Brandenburg (23 page)

Biermeier let Rosenharte watch him go and in that moment, Rosenharte knew of his own deep conversion. If ever there was a ‘hostile negative element’, it was him. He would oppose these people, their prisons and their muffled brutality with everything in his power. Something had happened in that room, when he saw the husk of his twin’s once proud physique and bearing: Konrad’s defiance had passed to him and in the process metabolized into something potentially far more violent. He looked up at the rippled cloud coming in from the north and composed himself.

‘Come on,’ said Biermeier quietly. ‘Let’s get in the car. We’ve got work to do.’ Then, as he opened the door, he added, ‘This place gives me the creeps.’

Ten minutes passed before Rosenharte absorbed that remark and turned to look at Biermeier with interest.

Rosenharte crossed the Berlin Wall for the first time in his life two hours later. It took about half an hour, while the border police on the eastern side looked over his credentials and exit visa. Then he followed the trickle of old people who were allowed to visit relatives in the West, through the Death Zone carved across Berlin, which they couldn’t see because of the high boards either side of the road. He carried a case and a copy of
Neues Deutschland
tucked under his right arm, as instructed by Annalise in the intercepted letter. In his wallet were 600 German Marks, for which he had signed several forms at Normannenstrasse and had undertaken to give a complete account of his expenditure on his return to East Berlin.

He reached the point where three traffic lanes converged at the western part of the Berlin Wall on Zimmerstrasse, then walked over the white line painted across Friedrichstrasse, noting a sign that declared, ‘You are entering the American sector. Carrying weapons off-duty is forbidden. Obey traffic rules.’ A few yards on, he came to a modest hut in the middle of the road, and showed his passport and waited while an American major examined it. The officer looked down at him intently and checked his face against the photo again. ‘Welcome to Checkpoint Charlie, Dr Rosenharte; I understand you speak English. Is that correct?’

Rosenharte nodded.

‘I’ve been told to tell you that the arrangement at the Cafe Adler stands: your friend will be waiting there as you expected, but she is going to ask for a meeting with your side as soon as possible. Do you understand? She won’t have time to explain. You’re just going to have to take the lead from her.’

Rosenharte nodded. The officer made a final check against a clipboard, and without looking up said: ‘And by the way sir, several of your people have been through at other crossing points and are in the cafe now. Mr Harland and Mr Griswald say everything’s under control. Everything’s gonna be fine, just so long as you let things happen. Okay?’ He handed back the passport. ‘Have a good day, sir.’

Rosenharte walked round the back of the hut pleased that the Americans were involved. He entered the Adler by the side entrance, just under the letter C of Cafe. To his left hung a rack of newspapers, each fixed to a rod, and a small counter, where a cashier stood talking to two waitresses, one of whom lazily looked him up and down. The cafe was full, but Annalise’s standin had a table to herself by the window on Zimmerstrasse so that she could see when he crossed. She lowered a newspaper and waved. Rosenharte glanced around the tables as he walked over, furiously kick-starting the pleasure in his face and thinking that he must find out this woman’s real name. She rose from the chair and hooked her arm round his neck, looked at him with myopic joy and kissed him most tenderly. ‘It’s just marvellous to see you,’ she whispered. ‘We have a lot of company in here. It’s all going to be okay.’ He smiled back at her. She was so damned good at this that all sorts of automatic responses stirred in him.

‘It’s good to see
you,’
he said. She saw his look, noted the emphasis. Now they were communicating, as they needed to.

She drew back from him and placed the back of her hand against his cheek. ‘You’re tired, Rudi. Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’ He nuzzled her. ‘They’ve just let me see my brother. It’s not good news; he’s very sick.’

She nodded, her eyes registering concern, and then stepped away. ‘But you have other admirers here,’ she said, flashing a look at the waitress. ‘Well, I want them to know you’re all mine.’ She gave him another playful kiss, then signalled for another beer and they sat down. ‘You want something to eat?’ Rosenharte shook his head, noticing that she used the construction
you want
, rather than
do you want
, just the sort of idiom that someone who had lived the other side of the Atlantic would pick up. She was formidable, this woman. Very cool, very self-possessed. He liked what she was wearing, too - jeans and a dark-brown suede jacket.

‘We have a problem,’ she said, lowering her voice and her head at the same time. ‘It’s dangerous for me to be here in Berlin. I was spotted at the airport last night. A man I knew a long time ago in Brussels, an American who is something in the military. Well, that’s what he says.’

Rosenharte said nothing. He had no idea what she was talking about but understood it was for the benefit of the Stasi.

She glanced left and right. ‘I want to talk to your side directly. I have to make new arrangements.’

He nodded, crossed his hands on the table and looked at the case on the chair next to him. He had packed it in Dresden on the off-chance that he would have to stay over in Leipzig. It had been taken away from him at Leipzig station by Biermeier, then one of his men had handed it back just before he crossed the Wall, saying his clothes had been laundered. There were one or two slight differences in its appearance - the handle had been tampered with, and the plastic trim around the edge of the case seemed new. He had immediately guessed that it had been fitted with a microphone and a transmitter. He waggled his thumb in its direction. She gave him an imperceptible nod.

‘I’m sure they would like to talk to you,’ he said quietly, ‘but we should go somewhere more discreet. I will have to make a call.’

She leaned forward and rested her hand on his. ‘You know I’ve never been to the Tiergarten. They have boats on the canal there, don’t they? We could take a trip, or have a picnic. The weather’s not too bad; at least it’s not raining.’

Rosenharte glanced out of the window at the grey sky and said yes, that would be a splendid idea. Then his eye caught their reflection in the glass ceiling of the Adler and he was struck by how natural they looked. They had managed to close the distance that had been so marked in Trieste.

‘I need to get some cigarettes,’ he said.

She beamed. ‘As a matter of fact I bought you some duty free. Marlboro, right?’ She dug into a shoulder bag and produced a carton of two hundred.

‘Thank God,’ said Rosenharte. ‘I was going a little crazy.’ He tore open a pack and lit up.

‘You know, Rudi, your English seems to get better and better. Your accent is so good. Soon you’ll sound like an Oxford professor.’

‘Thanks,’ he said, feeling the rush of nicotine. ‘Look, why don’t we go to the park and eat in one of the restaurants? It would be more convenient.’

‘No, let’s buy some food and make a picnic. It’ll be easier to talk.’

A few minutes later they left the Adler and stood outside waiting for a cab to come. She put her arm in his and squeezed his bicep with her other hand. A few tourists were taking pictures and looking across into the East with binoculars. Rosenharte stared at Checkpoint Charlie and realized that this little hut made a point: it didn’t recognize the white line painted across Friedrichstrasse as a border. ‘Why Charlie?’ he asked suddenly. ‘Who was Charlie?’

‘Oh come on,’ she said, ‘I thought everyone knew that. Alpha, Bravo, Charlie. This is crossing C.’

They hailed a beige Mercedes cab that was turning to go back down Friedrichstrasse, away from the border. The driver got out and, without asking, took Rosenharte’s bag and put it in the boot.

The moment the car moved off, she snuggled up to Rosenharte and began to feel his chest. ‘Are you wired?’ she mouthed.

‘No, but I think the suitcase is.’

‘Yes, I thought that was what you meant. It won’t pick up anything in the boot.’

Rosenharte darted a look at the driver.

‘It’s okay,’ she said, ‘he’s one of us.’ She leaned forward. ‘Is the radio on, Tudor?’ The man nodded. ‘Bobby, can you hear me?’ she asked.

‘Yes, go ahead,’ came Robert Harland’s voice over the cab radio.

‘We’re going to get some food and then make for the Tiergarten for a picnic. Got any suggestions where?’

‘They won’t like it - it’s too open.’

‘They’ll have to put up with it.’

There was a pause.

‘Where are you?’ she asked.

‘Ahead of you,’ he replied. ‘Tudor, drop them to the north of the Neuer See in the Tiergarten. You two can cross to the south by one of the bridges. There’s plenty of cover there. We’ll have Griswald’s people all around. How are you going to make sure they know to approach you there?’

‘They already know. The suitcase has a microphone,’ said Rosenharte.

‘Fine,’ said Harland. ‘But it’s important you keep on demonstrating that you are relative innocents in this business.’

‘I have a number,’ said Rosenharte. ‘A number to call in an emergency.’

‘Right,’ said Harland, ‘so, when Annalise stops to get the food, you find a phone and make that call and tell them she wants to talk. Now, tell me what you’ve got for us, Dr Rosenharte.’

Rosenharte lit another cigarette. ‘I’ve made contact with Kafka and I have important information. But now you must keep your side of the bargain. My brother’s family will be released by this afternoon. I want to hear your proposals for freeing my brother from the hospital wing of the Hohenschönhausen. He’s very sick.’

‘But you want to get Else and the children out of the GDR first, is that right?’

‘Yes. I was allowed to see Konrad for a few minutes this morning.’ He stopped, looked out of the window and prepared to say the thing that he’d barely articulated to himself. ‘If he doesn’t receive the proper medical treatment soon, it’s going to be too late. I think he will die.’

‘We’ll start working on that right away. But you have to realize that this is a very tall order, Dr Rosenharte. We can get his family out, but your brother is a different matter entirely. We’ll work on this, but now we need to concentrate on the few hours ahead of us. Is that okay?’

Rosenharte said yes, reluctantly.

‘Right, basically Jessie . . . I mean Annalise is going to make a proposal to them and she will hand over certain items today. You will take the more important material back with you tonight or tomorrow. She’s got to do a lot of bullshitting. All you have to do is stay on your toes and we will get through this. Is there anything else we need to discuss?’

Rosenharte noted Harland’s slip. So her name was Jessie. He mouthed ‘Hello Jessie’ to her. She smiled.

‘What’re you going to do if they make a move?’ she asked, a knot in her brow appearing. ‘You saw them at the airport last night. Their intentions were obvious.’

‘We’re going to be there. All the roads from that immediate area in the park will be watched.’

‘But I don’t have a wire. How are you going to know if we’re in trouble?’

‘We’ll have one forward observation post who will never lose sight of you. They’re not going to do anything in such a public place.’

‘I’m glad you’re so confident,’ she said, rubbing at a spot on her suede jacket.

‘Look, you make the delivery and tell them the rest of it’s somewhere else.’

She didn’t look convinced.

‘One other thing,’ said Harland. ‘What about the Arab gentleman? Have you got anything more for us, Rosenharte?’

‘This is for later,’ he said firmly. ‘But I can tell you that the material you have given to my side caused the Minister for State Security to interview me last night. So they are interested. I think they believe in this.’

‘Good, we’ll talk later.’ Harland paused. ‘Oh, Tudor, that was good thinking with the suitcase. Well done.’

They stopped at a grocery store. Rosenharte walked across the road to a payphone and dialled the number in West Berlin he had been given by the Stasi. A woman answered, and after a few seconds he was put through to Biermeier, who expressed himself satisfied. He said there wouldn’t be a problem finding them in the Tiergarten. His men would follow and wait for half an hour - they could see Rosenharte now, as he was making the call.

Less than ten minutes later, Tudor dropped them on the Grosse Weg, the road that meanders through the park, and they took a secluded path to a large, irregular lake known as the Neuer See. Rosenharte was carrying his bag, so they kept the conversation to a minimum until they found a spot beneath some beech trees overlooking the lake.

He perched on a rough wooden bench, opened the bottle of wine and filled two paper cups. She crouched nearby and expertly set about slitting bread rolls and filling them with ham and cheese. ‘You’re good at that,’ he said. ‘I like to eat in the open, too. I do a lot of this when I’m out walking.’

‘Yes, you always liked to walk. Some day we should go to the Alps in spring or the Pyrenees.’

Rosenharte caught sight of a yellow bird flitting in some saplings about thirty feet away. ‘It’s a young bird,’ he said. ‘This year’s young bird -
eine Grasmücke
. I think you call it a werbler. Something like this.’

‘A warbler!’

They smiled.

He handed her a cup of wine. ‘You know, I have never seen a
Stieglitz
- in English it is called a goldfinch. There is an exceptional painting of the bird in the Mauritshuis - a tiny bird chained by a ring around its leg to a perch. It’s a beautiful but very sad painting. Captivity.’ He thought of Konrad.

‘I don’t remember you telling me that you had been to The Hague,’ she said.

‘I didn’t tell you,’ he said. ‘I took the train one day from Brussels. It’s not so far. Maybe a two-hour journey. That museum has one of the greatest collections in the world. I will go again one day.’