“That might well be so, but the local party has already selected a capable young candidate called Robert Fielding to take my place. He’s bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, with all the enthusiasm of a recently appointed school prefect.”

“Just like you used to be.”

“And still am, if the truth be known.”

“Then why did you decide not to stand?”

“It’s a long story, Walter. In fact, it’s the reason I wanted to see you.”

“Let’s order first,” said Walter, opening the menu. “Then you can take your time telling me why you could possibly need the assistance of a West German foreign minister.” He began to peruse the fare. “Ah, the dish of the day is roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. My favorite,” he whispered. “But don’t tell any of your countrymen, or mine for that matter, or my guilty secret will be out. So what’s your guilty secret?”

By the time Giles had fully briefed his old friend about Karin and his failure to be allowed back into East Germany, they were both enjoying a coffee.

“And you say she was the young woman who was in your hotel room when we had that private meeting?”

“You remember her?”

“I certainly do,” said Walter. “She’s interpreted for me in the past but never gave me a second look, although it wasn’t through lack of trying on my part. So tell me, Giles, are you willing to fight a duel over this young woman?”

“Name your weapon, and your second.”

Walter laughed. “More seriously, Giles, do you have any reason to believe she wants to defect?”

“Yes, her mother has recently died, and the East German authorities won’t allow her father, who’s English and lives in Cornwall, back into the country.”

Walter took a sip of coffee while he considered the problem. “Would you be able to fly to Berlin at a moment’s notice?”

“On the next plane.”

“Impetuous as ever,” said Walter as a waiter placed a brandy in front of him. He swirled it around in the balloon before saying, “Do you have any idea if she speaks Russian?”

“Fluently. It was her degree subject at language school.”

“Good, because I’m hosting a bilateral trade meeting with the Russians next month, and they just might agree—”

“Can I do anything to help?”

“Just make sure she’s got a British passport.”

* * *

“My name is Robert Fielding, and I’m the Labour candidate for the Bristol Docklands by-election on May twentieth.” The young man tried to shake hands with a woman who was laden down with shopping bags.

“What are you doing about Concorde?” she asked.

“Everything in my power to make sure the plane will be built at Filton and not Toulouse,” said Fielding.

The woman looked satisfied. “Then I’ll be voting for you. But I’d rather have voted for him,” she said, pointing at Giles. As she walked away, the young man looked despondent.

“Don’t worry about her. On May twenty-first you’ll be the member and I’ll be history.”