A Few Words for the Dead (11 page)

How tempting it was simply to burst in and say ‘For God’s sake, just pass me the phone and let me talk to him.’

‘All right, all right, I won’t say anything. You know you can trust me. Wait…’

She shifted in bed and I stepped back, trying to decide whether it might, after all, be worthwhile brazening it out if she discovered my eavesdropping. Then she sat back down, the bed springs creaking, and I heard the sound of her cigarette lighter.

‘I promised, didn’t I?’ she said. ‘I’ll be there.’ The smell of cigarette smoke crept underneath the door. ‘Yes, of course, as much as I can…’

There was another moment of silence then she began to speak. ‘Darling, I…’ then stopped. After a moment I heard her put the phone down. She’d obviously been cut off quicker than she might have liked. I snuck back to my room and carefully closed the door behind me.

So, I had discovered two things. Firstly, she was in contact with Lucas. This made life much easier, especially as she was clearly planning on meeting him. Secondly, given her little performance when I’d arrived, so shocked at the news of Robie’s disappearance, she was a better actress than the current state of her career suggested.

Tomorrow I would follow her and see where she led me.

I moved over to the window and looked out. It was snowing again, adding to the layers I had walked through earlier, deepening and building up in drifts. In the middle of the street an old woman was dancing, spiralling around in the falling snow. I was reminded of the young girl Engel and I had seen outside Grauber’s apartment. These Berliners do so love the snow, I thought, watching her spin and spin. Her head was upturned towards me, its sagging face pulled into a grin of joy. Suddenly she stopped and stared at me. The room was dark, there was no way she could be aware I was watching. I kept telling myself that as she stared directly at me. After a moment she hooked her index fingers into the corners of her mouth and pulled her face into a distorted mask, like a rude schoolchild pulling faces behind a teacher’s back. Face distended, she hopped up and down on the spot, as if throwing the insult up at me. I continued to stare, trying to find reason and logic in her behaviour and coming up short. Finally she fell back into the road and lay still. I was just accepting that I would have to go down there and make sure she was all right when she slowly got to her feet, hands pressed to her left hip as if in pain. She looked around, seemingly confused to find herself there, and then limped away into the darkness.

I had little choice but to sit by the window and wait for the new day. I couldn’t risk Alexandra leaving the apartment without me. Of course, the sleep I had been so uninterested in earlier seemed far more attractive by the time the distant floodlights of the Wall were replaced by the encroaching dawn. Eventually I left the room in search of coffee and the opportunity to keep moving.

I finally found the things I needed in her lacklustre kitchen to put some caffeine in me and leaned out of the window to drink it, letting the cold of the morning shock me into wakefulness. The snow was thick now, the early morning traffic carving back ownership of the roads as pedestrians plodded up to their ankles in it on the pavement. It had stopped falling for now but the heavy clouds above us made it clear we could expect its return soon enough.

Alexandra woke late, damn her, and, by the time she shuffled into the room I was on my third coffee and had searched the flat thoroughly just in case I stumbled on anything interesting. I hadn’t, but I had given it a good tidy so at least one of us was up on the deal.

‘It looks different in here,’ she said, as she looked around the lounge.

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ I told her, ‘so I did some housework. I hope you don’t mind.’

She shrugged and shuffled off into the kitchen. ‘I haven’t got much food in,’ she shouted.

I already knew that, having tried to make myself some form of breakfast an hour or so earlier. I had come back with nothing but a working knowledge of how long tinned mushrooms thrived past their sell-by date. I followed her into the kitchen.

‘I’ll take you out for breakfast,’ I told her, intentionally not phrasing it as a question, just to see how she would react.

The pause was brief. ‘That would be lovely. We’ll have to be quick, though, I’m meeting a producer in a couple of hours.’

‘Then maybe you can suggest somewhere on the way. Get dressed as quick as you can and we can be off.’

She didn’t argue, just took the small coffee she’d poured for herself and returned to her bedroom. After a moment I heard her turn on her en-suite shower and took the opportunity to jump into the bathroom. I hadn’t wanted to shower myself in case she had crept out while I was otherwise distracted.

It was clear that, like the guest bedroom, the general bathroom had seen little recent use. The few bottles of toiletries were discoloured. A bar of soap turned the colour of a bruise on the edge of a cracked bath. The water worked, though, and the only thing that stopped me feeling suitably refreshed was the fact that I had no choice but to climb back into my old clothes once I’d finished.

‘If you could fit a Chanel frock, darling,’ she said when she emerged, considerably later, from her own preparations, ‘I’d happily lend you one, but I think you might draw attention to yourself.’

This Alexandra Hoss was different to the woman I had met the night before. It had done its make-up and hair, selected its outfit and – like all performers in my experience – was now feeling more confident for having done so. Actors always thrive when given half an hour and years of experience in front of a mirror. Perhaps we’re all characters we present to the world and they’re just more honest about it.

We left her apartment and stepped out into the frozen streets. It served my stupid presumptions right to be presented with a thriving city, laughing and playing in the snow. Had I thought that everyone in East Berlin would be walking around sullen and fearful? Hanging their heads in case they drew the attention of the authorities? No, that was just me. As we drew close to the wall I watched a group of children playing on it, hanging from the bricks and pelting it with snowballs that exploded in white stars against the concrete.

We breakfasted in a small cafe, Alexandra picking at a pastry as if it were made from something difficult to digest.

I tried to engage her in conversation about Lucas but she retreated into the safe ground of theatrical anecdotes, namedropping and howling in fake amusement at stories she must have told a thousand times. So doing, she managed to block any attempts I made to get her to veer off-script until, finally, she got to her feet announcing that she had to go to her meeting.

‘Spare key,’ she said, placing a set of keys on the table. ‘Make yourself comfortable and I’ll be back later.’

I waved her off and watched her walk down Bruckenstrasse, doing her best to negotiate the icy pavement as if it were a catwalk.

I waited until she was a short distance away before picking up the keys and leaving money on the table for our breakfast. I followed after her.

She crossed the river then descended into the S-Bahn, heading south towards Plänterwald. I managed to keep track of her while maintaining my distance; she was, thankfully, far too self-obsessed to make a decent spy. Perhaps she was wary of being recognised by her fellow passengers but she kept her head down and turned away from the rest of the carriage. Alighting at Plänterwald, I followed her into the dense greenery of the park, the distant sound of the crowds and the whooping rides at the Kulturpark growing louder as we drew towards it.

In the years to come, the park would be one of Berlin’s abandoned areas. Closed down due to bankruptcy, it would become a wired-off ghost of its former self, the large Ferris wheel towering above the rest of the attractions as the grass rose up to stifle them. Back then, the park was still in full swing, rich with the smell of the food stalls and the spin and grind of waltzers. The snow hadn’t put people off from visiting, the staff working hard to ensure that everything was cleared so business could flourish despite the chill.

Alexandra sat down on a bench facing the Ferris wheel, and I hung back, only too aware that, while she might not be paying attention to her surroundings, the man she was coming to meet would be.

The cold, winter sun did its best to shine on her before being choked off by the darkening clouds that threatened more snow. She checked her watch every few minutes, more with nerves than real impatience. No doubt she was also eager to be reunited with the man that held her under his spell. I must confess, I felt something similar.

I bought a hot dog and coffee, more to hide behind than through hunger or thirst and took up position on the opposite side of the wheel.

It was twenty minutes before Lucas appeared, and he was almost unrecognisable. He hadn’t shaved or changed his clothes for days but even that surface dishevelment couldn’t match the drawn look that hung around his eyes. All of his previous, easy-going nature had been buried by recent events; he had the look of a broken man. My immediate instinct was to walk straight over and demand that he let me help him. Which was idiotic – whatever my gut instinct said, I couldn’t altogether be sure that he was to be trusted. Still, it was clear that this wasn’t a man who had taken up with new masters, this was a man on the run, desperate and aged by it.

If I had been shocked by his appearance, Alexandra, who gave every indication of being a person to whom image was everything, didn’t bat an eyelid. She responded to him with unrestrained enthusiasm, grabbing at him and pulling him down next to her on the bench. Robie snatched himself from her grip, putting his hand on hers and muttering something to her, looking around nervously. Clearly he wished to avoid any great show of affection in public. Either that or, as always, he found her subservience to him suffocating.

For a moment she looked distraught, upset at having her adoration refused. She recovered quickly, reaching into her coat to pull out an envelope which she offered him. He opened it slightly and glanced at it counting quickly. ‘As much as I can,’ she had said to him on the phone. He must have needed money. Slipping the envelope into his jacket he patted her hands and, for the first time, smiled at her. The response from Alexandra was so ecstatic it was as if he’d offered his hand in marriage. When he looked away again, the pleasure continued to burn on her face, a look of warmth that all but melted the snow around them.

She continued to talk to him but he all but ignored her, alternating between rubbing at his tired face and watching the people around them. I wondered how much I featured as a topic in their conversation. Would he be pleased that I was here or resentful? I had never really cast myself in the role of mentor but it could be argued that he wouldn’t have joined the service without my sponsorship. Mind you, given where that path had clearly taken him, perhaps he had reason to regret I had ever put his name forward. No doubt I would soon find out.

I had no wish to confront him just yet. It was only sensible to follow him for a while first, just to see where he would lead me, but I was quite convinced that he only represented a security risk were he to be caught and it would therefore be best for all were I to pick him up and do my best to ensure that didn’t happen.

There was an explosion of laughter from behind them and Robie flinched, getting to his feet and turning to face the noise. In that moment, Alexandra’s face suddenly went blank, as if all thought had emptied from her. She got up and walked over to the ticket booth of the Ferris wheel, reaching into her purse for change.

Robie turned back towards the bench and was momentarily confused until he spotted her passing through the barrier and climbing into a carriage. He watched her go, the confusion on his face slowly turning to panic. He ran towards the wheel but it was already climbing upwards and Alexandra was rising up into the air. He stood at its base, staring up at her, occasionally looking around, wary of making a scene but also desperate to do something.

A young boy, idly chewing on some candyfloss tugged at his sleeve and he looked down, the two of them beginning to converse.

I looked back to Alexandra, the vacant expression on her face having now vanished to be replaced with bewilderment and a building sense of panic that rivalled Robie’s.

I looked back to Robie. He appeared to be begging the young boy for something. I moved closer but couldn’t hear their voices. I tried to decide if I should make my presence known, Robie was clearly panicking but I couldn’t see why. I couldn’t see what the problem was – as bizarre as it might have been for Alexandra to suddenly get it into her head to ride the wheel, it wasn’t as if doing so put in her danger. How was she under threat? If someone had them in their sights, they could as easily have taken the shot when she was on the ground. And why would they send a child to deliver their threats? None of what I was seeing made sense. Of course, now I know exactly what was happening, but back then all I knew was what I saw.

I looked once more to the child. Robie’s voice was getting louder and I could hear him begging the child not to do something. ‘I can’t,’ he kept insisting, ‘whatever you do, I can’t. I won’t…’

I noticed the child step away from Robie, looking up at him as if the man was mad. He certainly appeared so now, all attempts to maintain a low profile gone as he yelled at the boy. ‘Don’t do it!’ he screamed. ‘Please… just don’t do it.’

Other people were beginning to stare at him now and a young man ran over to the boy, picking him up in his arms and shouting at Robie. What was his problem, the boy’s father wanted to know, before suddenly breaking into a smile and talking to him as if he were an old friend. Robie’s charm kicking in, I realised. Robie ignored him, his eyes rising up towards the Ferris wheel and Alexandra. Mine followed, and I saw that Alexandra was wriggling in her cabin. For a moment I wondered if there was something in there with her – a thought that was truer than I could yet have known – but then it became clear that she was trying to pull herself out from beneath the safety bar. Succeeding, she stood up, the cabin rocking, and, as Robie shouted one last plea, she launched herself forward as if diving into a swimming pool. Her face was blank as she sailed out into the air and then, as before, it suddenly filled with life and reason, her mouth pulled into a scream as if only just realising the situation she was in. Her head connected with one of the other cabins, flipping her backwards in mid air with a terrible pounding sound. She fell the rest of the way to the ground, the crowd letting go a unified roar of shock as she hit the tarmac. Her limbs folded back on themselves, giving her a grotesque, crab-like appearance, her head tipped back on a snapped neck, dead eyes staring up into dark clouds that chose that moment to finally make good on their promise of snow.