Free The Pathfinder by Margaret Mayhew Page A

you see.’
    â€˜Really?’
    â€˜Don’t you remember?’
    He shrugged. ‘It was a long time ago.’
    â€˜You rescued me from Conway and Turner and that lot. They were indulging in their idea of a little amusing sport, sticking my head down the lavatory and pulling the chain . . . You came along and put a stop to it. Sent them all packing. Surely you haven’t forgotten?’
    â€˜I’m afraid so.’ He’d always cracked down hard on any bullying but he couldn’t recall that particular episode. Unfortunately, the Armenian had been pretty unpopular.
    â€˜Well, it was nothing much to you, I suppose, but it meant a hell of a lot to me and I don’t forget things like that. So, if I can ever do anything for you, you have only to ask. By the way, how’s that charming elder sister of yours? I remember her coming to Speech Days. All of us chaps fancied her.’
    He hated even to speak of it: ‘She was killed in the Blitz. With her two sons.’
    â€˜I say, old chap, I’m frightfully sorry. How ghastly! Simply tragic. Your parents must have been awfully cut up.’
    So was I, he thought. So was I.
    He picked up one of the Volkswagon Beetle taxis in the British sector and tried to shrug off his black mood during the ride out to Gatow. The transvestite singer seemed to him to epitomize the cruel vileness of Berlin and he had an unpleasant feeling that all the way along the line, from the seedy café to the Leichts’ apartment to Der Kellar , he had been made a fool of.

Four
    Harrison put his encounter with Nico Kocharian and the Leichts out of his mind. There was plenty to occupy him on the station. The number of Dakotas ferrying in supplies had been increased and so had the ways in which the Russians were making a nuisance of themselves. There were more stoppages on the only railway line into Berlin, with freight wagons being detached because their labels were supposedly incorrect. On the canals, barges loaded with perishable goods were held up for days while their papers were processed at a snail’s pace by the Russian authorities.
    Meanwhile, Intelligence reports warned of more Soviet troops patrolling the zone frontiers.
    In the Officers’ Mess, Tubby Hill shook his head gloomily. ‘They’ve got us by the short and curlies, Michael, and they know it. There’s not a thing we can do.’
    â€˜We can bring in a great deal more stuff by air.’
    â€˜So you said before, dear boy, and again, I say, nowhere near enough. The new runway’s not even finished yet and we can barely handle the present traffic. And the Yanks are no better off. It’s a lost cause.’
    â€˜It’s not like you to give up without a fight, Tubby. You were all for hanging on like grim death.’
    â€˜I’m getting too old for these war games, that’s the truth. I’m ready to settle for a quiet life, pottering about the garden, spraying the roses and doing The Times crossword.’
    â€˜I don’t believe it.’
    â€˜Wait and see. I’ll be first in the queue when they start ferrying us out.’
    â€˜You really think we should leave the Berliners to their fate? Let the Russians just walk in and take over?’
    â€˜Three years ago you were busy bombing the city out of existence, dear boy, and with gusto. They deserved everything they got – those were your very words, I believe.’
    â€˜And I meant them. But this isn’t the same situation at all, Tubby. We won the war and with it the right to be here. If we don’t stand up to the Russians now, where will it end? They won’t just stop at taking Berlin, they’ll want the rest of Germany. And then what next? You said so yourself. The Iron Curtain will be on our doorstep. We’ve got to stay.’
    â€˜I know, but it’s easier said than done. Picture the scene if they choose to blockade us completely. No food, no fuel, no raw