The Helsinki Pact (17 page)

*

Thomas left the meeting with
Bettina depressed and with his emotions in a turmoil. He hadn’t
particularly liked or trusted Mark but it was indirectly through
him that he’d got killed. Next week he had to spy on his best
friend, Stephan. He’d thought at the restaurant with Bettina that
things would develop, that they were going somewhere together, that
life was beginning to smile on him, but now this. Suddenly
everything had changed and he’d become a puppet controlled by
others. By the time he’d reached his building back in West Berlin
his mood had darkened again further and he started to trudge up
stairs, thinking furiously and again pitying himself, seeing
himself as a victim unjustly dealt with.

“Such a bitch!” he thought.
“Leading me on, getting me to take her to dinner in a smart
restaurant and then setting me up like this to be caught. How could
they do this to me? All I’ve done is go out to earn the money I
needed for living, using my brains rather than sitting around
moaning. Ridiculous to say I was stealing from them, like she said.
Fucking idle peasants in this shitty country and she’s the worst.
And she's a lying hypocrite, just like I told her.”

Suddenly he stopped and listened.
There were familiar voices on his floor above and, newly energised,
his despair forgotten he rushed upwards, leaping two or three steps
at a time, to the group lying around outside his apartment
door.

Hurling himself on Kai he tried
to lift him and whirl him round in joy.

“Kai! You’re here! You did it!
You’ve made it!”

He broke off at Kai’s yelp of
pain and looked down. “But what’s happened to your
foot?”

“I sprained it. Badly. But yes,
we’re here. We’re here! We’re in West Berlin! We got out! How about
letting us in and making us some food? We’ve been here for hours
and we’re starving.”

Thomas embraced Ulrike and
Bernhard excitedly, opened the door and led them to the
kitchen.

“How did it go? God, I’m so
excited you made it. Look, here’s the bathroom and here’s some
towels – Ulrike, have a shower and get cleaned up and then you two
can do the same. Kai, tell me how you got on. I want to know
everything.” He began making coffee.

“Well, we caught the train, just
like you said.” Kai went over the whole story reaching the climax
just as Bernhard returned washed and changed into clean clothes.
There was absolute silence in the room.

“So there we were, about to be
run over and with nowhere to go. The train was roaring towards us.
I was in a panic. At least Ulrike was safe, out of the way.” he
said, caressing her short, recently bleached blonde hair. “Then I
saw Bernhard pull out the gun and start shooting. I thought he was
crazy – you can’t stop a train like that. Was he trying to kill the
driver for some reason? But when I heard the emergency brake come
on I realized what he was doing.”

“I guess we have Frau Schwinewitz
to thank after all." Kai went on. "Without her gun, the train would
have run us over. But it was Bernhard that saved our lives. The
driver jumped down from the cab, waving around a torch, and then
collapsed on his knees, thinking he'd hit us, I guess. That's when
Ulrike squeezed past to the front, crying like crazy, throwing up
because she was terrified about what she'd find and as he was
talking to her we got up from beside the rails and Bernhard tapped
him on the shoulder. The guy nearly had a heart attack, spun round
and Bernhard said "Hey, we need a ride to the West. Didn't have
time to buy tickets but could you take us anyway?"

Everyone laughed. Bernhard
grinned, thinking back on the man’s face, remembering that the
driver had seemed more relieved that they were alive than scared of
what they might do.

Kai sipped his coffee and took a
bite of his cheese omelette. “Mmmm, Affen Titten geilen,
man.”

“
The driver, Franz his
name was, was a nice guy.” Bernhard said. “We got in the cab with
him and when we explained our story, he was really friendly. He
kept on saying ‘Just you wait until I tell my wife!’ He told us his
wife’s friends teased her because of his boring job. ‘They’ll all
be jealous as hell!’ he said. It was his last shift so he insisted
in taking us to Leinestraße and bringing us back to his place to
get some sleep. We didn’t want to wake you up in the middle of the
night, so that’s what we did. And his wife was a nurse so she
strapped up Kai’s ankle. They wanted to take him to the hospital
but we couldn’t risk that, him having to give all his
details.”

“From what I hear, Stasi agents
are in West Berlin all the time.” Kai added. “And with the Frau
Schwinewitz thing it’s going to be too risky to stay here so we
need to leave very soon. Bernhard’s going to Munich tomorrow to his
cousin. Ulrike and I are still deciding where to go, maybe to
Cologne for a bit as we’ve both got relatives there. And I
wondered, Thomas, you going to the East as often as you do, if I
give you the keys could you pick some things up from the flat,
bring them over here. I’d really like my cowboy boots if you could
get those and I know there’s some things that Ulrike wasn't able to
bring with her which she'd really like if you could manage
that.”

Chapter 13

Monday October 2
1989

THOMAS came through immigration
to the Frankfurt Airport international arrivals area and glanced
around the waiting crowd. Some waiting there were eager with
anticipation, children sitting aloft on shoulders and waving
excitedly at real or imagined grandparents or shouting at fathers
back from business trips. A thin, elderly woman with loose,
straggly grey hair hanging well past her shoulders stood slightly
apart, starting forward every time a young man appeared but then
falling back again, her shoulders drooping. Others stood waiting,
bored, their duty done by being there and careless as to whether
their visitors arrived or not. He’d let his mother know his arrival
time but he wasn’t surprised not to see any sign of her. No doubt
she was still harbouring some unknown grudge or other against him.
For a moment the thought saddened him.

He took the subway, exiting at
Taunusanlage. It was a clear day, warm and bright with slight,
scudding clouds, although it was already well into autumn. He was
very early and decided to walk the long way round, through the park
and past the Mövenpick ice cream café.

Among the drug addicts shivering
in the sun and the homeless soaking up the warmth until it was time
for the soup kitchens to open he was surprised to see some clean
but shabbily dressed young people. One of them, a man of about
twenty, was holding up a placard with the request: “Refugee from
East Germany – please help.” Disturbed, Thomas rummaged through his
pocket and dropped a 2DM coin into the cap in front of the man. It
bothered him that this might now be the fate of Kai and Ulrike.
Frankfurt was particularly expensive as a German city but any city,
Cologne for instance, was going to be expensive compared with West
Berlin and vastly more so than East Berlin. He’d asked Kai how much
money he’d got but Kai had simply said in his casual, careless
style “Oh, plenty, man! More than enough.” which Thomas was certain
was untrue.

He entered the Deutsche Bank
building and stood for a while gazing round at the interior. He
knew the twin towers well from the street but had never before been
inside. Everything from the unpolished granite floor to the small
fountain and pond was in typical Deutsche Bank style, understated
but denoting power. People in suits were hurrying around,
criss-crossing the lobby and constantly entering or leaving the
elevators positioned at the sides.

Thomas glanced at his watch and
approached the reception desk, disdained the stiff smile offered,
and asked for Stephan. Moments later, as he was standing looking
idly at the lifts, waiting for Stephan to emerge from one of them,
he felt himself enveloped in a bear hug from behind and lifted
slightly before a beaming Stephan released him.

“One of the perks!” he said,
pointing back across the entrance hall. “Express lifts from the
Board floors reserved for the privileged few. That's me now. Left
hoi polloi behind, I have! It’s great to see you again, though. It
must be at least a year since you first promised to visit here.
Great night at the opera, though. How's Bettina? Still beating you
up!" He laughed and punched Thomas lightly on the shoulder. "Come
on, let’s look around before we have lunch.”

The various floors appeared
identical to Thomas, differing only in the particular modern artist
chosen to decorate the walls of each. Thomas’s knowledge of the
modern art world was hazy but he recognised some of the paintings
from his visits to Kassel’s documenta and was impressed with works
on the executive floor where Stephan worked. He looked closely at
an installation set in an alcove. "Ah, Joseph Beuys. Now that he's
dead I guess it's politically OK to bring him in to this temple to
capitalism. Or maybe it's an ironic comment on where the bank's
business funding ends up. What do you think, Stephan?"

“Nothing to do with the beauty of
art!” Stephan laughed. “It’s purely utilitarian. Someone getting
out of the lift and seeing a Gerhard Richter knows he’s on the
wrong floor – he’d better get out of there fast and back to his own
grubby area with Damien Hirsts on view!”

Leaving the lift on the first
floor they walked along the suspended path which overlooked the
main entrance and led towards the cafeteria. Below him Thomas could
see the revolving doors and the hanging sculpture made of myriad
crystal rods.

“This is one of the best things
about working here.” said Stephan, taking in the whole place with a
proprietorial wave of his arm. “They call it the cafeteria but it’s
really a high level restaurant with its own kitchens run by a
really great chef. None of this fast food rubbish for us! It’s
probably the most important place in the whole bank. It’s where
careers are made or lost.”

“Of the cooks or the staff?”
asked Thomas as they sat down by a window overlooking the trees and
the park and Stephan poured each of them a glass of
Riesling.

“Cooks don’t have careers, they
have jobs. If you come here make sure you use your lunchtimes
efficiently. It’s one of the best ways to get to know people and to
exchange information and it’s information that’s our lifeblood. For
me it’s easy – people know I can’t say much about what I do because
it’s mostly reserved information, confidential, but everyone tells
me what they’re up to, maybe hoping I’ll pass it on to Herren. It’s
fascinating, really interesting.”

They were silent for a while as
they ate. Thomas glanced round and listened to the hubbub and
clatter, open eyed and somewhat astonished at what he took to be
the casual sophistication of the diners. “It’s like my first day at
secondary school! All these people. Everything so new and
unfamiliar. I feel a bit overawed, like I was twelve
again.”

“Well, at least you can keep
secrets.” Stephan looked at him, smiling slightly.

Thomas was startled, thinking
that Stephan had learned of his Stasi role. A sense of sudden shame
and embarrassment welled up as he thought again about having to spy
on his best friend. He reddened.

“I’ve got to hand it to you.
Nobody ever found out about me and Suzie Bausch after you caught us
that day in the sports pavilion.”

Thomas laughed, relaxing. “Yeah,
that was hard not dropping hints, what with her being the
headmaster’s daughter and her reputation for being so prim and
untouchable. You were lucky it was me – you were at it so hard that
I doubt even Bausch himself could have separated you.”

“That was a great summer. What
were we, fifteen I think. First times for each of us. She might
have seemed prim but, well, believe me ... ” He sighed. “My ma was
best friends with Susie’s and they’d have killed me if they’d known
what was going on. She went to Mainz in September and we lost
touch. I wonder where she is now. God, those were the
days.”

He sat up, reached into his
briefcase and handed Thomas a sheet of paper.

“OK, business first. Here’s your
interview schedule. Today you’ll be meeting people from corporate
finance. The first two work together in the German top corporate
team, mainly following the Daimler conglomerate companies. Be wary
of Hans Paris, the MD, who’s a shark. He’ll probably try to
intimidate you to see how you react under pressure. Give him back
as good as he gives, particularly if he’s rude – he just loves
arrogant arseholes. The other three are from the international
team: Herbert Sheidt heads Italy, and you’ll have a great time with
him, I’m certain. The last two are technocrats. Likely to ask you
theoretical questions on DCFs or IRRs, that kind of
thing.”

“Thanks for that advice. I’ll try
not to blow the interview." He thought back to his recent briefing
with Bettina and the list of questions she'd prepared. "What are
you working on now yourself?”

“I’ve not had a life for weeks.
Camille is going nuts. I hardly see her these days. Berlin has been
the only weekend I managed to take off work this month, two months
even.” He dug into his plate of salmon fusilli. “I’ve been saddled
with this crazy project. Luckily Herren’s off on Monday morning
next and is going to be out for most of the week so maybe I’ll get
a chance to breathe.”