“You mean when we talked about Mundt?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve told you. It was at the Circus, the office in London, our headquarters in Cambridge Circus. I bumped into Peter in the corridor. I knew he was mixed up with the Fennan Case and I asked him what had become of George Smiley. Then we got to talking about Dieter Frey, who died, and Mundt, who was mixed up in the thing. Peter said he thought that Maston–Maston was effectively in charge of the case then–had not wanted Mundt to be caught.”
“How did you interpret that?” asked Fiedler.
“I knew Maston had made a mess of the Fennan Case. I supposed he didn’t want any mud raked up by Mundt appearing at the Old Bailey.”
“If Mundt had been caught, would he have been legally charged?” the President put in.
“It depends on who caught him. If the police got him they’d report it to the Home Office. After that no power on earth could stop him from being charged.”
“And what if your Service had caught him?” Fiedler inquired.
“Oh, that’s a different matter. I suppose they would either have interrogated him and then tried to exchange him for one of our own people in prison over here; or else they’d have given him a ticket.”
“What does that mean?”
“Got rid of him.”
“Liquidated him?” Fiedler was asking all the questions now, and the members of the Tribunal were writing diligently in the files before them.
“I don’t know what they do. I’ve never been mixed up in that game.”
“Might they not have tried to recruit him as their agent?”
“Yes, but they didn’t succeed.”
“How do you know that?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, I’ve told you over and over again. I’m not a bloody performing seal! I was head of the Berlin Command for four years. If Mundt had been one of our people, I would have known. I couldn’t have helped knowing.”
“Quite.”
Fiedler seemed content with that answer, confident perhaps that the remainder of the Tribunal was not. He now turned his attention to Operation “Rolling Stone,” took Leamas once again through the special security complexities governing the circulation of the file, the letters to the Stockholm and Helsinki banks and the one reply which Leamas had received. Addressing himself to the Tribunal, Fiedler commented:
“We had no reply from Helsinki. I do not know why. But let me recapitulate for you. Leamas deposited money at Stockholm on June fifteenth. Among the papers before you there is the facsimile of a letter from the Royal Scandinavian Bank addressed to Robert Lang. Robert Lang was the name Leamas used to open the Copenhagen deposit account. From that letter (it is the twelfth serial in your files) you will see that the entire sum–ten thousand dollars–was drawn by the cosignatory to the account one week later. I imagine,” Fiedler continued, indicating with his head the motionless figure of Mundt in the front row, “that it is not disputed by the defendant that he was in Copenhagen on June twenty-first, nominally engaged on secret work on behalf of the Abteilung.” He paused and then continued:
“Leamas’ visit to Helsinki–the second visit he made to deposit money–took place on about September twenty-fourth.” Raising his voice, he turned and looked directly at Mundt. “On the third of October Comrade Mundt made a clandestine journey to Finland–once more allegedly in the interests of the Abteilung.”
There was silence. Fiedler turned slowly and addressed himself once more to the Tribunal. In a voice at once subdued and threatening he asked, “Are you complaining that the evidence is circumstantial? Let me remind you of something more.” He turned to Leamas.
“Witness, during your activities in Berlin you became associated with Karl Riemeck, formerly Secretary to the Praesidium of the Socialist Unity Party. What was the nature of that association?”
“He was my agent until he was shot by Mundt’s men.”
“Quite so. He was shot by Mundt’s men. One of several spies who were summarily liquidated by Comrade Mundt before they could be questioned. But before he was shot by Mundt’s men he was an agent of the British Secret Service?”
Leamas nodded.