Worstead looked a little surprised, and raised his glass as well.

“Thanks, John. But why the toast?”

“Because you’re going to need all the luck in the world.”

Lockhart knocked back his drink while Worstead sat rigid in a state of bewilderment, his glass hovering between his mouth and the table.

“What do you mean? Is something going to happen to me?”

“That, my old friend, is up to you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’ve got something to tell me, Andrew. In fact, you’ve got rather a lot to tell me.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, Andrew, you do.”

“I’m not with you.”

“That’s the problem!”

Lockhart picked up his beer, and took a sip, smiling at Worstead’s unintended irony.

“What are you saying?” asked Worstead, clearly agitated, slamming his schnapps glass down hard on the table.

Lockhart took a larger sip, put the beer back down, and leaned forward.

“What I’m saying, dear Andrew, is that I know you’re on their side.”

“What?”

Worstead’s voice had gone up half an octave, and Lockhart noticed that his hands were shaking. The color had drained from his face.

“I’m…I’m sorry, John, I’m still not following you.”

“Let me make it clear then. You’re a traitor, Andrew.”

“A traitor? Me?”

For a moment, it crossed Lockhart’s mind that Pugh could have been wrong, or could even have double-crossed him, but he dismissed the idea and pressed on.

“Yes, Andrew—you. You’ve been working for the Germans for ages. All that stuff about Beth and the child is bunk. Nice touch about baby David being born the same day as you, by the way. One of those coincidences that only happens in real life—added a lot of realism to your story.”

Lockhart took a swig of beer.

“Aren’t you going to drink, Andrew? After all, dinner’s on me.”

“No I’m bloody not. Not until you explain why you’re accusing me of this.”

“All right, I will. You’re the one behind the letters from Anna. You’re the one who’s friendly with Stranders, not Pugh. You’re the one who’s the German stooge, spying on us all on Strasser’s behalf….”

“But this is preposterous!”

“Is it?”

“Yes it damn well is!”

“Shh, Andrew, shush.”

“Don’t you tell me to shut up!”

“I’m not—I just don’t want to cause a scene.”

Worstead’s entire body was shaking now. He picked up his glass of schnapps and downed it ineptly, some of the liquid dribbling down his chin.

“Who’s got to you?” Worstead asked.

Lockhart said nothing. He wanted to let Worstead talk himself out.

“Come on, who? Pugh? Yes—I bet it’s Pugh. The bastard. He’s always hated me, and now he’s poisoning your mind, John. He’s your traitor, not me. God—when I get my hands on him, I’m going to…going to wring his bloody neck. Bastard. John, you have to believe me, please, I’m no traitor. Can’t you see they’re trying to set us against each other? Divide and rule, don’t you see? Oh, they’re very clever indeed, but we’ll get them back, oh yes, there’s no doubt about that. You and me, John. Great team, we’re a great team.”