the Germans. We want to contact them. We want to talk to Rommel.” “And you think Achmed can help you?” “If he is a spy, he must have a way of getting messages to the Germans.” Sonja’s mind was -in a turmoil. From being her accuser, Kernel had turned into a co-conspirator-unless this was a trap. She did not know whether to trust him or not. She did not have enough time to think about it. She did not know what to say, so she said nothing. Kemel persisted gently. “Can you arrange a meeting?” She could not possibly make such a decision on the spur of the moment. “No,” she said. “Remember the watch on the houseboat,” he said. “Me surveillance reports will come to me before being passed on to Major Vandam. If there is a chance, just a chance, that you might be able to arrange a meeting, I in turn can make sure that the reports which go to Vandam are carefully edited so as to contain nothing . . . embarrassing.” Sonja had forgotten the surveillance. When Wolff came back-and he would, sooner or later-the watchers would report it, and Vandam would know, unless Kemel fixed it. This changed everything. She had no choice. “I’ll arrange a meeting,” she said. “Good.” He stood up. “Call the main police station and leave a message saying that Sirhan wants to see me. When I get that message I’ll contact you to arrange date and time.” “Very well.” He went to the ladder, then came back. “By the way.” He took a wallet from his trousers pocket and extracted a small photograph. He handed it to Sonja. It was a picture of her. “Would you sign this for my wife? She’s a great fan of yours.” He handed her a pen. “Her name is Hesther.” Sonja wrote: “To Hesther, with all good wishes, Sonja.” She gave him the photograph, thinking: This is incredible. “Thank you so much. She will be overjoyed.” Incredible. Sonja said: “I’ll get in touch just as soon as I can.” “Thank you.” He held out his hand. This time she shook it. He went up the ladder and out, closing the hatch behind him. Sonja relaxed. Somehow she had handled it right. She was THE KEY TO REBECCA 179
still not completely convinced of Kernel’s sincerity; but if there was a trap she could not see it. She felt tired. She finished the whiskey in the glass, then went through the curtains into the bedroom. She still had her nightdress on, and she was quite cold. She went to the bed and pulled back the covers. She heard a tapping sound. Her heart missed a beat. She whirled around to look at the porthole on the far side of the boat, the side that faced across the river. There was a head behind the glass. She screamed. The face disappeared. She realized it had been Wolff. She ran up the ladder and out on to the deck. Looking over the side, she saw him in the water. He appeared to be naked. He clambered up the side of the little boat, using the portholes for handholds. She reached for his arm and pulled him on to the deck. He knelt there on all fours for a moment, glancing up and down the river bank like an alert water rat; then he scampered down the hatch. She followed him. He stood on the carpet, dripping and shivering. He was naked. She said: “What happened?” “Run me a bath,” he said. She went through the bedroom into the bathroom. There was a small tub with an electric water heater. She turned the taps on, and threw a handful of scented crystals into the water. Wolff got in and let the water rise around him. “What happened?” Sonja repeated. He controlled his shivering. “I didn’t want to risk coming down the towpath, so I took off my clothes on the opposite bank and swam across. I looked in, and saw that man with you-I suppose he was another policeman.” “Yes.,’ “So I had to wait in the water until he went away.” She laughed. “You poor thing.” “It’s not funny. My God, I’m cold. The fucking Abwehr gave me dud money. Somebody will be strangled for that, next time I’m in Germany.” “Why did they do it?” “I don’t know whether it’s incompetence or disloyalty. Canaris has always been lukewarm on Hitler. Turn off the 180 Ken Follett