Smiley acknowledged the instructive point.
‘One of our lines of business was to sell information. You have said correctly that information was a valuable commodity in those days. For example, we would hear of a refugee who had just come over and had not yet been interviewed by the Allies. Or maybe a Russian deserted. Or the master of a cargo ship. We hear about him, we question him. If we are ingenious, we contrive to sell the same report in different versions to two or even three different buyers. The Americans, the French, the British. The Germans themselves, already back in the saddle, yes. Sometimes, as long as it was inaccurate, even five buyers.’ He gave a rich laugh. ‘But only if it was inaccurate, okay? On other occasions, when we were out of sources, we invented – no question. We had maps, good imagination, good contacts. Don’t misunderstand me : Kretzschmar is an enemy of Communism. We are talking old history, like you said, Herr Max. It was necessary to survive. Otto had the idea, Kretzschmar did the work. Otto was not the inventor of work, I would say.’ Herr Kretzschmar frowned. ‘But in one respect Otto was a very serious man. He had a debt to settle. Of this he spoke repeatedly. Maybe against the fellow who betrayed him and killed his girl, maybe against the whole human race. What do I know? He had to be active. Politically active. So for this purpose he went to Paris, on many occasions. Many.’
Herr Kretzschmar allowed himself a short period of reflection.
‘I shall be frank,’ he announced.
‘And I shall respect your confidence,’ said Smiley.
‘I believe you. You are Max. The General was your friend, Otto told me this. Otto met you once, he admired you. Very well. I shall be frank with you. Many years ago Otto Leipzig went to prison for me. In those days I was not respectable. Now that I have money I can afford to be. We stole something, he was caught, he lied and took the whole rap. I wanted to pay him. He said, “What the hell? If you are Otto Leipzig, a year in prison is a holiday.” I visited him every week, I bribed the guards to take him special food – even once a woman. When he came out, I again tried to pay him. He declined my offers. “One day I’ll ask you something,” he said. “Maybe your wife.” “You shall have her,” I told him. “No problem.” Herr Max, I assume you are an Englishman. You will appreciate my position.’
Smiley said he did.
‘Two months ago – what do I know, maybe more, maybe less – the old General comes through on the telephone. He needs Otto urgently. “Not tomorrow, but tonight.” Sometimes he used to call that way from Paris, using code-names, all this nonsense. The old General is a secretive fellow. So is Otto. Like children, know what I mean? Never mind.’
Herr Kretzschmar made an indulgent sweep of his big hand across his face, as if he were wiping away a cobweb. ‘ “Listen,” I tell him. “I don’t know where Otto is. Last time I heard of him, he was in bad trouble with some business he started. I’ve got to find him, it will take time. Maybe tomorrow, maybe ten days.” Then the old man tells me, “I sent you a letter for him. Guard it with your life.” Next day a letter comes, express for Kretzschmar, postmark London. Inside, a second envelope. “Urgent and top secret for Otto.” Top Secret, okay? So the old guy’s crazy. Never mind. You know that big handwriting of his, strong like an army order?’
Smiley did.
‘I find Otto. He’s hiding from trouble again, no money. One suit he’s got, but dresses like a film star. I give him the old man’s letter.’
‘Which is a fat one,’ Smiley suggested, thinking of the seven pages of photocopy paper. Thinking of Mikhel’s black machine parked like an old tank in the library.
‘Sure. A long letter. He opened it while I was there-‘
Herr Kretzschmar broke off and stared at Smiley and from his expression seemed, reluctantly, to recognize a restraint.