Brandenburg (45 page)

‘Is Biermeier working for the KGB?’

She looked genuinely startled. ‘He doesn’t like the Russians any more than the Americans. His father was killed by them in the defence of Berlin.’

‘And you’re sure he’s told you everything?’

‘Yes. The whole point, the whole brilliance of Biermeier’s plan was to get the West to do all the dirty work for him. There would be no need to involve the Russians.’

They had travelled about twenty miles under the wide Saxony sky and had passed several military trucks going in the same direction, but now there was almost no traffic on the road. The flat, featureless countryside seemed already resigned to winter. About thirty miles from Leipzig they filled up with petrol and bought a couple of cups of black coffee from a man with a drooping gallic moustache who, seeing their Leipzig number plate, was curious to hear news from the city. No, Ulrike replied: with all the rumours of violence they had kept well away from the demonstrations. The man congratulated them for their good sense. There were too many troublemakers in the country and it would be a good thing if they were all put on trains and sent out of the GDR.

‘The old solution,’ said Rosenharte, without the man noticing the edge in his voice.

He took the wheel and after criss-crossing the countryside and trying several tracks, they found a turning which he thought looked promising because recent tyre ruts had been left by a large truck. He pushed the Wartburg gingerly into an area of scrub, birch trees and wild cherry. Several rabbits shot across their path and Ulrike cried out when she saw the white hindquarters of a deer flash in the undergrowth. The track ahead of them rose gradually to a hillock surrounded by trees. They swung right, then left, and glimpsed part of a wooden roof, at which point he pulled up and turned the car round so that it faced the direction they had just come. They got out and approached the top of the mound through the trees, stopping to listen several times before reaching a plateau of dead grass in front of a farmhouse. A wooden fence enclosed this space, and at the southern end there was a rusty iron gate, hanging into the yard on one hinge. By the tyre marks and flattened grass they saw that several vehicles had been there. Rosenharte turned through three quarters of a circle to look at the roads leading to the farmhouse. They came from four directions, one from a large beech forest that bordered the estate to the south-west. The important point was that each route was hidden from the others. If they kept watch, they would stand a very good chance of escape were they to be cornered there.

The house itself was in worse repair than Rosenharte remembered from his night visit. The windows were rotten and the roof looked near collapse in one or two places. They entered by slipping the latch with his camping knife. There were signs not just of the recent occupation by Harland’s team, but one which predated it. Someone had lived there up until a year or two before, judging by the old packets of food on the shelves which had clearly been disturbed by mice. They unpacked their food and a few other items from the car, then concealed them in some bushes just off the road that led into the beech forest. No rain had fallen in this part of the country and Rosenharte suggested they make a meal in the open rather than use the stove inside the house. That way he could keep an eye on the amount of smoke they were producing. He made a fire using dry kindling found at the side of the house and they sat on an old bench together, sharing a bottle of beer and devouring the contents of several cans, which they heated in the pans. Rosenharte dispersed the smoke by fanning it with a piece of board.

He knew very well that Ulrike was still hiding a lot from him, but unless this had a direct relevance to Konrad, he wasn’t interested. The only thing that mattered now was collecting the documents from Vladimir, getting to Berlin and handing them over to the British. He touched her on the shoulder, then took her chin in his hand to turn her face towards him.

‘I find myself in an odd position,’ he told her. ‘I’ve fallen for someone who’s lied to me about the most important thing in my life.’ He stopped and looked into her eyes, trying to plumb the depths of her deceit. ‘Lie to me again on this, Ulrike, and I will not answer for my actions. If there’s anything you know that is relevant to Konrad, I want to hear it now.’

She shook her head and said there was nothing more. A minute or two of silence followed and then she pointed to a small pink bird that had shot up from the scrub below the hillock and perched at the top of a clump of hazel nearby.

‘A male rosefinch,’ he said. ‘It will fly all the way across the Ukraine and Iran to India in the next few weeks.’

‘You’re migrating the other way.’

‘I want you to come with me.’

‘One day, maybe, when there are no travel restrictions. But I am staying here. I want to see it through. Last night was just the beginning. We have to keep up the pressure.’

‘But Ulrike, you’re on the run. Not for a petty transgression, but for spying. That’s a mandatory death sentence. Spies don’t even get a court appearance. After they’ve beaten you and got everything they want they kill you. The last thing you’ll feel is the barrel of the gun behind your ear. A fraction of a second later a bullet enters your brain. Then they burn your body and dispose of the ashes down the drain. You’re eliminated, no longer even reviled by the state.’

‘Don’t, Rudi.’

‘For you, a trusted informant and sometime member of the Stasi, they will reserve the most savage treatment. Because you haven’t just betrayed the GDR but the state within a state - the Ministry for State Security.’

She was agitated and her cheeks were flushed. ‘You don’t seem to understand what happened last night. It’s the beginning of the end. People will demonstrate all over the GDR because it’s not just in Leipzig that they hate the system. There are groups springing up in every city. We have contacts with them.’

‘If that’s true, there’s all the more reason for you to keep yourself safe until Honecker goes. But that could be months - maybe years. Come with me to the West when I take Konrad out. You’ll be welcomed as a hero now that they’ve got the Arab. That means they’ll find you an apartment and a job and give you money. They are already housing Else and the kids.’ He took out his wallet and showed her the picture that Harland had given him.

‘The sons look like you,’ she said.

‘That’s hardly surprising. Konrad and I are identical. Well, we
were
identical. He’s lost weight and he looks older than I do now. But we’ll get him the best treatment and see if we can’t restore him to what he was.’ He was aware of the emotion in his voice and glanced away.

It began to spot with rain. They went inside the farmhouse and drank beer at the table, looking through the open door at the rain and talking with a familiarity that surprised both of them.

Later Rosenharte noticed some gas cylinders in the corner of the kitchen, looked for an appliance to go with them, but found nothing. He fiddled with an old cast-iron stove to see if he could get it burning when night fell and the smoke would not be seen. Both kept an eye on the tracks and the road across the fields to the north of them. Very little traffic passed on this road, and in the fields there was no sign of activity. They were alone and could remain undetected for the next few days. He knew he’d have to break cover to make phone calls to Vladimir and Harland, but for the present there was no need to move. When the sun came out to give them a warm autumn afternoon, they sat out front and he whittled the end of a piece of hazel wood into a crude-looking bird, which he gave her.

Their farmhouse was still supplied with electricity, but the light fittings had been stolen, along with the mattress from the bed, the sinks and lavatories. Even the taps had been taken and the pipes sealed. But outside water sputtered from a faucet and using this they made a meal of pasta with a sauce of cheese and mushrooms that she’d dried and preserved in an old tin. They drank one of the two bottles of wine they had and toasted recent events. She sat down on their makeshift bed, which mostly consisted of Rosenharte’s sleeping bag and some clothes, and began to undress in the light from the open mouth of the stove. Rosenharte watched her, then did likewise and kneeled and held her, seeing again the look of wonder mixed with uncertainty in her eyes.

They slept until midnight when they both awoke to the sound of a phone - not the bell they were used to, but an electronic trill that was coming from beneath the stairs. Rosenharte pulled on his trousers and went with the torch to investigate. He found a bulky white telephone inside a cupboard under the stairway, picked up the handset and listened.

‘Is that Prince?’

‘Yes.’ Rosenharte recognized Harland’s voice.

‘Glad you found the set. The news is very good. The package proved more than we expected. We’re very pleased. Everything’s set for Friday. Owing to the high-grade information we now have we want to make sure Kafka comes with you. It’s no longer safe for anyone connected to this business to remain
in situ
. During the removal we were disturbed by certain parties and we now believe the situation’s extremely volatile. You understand what I’m saying? Kafka must come with you.’

‘We know about the problem. That’s why we’re here.’

‘Glad you’ve taken action. Our feeling is that everything’s blown. The parties who disturbed us will understand all the implications. They’ll work it back and put things together.’

‘Understood.’

‘So we’ll see you at the place you specified on the day you specified. If you don’t show, we’ll take it that it’s off.’

‘Agreed,’ said Rosenharte.

‘Pass on our congratulations and thanks to Kafka.’

Before he hung up, Rosenharte asked whether they could use the phone, and if so what codes they should use to dial a number in the GDR. After giving him some basic instructions and the codes Harland said, ‘It’s not advisable for domestic calls. But use it if there’s no other means available. Keep your calls short, and don’t use the phone continuously at the same location unless you’re about to move. We’d like the set back, so if it’s humanly possible bring it with you to our meeting. Otherwise leave it where you found it and we’ll have it picked up at some stage.’

Rosenharte replaced the handset and wrote down the codes on the back of his hand.

They rose early next day, stiff, cold and snapping at each other. Both yearned for a bath. Rosenharte hadn’t shaved for two days and dark gingery stubble was showing on his chin. He made a drink of beef stock for Ulrike, who perched on the table to escape the draughts, blowing steam from her cup.

‘You make the call, then we should go,’ she said.

‘The phone has a battery so we can use it wherever we like.’

‘Why don’t you do it before we go? It’ll save you having to set it up again.’

‘Whatever you say,’ he said testily and went out for a cigarette.

He returned five minutes later. ‘You can’t stay in the GDR. That’s what Harland said last night. You have to come with me.’

She gave him a trapped look and put down the cup. ‘All these years I’ve worked and planned, lied and risked my freedom for what is happening. I have to be here.’

‘Let’s see what you think after a day or two of living rough.’

‘Don’t be stupid. This isn’t about my comfort.’ She swivelled on her bottom to look away from him and out at the still grey landscape that seemed to have been laid down with strokes of watercolour wash.

‘If you stay I can give you money, which will make things easier for you,’ he said after a few minutes. ‘Maybe there’s a reason you want to stay that I don’t understand, but I think you should come. And that’s the last I’ll say on the matter.’

After a silence she held out a hand. ‘Rudi - I’m sorry. I can be a bitch in the morning.’

He nodded.

They waited until ten to make the call to Poland. After rehearsing the procedure and reading the letter that had been left with Else by the second Pole, he dialled the number and got through the first time. A male voice answered. Rosenharte asked if this was Leszek Grycko.

A Polish voice recognized the name and produced what sounded like a stream of instructions.

‘Do you speak any German? This is Rudi Rosenharte. Ro—sen—harte.’

The receiver was put down, then a few seconds later it was snatched up, this time by a young woman with a high, panicky voice who was desperate to make herself understood, but she too spoke no German. Rosenharte raised his eyes to the ceiling and said, ‘Later, I will call later.’ He hung up.

‘It’s odd that he left this number where no one speaks German. I guess it’s not important, but it does interest me that these two men have made such efforts to contact Konrad and me. When Zank questioned me in my office he said that the one who died in Trieste was part of the Polish secret service. Do you think Biermeier has anything to do with this? Could they have been working for him without you knowing?’

‘No, he feared that that man would ruin the whole operation in Trieste. The other members of the Stasi team, who weren’t in all this, wanted to pull out after his death because there was too much they didn’t understand about it.’

‘Franciscek Grycko died of a heart attack.’

‘It will all be clear soon, no doubt.’ She started picking up things from the floor and packing them into the two bags they had brought from the car. Rosenharte returned to the phone and dialled Vladimir’s number as instructed, using a code as though he was phoning from outside the country. Vladimir picked up and simply said, ‘Yes?’

‘It’s me - Rudi. Did you get my message that everything was happening on Monday night? It all went as planned.’

‘Yes,’ he said warily.

‘Everything is set for the date we discussed. Do you have the papers I requested?’

‘What kind of telephone are you using? It sounds different.’

Rosenharte read off the name Inmarsat.

‘We shouldn’t speak long on this phone.’

‘Have you got the material I asked for?’

Vladimir hesitated. ‘There may be a problem. Call me later on an ordinary telephone. I can’t speak now.’