Ice Cold: Tales of Intrigue from the Cold War

CHECKPOINT CHARLIE ^{BY ALAN COOK}

The chilling words were printed in black block letters on the large white board in four languages: English, Russian, French, and German. It should have also said, “Abandon hope all ye who enter here,” Dante’s inscription at the entrance to Hell. For Hell was on the other side of Checkpoint Charlie.

It was a gray Hell, with gray buildings and gray people, made grayer on this particular day by the gray clouds and the rain that fell steadily on everything. Gerhard Johnson had a knot in his stomach the size of a basketball as he showed his papers to the American soldier at the newly painted white guardhouse made of wood that looked out of place in this drab setting, partly because he was afraid the East German guards wouldn’t let him through—and partly because he was afraid they would. But he had to go.

He was waved through the American side as he had expected he would be. He approached two of the East German guards with their long coats and unsmiling faces in his borrowed Volkswagen Beetle. One stood in front of the car and motioned for him to stop. The other came to his window and took his passport and visa.

Gerhard tried to look casual, as if he did this every day. However, he hadn’t crossed the border for over a year. That was before the Wall was erected, when people could pass freely back and forth between East and West Berlin, before the brain drain of highly educated and skilled East German citizens fleeing to the West had become a rushing torrent, threatening to bring the economy to a standstill.

The guard stared at the visa for a long time, as if trying to find something wrong with it. It was perfectly legal. Gerhard had jumped through the proper hoops to get it. As an American citizen he carried a U.S. passport, and the visa had been issued to him by the American Embassy in West Germany.

The guard spoke to him in broken English. “Why you go to GDR?”

Gerhard phrased his answer carefully. “My aunt lives here. I’m going to visit her.” He wasn’t about to mention that he had a one-year-old daughter here. That would surely raise a red flag.

“How long you stay?”

“Two days.”

It was all the time he had. He was in West Berlin on business for the import-export firm he was employed by, and the vacation days had been reluctantly granted him by his boss to use before he had to fly back to the U.S. Business was booming in Europe, and the company needed his ability to speak German.

The guard suddenly spoke to him in German. “Do you know what we do to spies in the GDR?”

In spite of having prepared for this situation, it was all Gerhard could do not to react to the statement. If they found out he spoke perfect German they would never let him in. Young foreigners passing through Checkpoint Charlie were automatically suspected of being spies. He looked at the guard in what he hoped was a questioning and uncomprehending manner.

The guard watched him. Had an eye blink given him away? His heart pounded and the basketball in his stomach grew larger. The guard looked at the other guard, who motioned for him to pop the hood, which was the storage space for the rear-engine VW. It contained only a small suitcase with clothes and toilet articles, unlocked. Meanwhile, the first guard peered into the backseat, which was empty.

The guard with the suitcase took his time looking through it, while Gerhard hoped the sweat he was feeling on his back wouldn’t show up on his face. He had considered leaving a pile of West German marks on top of his clothes. They were valuable in the black market here. But he didn’t know how they would react. A bribe could be taken as an indication of guilt, and he wasn’t guilty of anything.

The guard closed the hood and walked up to the window. The two men spoke together in German about whether Gerhard was a spy, keeping an eye on him for a reaction.

Perhaps his German first name had spooked them. His mother had been German. He had learned to speak German before he learned English. His father had met her when he was studying in Germany, and he had asked her to marry him. She was part of an upper-class family in the city of Halle, where she grew up, and she never adjusted to life in the U.S., being married to an itinerant minister who had trouble holding a job. She took Gerhard and his sister back to Germany several times when they were young, and on one occasion his father had to come over and take them home.

She became a psychological cripple during the war, partly because her brother was in the German army. He died somewhere in the frozen expanses of Russia. She died soon after, perhaps from a broken heart.

The guards stopped talking, and one of them handed Gerhard his passport and visa. He motioned for Gerhard to go on. It happened so quickly he was unprepared, and it took him a few seconds for his shaking hand to get the car into first gear. Then he had to be careful not to drive away too fast. He looked in his rearview mirror and saw they had turned their attention to the next car.

The autobahn to Halle was bumpy and potholed. It even had a speed limit, although few cars observed it, at the risk of their tires and suspensions. Gerhard did, however. The VW wasn’t his, and he wanted to return it in one piece.

He had no trouble negotiating the streets of Halle with its churches and double spires, and a population approaching 300,000. He had been here many times while stationed in West Berlin with the military, first to visit his aunt, who was his mother’s sister, and then to visit Inga, a friend of Brunhild with whom he fell in love.

Inga. Gerhard had beseeched her to come and live with him in West Berlin until his tour of duty was over, and then to go to America with him. She said she would, but she had to take care of her grandmother, who was in failing health. His pleas had increased in volume when he found out she was pregnant. Still she put it off. Then the East Germans closed the border in 1961 to prevent the exodus of the freedom-loving, and it was too late. Inga was trapped inside.

Inga had died giving birth to Monika. Her doctor had been smart enough to head for the West while the border was open, leaving Inga in the bumbling hands of the mediocre medical people who remained. If she had made her escape while it was still possible, she would be alive today. Gerhard could never stop thinking about the “what ifs.” He reflected that he had good reason to equate East Germany with Hell.

Gerhard looked at the blue-eyed, blond miniature of Inga, and couldn’t believe he had helped to create this beautiful creature who was smiling at him and picking his teeth with her fingers. He had left Germany before she was born, his army career ended, not being able to bear living fairly close to Inga but not with her. There was no way he would ever live in East Germany.

He had seen pictures of Monika, but the reality was far superior. If only he could take her with him. That was impossible. The tales of people who had tried to escape and failed were legend. Peter Fechter, a teenager who had made the attempt, had been shot and left to bleed to death beside the Wall in full view of both sides, while the soldiers of neither side went to help him.

Some people had escaped successfully, going over, under, or through the Wall, but how did you get a baby out?

“Would you like to give Monika her bottle?”

Gerhard’s Aunt Brunhild handed the bottle to Gerhard. Monika’s eyes lit up when she saw it; she snatched it out of his hands and started noisily sucking on it.

Gerhard laughed. “Greedy little thing, isn’t she?”

“Well, hungry, anyway. She likes you. I knew she would. She likes Gunter too.”

Gunter was the man who took care of the apartment building where Brunhild lived.

They spoke in German. Brunhild’s knowledge of English was infinitesimal. She was too thin, had graying hair pulled back severely into a bun, and wore a patterned housedress that was clean but repaired in several places where seams had ripped. The thread used for the repairs didn’t match the color of the original.

When Inga died, Brunhild agreed to take Monika. Inga’s parents had died in the war, and she had no other close relatives. It was a brave thing for Brunhild to do, and Gerhard honored her for it. She didn’t have much to live on, and raising a child was a strain for her. Of course, everyone was under a strain in this land of shortages and make-dos, planned by a tone-deaf government. Brunhild worked as a nurse at a retirement home. Fortunately, her job allowed her to keep Monika with her while she was at work.

In contrast to the dingy hallways of the building, her small apartment was clean. The lace curtains on the windows were white. She was doing the best she could. If Monika had to stay in East Germany, Gerhard was glad Brunhild was here to take care of her. Maybe someday the Wall would come down and Gerhard could take Monika to the U.S. But there was no sign that this was going to happen any time soon.

Brunhild and Gerhard chatted about all the things Monika had accomplished recently. She was crawling and even trying to walk. They kept in touch by mail, but international delivery was slow, and by the time Gerhard received a letter noting Monika’s accomplishments it was out of date. How much better it would be if he could watch her progress on a daily basis.

During a pause in the conversation, Brunhild said, “I want you to meet Gunter.”

She looked at her ornate grandfather’s clock, a family heirloom. The hands showed 5 p.m.

“At this time every day he is in his apartment listening to the world news. Let’s go and see if he’s there. And by the way, you can trust him.”

An interesting statement, Gerhard reflected as he stood, holding Monika, who was still working on her bottle. Implying there were people one couldn’t trust. He wasn’t surprised that in a totalitarian state amateur spies would be everywhere, thirsting for tidbits of information about their neighbors they could pass along to petty functionaries.

The other thing occurring to Gerhard was that Brunhild must know this Gunter quite well if she knew what he was doing at a certain hour. Well, she had never married, and she deserved some male companionship, if that’s what was happening here. Gunter’s apartment was on the ground floor, two floors below Brunhild’s. As they walked down the staircase past peeling paint, Gerhard saw a stout woman laboriously climbing the stairs from below. She didn’t appear to be undernourished.

Gerhard shot a quick glance at Brunhild, and watched a look of distaste highlight her face for a moment, but then it was gone and she smiled at the lady and spoke in a musical voice.

“How are you today, Mrs. Rudolphi?”

The lady stopped, huffing and puffing, and looked at the three of them, and then shrewdly appraised Gerhard. “So, you are the child’s father?”

There was no point in Gerhard pretending he didn’t know German, so he responded in that language, as politely as he could. “Yes I am. My name is Gerhard. I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Rudolphi.”

“So you are Brunhild’s nephew. I haven’t seen you here before. Where do you live?”

He was trying to decide whether to tell the truth when Brunhild said, “He lives in the United States. He was in the army, stationed in West Berlin. He met Inga when he came to visit me—”

“And you thought nothing about getting the poor girl pregnant and then deserting her. A girl who is now dead. You Americans are all alike. I am surprised you bothered to come back and see your child.”

Gerhard didn’t know how to respond to this. He didn’t want to start an argument. If he said he’d loved Inga she wouldn’t believe him. He was still dithering when Brunhild spoke for him.

“He came to Germany on a business trip. He was able to take two days from his busy schedule to visit Monika and me. I am very happy to see him, and Monika is too.”

Monika had finished her bottle and was busily examining Gerhard’s teeth again. Mrs. Rudolphi frowned. Gerhard suspected she went through life with a chip on her shoulder.

She said, “So you are leaving the day after tomorrow?”

Gerhard nodded and was about to say something when Mrs. Rudolphi started up the stairs. She shouldered her way between Gerhard and Brunhild, and continued on in a determined manner.

“It was nice to see you,” Brunhild called after her, but she didn’t respond.

When Gerhard and Brunhild came out of the stairway on the ground floor, Brunhild half-whispered to him. “I don’t like her.”

It wasn’t hard to understand why. They walked along a dimly lit corridor. Brunhild knocked on a door near the front of the building. Gerhard thought he heard a voice coming from the other side. The voice stopped.

After perhaps thirty seconds a loud voice just on the other side of the door asked who was there. Brunhild identified herself. After a few clicks the door opened. A stocky man with a big head appeared in the doorway. He must be in his fifties. When he saw Brunhild he smiled.

“Come in. Come in.”

Gerhard followed Brunhild into the apartment, which was small, like Brunhild’s, but not as well decorated. It did have a bookcase against one wall packed with old and nicely bound books.

Brunhild said, “Gunter, this is my nephew, Gerhard.”

Gerhard moved Monika to his left arm and he and Gunter shook hands with a European handshake, one quick up and down, and said how do you do. Gunter backed up a step and looked at Gerhard, just as Mrs. Rudolphi had.

“Brunhild has told me about you. She said you are a fine young man. You will make a good father for Monika.”

“Unfortunately, I am only here for two days.”

“Yes.”

Gunter paused and looked at Brunhild. Some kind of communication seemed to pass between them.

“Please sit down.”

Gerhard sat on a small sofa covered with a threadbare blanket. Brunhild sat beside him. Gunter went into the next room and brought back a wooden chair that he set down facing them. He sat in it.

“When you knocked on the door I was listening to the news of the world beyond the GDR. Not everybody would be happy I can do that.”

He looked at Gerhard again.

“A person has to be very careful living here. This is not a good place to raise a child.” He looked at Monika who was babbling and apparently practicing her talking. “A child should be free to discover the world without always looking over her shoulder.”

Gunter paused again, and Gerhard felt he should say something.

“I agree. I would love to take Monika to live in America.”

Gunter nodded as if that was what he wanted to hear. “Brunhild told me you were driving a Volkswagen. Is that correct?’

“Yes. It belongs to a friend of mine in West Berlin.”

Brunhild had asked him in her last letter if he could drive to East Berlin in a Volkswagen. He considered that a curious request at the time, especially the way she’d phrased it, as if it would be a fun thing to do. She had to be careful what she wrote; there was no guarantee someone wasn’t reading her mail. Gerhard figured she might have a hidden meaning. Fortunately, a friend from his army days who lived in West Berlin was willing to lend him his VW.

Gunter said, “I am a mechanic. I have worked on a lot on Volkswagens. I would like to look at your car.”

That was a strange request too. After all, one Volkswagen was like another. That was part of their beauty.

“It’s parked outside on the street.”

“There is a garage under the building that only I have the key for. We will drive your car in there.”

Apparently, judging from the equipment in the garage, Gunter was running a business here, fixing cars. A Trabant, a car of questionable quality produced in East Germany, was sitting with its engine exposed, but there was room for the Volkswagen beside it. After Gerhard drove it in, Gunter closed the door and said he wanted to check something. He used his tools to take out the bottom of the luggage storage area under the hood, while Gerhard watched and wondered what was going on. Brunhild stood by and smiled at him. She had said to trust Gunter.

Gunter motioned for Gerhard to look at the space below the luggage area. Gerhard handed Monika to Brunhild and peered down at the wires, axle, steering mechanism—the stuff that made up a car. Cars to him were a method of getting from point A to point B. This was a jumble. He looked at Gunter, puzzled.

Gunter nodded as he made some measurements using his hands. He glanced at Gerhard. “If we are careful we can build a small compartment that would fit under the place where you put your suitcase. It could not be spotted.”

Gerhard still wasn’t comprehending. “It would be very small. What would be the purpose of it?… Oh.”

Gerhard suddenly understood. He looked around, half expecting to see an eavesdropper. Then he looked at Brunhild.

She said, “This is no place to raise a child. Monika should grow up in America.”

“But… Would she fit in there? She would suffocate.”

Gunter shook his head. “That is the beauty of the Volkswagen. All the exhaust goes out the rear. She is small enough to fit. Now is the time to do this before she grows. If she is wrapped in a warm blanket, she will be fine.”

“What if she cried?”

Brunhild said, “I will give you a pill that will make her sleep right through it.”

Shivers went up and down Gerhard’s spine. Could he really get Monika out of here? What if he failed? What would happen to him? He didn’t want to rot in an East German prison. What would happen to her? What would happen to Brunhild and Gunter? Surely it would be traced back to them. But Brunhild and Gunter had planned this together. They trusted him to do it. Even in the military, he had never done anything this dangerous. Or, if it worked, glorious. He looked from one of them to another.

“It is a tremendous risk for you.”

Brunhild spoke for both of them. “This is our way of protesting against an intolerable government. We have to do something. We have to draw a line somewhere.”

Gunter nodded.

Still, Gerhard couldn’t commit. It was too much to swallow.

“It’s not my car.”

Gunter said, “The alterations will not damage the car in any way. The compartment will be easy to remove.”

“I have to think about it.”

“There isn’t time to think about it. I have to start working on it now.”

Gerhard liked to weigh his decisions carefully. But for once in his life he had to act decisively. This might be the most important thing he ever did.

“If you think this can be done, I’m willing to do it. How do we start?”

Gunter nodded approvingly. “I will build the box.”

“Can I help you?”

“No. Better I do it myself. I know how. I am also a carpenter. I will start right now.”

Brunhild said, “First, come and join us for dinner. You need to have something to eat.”

Gunter shook his head. “It is better if we are not seen so much together. I am fine. Go now and let me get started.”

Gerhard took out his wallet. “I will pay you for materials.”

He took out a wad of East German bills he’d bought on the black market in West Berlin, and handed them to Gunter. It was money he’d been planning to give Brunhild. Gunter shook his head initially, but Gerhard persisted. Cash was difficult to come by here. Gunter reluctantly took the money.

Brunhild said, “Come, Gerhard. We will go and eat while Gunter gets to work.”

Gerhard hardly slept that night. He tossed and turned and decided not to undertake this perilous task half a dozen times. He almost got up and sought out Gunter, who he was sure was working through the night. Then he thought of Brunhild’s words: “We have to draw a line somewhere.”

Gerhard could see the dinginess and the poverty and the pollution on an intellectual level, he could see the fear in people’s eyes and watch them looking over their shoulders, he could read about the million ridiculous regulations that made doing anything productive next to impossible, but he didn’t feel the weight of the tyranny on his back like Brunhild and Gunter did every day. He could leave. If they were willing to take the risk, he should be willing also. He slept a little just before dawn.

Gerhard awoke to the sun streaming in the window of the living room, where he’d slept on the sofa. It was too short for his long legs, and he was stiff and sore when he stood up. Perhaps the sunshine was a good omen. He noticed a piece of paper on the floor near the outside door. He picked it up and unfolded it. For a few seconds he couldn’t read the scrawled German handwriting. Then he realized it was from Gunter. By concentrating he could make out the words: “Come to the garage door at 11. Knock three times.” It was signed with a G.

Gerhard heard Monika fussing and Brunhild talking to her. That’s right, babies were early risers. Brunhild wasn’t working today. He went into the small kitchen, said good morning, and showed Brunhild the note. She read it quickly.

“I knew he could do it. He is a good man. I am making your breakfast. If you like you can feed Monika.”

Monika was sitting in a highchair. When she saw Gerhard she banged her hands on the tray of the chair and burbled to him in her own language. Brunhild showed him how to spoon up the pureed food of indeterminate color and put it into her mouth. He tried it.

“She’s spitting out half of it.”

“Welcome to the world of babies.”

But Monika was so good-natured about it that Gerhard couldn’t help but love her. How could he even think of leaving her behind?

There was a loud knocking. Gerhard almost jumped out of his skin.

“Who do you think that is?”

Brunhild frowned. “I don’t know. It’s early, even for Mrs. Rudolphi. She sometimes ‘checks up’ on me, to see, I’m sure, if I’m hewing to the Party line. I will go. You stay here with Monika. I don’t want her exposed to negative vibrations any more than necessary.”

The Communist Party line, Gerhard assumed. Brunhild went to the door. Gerhard could tell it was Mrs. Rudolphi, speaking in a loud voice. Brunhild evidently wouldn’t let her in, and he couldn’t make out what the woman was saying. In a couple of minutes Brunhild managed to close the door on her and return to the kitchen. Her fists were clenched and she sounded angry when she spoke after Gerhard asked her what Mrs. Rudolphi wanted.

“She didn’t want anything—that is, anything that made sense. She told me about a stinking new rule concerning trash collection. She was just spying on us, trying to figure out whether we are planning some kind of funny business, but I am convinced she doesn’t have any idea what we are really doing. She asked again whether you were leaving tomorrow.”

“It sounds like she’s a suspicious type.”

“Suspicion is her middle name.”

They went out for a walk at ten. Brunhild had an ancient baby carriage. Gerhard carried it down the stairs while Brunhild carried Monika. They didn’t meet Mrs. Rudolphi, which Gerhard was thankful for. He still felt jumpy. They blended in with the people on the street, most of whom didn’t look at them or anybody else, and took a circular route that led them to the garage door just at eleven. The garage was facing a side street, and Gerhard didn’t see anybody when he knocked three times on the door.

Within a minute the door was opened and a smiling Gunter swept them inside and quickly closed it again. He led them to the front of the Volkswagen.

“It is finished.”

Gerhard and Brunhild looked at each other. That’s what they had hoped he’d say. Gunter showed them what he’d done. It was ingenious. The compartment was a wooden box with a cover and a latch that would keep Monika from falling out but which could easily be opened. It had air holes and Gunter had padded it with pieces from an old quilt. He showed Gerhard how to put the floor of the luggage compartment in place over it using only a screwdriver. Nobody would guess that a baby was hidden underneath.

They congratulated Gunter on his workmanship, and Gerhard thanked him effusively. Gunter smiled and asked Gerhard when he wanted to leave.

Brunhild said, “Right now.”

“So soon?”

“Mrs. Rudolphi is getting too suspicious. If Gerhard leaves now he should be able to get over the border in three hours, four at the most. It will still be daylight and the driving will be easy. I will stay away from here for that time so Mrs. Rudolphi can’t find out that Monika is missing.”

A thought suddenly occurred to Gerhard. “When she does find out you will be arrested.”

Brunhild shrugged. “I can put her off for a while, and then I will make up a story that she is with her mother’s relatives. If that doesn’t work, so be it. But Monika will be safe.”

Brunhild was willing to trade what was left of her freedom for that of Monika. Gerhard could only bow to her devotion and do his part. He took his small suitcase out of the baby carriage, where they had hidden it under a blanket. In addition to Gerhard’s clothes, it contained some food and a blanket for Monika, and a couple of diapers. Of course, anything that belonged to her would have to be jettisoned before he crossed the border.

Brunhild hugged and kissed Monika and placed her on the front seat of the VW. It didn’t have seatbelts, and Gerhard would have to protect her in case of any sudden stops. Brunhild had told him of a secluded park he could drive to just before he entered Berlin. There he would sedate Monika and place her in the compartment.

Gerhard hugged Brunhild and shook Gunter’s hand, thanking him again. Gerhard got in the car, ready to drive out when Gunter opened the door. The door screeched upward on rollers that needed oiling. Gerhard was just about to start the engine when he saw a shadow and then a man in the doorway. The man, who was taller than Gunter, although not as broad, took in the scene inside the garage with a glance.

Gunter spoke to him. “Klaus, what are you doing here?”

“Mrs. Rudolphi told me she suspected all of you were up to no good. It appears that she was right. The police will be very interested to hear what’s going on.”

Klaus started to walk away. Gunter grabbed him by the arm and yanked him into the garage before he could resist. They started wrestling. Brunhild reacted just as fast, pulling down the garage door with one big screech. Gerhard opened the door of the VW and jumped out. It appeared Klaus was getting the better of the fight. He was trying to knock Gunter down.

Gerhard grabbed the first tool he saw, a wrench, and looked for an opening. The two men were weaving back and forth, and Gerhard was afraid he would hit Gunter. He maneuvered around until he was behind Klaus. He managed to grab the big man by the shoulder with one hand, but got elbowed in the jaw. In spite of the pain he was able to trip Klaus, who stumbled backward, separating him from Gunter.

Gerhard hit Klaus on the head with the wrench before he could recover his balance. He fell on the floor in a heap. His eyes were open and he started to get up. Gerhard hit him on the head again, as hard as he could. This time his eyes were closed. Blood oozed through his hair. Gerhard stood staring at him. He’d never attacked anyone with intent to injure, even when he was in the military.

“You must leave now.” Brunhild’s voice was urgent.

When Gerhard continued to stand in shock, Gunter said, “Please go. We will take care of Klaus.”

“He may be hurt.”

“We will deal with him.” Gunter grabbed Gerhard’s arm. “You must get Monika away from here.”

“Mrs. Rudolphi—”

Brunhild said, “I’ll handle Mrs. Rudolphi. Do this for Monika.”

Gerhard overcame his paralysis and climbed into the car. Monika was crying. Brunhild opened the passenger-side door and gave her a quick kiss. Then she closed the door quickly. Gunter threw a tarpaulin over Klaus and opened the garage door.

Gerhard drove out of the garage and turned onto the street, holding Monika with his right hand so she wouldn’t be thrown around by the g-force. He shifted gears and accelerated, wanting to get out of Halle as fast as possible.

Gerhard was off the autobahn, looking for the park Brunhild had told him about where he could put Monika in the compartment without being seen. At least now he didn’t have to watch for the police in his rearview mirror, something he’d done ever since he left Halle. It was highly unlikely he would be spotted here on the narrow streets, even if the alarm had been sounded. He hoped Brunhild and Gunter had Klaus and Mrs. Rudolphi under control. He couldn’t take time to worry what would happen to them when the authorities found out what they’d done.

He realized he’d passed this corner before. He was going in a circle. He didn’t know where the park was, so he’d have to improvise. He had to get through Checkpoint Charlie as fast as possible, before the guards were told to look for a black Volkswagen.

Monika had long since stopped crying and seemed to enjoy the ride on the bumpy autobahn. She bounced up and down and sucked on a pacifier. She was a happy baby, which made her more lovable.

However, Gerhard was growing more and more frustrated at not finding the park. He turned onto a street that was being repaired. It dead-ended at a barrier a hundred yards from the intersection. No workmen were in sight. He stopped the car. This would have to do. He rolled down his window to get some air, because there was an odor in the car.

He said a few reassuring words to Monika and opened a jar of baby food. He took a pill from the small container Brunhild had given him and inserted it in a spoonful of the pureed food. Brunhild had assured him it was her favorite. He took her pacifier and offered her the food. She opened her mouth but promptly spit it out.

Gerhard was aghast. If she wasn’t asleep there was no way he could get her through Checkpoint Charlie in the compartment. She would be bawling her head off. He had one more pill. Apparently, Brunhild had prepared for this contingency. But if this one didn’t work they were lost. He almost yelled at Monika, but stopped himself when he realized that would make matters worse. She didn’t understand that their futures depended on her taking the pill.

“Your baby is very cute.”

Gerhard’s head hit the roof of the car. He had been too preoccupied with Monika to see the older woman approaching. She was dressed in black and looked like a grandmother type. He got his heart under control and said, “Thank you.”

“Are you trying to feed her?”

“Yes, but she spit it out.”

“I raised six children. Perhaps I can help.”

Gerhard rejected that idea. He had to get rid of her. But he couldn’t just knock her unconscious and leave her here. Maybe he’d let her help for a minute. He thanked her again and got out of the car. He lifted Monika out and handed her to the woman who sat on a stone wall. She started spooning the mixture into Monika’s mouth, and she was swallowing it.

The pill. Gerhard said, “Monika has a cough and I’m supposed to give her this pill with her food.”

The woman nodded. “It’s a small pill but it would be better if it were ground up.”

She laid a cloth, which Gerhard used to wipe Monika’s face, on a rock, and placed the pill on it, mashing it with the spoon. Then she combined it with a spoonful of food and fed it to Monika, who immediately swallowed it. Success. Gerhard could never have done it as well.

He appreciated her help, but now she had to go. However, she continued to feed Monika the rest of the jar. He wanted to yank it out of her hand. Time was wasting.

She said, “She needs to have her diaper changed.”

Gerhard realized he couldn’t place Monika in the compartment with a dirty diaper. The guards would smell it, as he had for some time now. He produced a diaper. He hadn’t been looking forward to changing her. To his amazement, the woman deftly changed Monika’s diaper, wiped her off, and handed him the dirty one, folded up.

“Thank you again. You’ve been very helpful.”

Monika was getting sleepy. The pill was working. It was obvious she wasn’t going to eat any more. Gerhard put her back in the car. He thanked the woman once again. She said what a beautiful baby Monika was and wished them well. He drove away.

Gerhard still had to hide Monika. He went around the corner and stopped again. This time he looked around more carefully. He didn’t see anybody. He wrapped her in the blanket. She was asleep. He opened the hood. The floor of the luggage area was loose. He lifted it out and placed Monika in Gunter’s box underneath it. She just fit. He touched her innocent cheek and then closed the box and replaced and screwed in the luggage floor. He took his suitcase from the backseat and laid it in the storage space.

Nobody could tell there was anybody underneath. Gerhard hoped she didn’t wake up in there. He threw out everything that belonged to a baby, including the diaper. The smell lingered in the car. He opened the windows and drove away, hoping it would dissipate.

As Gerhard approached Checkpoint Charlie from the East German side he noticed the spot on the seat where Monika had spit up the food. Damn. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and frantically rubbed at it. It was hardly noticeable—he hoped. He surreptitiously threw the handkerchief out the window as he came up to the guard shack.

He felt strangely calm as he handed his passport and visa to the guard. He’d done everything he could. He and Monika were in the hands of the fates.

“Step out of the car, please.”

The guard spoke excellent English. Gerhard hoped this was a good sign. He popped the hood, as requested, confident the guard wouldn’t find anything amiss. The young man opened the suitcase and gave the contents a cursory look. He also took a peek through the rear window at the backseat, which was empty. Gerhard thought he was going to let him go.

The guard stood in front of Gerhard and looked at him. “How did you get the bruise on your jaw?”

His jaw? Where Klaus had struck him with his elbow. Gerhard had been ignoring the pain and the fact that he couldn’t open his mouth very wide.

“I-I…” Stop stuttering. “I was helping my aunt move some furniture down the stairs. I slipped and lost my hold on a dresser and it hit me in the jaw.”

It sounded hokey. Would the guard buy it? He examined Gerhard’s jaw from close range. Another guard came up to them and spoke in German to the first guard, telling him there was a phone call for him. Guard number two stood with Gerhard, while number one went into the guard shack. He didn’t speak, and Gerhard didn’t either.

Several minutes dragged by. When would Monika wake up? Was the phone call about a certain black VW they should be on the look-out for? Gerhard felt like jumping into the car and making a run for it, but the barrier in front of him had been strengthened since somebody had crashed through it, and after a couple of convertibles had managed to slip under it and escape. There was no way…

Finally, the first guard came ambling back, taking his sweet time. He had a serious look on his face. When he got close he spoke to the other guard in German. He said they had to go to a meeting. He waved Gerhard through. The barrier was raised.

Gerhard saw the path to freedom open. He jumped into the car and drove away before they could change their minds.

The letter was from a cousin of Gerhard who lived in East Germany. They had never met. He hurriedly opened it. He’d had no news of Brunhild in the two months since he’d brought Monika across the border and taken her to Buffalo, New York, USA. Brunhild hadn’t answered his letters.

The letter was written in German. It said Brunhild had asked him to write. She was in an East German prison. So was Gunter. Klaus had died from his wounds. Brunhild wanted Gerhard to write to the cousin and tell how he and Monika were doing. The cousin would pass what he said on to her.

Gerhard sat for a long time, trying to absorb this information. It made him very sad. The plight of Brunhild and Gunter, not the fact he’d killed a man. There had been no other way. He called to Monika who was walking, or rather running, now, and asked her to come to him. She raced over and he sat her on his lap. She looked solemnly into his eyes, as if she knew this was serious. She was very intuitive that way. Gerhard was sure she was wise beyond her age. He showed her the letter.

“Honey, this letter has news from where you used to live. The people there who love you are in trouble. They gave up what freedom they had for us, and we will always be grateful for what they’ve done. We are going to help them all we can.”

Monika smiled and seemed to nod. Then she slid off his lap and went racing after the kitten he’d brought home for her.