Leaving Berlin

8

Erich was on the radio in the morning, crisp and clear, as if he were actually in the studio. Just as Ferber had promised. Alex imagined the interview playing at breakfast tables all over the East, the Erzgebirge slave camps no longer just rumors, Erich’s fare paid.

He’d been up early, at the typewriter, drafting the letters he’d need later, ready to be retyped on official paper. Then his speech, weighing the words, getting the language right. The only writing he’d done since he’d come to Berlin. He looked at the small pile of manuscript on the desk, untouched, something from his former life. Leave the flat as if you’d just gone for a walk. But what writer would leave an unfinished book behind? He took out a large envelope and sealed the manuscript inside. A look around the room. Neat, but not abandoned, the bed still unmade. If anyone checked.

He walked past the water tower, its red bricks like embers in the pale winter sunshine, then down the hill to the park. Gretel, a sentimental pick, where he’d waited the first time. Wondering if he could do it, be two people.

“They get off?” Dieter said, joining him. “No trouble?”

“One of them did. She’s still here.”

Dieter waited.

“Answer me something.”

Dieter opened his hand. Go ahead.

“What Gunther found. Did you tell anyone else?”

“No.”

“I mean anyone.”

Dieter shook his head. “Why?”

“You once told me I had to trust somebody. So now I am,” he said, nodding at him.

“When did you decide, before the question or after?”

“Before. But you like to be right.”

“And to what do I owe this honor?”

“Instinct. And a few other things.”

Dieter grunted. “So?”

“I need your help. Someone tried to kill us last night. Down at RIAS. Hear anything yet on your grapevine? A car going over a bridge?”

“No. So they must be calling it an accident. But they know you’re involved, with the broadcast?”

“Not the people in the car. Not now.”

“But somebody.” He thought for a second. “And me? Do they know about me?”

“I don’t know. I’m going to find out.”

“No, just go. If they know, it’s no time for heroics. I heard the broadcast.”

“They want me to condemn somebody first, so that buys us a little time. A little. I have to do this right.”

“Do what?”

“What I came to do.”

Dieter looked at him, puzzled.

“I’ll explain later. First I need you to do something for me. You in?”

“It’s your life you’re playing with. You know that.”

Alex nodded. “Go to the Charité. Irene’s there. Under the name Elsbeth Mutter.”

“Who?”

“Just a name. The point is, nobody knows it’s her. Which means she’s safe. Tell her to stay there.”

“Another Wiesbaden? Or is she really sick?”

“She hit her head last night.”

“On the bridge?” Dieter said, looking at him.

“Somewhere.”

“And I’m the one you trust.”

“Maybe she’s better now. I don’t know. But she has to stay there. Okay? Then call Campbell and tell him to meet me at BOB.” He glanced at his watch. “Noon, a little later.”

“You can’t-”

“What’s the difference. I’m no longer a protected source. Tell him to wait if I’m late.”

“It’s against all the rules. What’s so important that-?”

“I’m going to tell him where Markovsky is. In my own way. So don’t ruin the surprise.”

Dieter stared at him. “I don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“Now you trust me. It works both ways. Just be ready when I call. One more thing. Do you have a gun I could borrow? Just in case.”

“Just in case.”

“You must keep one in the flat.”

“No, I keep it here,” Dieter said, patting his coat pocket. “Just in case.”

“Can it be traced?”

“I was in the police. I know how to do things.” He took the gun out and handed it to Alex, one hand covering it, as if they were being photographed. “The safety’s here. When you shoot, point outwards, not at yourself.”

“I’m not expecting to shoot it.”

“And that’s why you asked for it.”

Alex turned to go, then stopped, taking Dieter’s hand. “Thank you. You’ll see Irene? Now. So you’ll be back when I call.”

“I can follow orders. Frau Mutter.” Dieter looked across the fountain. “Remember the first day? In the snow? You were offended, I think. I called you an amateur. And now look. Be careful,” he said, touching Alex’s arm. “Better an amateur than dead.”

He caught the tram down to Alexanderplatz and walked past the palace. Scaffolding and scorched walls, what he’d seen that first night with Martin, everything circling back today, a completed loop. He stopped for a second on the bridge, turning around, wanting to remember it, the way Berlin looked now.

Around the corner from Markus’s office a makeshift café had been set up in a bomb site, a few tables outside with people wrapped in coats, their faces turned up to the weak sun. Inside, under a sloped temporary ceiling, a coffeemaker was steaming, people holding cups and leaning across tables to talk, couples and- He froze, just for a second, then caught himself and kept going. A second, but long enough, Roberta looking out, meeting his glance, her eyes suddenly wide. She looked back to the table before Markus could notice. Coffee with Markus. How she’d paid for Herb. A small price, except you kept paying. Coffee every week, powdered milk and little betrayals, the neighbors, the Kulturbund, Herb’s architect friends, all overheard now. Alex stumbled across the street. Markus’s new GI. And another tomorrow and another, Markus and his coffee cups multiplying because there would never be enough. And after a while Roberta would forgive herself. They all would. It was just the way things were. Remember this, not Alexanderplatz. This was the future.

He’d been heading for Markus’s office but Markus wouldn’t be there, not until he’d heard Roberta out, so he kept going the few blocks to the Kulturbund. Martin was surprised to see him.

“I thought the trial was today,” he said tentatively.

“Not until four. The Soviets never start anything early. Hungover, probably.”

“Herr Meier,” Martin said, but smiled a little.

“Are you going to testify?”

“No, no one from the Kulturbund,” he said, clearly relieved. “Only people from Aufbau. The editor, his assistant.”

Alex imagined them on the stand, facing the judges, not looking at Aaron.

“Good. For you, I mean. Not to have to do that.”

“Of course, if asked, I would do my duty,” Martin said, correct, a public answer.

Alex looked at him. His duty. Aaron in prison.

“Was there something you wanted?” Martin said, eager to move off it.

“I wondered if you’d do me a favor.”

“Herr Meier, of course.”

“I hope you won’t think it’s asking too much. I’d pay- I mean, I’d reimburse the Kulturbund for the tape. I know supplies are-”

“The tape?”

“Yes. You know I have a son in America. He has a birthday coming up, and it would be wonderful if I could record something to send him,” he said, nodding to the machine. “So he could hear me wish him happy birthday. Hear my voice. Like a telephone call. I’d pay you-”

Martin held up his hand. “Herr Meier, please. I’d be so happy. A lovely gesture.” He stopped, a sudden thought. “You know, of course, that a censor would have to play it. Any tape in the post.”

Alex smiled. “I’m not going to say anything that a ten-year-old shouldn’t hear. I think we’ll be all right. It’s fine, then? Would you show me how to use it?”

Martin busied himself threading the reels and setting the microphone levels, showing off a little, a teacher.

“When you’re finished, just switch it off here. Well, I’ll leave you. I’ll be down the hall if you need me,” he said, moving to the door, his bad leg making a shuffling sound.

Alex took one of the typed papers out of the big envelope and faced the microphone. The testimony Aaron would never hear, another gift to Ferber. His own airfare. He told the story everyone already knew: the exile returning to Berlin, the excitement of homecoming, the Socialist hopes. Then the disillusionment, the growing alarm at the Party’s abuse of its own people, finally his refusal to condemn an innocent man. His decision to leave the East, burning every bridge now, every smiling Neues Deutschland picture turned upside down. Voting once more with his feet. He imagined Brecht hearing the broadcast, dismissing it, a foolish self-immolation, maybe framing some sardonic twist to excuse the rest of them. But no turning back now.

He finished and put the tape in his pocket, feeling his heart racing, some clock ticking in his head. Almost there. When he left the office, waving thanks to Martin, he wondered if anything showed on his face. How did a man look with a gun in one pocket and a grenade in the other?

Markus was still out but his mother was at the office, perched on the edge of a chair in the waiting area, her eyes darting around the room, on guard.

“Alex,” she said, her shoulders relaxing. “How nice.”

“You’re waiting for Markus?” he said, just to say something. Her face, if anything, looked thinner, skin stretched tight over the bones.

“He wanted to see me. The Commissar,” she said, a wry edge to her voice. Alex looked up. A Berliner still.

“Won’t they let you wait in his office?”

“I like it here. Where I can see. And you, you’re well?”

“Yes, fine,” he said, sitting down next to her. “How is it going with you?” He touched her hand.

“Well, how would it go with me? The coughing keeps me up at night.”

“But you’re comfortable? Your room-?”

“They watch, I think.” She looked down. “Well, maybe they don’t, I don’t know. But then it’s the same, isn’t it, if you think it?”

He said nothing, remembering Oranienburg, the months after, an eye at every window.

“Maybe Markus will find a bigger flat, so you can be together.”

“Then he watches.”

“Well, but to be together,” Alex said, not sure how to respond to this. “It’s a big adjustment. So many years.”

“You know some of the German children, the young ones, were given away. To Russian families. So they’re Russian now. Impossible to find. Even if you knew where. And the others? Dead, most of them. I never thought I would see him again. But all the time he’s at the school. For the ones they wanted to send back.” She stopped, going somewhere else. “Do you know what I remember? How your mother played the piano. The music in that house. Do you play?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s not like eyes or hair, is it? Something passed down. Maybe you’ll come one day for coffee. We can talk.”

“I’d like that.”

She looked up, suddenly clutching his hand. “He thinks it was some kind of school. A classroom somewhere. Lessons. To correct myself. When I try to tell him, he doesn’t hear. He thinks it was a school.”

“No, he knows what it was. He knows.”

“He knows and he doesn’t know. Like everybody. All right, that’s how he survives. But he doesn’t just survive. He’s one of them.”

“Mutti,” Markus said, coming in. “Alex.” Looking at her hand, still clutching Alex’s. “You’re here?” he said to Alex, annoyed.

“Something came up.”

“Yes, all right, come.” Eager to get him out of the room, like sweeping dust under a carpet. “Mutti, I won’t be long. They gave you some tea?”

“I’m fine.” She let go of Alex’s hand. “So you’ll come see me?”

“Yes, soon. I promise.” Another one broken.

“What’s all that?” Markus said, pointing to the big envelope under Alex’s arm as they walked down the hall.

“Papers. For a speech. On the radio.”

“The radio. You heard about the brother this morning? And now it’s our fault. ‘How could you let this happen?’ The Russians don’t tell us he escaped, they don’t tell us he’s here, and now it’s our fault. Nothing changes with them.” He stopped, hearing himself, and pulled back. “What did she say to you, Mutti?”

“Nothing. The old days. How is she doing?”

“I don’t know. I think maybe a little-” He put a finger to his temple. “Fantastical ideas.” He opened the door to his office. “I thought it was understood you don’t come here.”

“This couldn’t wait.”

“Yes? What?”

“I have something for you. But I want something too.”

Markus looked up, surprised. “What?”

“I want to be excused from Aaron’s trial.”

“Again with this,” Markus said, impatient. “There’s nothing I can do.”

“Yes there is. Say you need me and this will compromise my position. They’ve got plenty of others to hammer the nails in the coffin. Nobody’s going to talk to me, if they think I’m part of this.” He opened his hand to take in Markus’s office.

“It’s the Russians who hold this trial, not us. Do you think they consult me-anybody-who should be a witness? Saratov doesn’t ask for permission.”

“No, but he’ll do you a favor. He’ll owe you.”

“Owe me for what?”

“Markovsky. I know where he is. That’s what I have.”

Markus stood staring for a minute, not moving. “How?” he said.

“I slept with her. Irene. That’s what you’ve wanted all along, isn’t it? And you were right. Once we went to bed-well, you know what it’s like.”

Markus blinked, a tiny shift of his body, squeamish, and it suddenly occurred to Alex that he didn’t know, that his contempt for Irene came out of some monastic ignorance. An unexpected piece of luck-something he wouldn’t question.

“Where is he?” Markus said carefully, as if any sudden movement would scare Markovsky away.

“The Americans have him. Here. But they’re going to move him. And that’s our chance. I can deliver him to you.”

“You?”

“Irene trusts me. So Markovsky does too. But I have to do this alone. If you come anywhere near him, they’ll know and it’s over.” He opened his hand. “Gone.”

Markus said nothing for a minute, standing still, only his excited eyes giving him away.

“You surprise me,” he said. “To involve yourself in this.” A question.

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“I thought you would protect your friend.”

“I am protecting her. You’d find him sooner or later and then you’d blame her. She had nothing to do with it.” He held up his hand before Markus could speak. “I know, I know. But it was his choice. Now that you’ve got him, you can leave her out of it. They’ll be too busy grilling him about the Americans to care about her. And congratulating you. Another promotion. At least. You wanted to work together. All right. This way we both come out ahead.”

“Yes? What do you get?”

“A powerful friend in high places,” Alex said, looking at him. “What could be more useful?”

Markus didn’t answer for a second, looking for something in Alex’s face. “Yes, what?” he said finally, his tone a kind of handshake. “I cannot guarantee that I can do anything about the trial. You must understand that.”

“Get me postponed then. Saratov will be a lot more receptive tomorrow. One more thing? As far as Irene is concerned, I had nothing to do with this. It was all you.”

“You want to-stay with her?”

“Markovsky’s not coming back. She’ll be alone.” He looked over at Markus. “You take the credit.”

“When does this happen?”

“They’re moving him this afternoon. I’ll call you when we leave. You don’t want to have a car sitting around if you don’t have to. Not in the Western sectors. They won’t leave the West. You’ll have to make the grab there.”

“That’s not a problem.”

“I’ll be in the car. So no fireworks. Just a quick snatch and you’re gone. They won’t be expecting this, so you won’t need an army. Two should do it. Be quick and nobody will know. Except Markovsky.”

Markus looked at him, the beginning of a smile. “You have a liking for this work.”

“No. From now on we just have coffee, like you said. But this one fell into my lap. And you never know when you’re going to need a favor.”

Markus nodded. “Where are they taking him?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll call. Then you’ll be waiting for us.” He paused. “We’re not going to have another chance at this.”

“We only need one,” Markus said.

Alex took the U-Bahn, changing at Nollendorfplatz, a busy transfer station with several levels, an easy place to lose a tail. He let a train go by to see if anyone else stayed behind on the platform, then went downstairs. The train for Innsbrucker Platz was nearly empty, a weary late-morning crowd of rubble women and old men, their faces vacant. He thought of Markus, the eager eyes, so close now. What was the experiment? Two scorpions in a bottle, both safe if neither attacked. But one always did.

He got off a stop early, at the Rathaus Schöneberg, and walked across the park to RIAS. No one behind, on his own. He passed the spot where the car had been waiting and went in through the back gate. Ferber was in high spirits.

“We’ve had calls from all over to broadcast it again. People who missed it. Radio Berlin’s ignoring it, which is always a good sign. They usually like to twist a story, confuse things. This one they won’t even touch. Ha. Radioactive. Like the mines.” He smiled, enjoying his own joke. “Tell your friend he did a great job. You know, I thought today everybody would be talking about Mother Courage. But no. The Erzgebirge. A great success.”

“How’d you like another? Something to follow it up.” He took the tape from his coat pocket and handed it over.

“Another? From Erich?”

“No. From me.”

Ferber looked at him, waiting.

“Why I’m leaving. For the West. The exile returns East, then says no. I won’t testify against Aaron. You can splice in anything you like. But don’t broadcast until tomorrow, okay? By then it’ll be true.”

“You’re sure about this?” Ferber said gently. “It’s an important step. You can never go back.”

“I know.”

“Then welcome,” Ferber said, taking his hand. “You know they’ll try to stop you. A name.”

“Only if they find out before I leave. So don’t tell them.”

“No,” Ferber said, smiling weakly. “It was Aaron? That made you decide to do this?”

“Not only. But it makes for a good finish,” Alex said, indicating the tape. “What happens to a good man in a police state. What’s going to happen to everybody.”

“You know we were at school together? Boys. A Communist, early. A believer. Well, everyone was a little bit in those days. Unless you believed the Nazis. And now this.”

“Are you going to cover the trial?”

“They won’t allow anyone from the West. But I can tell you what it will be. Aaron’s friends will be asked to attend. Anna and Stefan and-oh, anybody who might have a voice. And they’ll sit there and hear lies about him and know they’re lies and no one says anything. Only one voice now. Stalin’s. They are there to bow in public. Aaron’s punishment? They say it could be five years. In solitary. Five years. Maybe a madman after. My old friend. But the lesson’s not for him. It’s for them, the others. Now they know what is expected. And they’ll applaud the verdict.” He nodded. “You can hear it for yourself, on Radio Berlin.” He held up the tape. “Thank you for this. One person who says no.”

“The last time I did that I was deported,” Alex said, brushing this off. “At least this time I’m walking out on my own.”

“It’s not a small thing,” Ferber said, serious. “One step, but who takes it? Aaron can’t, none of them. The idea is everything to them-they can’t let it go. It was like that in Spain. I was there with Janka. In the brigades. Kids. And the Russians were heroes. Who else is helping? First advisers. Then they take over. And in the end they betray us-leave us to be picked off. The Internationale? Not in the Russian interest anymore. Everyone sees this. And no one will admit what’s happening. Because then what would be left? So they pretend. That’s what they’re doing now, over there.” He motioned with his head toward the East. “Still good Communists. But the Russians will betray them too. And then it’s too late. Like the brigades. So,” he said holding up the tape again, “not such a small thing. Where will you go?”

“I’m not sure yet. Let’s see who listens to that,” he said.

“Alex Meier leaves East Berlin? Everyone will want to hear this.” He hesitated. “You know, you are always welcome here. RIAS. We need-”

Alex smiled. “I’ve said everything I have to say.”

“I’m sure not, but-oh, excuse me.” He waved to an assistant heading toward him. “One minute, please.” He turned back to Alex. “It’s a tragedy in the office. One of the girls last night left early, some boy I suppose, and then a terrible accident. They want me to help arrange the funeral. But don’t worry,” he said, fingering the tape. “I’ll listen to this right away.”

“What kind of accident?”

“Car. He was probably driving like a crazy man. That age.”

“I’m sorry. How old was she?”

“Nineteen.” He shook his head. “She just came over from the East last spring.”

Alex changed trains again at Nollendorfplatz, this time going all the way to Friedrichstrasse, then walked to the Charité lot to get the car. The hospital door was busy, visiting hours. Dieter would have been and gone by now. So far so good. Dahlem was a long drive out. He thought about the girl from RIAS. How had they recruited her? Dreams of the future or a more practical bargain? Nineteen.

BOB turned out to be a large suburban villa on a quiet street off Kronprinzenallee, just up from Clay’s headquarters. A high pitched roof, double stairs to a front stoop, ordinary, no different from the other houses on the street. Alex had somehow expected guards and wire fences. Instead, a simple wrought iron gate and a mail slot. Shades half drawn, nobody home.

Inside was another story, clicking typewriters and people carrying folders, a room with a big map of Berlin on the wall, ready for location marking pins. Campbell, waiting for him, seemed tense, not sure whether he should be angry or alarmed.

“All right, where’s the fire? You realize that just by coming here-”

“They know. Someone tried to kill me last night.”

“What does that mean, kill you?”

“What it usually means. They know. So the cover doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t go back anyway.”

“Can’t go-?”

“No, so it’s time for you to send a cable. Back home. Recommending the Agency go to the State Department and the court. I’ve drafted one here for you.” He handed Campbell a paper from the big envelope. “And this we’ll need to have typed up officially. Your orders to bring me in from the field, with an office here. I left the pay grade open because I’m not sure what it’s supposed to be, so you fill that in. But we’d need a payroll listing to make it official, an Agency employee. What’s the matter?”

“What the hell is all this?”

“It’s what you promised. If I got the job done.”

“We’re not finished-”

“I am. I gave you everything you wanted. We had a propaganda coup this morning on the radio. Did you hear it?”

“I also heard you used my name to get him out.”

“I had to think fast. Anyway, it worked. RIAS is over the moon. But somebody followed me and tried to kill me. So it’s time to bring me in. It’s all there. Read it. It goes out under your signature, so you should have a look before they code it. I assume you can send cables from here. You have a transmitter?”

“Tried to kill you how?”

“Run me off a bridge.”

“Well, that could-”

“No. I know the difference. I’ve been learning on the job.”

“What happened to them?”

“They went over instead.”

“Then you’re all right.”

“Somebody sent them, Campbell. I can’t go back. Read the cable. You want to get somebody to type up my orders?”

“What’s the rush.”

“Things have a way of not happening with you.”

Campbell glared at him, then looked down, reading the cable.

“Quite a hero,” he said.

“You can tone it down if you like. But why be modest? We’re going to be petitioning the State Department. They’ll want to know I put my life on the line for the Agency, don’t you think?”

“What’s this about a broadcast? The kid’s in Frankfurt.” He looked up. “On my say-so.” Still annoyed.

“This one’s mine. Another propaganda coup. Alex Meier leaves East Berlin for the West. Ferber thinks it’ll make a big noise. None of the other exiles has gone back. Walked away. And I refused to testify at a show trial so we can float some balloons about the bad old days coming back, ’37 all over again, with innocent Germans being put away this time.”

“A man of principle,” Campbell said sarcastically.

“The kind the State Department should take in. In fact, after this it’ll look bad if they don’t.”

“What valuable information?” Campbell said, reading.

“Heavy water plant at Leuna. Saratov before he was announced. Add whatever details you like. I didn’t know what you’d want classified. There’s a second memo, for the files.”

“This doesn’t buy you anything.”

“Invaluable assistance at great risk to himself? Two major propaganda victories, again at risk to himself? Your personal recommendation? Send it and see.”

“I don’t send cables like this.”

“Then they’ll really sit up and notice.” He paused. “You said you would. That’s why I did it. All of it.”

Campbell looked at him. “All right. I’ll go over it, send my own version later. Now, what do we do with you?”

“No, send it now. I want to see the confirmation copy.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re not station chief yet. This doesn’t guarantee anything.”

“There’s something else. Not in the cable. We can follow up later. A one-two punch.”

“What?”

“I know where Markovsky is. I’m going to give him to you.”

Campbell looked up, startled.

“Where?”

“Send the cable.”

“How do you-? Oh, your friend. You got it out of her?”

“As you told me to. Send the cable.”

Campbell looked down at the paper, now little more than an annoyance.

“Alan,” he said, calling one of the clerks. “Have this encrypted. Mr. Meier here wants to see us transmit. He doesn’t trust us.”

“Just careful. It’s important in this business, isn’t that what you always say?” He gave the paper to the clerk. “And could you have somebody type this up on BOB letterhead?” He looked at Campbell. “You decide on the pay grade yet?”

“Don’t take chances.” He scribbled something in the margin.

“And this,” Alex said, handing another paper to the clerk.

“What’s that?”

“My farewell to Berlin speech. A hard copy for the file.”

The clerk waited for Campbell’s nod.

“All right. Now where is he?”

“I’ll take you to him. When we’re finished here.”

“You’re being very cute all of the sudden.”

“Have a smoke. It shouldn’t take long.” He looked around. “Some setup. Are there beds upstairs? Or do you put people in billets?”

“Depends. If they’re at risk outside.”

“So, here. With any luck I’ll be out of your hair in a few days. The speech will make the news and that should move things along at State, don’t you think?”

“You’re so sure about this.”

“When you give them Markovsky, you’ll be able to write your own ticket. So you write two. One for me. That was the deal.”

“Not quite.”

“Well, things happen. And for once we got lucky.”

“She just told you? Like that?”

“She doesn’t know she told me. I figured it out.”

“Figured it-”

“Don’t worry. I know. Anyway, you can always send another cable if anything goes wrong.”

Campbell, disgruntled, looked away and lit a cigarette.

“You might say ‘Nice job’ or something. I never thought we’d get him.”

Campbell sat smoking, watching Alex, as if he were adding up columns of numbers.

“And where has he been all this time?” he said.

“Babelsberg. Out by DEFA. But she’s moving him today.”

“She’s moving-?”

“And we run interference.”

“You’re setting her up,” Campbell said quietly.

“Would you have sent the cable otherwise?”

Campbell looked away.

“Sir? Sign here.” Handing Campbell the authorization letter. The clerk turned to Alex. “Nice to have you with us. We all wondered who you were. The protected source.”

“Not anymore.”

“No, not anymore,” Campbell said. “All right. Now you’re official. What else?”

“We wait for the cable, then we go.” He made a show of checking his watch.

“Alan, get a car. Brady and Davis, I guess. That enough?” he said to Alex.

“She’s only expecting me. Troops might scare her off. It’s just the two of them. I think we can handle it. But your call.”

Campbell thought for a second. “All right. Never mind, Alan.”

“Anything I can do?” the clerk said, eyes excited.

“No. Just start a file on this one. He’s worried about his pension.” He turned to Alex. “And what’s your next bright idea?”

“With Markovsky? He’s all yours. I’d put him on a plane for Wiesbaden. Show him in public this time. Just for the hell of it.”

“Is that what you’d do,” Campbell said, stubbing out the cigarette.

When the cable confirmation came through, Campbell got up to go.

“I’ll get my coat.”

A minute, two. Time enough for Alex to make his calls. An empty office next to Alan’s. Dieter, then Markus. Finished before Campbell got back.

Alex drove. “She knows the car,” he said.

It was a long trip back into town, through Wilmersdorf, then the more crowded West End.

“I don’t think you’re going to need that,” Alex said finally, nodding toward Campbell’s pocket. “They’re not expecting-”

“You’re new to this. You corner a man like Markovsky, you’d better be ready for anything.”

Alex was quiet for a minute.

“New,” he said. “It feels longer. What did you think? When Washington said they were sending me.”

“Think? I thought you’d be a pain in the ass. First timer. In Berlin. You don’t want to be a freshman here. It’s dangerous.”

“But maybe an opportunity for you. Somebody who doesn’t know the ropes. Easier to play.”

“To play.”

“You told me Willy was a leak and I just swallowed it.”

“Willy was a leak.”

“After you said so. And he wasn’t around to say anything. You know, I keep thinking about Lützowplatz. You said it wasn’t supposed to go that way, but how was it supposed to go? I thought they were after me. But what would be the point of setting me up so soon? You hadn’t even run me yet. But I’d make a great decoy if you wanted Willy out of the way. He’d die protecting me. But the others weren’t supposed to get killed. That’s what went wrong. You thought I’d just stand there pissing my pants. No gun. You never thought I’d kill anybody.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Willy said you had a Polish name. Hard to pronounce, so you changed it. You still have family there? Is that how they did it? Use that leverage? You were always interested in whether I had family in the East. You knew how that worked.”

“How they did what?” Campbell said.

“Turn you. So was it family? It’d be easy to check, I guess, now that I know where to look. But maybe something else. Lots of ways to do it. Look at my friend Markus. Anything he can use. But I’d guess family. I don’t see you as the believer type.”

“Turn me. What the fuck-?”

“It was you,” Alex said simply. “Only two people knew I was taking Erich to RIAS. You and Dieter. But I changed things around. And when we got to the airport, what did I find? Howley’s office hadn’t called to clear us. All right, maybe a fuckup. Except everything there’s like clockwork. No fuckups or the planes don’t turn around. And Howley’s office gives us the go-ahead like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Like they would have if you had called. But you didn’t. Why should you? You knew we were never going to get to the airport. We’d be dead. Or in a holding cell somewhere. Why waste the call?”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“Am I? Then there’s the little comedy with Saratov. Our friend going to Moscow. Not your idea, I think. He just couldn’t resist. Two can play at that game. But how did he know Markovsky wasn’t in Wiesbaden? That we couldn’t just pull him out of our hat and make the Moscow story go away? Only two people knew that. You and Dieter. So we’re back where we started. It was you.”

“And not Dieter.”

“No. You.”

“And why is that?”

“Because Dieter knows Markovsky’s dead and you don’t. You never would have gone on this little joyride if you didn’t think he was alive.”

“Dead?”

“But you didn’t know that. So neither do the Russians. Or they’d have been all over it.”

“Then what are we doing?”

“I want my life back. And you’re going to get it for me. They won’t say no to the Agency.”

“Because I sent one cable? Wait’ll you see the next one. What do you think you’re worth now? To the Agency. You think anybody gives a rat’s ass about you? Because you gave a speech? You’re not useful anymore, that’s all that matters.”

“I thought you might feel that way. That’s why the cable went first. And the speech is just what State will want to hear. So, now one more piece. A little insurance. To show the Agency how valuable I am.”

“What? By telling stories about me? Who the fuck’s going to believe you?”

“No one maybe.” He turned to glance at him. “I don’t care if you get away with it. I don’t care about you at all. I just wanted you to know I know. Maybe Willy knew too, or suspected. Is that why? Tell me something. How long were you going to keep running me before I was just another Willy? Once Markovsky disappeared, I wasn’t good for much. Gossip. Why were the Russians so interested in him, by the way? One of their own. Let me guess.”

“More guessing.”

“They wanted to get something on him. So Saratov could be the broom. Clean house. Man with a German mistress. This is the West to them. And he’d been here a long time. So a few personal details, for the files, just to make the case look real. Before Saratov came in to save everything. Start putting all those corrupting influences on trial. Jesus, Campbell, how did you feel doing this?”

Campbell was quiet for a minute. “You need to stop now. Before someone starts taking any of this seriously.”

“It was you.”

“Then you’re taking a helluva chance.”

“With you? Only a little one. I think you like other people to do it for you. And I have a gun too.” He looked over. “When you corner a man, you’d better be ready for anything, right? And I wouldn’t think twice. Not now. The last time I was in Lützowplatz I killed a man for you. That was hard. But that was a while ago. This time it would be easy.”

“Corner a man. With what? Some wild story? You haven’t cornered me.”

“No. I’m going to let somebody else do that.”

“What?”

“It’s a pity your Russians don’t share things with the Germans. Who you are, for instance. You should learn to trust them more. Otherwise, you start working at cross purposes.”

“What are-?”

“Here we are.”

“Where?”

“Lützowplatz. You weren’t here last time. You sent me instead. Into a trap. You wouldn’t think it, though. All open like this. So I thought, why not Lützowplatz this time.”

“For what?”

“To pick up Markovsky.”

“Who’s dead.”

“Mm. How are you going to explain that?”

“Me?”

Alex started around the square, listening for a screech of tires, but they swept past the south side of the square in silence, then up the street where his house had been. Where was Markus?

“What are you doing?”

Now the north leg, toward the bridge, almost completing the square. Markus didn’t know they were coming from Dahlem, from the south. Maybe he was waiting on the bridge, with a view of the whole square. Or maybe something had gone wrong. Another turn.

“What the hell are you doing?” Alarmed now. “Get out of here!”

Back to the bottom, about to turn and circle again. Where was he?

Campbell grabbed at the wheel, pulling right, out of the turn, so that they were shooting south out of the square. “Drive.”

Alex yanked back, breaking Campbell’s awkward hold, stepping on the gas.

“Fuck,” Campbell said and lunged now, fighting over the wheel, so that when he pulled it back the car skidded across the street, scraping into a standing wall. Alex stopped.

“Back up. Get out of here.”

But now a car was swerving out of the canal embankment, where it had been waiting, racing toward them, a matter of seconds, the same screech, blocking the car, two men jumping out, guns drawn, yanking the car doors open. Markus looked in.

“Where is he?”

“He’s got him,” Alex said. “Careful. He pulled a gun on me. He’s American intelligence.”

“What the fuck-?” Campbell said.

“Don’t move. Hold your hands out,” Markus said to Campbell. Then, to Alex, “What happened?”

“He tricked Irene. About moving Markovsky. But he didn’t know I’d bring him here. To you. Just take him and question him. Whatever you have to do. He knows where Markovsky is. It’s just a matter of getting him to tell you. Then you’ve got him.”

“What are you-?” Campbell said.

“Shut up. Get in the car,” Markus said, waving the gun to his car.

“I wouldn’t hold out,” Alex said to Campbell. “It’s never worth it.”

“He’s lying,” Campbell said to Markus. Then to Alex, “You lied to me.”

“You lied to me. That doesn’t make us even.”

“Alex, what-?”

“Go ahead,” Alex said to Campbell. “Tell him who you are.”

“Bastard.”

“He’s Don Campbell,” Alex said. “CIA in Berlin. He’s got Markovsky. He can tell you where he is.”

“That’s right,” Campbell said. “He’s dead.”

“Dead?” Markus said.

“Then what are you doing here?” Alex said. “And now you’re wasting time. In the end we’re going to find out anyway. Markus?”

Markus nodded to his partner, who stepped toward Campbell, waving him to Markus’s car.

“Meier, for chrissake-”

“Just tell him what he wants to know.” Alex faced him. “I don’t need any more cables. You’ve said everything you needed to say. You’re not useful anymore.”

Campbell’s eyes opened wide.

“Cables?” Markus said.

“Better get him out of here,” Alex said. “In case it’s a trap. Someone else waiting.”

“Trap,” Campbell said, almost spitting it. “I’m working with you,” he said to Markus. “Check with Saratov. He’s lying to you.”

“Working with me?” Markus said.

“Russian security.” He caught Alex’s eye, a second.

“With the Russians?” Alex said, sarcastic. “Don’t you think they might have mentioned that? Or did you just join up now?” He turned to Markus. “We’re wasting time.”

Markus looked from one to the other, then nodded again to his partner, who grabbed Campbell’s arm.

“You fuck,” Campbell yelled at Alex, breaking from the partner’s grip and pushing him away. He reached into his pocket, the gun out almost before the movement registered. Alex’s eyes went to the barrel, pointed at him, as he fumbled for his own. No. A deafening sound to his left, the whole square filled with it, Markus shooting, Campbell’s gun dropping out of his hand as he fell. Alex ran over. Eyes still open. Markus had shot to wound, still hoping for questions later. Alex raised his gun. No more lines to cross.

“Alex-!” Markus shouted. The partner stumbled toward them and stopped, not sure what to do.

Campbell’s eyes fluttered. “Don’t,” he said faintly, a whimper.

“You know what Willy taught me?” Alex said to Campbell. “Or was it you? No witnesses.”

His finger on the trigger, unable to move, a stopped moment. Not who I am.

“Alex-!” Markus said again.

Alex fired, the explosion filling the air around them, Campbell’s head jerking back, pieces splitting off, soft. Alex stood there shaking, his hand trembling. Not easier. Not who I am. But who I am now.

Markus was staring at him, his face moving, some storm passing over it, then still.

“The man in the English coat,” he said. “It was you. She saw you.”

Alex looked over. “Yes.”

“Then you knew-” He nodded toward Campbell.

“Yes.”

“You lied to me.”

Alex nodded. “To both of you.”

He turned to Markus’s partner. “Help me get him in the car. The trunk. See if there’s something we can wrap his head in. We have to get him off the street.”

Markus just stared.

“Well, you don’t want him, do you? You don’t want to go anywhere near him. Or Saratov-”

“What are you doing?”

“We were ambushed. It’s a miracle I’m alive. He went down in the line of duty. Which will make his cable even better. Coming from a hero.”

“Cable,” Markus said, still in a fog.

“Never mind,” Alex said, lifting Campbell’s feet. “Point is, you’ll need to think what to tell Saratov. If you stay.”

“He was with the Russians?” Markus said, still working it out.

Alex nodded. “So let’s explore our options. Thanks,” he said to the partner, Campbell now stowed in the trunk. “Better wait in the car.” The man looked to Markus, who nodded.

“Our options,” he said to Alex. “You lied to me.”

“Well, now I’m going to make it up to you. Let’s see how this works. You just shot a Russian agent. And you recruited an American one. Which puts you in an awkward position. No, don’t bother.” He indicated Markus’s gun. “I’m on the radio tomorrow, on tape, turning my back on the East. A real embarrassment for the SMA. Your recruit. So you’re still in an awkward position whether I’m dead or not. And Campbell here knew you recruited me-he asked for your name-so it’s probably in a Russian file somewhere. Maybe you can talk your way out of it somehow. But Saratov doesn’t look like the understanding type. So that’s option one.”

“And two?” Markus said quietly.

“You once offered me a job. Now I’m offering you one.”

“A job.”

“You wanted to work together.”

“Work for you.”

“Only for a little while. I’m going home. And you’re going to help. My insurance.”

“How?”

“I’m going to recruit you. A nice big fish. The Agency is going to be impressed. Maybe even grateful.”

“A promotion for you.”

“Better. A ticket. Home. You’re a good catch, you know everything about the German security force. And even if you didn’t, the embarrassment factor alone-”

“You want me to work for the Americans? Are you crazy?”

“Wake up.”

Markus jerked his head back.

“You’re not just in an awkward position. You’re done here.”

“Go to the West?” He stopped. “Leave? You don’t understand what we’re trying to build here.”

“You’re building a prison. You just can’t see it. You’re one of the guards right now, so it looks all right to you. See how it looks tomorrow. If you’re dumb enough to hang around that long. Markus, I’m offering you a chance.”

“To be a traitor.”

“A chance for you and your mother.”

“Mutti? You want her to go to the West too? She would never-”

“It would be nice to think there was another way to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Make you see. Have you been out to Sachsenhausen? That’s where she’s been. Worse. It would be easier if you could see that, how things really are. But it’s probably too late. The hook’s in. So we have to take a different approach. You know how it works. Some leverage. Some pressure. Snap.” He made a closing sound with his fingers. “And you’ve got him. Like you had me.”

“So you’re blackmailing me.”

“And how does it feel? Ask Roberta. Ask any of them. Your GIs.” He cocked his head. “You’re finished there.”

Markus said nothing, staring, his mouth slightly open.

“I’m offering you a lifesaver. Grab it. Get your mother and go to twenty-one Föhrenweg in Dahlem. Now. Before anybody starts asking questions about him.” He looked toward the trunk. “Before your friend there starts telling people what an exciting day he had. You really think you can talk your way out of this one? Nobody’s that good. The Russians never blame themselves. They’ll blame you.”

Markus looked up, a point that finally seemed to hit its mark.

“Who are you?” he said, his voice distant. “I never thought, when you came-”

“Neither did I.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“Did you?” he said, suddenly dismayed, seeing Kurt’s little brother. “Then trust me now. It’s your best option. The only one.”

“You don’t do this for me. For you. To make yourself important. And then what about me? What’s my future?”

Alex looked at him.

“I don’t know. But at least you’ll have one.”

Dieter met him at the hospital lot.

“Where’s Campbell?”

“In there.” He pointed to the trunk.

Dieter looked up. “You?”

“Why would you think that.”

“I started going over things. After you left. Who else knew you were taking Erich to RIAS?”

“Only you. And Campbell.”

Dieter took this in, then nodded. “What are you going to do with him?”

“Take him back to BOB. I couldn’t just leave him in the street. After the ambush. You don’t desert somebody when he saves your life. Takes a bullet for you.”

“Ah.”

“He died for the Agency. Who’s to say otherwise? The Russians? They get quiet, times like this.”

Dieter looked at him, a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Amateur,” he said. “It’s lucky I was there. So you have a witness.”

Alex looked at him, a conversation in a glance. “Yes, lucky.”

“And did you find out? Whether he told them about me?”

“No. Sorry.”

“Well, but the odds are yes. And who risks his life for odds. You’re going out to Dahlem?”

“You want a lift? Markus may be arriving later.”

Dieter raised his eyebrows.

“I’ll tell you in the car. But I have one more thing,” he said, glancing toward the hospital. “I won’t be long.”

“I’ll wait for you on the other side. By the Gate. You don’t want to risk a border check with a body in the trunk.”

“But you risk it.”

Dieter shrugged. “And what do you want to do about Markovsky?”

“Can you get Gunther to bury him as Max Mustermann? The Russians love a mystery. Let’s give them one.”

“He won’t like that.”

“Nobody will ever know. Except you and me.”

Dieter looked at him. “And whoever killed him.”

“That’s right. And whoever killed him.”

“Another mystery,” Dieter said. “You ought to stay in this work. You have the nerves for it.”

“What, and work with you?”

“They’re all amateurs out in Dahlem. New to it. The Russians aren’t amateurs. For this one thing, they have a genius.” He paused. “You could be useful. I’d help you. You’re in this now.”

“I’m not in anything.”

“No?” Dieter said, glancing at the trunk. “Once you start, you know, it’s hard to turn your back. No one else understands how it is, what we have to do, unless they’re part of it too. It’s important work. You could be valuable.”

“Is this what BOB said to you?”

Dieter smiled. “No, I was easier. They got me for a letter. To wash my sins away. ‘A Nazi of convenience,’ that’s the phrase they used.”

“Were you?”

Dieter shrugged. “Everyone on the force. Now an Ami of convenience. You do what you have to do. Terrible things sometimes,” he said, looking toward the trunk again, then back at Alex. “You try to keep a piece of yourself. Something they can’t get. And then it’s over and you think, my God, I did that. I was part of it. So in the end what did you keep? And now,” he said, extending his hand to take in the car, the city beyond. “A new side. More things we don’t talk about. You think you don’t pay, but-you carry it with you.” He looked over. “If you go on with this work, keep something for yourself. Not just a piece. Otherwise they’ll take it all. And then you’re not good for anything else.”

Alex felt cold on the back of his neck.

“Well, my friend, better hurry,” Dieter said. “You still have a body to explain.”

Irene was sitting up, wearing a pink bed jacket, frilly, with girlish silk ribbons. She giggled at his expression.

“Elsbeth’s,” she said. “She dresses like a doll. So, finally. That strange man before. ‘Don’t leave the hospital.’ Why? ‘Wait for Alex.’ So now we can go?”

“Are you all right?”

“This?” she said, touching a white head bandage. “It’s better, I think. Gustav says I should rest a few days, but I could do that in Marienstrasse, no?”

“You could also go to Elsbeth. Then Erich. I can still get you a plane out.”

“Oh, again with that.”

“It would be better for you.”

“What’s wrong? Your face. They found him, Sasha?”

“No. They’re not going to. I’m taking care of it. You’ll never have to worry about that. It’s safe. It would just be better in the West, that’s all. Easier.”

“What do you mean, you’re taking care of it?”

“I don’t have time to explain. It never happened. You don’t know anything. You never did. Okay?”

“And Elsbeth’s name?”

“Just a precaution. If they checked the hospitals. After the accident. And your name popped up-”

“The accident.”

“That’s what they’re calling it. You don’t know anything about that either.”

He waited for a moment.

“I’m going to be on the radio tomorrow.”

“Like Erich?”

“Yes. Just like Erich. So I have to leave. I’ve come to say good-bye.”

“Good-bye?” she said faintly, almost dazed. “You’re leaving? Where? Frankfurt?”

“No, I’m going back.”

“Back where? You can’t go back.”

“I can now. I made an arrangement.”

“Clever Alex,” she said. “Always-” She looked up. “You mean you’re leaving me.”

“I have a child. I don’t want him to grow up without me. That’s all that matters now.”

“That’s all? Not us?”

He sat on the bed, putting a hand up to her face. “Us. There is no us. It was just an idea you had.”

“I don’t believe you. It’s not the child. It’s something else.”

“No, it’s him. It’s what I came to Berlin for-to go back.”

“What does that mean? You’re not making sense.”

“I know. Never mind. I have to go. I can’t stay in Berlin.”

“But why?” she said, her voice rising, a kind of wail. “You never said-”

“The people who were following us last night were following me. Not you. You’re safe, but I’m not. I have to go.”

“But what about me? What will I do?”

“Go to Elsbeth.”

“Oh, Elsbeth. This stupid jacket,” she said, taking it off. “You’re leaving me and I’m in this ridiculous jacket. In bed. No,” she said, getting out. “I can stand. Tell me standing up. This is what you came to say? You’re leaving me? I thought you loved me.”

“I do,” he said softly. “But I can see you better now. All of you. Erich. Elsbeth. You. Before I just saw what I wanted to see.”

“Oh,” she said, flailing, clutching the bed jacket. “See me better. What does Erich have to do with anything? Elsbeth. I don’t understand-”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“What question?” she said, distracted, a kind of pout.

“When you told them things, did you tell them about me?”

“What?”

“It’s important to me. To know. I don’t blame you. I just want to know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You should have gone with Erich. And I should have known then. You weren’t scared enough. You should have been. I was. But you weren’t afraid to stay. I thought it was the usual von Bernuth foolishness. Nothing can touch us. But it wasn’t just that. You still felt protected. Even with Sasha gone. Did it start with him? Or before? Of course, he wouldn’t just sleep with you. He’d ask you things. Nothing special. DEFA, probably. Did you report on DEFA? Tell them what people were saying? Fritsch? Which doesn’t matter much, until somebody doesn’t turn up for work.”

“Stop this,” she said, shoulders back now, standing still.

“And then I came. Somebody from the West. They’d want to know everything. What I did, what I said. And you were in such a good position to help. Maybe that’s what Leon was doing the night I came to the flat. Just getting a report. Be nice to think that’s all it was since we’d just- But probably one thing led to another. You’d want to keep the DEFA job safe. With Sasha gone. And once you start something like this, they never go away. There’s always somebody.”

“That’s why you’re leaving? Because you think this?”

“I know how it is. When I saw Roberta, I thought yes, just like that. A coffee, checking in. That’s how it’s done. But not with Markus. Maybe that’s why he’s so angry with you-I’ll have to ask him. He couldn’t get to you, you were already in another league, with the Russians. No wonder Markovsky was so upset when he found out about Erich. Lying to him. You expect better from a source. Especially one you’re sleeping with. Feels like she’s cheating on you. An insult.”

“Stop it.”

“And after? I kept thinking they were going to haul you in for some serious questioning, but no. They never seemed to suspect you. Why would they? You were still cooperating, still one of them. In a small way, maybe, but they’d look after you. A kind of protection racket. How else to get along?”

“Alex, please.”

“I don’t care why you did it. All the usual, what else? Maybe they forced you. They don’t give you much choice. I know how it works.”

“Oh, you know,” she said, eyes flashing. “You think you know.”

“But if you stay here, they’ll never leave you alone. That’s why I thought the West-” He looked up. “Did you? Did you tell them anything about me? It’s important to me to know.”

“Why?” she said, turning her back to him, walking, then back, pacing in a cage. “So you can hate me?”

He took her by the arms. “Did you? Please. Tell me.”

“Nothing. Unimportant things,” she said, wrenching away from him. “That’s all. Unimportant things. They don’t care. Anything. They just like to collect-”

“I know. They asked me about Aaron. Unimportant things.”

“You think I wanted to make trouble for you?”

“No.”

“No. It was just, what does he say? Does he like it here? Unimportant things. So, yes, he likes it here. What’s the harm in that? All good things, what they like. They respect you. You have a position here.”

“Not after tomorrow,” he said.

“What’s tomorrow? Oh, the radio. What do you say?”

“Things they won’t like. I can never come back.”

“So it’s like before. In America. The great gesture. And where do you go this time?”

“I don’t know. Wherever I can see Peter.”

“But not me. It doesn’t mean anything to you, how we are?” She reached for him, drawing him closer. “You can’t just walk away. You can’t. I’m not like her. The one in America.”

“No.”

“This nonsense I tell them. It’s so important?”

He stroked her hair. “No. I just wanted to know. It makes things easier, that’s all.”

“What things? I can stop all that. We could-” She pulled back. “You’re not even listening. It doesn’t matter what I say-” Her voice quivering, then suddenly calm. “How can you leave? You always wanted this.”

“Yes, I always did.”

She stood taller, gathering up her pride like a skirt. “Well, then. And later, how will you feel?”

He looked at her, the same defiant eyes, Kurt’s head in her lap, feeling time dissolve. He slipped out of her arms and walked to the door, then turned.

“What?”

“I just wanted to look.” A snapshot moment, what he’d felt on the bridge.

“Alex, for God’s sake-”

“You used to think everybody was in love with you.”

She shrugged. “So maybe they were,” she said, her face soft. “In those days.”

“Maybe. I was. I wonder-”

“What?”

“How different everything might have been. If you’d been in love with me.”

He walked down Luisenstrasse and over the bridge. In the dusk, moving headlights were lighting up the Brandenburg Gate, the world divided by a few steps. Nobody was stopping traffic. A crude wooden sign. You are leaving the Soviet sector. He passed under the arches expecting to hear a police whistle, pounding feet. But in another minute, East Berlin was just a patch of dark behind him. Out of it. Through the Gate. Where everything would be different. Where he would be himself again. Dieter was leaning against the trunk of the car, smoking, waiting, indifferent to what was inside. What he would become. Maybe what he already was. You’re in this now. You do what you have to do. Then you carry it with you. But he was here, on the other side. He stopped for a second, taking a deep breath, somehow expecting the air itself to be different. But the air was the same.