Chapter 20
In his office, the Old Man was in an unforgiving mood. "What kept you?"
Gallagher thought saying nothing was his best option. The Old Man ignored the lack of reply. "There have been further developments. Two of our East Germans flew out early this morning but Radler is still here and currently having a late lunch with the Russian cultural attaché at the Langham on Portland Place. With the Polish embassy not being too far away and his partiality for a walk, after a meal especially, we've come up with a plan of sorts."
Gally nodded understanding then asked, "This plan of sorts, Sir? Does it involve me and Sandy asking him nicely to step into a car?"
They finished their after-meal coffees, shook hands and the Russian waved a waiter over as the East German left the restaurant. "Another cognac and the bill, if you would be so kind."
Radler was in his early fifties with slicked-back thinning grey hair and a set of eyebrows that arched to give him the look of a man who was permanently mildly inquisitive. His paid for paunch preceded him as he strolled along Portland Place fully aware of his MI5 usual shadows. With 100 yards to the Embassy, Gallagher startled him by stepping into his sphere of consciousness. "Be a nice chap and get into the car, please, Herr Radler."
The East German briefly looked over his shoulder and saw Sandy, standing a few feet away, a Farralland tough lounging casually fore and aft. After a heavy meal, he’d no inclination to try and avoid them, besides, he knew the game. They'd keep him for a while, try to get him to tell them something they could use and when he didn't they'd exchange him for one of theirs. Perhaps that was already the whole point. He climbed in the rear of the Cambridge.
At the safehouse, they told him to make himself comfortable and Sandy put the kettle on.
"Would you like a cup of tea, Herr Radler?" Gallagher asked as he dusted the settee off with a copy of the Radio Times.
Radler laughed. "Is this part of your British interrogation techniques? Confuse your victims with pleasantries?"
Gally found the page for the day's television and dropped it on the coffee table. "No, I don't think so. It's just I'm parched and I didn't want you to think you were being left out. No milk and two sugars, if I remember rightly? You speak English very well, Herr Radler. Hardly a trace of an accent but then again your mother was English, wasn't she?"
Radler grinned. "I feel we know each other so well, you can call me Harald. And your name is?"
Straight faced Gallagher replied, "I'm not allowed to tell you that but you can call me Gally. My colleague is called Ginge. Anyway, we've been given strict instructions to engage you in small talk only. I suppose it's in case you try to fill our heads with naughty communist thoughts. I mean, I'm particularly susceptible myself, not having my own car. I quite like the look of your old Wartburgs. A classic look but maybe I'm flying a little too high on my salary. Do you think I should stick with the Trabant? An estate would be nice. Do they do that type? With one of them, I could go hunting at the weekends."
Radler plonked himself down in the armchair. "I think you are playing games with me."
Gally smiled, "No, I think you're playing games with me, Herr Radler. You've sat in the power chair and you know I've just dusted the settee off specially for you. It's where you'll be sleeping after all." He stood and gazed at him until he got up and moved.
"I'm afraid it being a Sunday, there isn't much on the box tonight. Outside London, Britain's closed on Sundays. We could always play charades though, if you're interested? Ginge loves charades. He's a real wizard at it."
The German smiled, quietly. "Is this it? You're going to keep me here until boredom, your inane musings or that awful wallpaper gets the better of me?"
"You won't be here long enough for that." Gallagher accepted his cup of tea and took a sip as Sandy handed Radler his and told him, "I'd be careful, it's going to be hot without the milk."
Gally sat down in the armchair. "Are you following the World Cup, Harald? I don't suppose you are, seeing as your lot aren't in it. Are the Russian team mainly from the KGB Sports and Social Club?"
Radler looked back at him with mock consternation. "How am I to know? I'm a simple East German, not a Russian. Would you pass me the newspaper please, Gally? I can see this is going to be a long night.”