“Hello,” he added to Leamas, almost by the way, “glad to see you.”
“Hello, Fiedler.”
“You’ve reached the end of the road.”
“What the hell do you mean?” asked Leamas quickly.
“I mean that contrary to anything Peters told you, you are not going farther east. Sorry.” He sounded amused. –
Leamas turned to Peters.
“Is this true?” His voice was shaking with rage. “Is it true? Tell me!”
Peters nodded. “Yes. I am the go-between. We had to do it that way. I’m sorry,” he added.
“Why?”
“_Force majeure_,” Fiedler put in. “Your initial interrogation took place in the West, where only an embassy could provide the kind of link we needed. The German Democratic Republic has no embassies in the West. Not yet. Our liaison section therefore arranged for us to enjoy facilities and communications and immunities which are at present denied to us.”
“You bastard,” hissed Leamas, “you lousy bastard! You knew I wouldn’t trust myself to your rotten Service; that was the reason, wasn’t it? That was why you used a Russian.”
“We used the Soviet Embassy at The Hague. What else could we do? Up till then it was our operation. That’s perfectly reasonable. Neither we nor anyone else could have known that your own people in England would get onto you so quickly.”
“No? Not even when you put them on to me your selves? Isn’t that what happened, Fiedler? Well, isn’t it?” Always remember to dislike them, Control had said. Then they will treasure what they get out of you.
“That is an absurd suggestion,” Fiedler replied shortly. Glancing toward Peters he added something in Russian. Peters nodded and stood up.
“Good-bye,” he said to Leamas. “Good luck.”
He smiled wearily, nodded to Fiedler, then walked to the door. He put his hand on the door handle, then turned and called to Leamas again: “Good luck.” He seemed to want Leamas to say something, but Leamas might not have heard. He had turned very pale, he held his hands loosely across his body, the thumbs upwards as if he were going to fight. Peters remained standing at the door.
“I should have known,” said Leamas, and his voice had the odd, faulty note of a very angry man. “I should have guessed you’d never have the guts to do your own dirty work, Fiedler. It’s typical of your rotten little half-country and your squalid little Service that you get big uncle to do your pimping for you. You’re not a country at all, you’re not a government, you’re a fifthrate dictatorship of political neurotics.” Jabbing his finger in Fiedler’s direction he shouted:
“I know you, you sadistic bastard, it’s typical of you. You were in Canada in the war, weren’t you? A bloody good place to be then, wasn’t it? I’ll bet you stuck your fat head into Mummy’s apron any time an airplane flew over. What are you now? A creeping little acolyte to Mundt and twenty-two Russian divisions sitting on your mother’s doorstep. Well, I pity you, Fiedler, the day you wake up and find them gone. There’ll be a killing then, and not Mummy or big uncle will save you from getting what you deserve.”
Fiedler shtugged.
“Regard it as a visit to the dentist, Leamas. The sooner it’s all done, the sooner you can go home. Have some food and go to bed.”
“You know perfectly well I can’t go home,” Leamas retorted. “You’ve seen to that. You blew me sky high in England, you had to, both of you. You knew damn well I’d never come here unless I had to.”
Fiedler looked at his thin, strong fingers.
“This is hardly the time to philosophize,” he said, “but you can’t really complain, you know. All our work–yours and mine–is rooted in the theory that the whole is more important than the individual. That is why a Communist sees his secret service as the natural extension of his arm, and that is why in your own country intelligence is shrouded in a kind of _pudeur anglaise_. The exploitation of individuals can only be justified by the collective need, can’t it? I find it slightly ridiculous that you should be so indignant. We are not here to observe the ethical laws of English country life. After all,” he added silkily, “your own behavior has not, from the purist’s point of view, been irreproachable.”