2. Tony's Story.. Freya was in a wicked mood one evening. A blazing fire, a little too much warm vodka and she revealed that she had told all our secrets in a letter to her dear friend Sarah. When I finally convinced Sarah to let me have the letter, years later, it turned out to be just a short biography seen through Freya's eyes. However, it will suffice to tell my story. .................. Darling Sarah, I know it is time I wrote a letter to you and yes, I did say I would tell you about the man who has come into my life, but he has kept me very busy for the past two years since we met! I will tell you about him now. He is wonderful and I love him. Is that all you wanted to know? Perhaps not. All right then. He is twenty-four years old and has a good body and is strong and not afraid of things, but he has a very sensitive mind. He watches people and listens and sees many things others do not. He is so loving to me, and soft when I do not need him to be strong. He cries sometimes. Not really crying, but some tears. It is nice and I wish I could do it. He writes pretty poetry for me sometimes. He came to me first two years ago. He came with the team from Australia and it was his first time in our country. I took my team to the hut one cold, still night expecting more of those American men and that Australian man they were using. I told you what he was like I think. Well, I entered the hut after the others and I saw straight away a man with blond hair and blue eyes standing at the fire with a mug of coffee in his hands. He looked at me and I looked at him and I think we were in love at that moment. His eyes were so strongly looking into me. We stood and talked for a long, long time and then some other things happened: I will not tell you! But I will tell you about him. He had no brothers or sisters and when he was older he went away from home to a boys' school. He was very good at sport I think and so he had a good time at this school. I think he was very interested in girls and sport and his band of musicians, so he did not do very well at being a scholar. He is very funny when he tries to learn my languages. When he left school he went to a big city and fell in love with a girl. They were very good for each other for nearly one year until she died in an accident. He will not talk about this time and I think he is very hurt from it. He understands very well about Jan and so this is the reason. Soon after this he married another girl he had already known and I think this was a big mistake. From what he tells me I think she does not know him at all and they are not very good for each other. This is sad because I think he cares about people a lot. They are together no more when he came to me. Just when they had married he was required to join the Army and went away to a camp. Here he was to be an officer, but very soon he was chosen by the people who organise the teams. They found that he had some skills they need, the ones we use. I cannot tell you. He was pleased with this because he likes an adventure and danger I think. So after some training for more than a year he came to us. He has learnt well and does the work here easily. He is very calm when we work and when there might be danger. I have not seen him get nervous. He is very playful after the work is done and this is such fun. In Australia he has just started his own job building houses and other things to do with this. He employs people and he says the business is very good at the moment. He is very clever at thinking of ways to do things that he wants and he knows how to treat people well so I think he will be a big success. He plays music in clubs and beer places sometimes and I think this is what he would really like to do. What more can I tell you? He is so very good for me and he always makes me so happy and safe. I am very afraid of what will happen to us. I don't think he can come to stay and I don't think I will be able to go to his country. I cannot think about this for now. Now I have told you about my man you must write again and tell me your news. Everything is good for us here now, we are very busy. Love and kisses, Freya. .................. I took a photo from the bookshelf. It was of a pretty, laughing girl. She was just nineteen. It was taken a week before she died. Her name was Suzyanne and we had been desperately in love. It was February of 1966, mid-summer, and we were scuba diving at the entrance to Port Phillip Bay, near Melbourne, from a friend's yacht. It was late afternoon, warm and still. The sea lay smooth all around us. Our four companions were diving for crayfish while we made love on the deck, the power of the sun tempered by the slight haze overhead. When they returned we still wanted to be alone so we decided to dive just once more, by ourselves. But the tide had turned and a huge flood of water was about to rush out of the bay through the narrow rip. We should have felt the boat beginning to strain on the anchor chain. We were too happy and too much in love to notice anything that day. Earlier we had found a large rocky shelf about ten metres down and we swam to this looking for crayfish. As we came close the surging tide threw Suzyanne against the ugly rock face, wedging her firmly. Her arms reached out for me as a stream of bubbles gushed from her damaged equipment. I held myself off the rocks with my feet as I tried to see what was wrong. She had smashed something against the rock and as I tried to look closer she pulled her mouthpiece out to indicate that she was getting no air. I held onto her then and shared my air with her while I tried in vain to pry her loose from the rocks. The last thing I saw before blacking out were those large frightened eyes, magnified in her diving mask. I awoke in hospital and knew we had been saved. As I staggered through the dimly lit corridors I met the nurse whose face told me the terrible news. Our companions came looking for us too late to save Suzyanne but I survived somehow and after a week in hospital my physical recovery was complete. In the hospital her father held me in his arms. His wife had died two years earlier and Suzyanne was his only child. He moved to Western Australia soon after the funeral and I haven't seen him since. Somewhat unfairly, I married an old girlfriend a year later, still in mourning for Suzyanne, so that when the army offered me an exciting diversion I was more than ready. My training, consisting largely of the basics needed to survive in another country without papers or a passport, was concluded in 1968. It had been part-time, and more interesting than useful, but I had none-the-less enjoyed the atmosphere of comradeship, similar to that in the army. That shadowy intelligence agency within an agency now decided to try out my skills in the field. As a result I began the long trek into Central Europe at dawn on a hot February morning in 1969, the third anniversary of Suzyanne's death. ------------------------------------------------