The hotel manager led his guests to the table in the breakfast room, which was prepared with a red tablecloth and decorated with palm trees in clay pots. On the table were already freshly baked flatbreads, various spreads as well as wonderfully fragrant cinnamon puff pastries. When everyone was seated, staff served hot coffee in small copper pots. "We roast the coffee ourselves." the hotel manager opened his exuberant presentation of the various dishes.

Couples sat at each of four other tables, talking quietly and taking no notice of the group. "And finally, let me present you with a special surprise that expresses the temperament of our revolutionaries in culinary terms." At a flick, an employee brought a trolley and flambéed crêpes Suzettes before their eyes.

Johann, who had slept superbly in the soft four-poster bed, felt his high spirits strengthened even more by this further intoxication for the senses. He nibbled on the cinnamon delicacies before the crêpes and drank two cups of coffee. The profusion of colours, the hot humid air and the unusually colourful clothes he was wearing made him feel like he was living through a dream.

Aleksandra, on the other hand, had not slept half the night. Too many questions had run through her mind: How safe were they here? What was the status of the coup? How long would it take for the radio station in the north to get the order to look for them? What about General Schelepin? In any case, a good plan had to be made quickly in order to leave the island immediately if necessary. And to inform Schelepin that the group was not in Weimar but in Zanzibar, almost seven thousand kilometres further south. For Aleksandra had no idea whether the general had been informed of the new whereabouts by Oberstärztin Bogenza; after all, the doctor worked in a different department. Nevertheless, appearances had to be kept up. And who knows, perhaps the local encounters might not be uninteresting for the time after the coup.

"We would like to visit the city today. Should we pay attention to anything?" she therefore asked the director. He thought about it for a moment, took a sip of coffee and replied, "Basically, it's always a good start for tourists to take a tour in a horse-drawn carriage. I can send for one if you like. As a woman, they are dressed just right, floor-length and with their shoulders covered. In the more traditional parts of town it is still customary to wear a headscarf as well."

Johann was reminded by this reference of the memorable evening at the Moscow opera and then at the Turkish embassy, which had consciously shown him Aleksandra as a beautiful woman for the first time. At the same time, he quickly banished the memory of that evening, especially since he could not remember how he had got home from the embassy.

"There is something you must be aware of today after all, I had quite forgotten; or rather repressed, because it is actually an impertinence: the British consul's wife died in a riding accident last week and is being buried today."

Johann stopped eating for a moment, "But what should be cheeky about a funeral."

And with a glance at Aleksandra, he added, "It can, after all, be done as an expression of honour to the deceased and the continuation of his projects in the next generation, as was very nicely shown by the funeral of the deputy prime minister of Thuringia, Otto Nuschke, this year at the beginning of March."

The director shook his head: "Excuse me, but the situation here is more serious than in the safe Thuringian East. The consul has insisted that his wife be laid out in his house. In our climate, that is already very risky and at the same time a provocation for the Sultan, whose religion prescribes a funeral on the same day - which is also quite wise from a materialistic point of view. But now the consul has demanded that his wife be given a burial in the Catholic cemetery next to the convent of the Benedictine nuns."

Aleksandra and Johann listened up at the same time. Johann asked, "There is a Catholic church in Zanzibar?"

The director was annoyed at the interruption to his indignant remarks but did not want to appear rude to his guest.

"Yes, that is amazing. During the time of the Portuguese occupation, many pious communes were established up and down the country. Only this collection of crazy women has lasted in the capital; twenty-eight nuns who at least run a hospital there and don't just sing Latin chants all day and do nothing else."

To save Johann from further anti-Catholic tirades, Aleksandra tried to turn the subject back to the funeral. The director nodded gratefully, "Yes, and then the consul not only has the funeral postponed until his nephew comes over from England, who is a Catholic priest, no, he also arranges for his wife's coffin to be taken in procession from his residence to the cemetery, right through the city. Therefore, part of the traffic is blocked, part of the police is deployed to protect this procession."

Aleksandra tried to see the scandalous thing about it. As if he could read her mind, the director explained, "It's not about this religious spectacle at all. The British just want to show once again that they can get away with anything here. 'British consul and military advisor to the Sultan', such a ridiculous thing, in reality that fat British pig is the real regent of Zanzibar. But hopefully that will be the last humiliation. With your support...'" he turned familiarly to Aleksandra, who tilted her head reservedly, "And of course yours..." he added, looking at Johann, "we will soon get rid of these British. And then the Sultan can decide whether to go the way of progress or flee back to his Arab ancestors."

The conversation then moved to the possibilities of increasing agricultural production with the help of land reform, to the fruits growing in Zanzibar, and finally to the exchange of petty pleasantries about the quality of the hotel and the ingenuity of the curtain design.

When the group finally stood outside the hotel to explore the town, Johann turned to Aleksandra: "I know my request is presumptuous, but since we couldn't do anything useful today anyway, I'd like to go to that monastery. If the funeral there offered the opportunity for me to take part in the service, I would be very happy."

Aleksandra mused, "So you want to go there, watch the ritual and then eat this thin white bread?"

Johann shook his head, "No, I can't go to communion today because I've already had breakfast. But attending mass is important to me even without that perfection."

Aleksandra wondered if there was anything against it. In the end, she actually liked the idea. If Johann was distracted by going to church, she would have time to contact Moscow and visit some other communists on the spot. If Johann didn't know everyone, there was also less danger of him betraying someone, intentionally or unintentionally. "But please keep a low profile. I will explore the city with Leonid and plan our possible onward journey. Thomas will accompany you."

The familiar smell of incense, stale floral water and burnt candle wax brought back memories in Johann of the matter-of-factness with which he had been in a church or chapel every day until three months ago. Thomas had sat down next to him at the back of the lush baroque monastery church. Next to the chancel, at the front right, was a grille with a curtain behind which - as Johann explained to Thomas - the nuns sat so as not to be seen and yet be able to witness the mass.

Thomas also had thoughts running through his head in the oppressively dark church room. He thought back and forth and finally plucked up the courage to approach Johann: "Could I confess something to you?"

Johann, inwardly preparing himself for the service that had to begin soon, replied, "Basically, I don't have jurisdiction over this area, so not really."

Thomas was confused, "I don't understand that."

Johann considered how to explain the complicated system of ecclesiastical jurisdiction, but then discarded the elaborate version: "If there is danger of death, you can always confess to me. I should be dressed differently; and we should go to a confessional, but the present situation has something quite life-threatening about it. So if it is particularly important to you, we can stay here after the service. I will hear your confession then."

The sign of the small bell next to the sacristy exit invited all present to stand up. The large church door was opened. Behind a black lectern cross followed the coffin covered with a black velvet cloth, behind it some altar boys and a priest in a black pluviale. Behind them walked a stout elderly gentleman with a conspicuous whisker, with about fifty people dressed in black behind him.

Johann, who had no particular interest in the funeral procession, was already about to take the kneeling posture in which he usually followed the mass, when suddenly a voice startled him. There was no way he recognised the voice of the priest who was chanting three prayers. Following more the attitude of the others, he knelt down. As he did so, he noticed that very few of the mourners were also kneeling; most were sitting down. These will probably be Anglicans who want to stand by the Consul in this difficult hour, but do not attend a Catholic service. But the priest. Could it be possible?

Johann regretted sitting so far back. Following the usual procedure, Johann could only see the priest's back until the end of the service. Although he was completely focused on the service, Johann's thoughts kept wandering. Only at the end of the service would he get another chance to see the priest up close. Finally, the procession with the coffin started moving again, heading for the cemetery.

Yes, no doubt about it, it was James, his fellow student from Rome. James had never said anything about his uncle being a consul. On the contrary, he had often and frequently castigated the discrimination against Catholics in Britain, where by law any higher office was forbidden to Catholics.

When the funeral procession had left the church, Johann wanted to get up and follow it. He really needed to talk to James. Thomas stood up as well, but looked confused, "Why don't we go somewhere else?"

Johann remembered that Thomas wanted to confess something. He was torn. Should he follow the old friend who, as the nephew of the British consul, could possibly help him out of here immediately? Or was his first duty to be there as a pastor for a supplicant?

Johann hesitated only briefly and then sat down, "I usually sit while you kneel." Thomas knelt down and began, "I haven't been to confession for a long time. And actually, there is only one thing I really regret: I'm engaged to a very nice, devoted woman. When I will have come back after my deployment, we were going to get married. And now I've cheated on her completely senselessly."

Johann had heard this kind of thing so many times before, but with Thomas he was somehow personally sorry. He had actually thought the young sergeant was shy. Perhaps he had also been so sympathetic to him because he had found a certain kindred spirit in him: someone who lived entirely to his profession and whose private life was rather stunted. Now he not only had a fiancée, but also a mistress. But Johann had to separate his personal considerations from his professional task here. He spoke to Thomas without looking at him: "Since you are not yet married, it is not adultery. Nevertheless, it is a sin because you have slept with a woman to whom you are not married. You have made a moral commitment to her. If she possibly conceives a child by you..."

"It was Leonid. I slept with Leonid. Twice."

Johann took a deep breath. That didn't just complicate matters; that confused him completely. He had been working with Leonid every day for over three months and he would never have noticed...wait...how could anyone notice that he was sleeping with men. Whereby, hadn't that maid also slept with him? What should he say to Thomas now: that it would be more harmless because at least there was no danger of it being a real, emotional relationship, but only fleeting lust? Johann decided on a pragmatic solution: "As I said, you have not committed adultery. And under these circumstances, there is no danger that a woman could have conceived a child by you, nor that you will try to establish a permanent relationship. You repent of a mistake once repeated, which you will not commit again. You will marry your fiancée as promised. And as penance, you will..." Johann pondered. Some prayers seemed inadequate to him in the face of the burden that what he had said must mean for Thomas. And the marriage of the betrothed could hardly be counted as penance. "For your penance, as soon as you are back in Austria, you will go on pilgrimage to Mariazell on foot and without staying in an inn. And you will co-operate with Leonid without further rancour."

The confession had now also explained to Johann the noticeable tension between Leonid and Thomas, which he had not understood until now. After all, the two had seemed to him to be good friends when they were still on the train to Moscow. Thomas sighed, both strained and relieved. The advantage of this ritual was that one could feel better by doing penance. True, it would be easier to go to Mariazell three times than to work with Leonid as if nothing had ever happened, but somehow that was now an order. Carrying it out was not his wish. Secretly, Thomas also knew that despite all the disappointment and also the question about his fiancée, he still cared a lot about Leonid.

Johann said the formula of absolution and then knelt down as well: "I will pray for strength for you. And also for myself, because I too will have to live with this knowledge now and work with you both. But you need not worry, I am absolutely bound by the seal of confession. Aleksandra will not find out about this."

Thomas sat down, "Oh, that's no problem, she caught us together, the day before yesterday at the hotel. That's also the reason why I'm on this trip: I had spent the night at Leonid's. And Aleksandra had told him all about the coup and the evacuation before she noticed me. Leonid stopped her from shooting me." Johann was puzzled, but remained kneeling, "And she didn't think anything of you both being men?"

No sooner had Johann uttered the question than he bit his lips. He did not want to speak disparagingly of sodomists in any way.

After Johann and Thomas had gone towards the church, Aleksandra turned to Leonid: "The best thing to do is to ask the hotel manager for addresses of comrades with whom we will then make mock contact in order to make our mission appear as credible as possible. At the same time, we must try to find out as much as possible about what is going on in Moscow."

Leonid was again amazed at her professionalism. Embarrassment was not a feeling he was familiar with, but yesterday's encounter with her, which had unexpectedly ended for him on the bench in the living room, still gave him no peace. Should he apologise for the offer he had made her? Or, which would probably impress her more, should he get her attention by being more eager to work. For really, he was not used to receiving a rebuff.

"I have already today checked all the daily newspapers that were available in English and German for relevant news. There is not the slightest hint of a coup in Moscow or anywhere else in the world. The headlines are mainly made by the blocking of the Panama Canal by Colombian troops, the Tunisian emirate's struggle for independence from France and the establishment of the International Atomic Energy Agency. I see two ways to get information: We could contact Moscow directly through the hotel manager or Lieutenant Lamprin. Then there are two possibilities: Either our side has put down the coup and we are recalled immediately. On the other hand, if the other side has won, then we may face immediate execution. Your rank should be impressive enough for the lieutenant to bypass the radio interdiction."

Aleksandra shook her head, "Just sending an extraordinary radio message and even a coded demand for political stability in the Soviet Union would certainly be noticed by the British, possibly also by the Sultan, who would pass this information on to Salala and Istanbul in a scalding manner."

Leonid had also prepared an alternative proposal but hesitated to voice it. On the other hand, after all, it was not only the safety of their small group that was at stake, but also the big question of the future direction of socialism. With a mixture of feigned lightness and sincere seriousness, he therefore suggested: "There's probably only one way to send a message from the island that won't be intercepted by the British."

Aleksandra considered but could not for the life of her imagine what Leonid was getting at.

"We need to contact Moscow from the British consulate. I can imagine that under certain circumstances a member of the consulate staff could be obtained. Or at least would be distracted enough that you could phone Moscow."

Aleksandra was as indignant as she was surprised at the suggestion: "I always thought your talent lay in translation work, but somehow you manage to make useful things and things that are pleasant for you stand out in such a way that it could really work. But there is not much time, today is already Tuesday, in three days we have to be sure at the latest. In one case we can return carefree, in the other we must leave the island before our comrades hunt us down."

Leonid grinned, "If I put my mind to it, I won't need half a day."

Alexandra only thought for a moment before agreeing, "Good, then you will try to get us access to the British Consulate and a secure line, I will meet our contacts. I'll invite them to dinner at the hotel so we can talk in peace.

Johann was still considering what to reply when a black-clad Benedictine woman with a pectoral cross approached him accompanied by a young nun. In strange English that had a strong German accent, she addressed Johann and Thomas: "I must now ask you to leave. According to the laws of the land, the abbey church may only be open for the time of the service. I ask for your understanding."

Was there some annoyance in the abbess's gaze at the colourful attire, which was totally inappropriate for a funeral? Did she think Johann and Thomas were two lost tourists? Johann was glad of the interruption on the one hand, and on the other, he wondered if there was still a way to get to James.

"Reverend Mother, we are sorry we did not know." He stood up and bowed to her. "We heard there was a service here, and being Catholic, we wanted to take advantage of this unique opportunity."

The elderly nun's face brightened and she switched to German, "A compatriot from Austria? Can that be?" Johann winced briefly, "Yes, my name is Johann Erath, I come from Lower Austria."

For a moment the elderly nun lost her dignified bearing and squeezed Johann's hand in greeting. "I am Abbess Maria Barbara, this is Sister Maria Julia. I come from Carinthia, Sister Maria Julia is also a Lower Austrian. Sr Maria Julia, welcome our guest!" Sister Maria Julia, who had been standing in the background listening attentively until now, also extended her hand to Johann with a smile. Johann introduced Thomas to the two as his travelling companion, and he too was warmly welcomed. "Sister Maria Julia will close the church door; but it would give me such great pleasure to invite you to our guest room for some coffee and cake. It is so seldom that friends from Austria stray here."

Johann saw his chance had come, and while Thomas still stood there undecided, Johann stepped onto the central aisle of the church in front of the abbess. "The honour is almost too great and we are not dressed appropriately, but it would be fascinating to hear from you about the situation of the Catholics here in Zanzibar. And about your monastery, and why you came here as Austrians. And perhaps," Johann took advantage of the abbess's increased joy, "Is it also possible to speak briefly with your chaplain, who has just celebrated the Requiem?"

Abruptly the Abbess's face darkened. Sister Maria Julia had meanwhile rejoined the group after blocking the gate at the back. The Abbess said, "Yes, you can also speak to Fr Booker. However, he is not our chaplain. He has come all the way to Zanzibar for his aunt's funeral. He is staying at the British Consulate, but he will come back to the sacristy to change here. In the meantime, I will prepare the coffee. Sister Maria Julia will wait here with you."

Slightly scowling, the Abbess walked out of the church through a side door. Johann turned to Sister Maria Julia, "Have I upset the Mother Abbess by my request?"

Sister Maria Julia invited with a wave of her hand to go towards the sacristy and replied, "No, it is only the great effort that has been made for the funeral that is a burden for our monastery: you will surely soon realise that Zanzibar is inhabited by a majority of Muslims, who for centuries have always perceived Christians in their country only as conquerors and oppressors. It is not so much the clear religious differences that make living together difficult, but the social disparity. This funeral blocking half the city is not helping to improve our situation here."

Johann began to understand the situation, but still asked, "How come the British Consul is a Catholic?"

Sister Maria Julia replied, "He is not, he is a member of the English state church like all senior British officials. Only his wife was a Catholic. They had obtained a dispensation for this marriage thanks to his diplomatic connections. It was the first time he had entered this church. His late wife, on the other hand, was with us every Sunday." While Thomas began to look at the various paintings and statues in the church with half interest, Johann continued asking, "How is it that you speak German or came here from Austria?"

"After the conquest of Zanzibar by the Arabs, the Portuguese monasteries were initially left standing, but came down more and more. This convent was fortunate that in 1743, when there were only 5 nuns left here, a Habsburg Duchess left Spain with eight friends to start the simple monastic life here. She naturally became head of the convent at the next election as Abbess Maria Emmanuela. Since that time there have also been nuns from Austria here regularly. Until the First World War it was also easier to get German-speaking sisters from the neighbouring Tanganyika country; now the situation is much more difficult. For in addition to the established rule of the Sultan, who simply tolerates us, and the indirect support of the British Consul, there has also been increased communist activity on the island recently. The Mother Abbess fears that the trouble over the funeral could be grist to the mill of communist and Muslim enemies of the Catholics. If these two groups were to unite at some point, it would look bad not only for British supremacy but also for the continued existence of our monastery."

At these remarks, Thomas had also become alert. If at first he had thought these two women, who despite the heat were hidden in floor-length black robes and a veil completely enveloping their faces, were unworldly and aloof, now his picture changed. He addressed Sister Maria Julia: "You know quite a lot about the conditions here in the country. Do you get around a bit? Do you get your information from trips into town?"

A smile flitted across Sister Maria Julia's face, "Of course not! We nuns never leave the convent grounds. But many come to our hospital. We look after sick people here from all groups, whether they are black or white, Arab or African, British or German. We don't ask about religious affiliation either, because Jesus Christ is always present to us in the least of these."

Thomas recalled that the hotel manager had spoken with great conviction that only Catholics were treated here. Was he ill-informed? Or was it deliberate misinformation, well-suited to bad-mouthing religious women?

A noise from the vestry interrupted the conversation. "Father Booker has returned. Please wait here, I will bring him in."

No sooner had Sister Maria Julia left than Thomas turned to Johann, "I understand we are talking to the Austrian nuns; but what is the point of talking to a British priest?"

Johann replied, "James is a fellow student of mine from Rome! Perhaps this is a golden opportunity, with his help through the Consul, to get Aleksandra, Leonid and both of us out of this country without harming anyone."

Johann was almost childishly pleased that for the first time since this adventure in Russia had begun, he could also contribute a clever idea. Yes, perhaps this island with its climate, its food, its music and its colours really was beginning to make someone out of him who would outgrow the parochial scholar.

But Thomas interrupted Johann's complacency: "That's an excellent idea: we'll just tell the British consul in Zanzibar that we've landed with a Soviet major general at the communists' secret airport and ask him for some new passports to fly to Austria!"

Johann nodded, "Yes, that's exactly how I imagined it!"

Thomas frowned. Johann was incredibly well-read and educated in so many things, but sometimes he lacked the simplest common sense, "Aleksandra will never agree to her identity being revealed. Leonid and she would lose everything if they ran away with us to the West at this delicate stage. And I don't know Aleksandra, but Leonid is defiantly a one hundred per cent communist who follows his party with as much fervour as his adventures. Voluntarily, he would never desert or flee."

Johann was brought back down to earth by this simple statement. It was true, he had not thought about how Aleksandra and Leonid would then go on in Austria. No matter who came to power in the Soviet Union, it had to look to everyone as if the two had taken the opportunity to escape their system. "But maybe we can inform someone through the consulate that we are here? Or request assistance? We don't have to say anything about Aleksandra and Leonid. The two of them can then decide for themselves whether they want to come along. And if the right side wins the coup, we can simply return to Moscow," Johann tried to save a few fragments of his ingenious plan.

Thomas didn't have time to answer because a man in a black gown but with unusually long hair first approached them slowly, then looked and finally embraced Johann warmly: "John, John? How did you get to Zanzibar?" only now did he also notice Thomas and greeted him, "Hello, I'm James Booker. John and I study together in Rome." And without leaving Johann out, he extended his hand to Thomas in greeting. Immediately he spoke further to Johann: "You've been away from one day to the next. Where have you been?"

Sister Maria Julia cleared her throat. James took the hint, "She doesn't want us to continue talking in the church." James formally pulled Johann into the sacristy, not without both of them genuflecting to the altar as they left the church. Thomas and Sister Mary Julia also followed the two.

While Johann was still thinking about how he could use this meeting to get Thomas and himself to safety at the same time without endangering Aleksandra and Leonid, James was already bubbling away in the sacristy: "How long are you going to be here? Unfortunately, I have to go to the reception at the consulate, which my uncle is giving on the occasion of the funeral. But we could meet there tomorrow. I'll introduce you to the consul and then we'll have lunch together. Of course, your companion is also welcome."

Thomas nodded to Johann, who gladly accepted the invitation, "When should we be there?" James considered for a moment, "Come at twelve. Dinner is always served at one, so we have a whole hour to see the house and speak to my uncle." He was already about to say goodbye with another hug when he looked Johann up and down: "Tell me, John, what are you wearing? The nerd who even in summer never sat in the garden in the sun without a suit and a closed shirt, now in a casual look? You know me, I'm generally much more relaxed about that, but in view of the death as well, I'd ask that you come dressed a little more discreetly tomorrow."

After saying goodbye, Sister Maria Julia led Johann and Thomas to the prepared coffee in the visiting room, which was furnished with somewhat worn baroque furniture. On the way, Thomas said to Johann: "Tomorrow's visit will be fine. Maybe we can phone from the embassy. Then we could ask how things are at home."

Sister Maria Julia shook her head, "The island is not connected to the mainland with a telephone cable. Not yet, the work started this year but won't be finished for two years. With our phones, you can only make calls within the island. But there is also no public telegraph station. Only in the palace and in the British and Turkish consulates are there telegraph stations, which can be used during opening hours from 10-12 am and 14-15 pm according to the instructions of the embassy staff. These are the only ways to get news from the island when it has to be quicker than by post." Unless you use the Soviet station in the north, Thomas thought.

While the two sisters ended up asking a whole barrage of questions about life in Austria and besides telling interesting things about the social situation on the island, Thomas thought about how to use the stay at the consulate to send a message to Austria. If the times given by Mother Maria Barbara were correct, then it would also be lunch time for the staff of the telegraph station when he and Johann would be at the embassy. It should be possible to gain access to the station and send a telegram to Vienna. But to whom? Not to a military office, because surely at least the Sultan's secret service and the Turkish, if not the Soviet secret service, were monitoring the outgoing telegrams.

The hotel manager had invited five members of the secret communist party. Now the men looked at Aleksandra with wide eyes. The men sat on deep wicker armchairs while the director stood next to Aleksandra. He had offered her the high armchair behind his massive desk. The curtains were closed and from a drawer he took out a small flag stand with the Soviet flag, which he placed in front of Aleksandra.

She played high poker. Of course she knew the basics about the support mission in Zanzibar, but Africa and the Middle East were not her speciality. During the flight, she had talked innocuously with the pilot, who had told her something about the frequency and nature of the supply flights. But the seating arrangement was perfectly chosen, so she could appear as an authority figure despite her whimsical holiday attire. She turned first to the hotel manager: "Do the comrades understand Russian, or do I have to speak English?" She deliberately put sharpness into the question to exclude any questioning of her authority.

The hotel manager looked around and then wiped his forehead with a white cloth handkerchief. Finally he replied: "Unfortunately, it has not yet been possible for us to sufficiently learn the wonderful language of the big brother people. I ask for Arabic or English."

Aleksandra nodded and continued in the unfamiliar language. She began with an introduction about the centrality of labour solidarity across every language, colour and continental boundary, continued with remarks about the support given so far, and then put the question to the group about what the concrete plans or wishes were for the Soviet Union.

The men, who had at first looked sceptically at the woman in the low-cut red blouse and dark green silk wrap-around skirt, were surprised at her precise explanations and the purposefulness of her questions.

The hotel manager began, and the more the conversation developed, the more Aleksandra had to pull herself together to just take notes and not shout: These so-called 'revolutionaries' were, en masse, economically disadvantaged entrepreneurs who suffered at the hands of the Arab upper class or the British merchant houses. Their expectation of the Soviet Union was an expulsion of the British and control of the Sultan, spiced with African patriotism and the notion, as naïve as it was brutal, that the one-off feat of expelling or murdering all collaborators would destroy the British informal system of rule at a stroke. The hotel manager, noting Aleksandra's scepticism, added: "Of course, if suitable people were made available for this, one could simply target and eliminate the authoritative representatives of the British and their allies." In his opinion, the mass of the population would then immediately side with the revolutionaries. The Sultan would be forced to revoke the right of residence of the British and expel them from the country.

Aleksandra briefly considered whether she should use this conversation, which she was actually only having in order to maintain her cover, to introduce a structure and above all some rules into this revolutionary process. She spoke for these people here with the voice of almost unlimited power, probably these men would take every one of her suggestions as an order and implement it with their possibilities. Was it fair to take advantage of the good faith of these people? She would leave this island on Friday one way or another and probably never return here, so why interfere? On the other hand, there was a duty for every socialist to assist every comrade to the best of their ability and to promote the victory of socialism not only in their own country, but in every place where an opportunity arose.

Aleksandra decided to arrange another meeting for the next evening. By then she would have sifted through the proposals and prepared concrete answers. At least she could buy some time. Perhaps there would also be news from home by then.

Leonid whistled merrily the tune of the classic Katyusha as he strolled back to the hotel late that evening. The British secretary hadn't needed even a fraction of his seduction resources until she had already trustingly shown him the city. Good, luck was on his side, because on leaving the consulate he had mimed the help-seeking tourist to her. As soon as Leonid had found out that the girl worked at the telegraph station, he began to wrap her around his finger. Using the simple as well as effective method of simply giving women a chance to talk themselves out, she had not only shown him around the old town a bit, after the subsequent coffee he had invited her to, it had inevitably come to her taking him to her flat. Everything else had been pleasant, if not particularly remarkable, routine. She had told him about the difficulty with British diplomatic service men. And African or Arab men would, after all, be out of the question for her as a British woman. It was always the same with these kinds of women.

The visit ended with the charming announcement that Leonid wanted to take her out for lunch the next day. So it was clear that he had to be at the consulate at noon. Since she would then be travelling with him, Aleksandra could, with a little skill, use the telegraph station at her leisure. It would certainly be wise to follow the lunch with another little chat, so that they really wouldn't get back to the consulate until just before four o'clock. That was no problem for Leonid, because when he used his body for an assignment, the one-time rule did not apply, of course.