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way.’

‘I feel it. I can’t remember when I last slept.’

‘Come, I have somewhere we can talk.’

Prince certainly hadn’t slept the previous night. After his encounter with the Russians in Holland Park, he’d returned to the safe house, the message that Gurevich could help him to find Hanne occupying his every thought.

He should have reported what had happened straight away, but decided against it. He didn’t want anything to jeopardise his chances of finding Hanne, especially now the Russians seemed to be offering some hope.

At the safe house there was a message from Gilbey. Change of plan: there’s a flight to Munich at three in the morning and you’re on it. A car will pick you up in half an hour.

He was driven to RAF Benson in Oxfordshire and flew from there on an RAF DC3 to Neubiberg airport just outside Munich, where he was met by a harassed British liaison officer called Cuthbert who assured him he was working on getting him to Klagenfurt. ‘Shouldn’t take terribly long.’

‘To get to Klagenfurt?’

‘Uh, no… to work out how to get you there. We’re rather dependent on the Americans here. No rush, though, is there?’

Prince explained that actually there was a rush, but knew better than to rely on this man to expedite matters. He wandered around the airbase until he found the officers’ mess, where he joined a table of USAF pilots to whom he explained his dilemma. I need to get to Vienna.

‘Is this official British business?’ The man who asked the question was young and wearing dark glasses, and spoke with a long cigarette clamped between his front teeth. Prince assured him it couldn’t be more official.

The pilot stood up, towering over him. ‘Follow me.’

He’d arrived in Vienna just before noon, and in the eight hours since then had wandered round the city knowing he’d only see the Russian when Gurevich was ready to be seen.

Don’t worry about finding him, he’ll find you.

And now Gurevich was ready. They made an unlikely pair as they walked through Vienna’s First District, one in a British Army greatcoat, the other in a Red Army one. They walked past the magnificent St Stephan’s cathedral, which seemed to throw shadows even in the dark. Gurevich’s pace quickened as they turned into Dominikaner Bastei, seemingly heading towards the Danube Canal, and Prince wondered what would happen if they crossed from the neutral First District into the Soviet zone.

Gurevich stopped just before the junction with Schwedenplatz. He looked round as he lit a cigarette, pausing to allow two Austrian police officers to pass. Moments later, Prince found himself in the basement of a bar, furniture piled high at one end, the bare room lit by a single bulb. Gurevich sat down opposite him at the solitary table.

‘Hanne’s safe.’

Prince gasped and stared intently at the Russian in an attempt to work out whether he was telling the truth.

‘You look like you don’t believe me, my friend. Why would I lie?’

Prince coughed and realised tears were forming in his eyes. ‘It’s not that I don’t believe you, but… maybe this is just what someone has told you… maybe they’re wrong… How do you know she’s alive?’

‘Believe me, I know.’

‘Has she escaped from the Nazis, or been rescued?’

‘Who said she was with the Nazis? In our business we shouldn’t make assumptions, should we?’

‘Don’t play games with me, Iosif, I need to find my wife. Where the hell is she? I need to know if she’s safe!’

‘I told you she’s safe. What happened to her may be my fault, but from what I gather, we probably saved her life. She’d got herself into a very dangerous situation.’

‘Is she here in Vienna?’

‘No, she’s still in Villach. Don’t worry; you’ll be taken there tomorrow.’

‘What do you mean, it may have been your fault?’

Gurevich undid his greatcoat and from an inside pocket produced a flask, which he put down on the table, indicating that Prince should drink first. ‘The war was very straightforward in many ways, wasn’t it? I’ll admit that our alliance with Nazi Germany was awkward, though of course Comrade Stalin was correct to try and buy time. Had the Nazis invaded in 1939, we would have struggled to resist. Once they did invade, in 1941, it was clear exactly who our enemy was: we could see them, we were fighting them every day. But since the war ended, matters have become complicated. We’re meant to be friends with the British and the Americans because we were on the same side, but everyone knows that it is hardly a friendship. Even within the Soviet Union the comradeship and unity that was there during the war has been replaced by a degree of mistrust.’

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and lit a cigarette. ‘And then we have our other allies, in countries where the Soviet Union is trying to exert its influence. You yourself made reference to us acquiring an empire, which of course is unfair, but it is true that there are countries in eastern and central Europe that we are trying to bring into the embrace and protection of socialism, with the Soviet Union at the vanguard showing strong leadership. We believe this is absolutely in their interests and we have no doubt that in time they will understand this too.’

He stopped and looked hard at Prince, wanting him to understand that as urbane and amenable as he was, there could be no doubt as to where his loyalties lay.

‘There’s an old saying I remember my grandfather using: your enemies appear in the light, your friends in the dark. The enemy is easier to spot than a friend. A friend can become an enemy before you realise it. But with some of these countries – our friends – the relationship is, how shall I phrase it… complicated. They too have fought a long and hard war and they have a desire for independence that is not necessarily compatible with our interests. So we need to work hard to extend

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