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tomorrow.'
    'What could you do for them?'
    'Ah. There's a history to this that you don't know about. You remember those articles I wrote for Pravda ?'
    'On the positive aspects of Nazi Germany? How could I forget?'
    'I needed the money. And the Soviets fed me a line about preparing their readers for peace which I could just about swallow. As I expected, they wanted more than my magic pen - a little espionage on the side. I refused, of course; but then I got involved with the Wiesners - remember them? Felix Wiesner was a big-time doctor until the Nazis came along - an Iron Cross, First Class, by the way - but Kristallnacht finally convinced him that there was no future for his family here. His son was sent to Sachsenhausen and badly beaten. Felix hired me to teach his daughters English so they'd have a head start once he got them out. But then they arrested him on a trumped-up abortion charge, sent him to Sachsenhausen, and beat him to death. His widow and daughters were left in limbo, his son was on the run from the Gestapo. Enter yours truly with a brilliant idea. The Soviets wanted me to bring a few papers out of the country, papers that would interest any of Germany's enemies. I agreed to do it if they got Wiesner's son across the border, and I offered copies to the British in exchange for exit visas for the mother and two girls. Oh, and I demanded an American passport for myself, which I've just been given. Now I won't have to leave Paul and Effi behind when Chamberlain finally stands up to Hitler.'
    Thomas was momentarily lost for words. 'My God,' he murmured.
    Russell gave him a wry smile. 'It seemed like a good idea at the time.' He paused as a local passenger train rattled by. 'Still does, actually.'
    'It sounds like you got away with it.'
    'I thought I had. The bastards don't have anything definite against me, but they've got reasons to be suspicious. They know I was in contact with the Soviets over the articles, and they know that the Soviets expect more from their foreign correspondents than journalism. Hell, everyone does these days. The Gestapo, the SD, whichever bunch of goons we're talking about - they'll all be assuming I have contacts among communist circles here in Germany. And if they want to use me as a way in, then they've hit on the perfect way of getting me to cooperate.'
    'Did Effi provide them with the excuse?'
    Russell told him what she'd said. 'She was reported by another actress, one that she beat to a part.'
    Thomas grimaced.
    'So what do I do?'
    Thomas ran a hand through his spiky grey hair. 'Well, I suppose the first thing is to find out what they want. Whatever it is, you'll have to at least say that you'll go along with it. If it's more than you can stomach, then, first chance you get, you take yourself and Effi out of this godforsaken country.'
    'And Paul?'
    'Better an absent father than a dead one.'
    'Of course. But what if they punish him for my sins?'
    Thomas used the clanking of a passing freight train to think about that. 'Maybe I'm being naive,' he said finally, 'but I don't believe they would. What could they do to a twelve year-old aryan boy? And he has his stepfather to stand up for him. Matthias is very fond of Paul - he wouldn't let anything happen to him without a real fight. Neither would I, by the way.'
    'I know that. And you're probably right. I was thinking last night - this won't go away, I have to get out. But getting Effi out will take time - they won't just let her leave. Do we have that sort of time? The smart money's all on September, after the harvest, before the rains.'
    'There's no way of knowing, is there? We seem to go through the same dramatic scenes every six months. Hitler stamps his foot and shouts a lot, everyone rushes around making him offers, and he graciously accepts a mere 99 per cent of what he asked for. It could happen again.'
    'Not with the Poles.'
    'You're probably right. I wish I could send Joachim somewhere safe.' Thomas's seventeen-year-old son was