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flurry offered a sample of the promised snow. Now it began in earnest. Large spiky flakes came spinning down. Time and time again the last snow had come, and still the cold persisted, reminding those from other climates that Berlin was on the edge of Asia.
    In what was either carelessness or an attempt to impress me with his knowledge of Berlin, Teacher turned off and tried to find a shortcut round the Exhibition Grounds. Twice he came to a dead end. Finally I took pity on him and directed him to Halensee. Then, as we got to Kurfürstendamm, he sat back in his seat, sighed and said, ‘I suppose I am your keeper.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘Frank might like to hear your reactions.’
    ‘Berlin is the heroin capital of the world,’ I said.
    ‘I read that in Die Welt,’ said Teacher.
    I ignored the sarcasm. ‘It all comes through Schönefeld airport. Those bastards make sure it keeps moving to this side of the Wall.’
    ‘If it all comes here, then it makes sense that someone might try sending a little of it back,’ said Teacher.
    ‘Stinnes is top brass nowadays. He’d have a lot to lose. I can’t swallow the idea that he’s having an army courier pick up consignments of heroin – or whatever it is – in the West.’
    ‘But?’
    ‘Yes, there is a but. Stinnes knows the score. He’s spent a lot of time in the West. He’s an active womanizer and some types of hard drugs connect with sexual activity.’
    ‘Connect? Connect how?’
    ‘A lot of people use drugs only when they jump into bed. I could perhaps see Stinnes in that category.’
    ‘So I tell Frank you think it’s possible.’
    ‘Only possible; not likely.’
    ‘A nuance,’ said Teacher.
    ‘Once upon a time this fellow Stinnes was stringing me along…He told me he wanted to come across to us.’
    ‘KGB? Enrolled?’
    ‘That’s what he said.’
    ‘And you swallowed it?’
    ‘I urged caution.’
    ‘That’s the best way: cover all the exits,’ said Teacher. He was not one of my most fervent admirers. I suspected that Frank had painted me too golden.
    ‘Anyway: once bitten twice shy.’
    ‘I’ll tell Frank exactly what you said,’ he promised.
    ‘This is not the way to Kreuzberg.’
    ‘Don’t get alarmed. I thought I’d give you lunch before you go back to that slum.’ I wondered if that too wasFrank’s idea. Mr Teacher didn’t look like a man much given to impulsive gestures.
    ‘Thanks.’
    ‘I live in Wilmersdorf. My wife always has too much food in the house. Will that be okay?’
    ‘Thanks,’ I said.
    ‘I’ve given my expenses a beating this month. I had a wedding anniversary.’
    By the time we arrived in Wilmersdorf the streets were wrapped in a fragile tissue of snow. Teacher lived in a smart new apartment block. He parked in the underground car park that served the building. It was well lit and heated: luxury compared with Kreuzberg. We took the elevator to his apartment on the fourth floor.
    He rang the bell while opening the door with his key. Once inside he called to his wife. ‘Clemmie? Clem, are you there?’
    Her voice replied from somewhere upstairs, ‘Where the hell have you been? Do you know what time it is?’
    ‘Clemmie –’
    She still didn’t appear. ‘I’ve eaten my lunch. You’ll have to make do with an egg or something.’
    Standing awkwardly in the hall he looked at the empty landing and then at me and smiled ruefully. ‘Egg okay? Clemmie will make omelettes.’
    ‘Wonderful.’
    ‘I’ve brought a colleague home,’ he called loudly.
    His wife came down the stairs, skittish and smiling. She was worth waiting for; young, long-legged and shapely. She touched her carefully arranged hair and flashed her eyes at me. She looked as if her make-up was newly applied. Her smile froze as she noticed some flecks of snow on his coat. ‘My God! When does summer come to this damned town?’ she said, holding him personally responsible.
    ‘Clemmie,’ said Teacher after she’d offered her cheek to be kissed,