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Chapters (34)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Book
  3. About the Author
  4. Also by Graham Greene
  5. Dedication
  6. Title Page
  7. Introduction
  8. The Third Man
  9. Preface
  10. Chapter 1
  11. Chapter 2
  12. Chapter 3
  13. Chapter 4
  14. Chapter 5
  15. Chapter 6
  16. Chapter 7
  17. Chapter 8
  18. Chapter 9
  19. Chapter 10
  20. Chapter 11
  21. Chapter 12
  22. Chapter 13
  23. Chapter 14
  24. Chapter 15
  25. Chapter 16
  26. Chapter 17
  27. The Fallen Idol
  28. Preface
  29. Chapter 1
  30. Chapter 2
  31. Chapter 3
  32. Chapter 4
  33. Chapter 5
  34. History of Vintage

‘I don’t know. It’s no good applying to the Russians, and you can bet he’s hiding out now in the Russian zone. We have no line now on Kurtz, for Harbin’s blown – he must have been blown or they wouldn’t have staged that mock death and funeral.’

‘But it’s odd, isn’t it, that Koch didn’t recognize the dead man’s face from the window?’

‘The window was a long way up and I expect the face had been damaged before they took the body out of the car.’

He said thoughtfully, ‘I wish I could speak to him. You see, there’s so much I simply can’t believe.’

‘Perhaps you are the only one who could speak to him. It’s risky though, because you know too much.’

‘I still can’t believe – I only saw the face for a moment.’ He said, ‘What shall I do?’

‘He won’t leave the Russian zone now. Perhaps that’s why he tried to have the girl taken over – because he loves her? Because he doesn’t feel secure? I don’t know. I do know that the only person who could persuade him to come over would be you – or her, if he still believes you are his friend. But first you’ve got to speak to him. I can’t see the line.’

‘I could go and see Kurtz. I have the address.’

I said, ‘Remember. Lime may not want you to leave the Russian zone when once you are there, and I can’t protect you there.’

‘I want to clear the whole damned thing up,’ Martins said, ‘but I’m not going to act as a decoy. I’ll talk to him. That’s all.’

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

SUNDAY HAD LAID its false peace over Vienna; the wind had dropped and no snow had fallen for twenty-four hours. All the morning trams had been full, going out to Grinzing where the young wine is drunk and to the slopes of snow on the hills outside. Walking over the canal by the makeshift military bridge, Martins was aware of the emptiness of the afternoon: the young were out with their toboggans and their skis, and all around him was the after-dinner sleep of age. A notice board told him that he was entering the Russian zone, but there were no signs of occupation. You saw more Russian soldiers in the Inner City than here.