“Nine millimeter they call it now.”
His resentment of strangers reached its unexpected climax in the visit of Hyde, a man from the Circus. The morning had gone badly. Leiser had been making a timed run, encoding and transmitting forty groups; his bedroom and Johnson’s were now linked on an internal circuit; they played back and forth behind closed doors. Johnson had taught him a number of international code signals: QRJ, your signals are too weak to read: QRW, send faster: QSD, your keying is bad: QSM, repeat the last message: QSZ, send each word twice: QRU, I have nothing for you. As Leiser’s transmission became increasingly uneven, Johnson’s comments, thus cryptically expressed, added to his confusion, until with a shout of irritation he switched off his set and stalked downstairs to Avery. Johnson followed him.
“It’s no good giving up, Fred.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Look, Fred, you did it all wrong. I told you to send the number of groups before you send the message. You can’t remember a thing, can you—”
“Look, leave me alone, I said!” He was about to add something when the doorbell rang. It was Hyde. He had brought an assistant, a plump man who was sucking something against the weather.
They did not play the tapes at lunch. Their guests sat side by side, eating glumly as if they had the same food every day because of the calories. Hyde was a meager, dark-faced man without a trace of humor who reminded Avery of Sutherland. He had come to give Leiser a new identity. He had papers for him to sign, identity documents, a form of ration card, a driving license, a permit to enter the border zone along a specified area, and an old shirt in a briefcase. After lunch he laid them all out on the drawing room table while the photographer put up his camera.
They dressed Leiser in the shirt and took him full face with both ears showing according to the German regulations, then led him to sign the papers. He seemed nervous.
“We’re going to call you Freiser,” Hyde said, as if that were an end to the matter.
“Freiser? That’s like my own name.”
“That’s the idea. That’s what your people wanted. For signatures and things, so that there’s no slip-up. You’d better practice it a bit before you sign.”
“I’d rather have it different. Quite different.”
“We’ll stick to Freiser, I think,” said Hyde. “It’s been decided at high level.” Hyde was a man who leaned heavily upon the Passive Voice.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
“I want it different. I don’t like Freiser and I want it different.” He didn’t like Hyde either, and in half a minute he was going to say so.
Haldane intervened. “You’re under instructions. The Department has taken the decision. There is no question of altering it now.”
Leiser was very pale.
“Then they can bloody well change the instructions. I want a different name, that’s all. Christ, it’s only a little thing, isn’t it? That’s all I’m asking for: another name, a proper one, not a half-cock imitation of my own.”
“I don’t understand,” Hyde said. “It’s only training, isn’t it?”
“You don’t have to understand! Just change it, that’s all. Who the hell do you think you are, coming in here and ordering me about?”
“I’ll telephone London,” Haldane said, and went upstairs. They waited awkwardly until he came down.
“Will you accept Hartbeck?” Haldane inquired. There was a note of sarcasm in his voice.
Leiser smiled. “Hartbeck. That’s fine.” He spread out his hands in a gesture of apology. “Hartbeck’s fine.”
Leiser spent ten minutes practicing a signature, then signed the papers with a little flourish each time, as if there was dust on them. Hyde gave them a lecture on the documents. It took a very long time. There were no actual ration cards in East Germany, Hyde said, but there existed a system of registration with food shops, which provided a certificate. He explained the principle of travel permits and the circumstances under which they were granted, he talked at length about the obligation on Leiser to show his identity card, unasked, when he bought a railway ticket or put up at a hotel. Leiser argued with him and Haldane attempted to terminate the meeting. Hyde paid no attention. When he had finished, he nodded and went away with his photographer, folding the old shirt into his briefcase as if it were part of his equipment.