Len Deighton - Winter by Winter

Author:Winter [Winter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

He looked out of the window to see the crowded street below. It was almost Christmas and, except for the paths swept along the pavements and the roadways, there was snow everywhere. The shoppers looked happy enough, warm, well dressed and busy. In the shop window across the street was an elaborate nativity scene, complete with a model donkey that nodded. The only jarring note was a bored-looking brownshirt on the corner outside Schachtmeister’s Konditorei holding a big sign that said ‘The true German does not buy from a Jew’.

ButBerlindid not belong to Hitler. Berliners had seen too many fakes and charlatans to be fooled easily. And Hitler’s promises about restoring agricultural land to the peasants cut no ice with those factory workers who had so) recently escaped the worse slavery of unmechanized farm labour Nor did the Nazi talk of nationalizing factories appeal to Berliners. who could see here in the city the dismal result of enterprises run by bureaucrats. And ifBerlinwas ready to succumb to the fanciful promises of politicians, it would be to those of the left, forBerlinwas ‘Red Berlin’ and always had been.

‘It’s good to be back in Berlin, sis,’ said Glenn.

Pauli had this filthy influenza. Inge said it was his fault for not wrapping up well, but anyway he couldn’t shake it off. He’d been running a temperature for two days and he should have been in bed, and would have been except that Lothar Koch had made such a fuss. In any case, the last place he should have been at4.30 a.m.on Saturday, June 30, 1934was standing in front of the passenger buildings on the silent, empty and icy-cold Oberwiesenfeld, the airport for Munich.

The breath of the two men condensed on the night air. ‘He left Bonnat two a.m.,’ said Lothar Koch. Behind the airport buildings a line of big cars were parked. The drivers had been sleeping. But now they’d been wakened and were wiping condensation from the glasswork and running the engines to have them warm and ready.

Pauli wiped his nose and didn’t answer. It was all right for Koch. He was used to outdoor duties, and he had woollen underwear to wrists and ankles; and his new heavy black leather overcoat. Leather was the only thing that offered protection against this sort of cold wind, and Pauli decided to buy one from the same shop where Koch had got his. It had a removable woollen lining in a hideously vulgar plaid, not even a genuine tartan. Pauli’s Scots nanny had taught him to despise such fakes, and he had decided against buying the coat. But this morning he wouldn’t have cared what the lining was like. Anything would have been warmer than his thin raincoat. ‘Arc! you sure the Fuhrer himself is aboard?’ said Pauli. He huddled in the shelter of a mobile generator, but it gave little protection against the piercing wind. ‘Why would he come so early? He’s not due in Bad Wiessee untileleven a.m.’

‘Something very special is happening. The teleprinters have been going all night,’ said Koch.

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