put them at ease, he thought. Or maybe it was him who needed it more. Interviewing two young women for the roles Charlie had in mind was going to be a new experience.

  It was 8pm when they arrived. Liesa and Marielle, blond and brunette respectively, sat next to each other on his sofa. He fetched the wine from the fridge and poured for everyone.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Liesa. ‘Prosit.’ They all clicked glasses.

  He looked at them in silence for a minute. They seemed quite happy for him to inspect them like this. They both wore dresses that were short and clinging enough to reveal the contours of their bodies. Liesa had a generous mouth set in a half-smile, and sea-green eyes, with which she coolly inspected him right back. Marielle’s eyes were a brilliant blue, unusual for a brunette. Her face was full and high-cheek-bone
d, almost aristocratic. They were both very composed and very beautiful.

  ‘How old are you two?’ he asked.

  ‘Twenty-five,’ they answered together.

  ‘And Paula, or should I say Ms Klein, told you what I need?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Marielle, suddenly all business. ‘You need beauty, sophistication and discretion. We can be as charming and as quiet as you want us to be.’

  He believed her. ‘At times, I’ll want you to entertain men at an apartment not far from here. In fact, it’s best if you move enough things in there to make it look as though it’s your place. I’ll just tell you who to expect, and when.’

  ‘Why don’t we just live there?’ asked Liesa. ‘Is it nice?’

  ‘Very. Actually, it’s not a bad idea. Let me check a few things and then I’ll get back to you.’

  ‘So, do you think we’ll do?’ said Marielle.

  ‘I think so. Paula said you were both experienced in this line of work. Let’s see how it goes.’

  He made a move to top up their glasses, but they shook their heads.

  ‘Where can we get changed?’ asked Marielle.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We were told that you must be convinced of our suitability. We just want to freshen up first.’

  Liesa got up and walked down the hall, till she found the bedroom. The bathroom was right next door. Marielle got up to join her. She smiled at Max.

  ‘Give us five minutes, then come into the bedroom. I hope you’ve got a big bed in there.’

  Max took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He waited the prescribed time and then followed them in.

  He met Sean Harrison at the airport. Harrison was a sad-faced veteran of MI6, approaching retirement. He wore a rather crumpled suit, with a windbreaker over the jacket.

  ‘I don’t intend staying any longer than I need to,’ he said to Max, as they shook hands. ‘Can we go straight to the apartment?’

  On arrival he spent half an hour wandering in and out of rooms, scribbling notes as he went.

  ‘I’ll do the bedrooms and the living area,’ he said. ‘I’ll need three days. I’ve got a contact here who will provide the equipment. All I need you to do is drive me there.’