THE SPY WHO CAME IN FROM ThE COLD by Le Carre, John

But seven people were nothing: they were worse than nothing, because they were evidence of the inertia of the uncapturable mass. They broke your heart.

The room was better than the schoolroom in Bayswater, but even that was no comfort. In Bayswater it had been fun trying to find a room. In the early days they had pretended they were something else, not the Party at all. They’d taken back rooms in pubs, a committee room at the Ardena Caf& or met secretly in one another’s houses. Then Bill Hazel had joined from the Secondary School and they’d used his classroom. Even that was a risk–the headmaster thought Bifi ran a drama group, so theoretically at least they might still be chucked out. Somehow that fitted better than this Peace Hall in pre-cast concrete with the cracks in the corners and the picture of Lenin. Why did they have that silly frame thing all around the picture? Bundles of organ pipes sprouting from the corners and the bunting all dusty. It looked like something from a fascist funeral. Sometimes she thought Alec was right–you believed in things because you needed to; what you believed in had no value of its own, no function. What did he say? “A dog scratches where it itches. Different dogs itch in different places.” No, it was wrong, Alec was wrong–it was a wicked thing to say. Peace and freedom and equality–they were facts, of course they were. And what about history–all those laws the Party proved? No, Alec was wrong: truth existed outside people, it was demonstrated in history, individuals must bow to it, be crushed by it if necessary. The Party was the vanguard of history, the spearpoint in the fight for Peace . . . She went over the rubric a little uncertainly. She wished more people had come. Seven was so few. They looked so cross; cross and hungry.

The meeting over, Liz waited for Frau Lüman to collect the unsold literature from the heavy table by the door, fill in her attendance book and put on her coat, for it was cold that evening. The speaker had left– rather rudely, Liz thought–before the general discussion. Frau Lüman was standing at the door with her hand on the light switch when a man appeared out of the darkness, framed in the doorway. Just for a moment Liz thought it was Ashe. He was tall and fair and wore one of those raincoats with leather buttons.

“Comrade Lüman?” he inquired.

“Yes?”

“I am looking for an English Comrade, Gold. She is staying with you?”

“I’m Elizabeth Gold,” Liz put in, and the man came into the hail, closing the door behind him so that the light shone full upon his face.

“I am Halten from District.” He showed some paper to Frau Lüman who was still standing at the door, and she nodded and glanced a little anxiously toward Liz.

“I have been asked to give a message to Comrade Gold from the Praesidium,” he said. “It concerns an alteration in your program; an invitation to attend a special meeting.”

“Oh,” said Liz rather stupidly. It seemed fantastic that the Praesidium should even have heard of her.

“It is a gesture,” Halten said. “A gesture of goodwill.”

“But I.. . but Frau Lüman.. .” Liz began, help.lessly.

“Comrade Lüman, I am sure, will forgive you under the circumstances.” –

“Of course,” said Frau Lüman quickly.

“Where is the meeting to be held?”

“It will necessitate your leaving tonight,” Halten replied. “We have a long way to go. Nearly to Görlitz.”

“To Görlitz. . . . Where is that?”

“East,” said Frau Lüman quickly. “On the Polish border.”

“We can drive you home now. You can collect your things and we will continue the journey at once.”

“Tonight? Now?”

“Yes.” Halten didn’t seem to consider Liz had much choice.

A large black car was waiting for them. There was a driver in the front and a flag post on the hood. It looked like a military car.

* * 20 * Tribunal

The court was no larger than a schoolroom. At one end, on the mere five or six benches which were provided, sat guards and warders and here and there among them spectators–members of the Praesidium and selected officials. At the other end of the room sat the three members of the Tribunal on tall-backed chairs at an unpolished oak table. Above them, suspended from the ceiling by three loops of wire, was a large red star made of plywood. The walls of the courtroom were white like the walls of Leamas’ cell.

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