By Len Deighton
In Berlin, the place neither aspect of the wall is secure, Colonel Stok of pink military safety is ready to promote a big Russian scientist to the West--for a price.
British intelligence is keen to pay, offering its personal most sensible undercover agent is in Berlin to behave as go-between. however it quickly turns into obvious that at the back of the facade of an complex mock funeral lies a video game of lethal maneuvers and ruthless strategies. A video game within which the bloodstained legacy of Nazi Germany is enmeshed within the complex strikes of chilly struggle espionage…
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Extra resources for Funeral in Berlin (Secret Files)
An area about twelve square yards around where the body had been found was completely enclosed in protective polythene, creating a tent that concealed them from the media, occupied by about ten technicians, either in white or in light blue protective cover-alls. Two were manhandling a huge, generator-powered vacuum machine, sucking everything from the ground behind a squad carrying out an inch by inch visual search ahead of them. After the vacuum, more men were designating the area already scoured with rectangles of tape, like an archaeological dig.
Danilov felt lost, totally exposed. ’ ‘If you accept, you will remain in the building: people will know what you are doing. ’ If they wanted to know what he was doing, there had to be some apprehension about him. Despite the emptiness of the newly created position, Danilov wondered if he could use it to his advantage. It was a comforting thought. ’ ‘No,’ admitted the outgoing Director. He needed time to think: consider all his options. Perhaps first even to find one. ’ ‘You can’t. And won’t. Crime has won, here in Moscow.
Cowley supposed in many ways it was. The chalked outline showing the position in which Serov’s body had been found was unnecessary: a good half of the shape of the torso was marked with thick gouts of blood. ’ The man indicated the vacuum. ‘It’ll take days to go through that. But we did find a shell casing, quite early this morning. That’s already back at headquarters; Harry Robertson took it himself. ’ Cowley nodded. ’ ‘DC forensic retrieved a slug last night, under what was left of the poor bastard’s head.