“What happens after ninety seconds?” Leamas asked.
“They can only give you ninety seconds,” the man repeated; “otherwise it is too dangerous. Only one detachment has been briefed. They think you are being infiltrated into West Berlin. They’ve been told not to make it too easy. Ninety seconds are enough.”
“I bloody well hope so,” said Leamas drily. “What time do you make it?”
“I checked my watch with the sergeant in charge of the detachment,” the man replied. A light went on and off briefly in the back of the car. “It is twelve forty-eight. We must leave at five to one. Seven minutes to wait.”
They sat in total silence save for the rain pattering on the roof. The cobblestone road reached out straight before them, staged by dingy streetlights every hundred meters. There was no one about. Above them the sky was lit with the unnatural glow of arcights. Occasionally the beam of a searchlight flickered overhead, and disappeared. Far to the left Leamas caught sight of a fluctuating light just above the skyline, constantly altering in strength, like the reflection of a fire.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing toward it.
“Information Service,” the man replied. “A scaffolding of lights. It flashes news headlines into East Berlin.”
“Of course,” Leamas muttered. They were very near theend of the road.
“There is no turning back,” the man conthued. “He told you that? There is no second chance.”
“I know,” Leamas replied.
“If something goes wrong–if you fall or get hurt– don’t turn back. They shoot on sight within the area of the wall. You _must_ get over.”
“We know,” Leanias repeated; “he told me.”
“From the moment you get out of the car you are in the area.”
“We know. Now shut up,” Leamas retorted. And then he added, “Are you taking the car back?”
“As soon as you get out of the car I shall drive it away. It is a danger for me, too,” the man replied.
“Too bad,” said Leanias drily.
Again there was silence. Then Leamas asked, “Do you have a gun?”
“Yes,” said the man, “but I can’t give it to you; he said I shouldn’t give it to you. . . that you were sure to ask for it.”
Leamas laughed quietly. “He would,” he said.
Leamas pulled the starter. With a noise that seemed to fill the street the car moved slowly forward.
They had gone about three hundred yards when the man whispered excitedly, “Go right here, then left.” They swung into a narrow side street. There were empty market stalls on either side so that the car barely passed between them.
“Left here, now!”
They turned again, fast, this time between two tall buildings into what looked like a cul-de-sac. There was washing strung across the street, and Liz wondered whether they would pass under It. As they approached what seemed to be the dead end the man said, “Left again–follow the path.” Leamas mounted the curb, crossed the pavement and they followed a broad footpath bordered by a broken fence to their left, and a tall, windowless building to their right. They heard a shout from somewhere above them, a woman’s voice, and Leamas muttered “Oh, shut up” as he steered clumsily around a right-angle bend in the path and came almost immediately upon a major road.
“Which way?” be demanded.
“Straight across–past the chemist–between the chemist and the post office–there!” The man was leaning so far forward that his face was almost level with theirs. He pointed now, reaching past Leamas, the tip of his finger pressed against the windshield.
“Get back,” Leamas hissed. “Get your hand away. How the hell can I see if you wave your band around like that?” Slamming the car into first gear, he drove fast across the wide road. Glancing to his left, he was astonished to glimpse the plump silhouette of the Brandenburg Gate three hundred yards away, and the sinister grouping of military vehicles at the foot of it.
“Where are we going?” asked Leamas suddenly.
“We’re nearly there. Go slowly now–left, left, go _left!_” he cried, and Leamas jerked the wheel in the nick of time; they passed under a narrow archway into a courtyard. Half the windows were missing or boarded up; the empty doorways gaped sightlessly at them. At the other end of the yard was an open gateway. “Through there,” came the whispered command, urgent in the darkness; “then hard right. You’ll see a streetlamp on your right. The one beyond it is broken. When you reach the second lamp, switch off the engine and coast until you see a fire hydrant. That’s the place.”