Day of Judgment. Jack Higgins

      It was at the camp in Manchuria that he’d decided he’d had enough after the first month in the coal mine. The indoctrination sessions had given him his opportunity. The chief instructor was crude in the extreme. Easy enough not to contradict, but to reinforce the points he was making. A few days of that and Van Buren was sent for special interrogation during which he made a full and frank confession of his background.

      He was used at first to work as a missionary amongst his fellow prisoners until he came to the attention of the famous Chinese psychologist, Ping Chow, of Peking University, who at that time was making a special study of the behaviour patterns of American prisoners of war. Chow was a Pavlovian by training and his work on the conditioning of human behaviour was already world-famous at an academic level.

      In Van Buren he found a mind totally in tune with his own. The American moved to Peking to research in the psychologydepartment of the university there. There was no question in his own mind now of any return to America.

      Soon enough both the Pentagon and the State Department became uncomfortably aware of his existence, but kept quiet about it for obvious reasons so that he remained on that list of those missing, presumed dead, in Korea.

      By 1959 he was an expert in thought reform and by special arrangement moved to Moscow to lecture at the university there. By 1960 his reputation in the field of what the Press popularly termed ‘brainwashing’ was already legendary. There was not a security department in any Iron Curtain country which had not called upon his services.

      And then, in April 1963, while lecturing at the University of Dresden in the German Democratic Republic, he had received a visit from Helmut Klein, Head of Section Five in the State Security Service.

      Walter Ulbricht closed the file and looked up. ‘There is one flaw in all this.’

      ‘Which is, Comrade Chairman?’

      ‘Professor Van Buren is not, and never has been, a Communist.’

      ‘I agree entirely,’ Klein said. ‘But for our purposes he is, if I may say so, something far more important – a dedicated scientist. He is a man obsessed by his work to an astonishing degree. I have every faith in his ability to accomplish the task we set him.’

      ‘Very well,’ Ulbricht said. ‘Show him in.’

      Klein opened the door and called. ‘Harry

      – in here.’

      Van Buren entered, hands in the pockets of his coat. He stood in front of the desk, that slight, mocking smile set firmly in place.

      ‘You find something amusing?’ Ulbricht enquired.

      ‘My deep regrets, Comrade Chairman,’ Van Buren said. ‘But the smile is beyond my control. A Chinese bayonet in the face at Koto-Ri in Korea in the winter of nineteen-fifty when I was serving with the American Marines. Eight stitches, very badly administered by a medical orderly who didn’t really know much better. He left me looking on the bright side permanently.’

      ‘This Conlin affair,’ Ulbricht said im patiently. ‘You understand the implications?’

      ‘They’ve been explained to me.’

      ‘Then allow me to refresh your memory. Conlin, as you know, stood beside Niemoller in opposition to the Nazis. Went to Dachau for it.’

      ‘And survived,’ Van Buren said. ‘Which means he must be quite a man. I’ve been looking him up. At his trial in nineteen-thirtyeight the Nazis were able to prove that his organization had helped more than six thousand Jews to escape from Germany over a two-year period. The Israelis gave him honorary citizenship two years ago.’

      ‘None of which is material to the present issue,’ Ulbricht said. ‘We have a situation in which thousands of misguided comrades persist in attempting to cross over to West Germany. In the main, they have to rely on the help of organizations based on the other side who operate purely for financial gain.’

      ‘Exactly. This League of the Resurrection of his asks for nothing.’

      ‘Very charitable of them.’

      ‘Which unfortunately makes for excellent publicity,’ Klein said. ‘It has made Conlin a celebrity again. He was featured on the front of Life magazine in America only four months ago. Last year he was recommended for a Nobel peace prize and had to turn it down because the Church didn’t approve.’

      ‘I should imagine that must have been the first time in years he took any notice of the Vatican,’ Van Buren commented.

      Ulbricht said, ‘You know that President Kennedy visits Berlin next month?’

      ‘I had heard.’

      Ulbricht was angry now, removed his glasses and polished them vigorously. A dedicated Communist of the old school, he had managed to prevent, in East Germany at any rate, the de-Stalinization movement which had swept Eastern Europe after the death of the Russian dictator. There was no one he hated more than the present American president, especially since his triumph in the Cuban crisis.

      ‘If it could be proved in a public trial that Father Conlin’s actions were motivated not so much by Christian ideals as by political ones, if he could be made to admit to the world his involvement with the American CIA and their espionage activities directed against our Republic; this would have the most damaging effect on Kennedy’s visit to Berlin. It would, in fact, make it totally worthless as a diplomatic gesture.’

      ‘I understand.’

      ‘For God’s sake, man.’ Ulbricht was almost angry now. ‘Rats in cages, dogs oozing saliva at the sound of a bell. I know as much of this Pavlovian psychology as anyone, but can you really change a man? Make him act like a different person? Because that’s what we need. Conlin to stand up in court before the cameras of the world and freely admit to having been a political agent acting for the Western powers.’

      ‘Comrade,’ Harry Van Buren said crisply, ‘I could make the Devil himself think he was Christ walking on the water, given enough time.’

      ‘Which is exactly what we don’t have,’ Klein said. ‘The problem of the Campbell girl and her knowledge of the affair has solved itself, but there will be others. Conlin’s associates in this League of Resurrection will be aware, within a matter of days, that something has gone badly wrong.’ He hesitated, then said carefully to Ulbricht, ‘And then, of course, Comrade, there are certain traitors in our own ranks still …’

      ‘I know that, man, I’m not a fool,’ Ulbricht said impatiently. ‘What you are saying is that there are those in the West who will discover what’s happened and attempt to do something about it?’ He shook his head. ‘Not officially, believe me. The Americans are heavily concerned to improve relations with Russia at the moment and Pope John’s attempts to come to terms with the Eastern bloc speak for themselves. And what can they say? Conlin has simply ceased to exist. After all, he shouldn’t have been here in the first place, should he?’

      He actually permitted himself a smile.

      ‘Of course, Comrade,’ Klein said.

      ‘I have every confidence in your ability to deal with any such attempts with your usual efficiency, Colonel.’

      There was a slight silence. Ulbricht adjusted his glasses and said to Van Buren, ‘You have a month. One month, that’s all, before Kennedy’s visit. You have those papers, Colonel Klein?’ Klein produced a sheaf of documents instantly and laid them before Ulbricht, who took out his pen and signed them, one after the other.

      ‘These give you full authority, civil and military, in the district of Neustadt where Conlon is being held at the Schloss. Power of life and death, total and complete, Comrade. See that you use it wisely.’

      Van Buren took them from him without a word and Klein came forward with the Chairman’s coat as Ulbricht stood up. He helped him into it, then escorted him to the door.

      Ulbricht turned, looking from one to the other. ‘When I was a boy,