Brandenburg (6 page)

‘Caution.’ Rosenharte spat the word out. He was too angry to express his contempt properly. They had shown no caution whatsoever. He sank to the chair and picked up his glass. ‘I’m an art historian now. I don’t have access to the sorts of things that you want. Why pick me?’

‘We have a particular and limited task in mind,’ said Harland. ‘And you are the only person who can do it for .’ us.’

‘I can do nothing for you until we have certain things straight. For you this operation contains no risks at all. If it goes wrong, you go home and think of another little game. I get a bullet in the back of the head or, if I’m lucky, twenty years in jail. My brother and his family will also be punished.’ ‘I understand,’ said Harland.

Rosenharte undid a couple of buttons on his shirt. Despite the rain the night was still oppressively hot. ‘What is it that you want?’

Harland exchanged looks with the American. ‘We believe that you may be able to help us gain some information on the whereabouts and intentions of a man named Abu Jamal.’

‘I’ve never heard of him,’ said Rosenharte. The American sat down at the polished mahogany table and leant on it with two heavy arms, causing it to tip slightly. ‘Abu Jamal is also known as Mohammed Ubayd, a Syrian terrorist who is financed and given safe haven by the Stasi in East Germany. We know he’s been receiving medical treatment for a kidney complaint, maybe even a transplant. He pays regular visits to the Leipzig area.’

‘You brought me here for this! I have no knowledge of these things. I haven’t had any contact with the Stasi for a decade and a half, apart from the usual requests to act as an informer on my colleagues.’

‘Yes,’ said Harland patiently. ‘We know who you are, Dr Rosenharte. We know about you.’

‘There’s another man we’re interested in,’ continued the American. ‘He moves between Dresden and Leipzig, like you, and he is a professor of international relations. His name is Michael Lomieko, known to his friends as “Misha” because he spent much of his career in Moscow. Misha and Abu Jamal are very close associates indeed and have developed a policy of revolutionary intervention, which, put simply, is to attack Western targets and cause chaos and terror. Misha has added know-how and ambition to the projects of what was a run-of-the-mill Mid East terrorist operation. It’s the apparent scale of the plans that’s worrying us. Both men have the tacit support of the Party high command - Schwarzmeer and the head of the Stasi, Erich Mielke. And maybe even the first secretary is involved. Jamal and Misha are allowed to dream up their plans together in the comfort of the Stasi safe houses.’ He paused. ‘So you see, we’re eager to catch Jamal and, if possible, Misha, but we would also like to prove the state sponsorship of terrorism. Have you heard of this man Misha? Professor Lomieko?’

‘Yes,’ said Rosenharte. ‘I know him.’

‘Then, with your cooperation we could do this,’ said the American.

‘Don’t assume that. I know him only because we sometimes travel on the same train between Dresden and Leipzig. That’s the only experience I have of him. I have exchanged only two dozen words with him in my life.’

‘I think that’s a good thing,’ said Harland, moving the bottle towards him. ‘Have another drink. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.’

Rosenharte studied him. He seemed likeable and intelligent but it was unthinkable that such a man could occupy a similar position in the Stasi. ‘Tell me, Mr Harland, how old are you?’

‘Forty this year.’

‘Yes, I thought so. You see, my brother and I were born in 1939, just after the outbreak of war. We will both be fifty in December. At that age you lose the taste for intrigue and adventure.’

‘You look five to seven years younger,’ said the CIA man.

‘Thank you,’ said Rosenharte, acknowledging the obvious flattery with a slightly world-weary expression. ‘Has it occurred to you that the point of these operations is only to show your superiors that you’re busy - to justify your role as intelligence officers? How much work do you generate for yourself with these operations?’

The American shook his head. ‘You’re wrong about that, Dr Rosenharte. We’re trying to prevent people being killed. Your government has a record of supporting Libyan and Palestinian terrorists. Abu Jamal is just the latest manifestation of this. Misha is the interface of that relationship, passing information, help, inspiration, money, from the Stasi to Abu Jamal. Even by the peculiar standards of East Germany this is criminal behaviour.’

Harland leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees. ‘What he’s saying is that working to bring these men to justice, or at least to the attention of the Western media, should not be regarded as treasonable behaviour by you and it is certainly not some frivolous work creation by us. Believe me, we are desperately concerned about this man and we’re in deadly earnest.’

‘So where are we?’ asked the American. ‘Should we move forward on this? It seems the best way out for you, Dr Rosenharte.’

‘If I help you, I want an agreement that you will bring me, my brother and his family out to the West, find us homes, jobs and medical treatment for Konrad. These are my conditions.’

‘To get your brother out of prison is a tall order,’ said Harland. ‘We’re not going to promise something that we can’t deliver. But if our plan works, you stand every chance of getting your brother released because we’re going to give you something they really want.’

They were right, Rosenharte conceded, there was only one way to go. ‘But I have your agreement on the other things. I want them to be given a home. I want treatment for my brother and help to find him useful employment. He’s a gifted filmmaker but he’ll need support - contacts and introductions. I’ll need help to leave the country. I demand less for myself because I have my own career.’

‘You have international renown,’ said Harland.

‘That’s true in my field for the few papers that have been published in the West. But my work is not published in the GDR because of my brother’s conviction.’ He stopped. ‘Do I have your agreement?’

‘Yes, you do. We will meet all your demands.’

‘Then I’ll help you. But there is one further condition. When I go back I must take something to convince them that Annalise is an important source.’

‘A sample of what she may be able to acquire in the future,’ suggested Harland.

‘Then I may be able to persuade Schwarzmeer to release my brother.’ He paused, looking at the eager faces. ‘You are aware who Schwarzmeer is?’

Harland nodded. ‘Of course, and we already had something like this in mind. In fact it’s extremely good material.’ He nodded to the American. Presumably he had supplied it.

‘And whatever happens, you’ll bring my brother’s family out as soon as possible, regardless of whether my brother is still in Hohenschönhausen.’

‘That shouldn’t be a problem,’ said Harland. ‘The Hungarians took down their border with Austria in May. Thousands are leaving the GDR and going through Czechoslovakia to Hungary every day. We’ve already got people out that way.’

Rosenharte shook his head. ‘You heard Honecker say last January that the Wall will be standing in a hundred years’ time if the reason for its existence is not removed. The reason for its existence is to stop people going to the West! If they allow people to leave through Hungary it makes a mockery of their Wall. So it follows they’ll stop that route.’

‘Still,’ said Harland, ‘it shouldn’t present too many problems. How old are the children?’

‘Eight and six years old . . . I think.’

‘Then no problem at all.’

‘So what am I taking back?’

‘The only things they care about,’ said the American, ‘are computers, software, programs. Defence programs from Nato would push all their buttons at once. We have something very special - very new - in this line. We’ll give you a disk we have had prepared with the help of Langley and colleagues of mine at Nato.’

‘Who’s running this operation?’ asked Rosenharte. ‘The CIA or British Intelligence? Who am I doing a deal with?’

‘Me,’ said Harland. ‘The CIA is helping and will benefit from the information that you provide.’

‘How many people know about it?’

‘As few as possible.’

‘It’s well known that the Stasi have penetrated your services, in particular the British. I insist that if I agree to this plan you never refer to me by name or give other information that may yield my identity. This is my principal condition.’

‘Naturally, we’ll give you a code name - what about Prince?’

‘Whatever you like. Now I want you to order up from room service. A bottle of champagne, two glasses and caviar.’

‘You don’t have to do this now. The hotel is secure. The management is well aware of the need for discretion.’

‘But not every member of the staff is. There are always mistakes. The Stasi will come back here in six weeks’ time and ask questions. That’s the way they work. They’ll find one person who remembers something.’

Having taken some money from Harland, Rosenharte moved to the bedroom next door and, with the woman, began creating a scene of abandoned love. They undressed - she to a slip and he to underpants - then lay on the bed until the doorbell rang, at which Anna, as he now called her, gave him a final check, tousled his hair and chucked him the white bathrobe provided by the hotel. An elderly waiter brought in a tray and smiled benignly at the scene of middle-aged passion. Rosenharte gave him a 30,000 lira tip and patted him on the shoulder as he left.

Whatever the oddness and difficulties of the situation, they were now operating as an effective team. ‘You know,’ she said, her eyes dancing, ‘in other circumstances and if I wasn’t a happily married woman, I’d be very content to be in a hotel room with you, Rudi.’

This made him smile. She may not have been the beauty that Annalise was, but she was attractive and intelligent, and she was beginning to grow on him.

‘But there are just one or two touches I think we should add for purposes of authenticity.’ She reached up, removed the robe from his shoulder and kissed his bare skin twice, each time biting a little.

He cleared his throat. Things were beginning to stir in him.

‘Right, that’s enough of that,’ she said briskly. ‘That’s an old teenage skill of mine. They should come up nicely by the morning.’

Five minutes later he returned to the sitting room.

‘Okay,’ said Harland, rising. ‘Let’s get some air in here. It’s stuffy as hell.’ He walked over to a French window, which led onto a little terrace that was hidden from the street by a wall. Rosenharte noted that the room wasn’t overlooked from the buildings on the other side of the road. Large pools of water lay on the terrace.

Harland returned, sat down and smiled apologetically. These English mannerisms of modesty and selfeffacement were profoundly irritating to Rosenharte because they obviously meant so little. But in other respects he seemed genuine and Rosenharte surmised that they were alike in some ways. He guessed Harland was a bachelor, as well as a loner.

‘This is what we know about Misha,’ Harland said. ‘He has a room in a Leipzig university building and he meets with Abu Jamal in a safe house in Leipzig, probably an apartment normally used by the Stasi for meetings with the Inoffizielle Mitarbeiter - the Stasi’s civilian collaborators.’

Rosenharte didn’t need a lecture about IMs. He raised his eyes to the ceiling.

Harland ignored him. ‘He has also visited Abu Jamal in hospital three times over the summer. The last visit was a few weeks ago. We know that he spends about twelve days a month in Leipzig. The rest of the time he’s on the campus at the Technical University at Dresden, researching explosives and so forth. He visits Berlin only occasionally.’

‘That’s more information than I could ever have acquired,’ said Rosenharte. ‘Why do you need me?’

‘We want you to make contact with someone who has more evidence to pass to us - proof of the involvement of Abu Jamal and Misha in at least one bombing. More important, this contact may have information about plans for future attacks.’

‘Who’s the individual who can give you this information?’

‘We don’t know. All we have is a code name: Kafka.’

‘Then how will I find this person?’

There was silence. He looked at Harland and noticed that one of his eyelids was flickering involuntarily. Harland tried to still it with his fingertip. ‘You are not going to find them,’ he replied at length. ‘He or she will find you.’

‘If this arrangement means that you have to give them my name, I can’t allow it. What will happen if this person is questioned by the Stasi? They break people. They broke my brother in Bautzen. He was a strong man, very fit, but Bautzen wrecked his health.’ He paused. ‘I think it would be better if you told me everything, don’t you?’

Harland inhaled deeply. ‘We wouldn’t dream of giving your name to anyone. Besides, how could we give your name to someone whose identity we don’t know?’ He stopped and leaned back in his chair. ‘We want this evidence very badly, but we are equally concerned for your safety.’

Rosenharte shook his head sceptically.

‘I mean it.’

‘Go on, please.’

‘A month ago, a woman was visiting Leipzig as part of a Christian Fellowship group. This person has done some work for us, mostly as a courier. Before leaving Leipzig to travel to West Berlin she carried out the usual checks on her luggage to make sure nothing incriminating had been planted on her. She didn’t find anything until she reached a hotel in the West. She had received a message telling her to look again. What she found were some very interesting documents and a letter to us.’

‘And you believed this?’ asked Rosenharte incredulously.

‘At first we were inclined to think that this was one of the Stasi’s little pranks, but then the names in the documents proved very useful. In fact, the US government was able to make an arrest of one man and to begin tracking another. Both are connected with Abu Jamal. It turned out to be very valuable intelligence indeed - but you see we had no idea who had given it to us. The documents were wiped of fingerprints, there was no handwriting - nothing to betray the identity of the donor.’

‘So why didn’t you send your courier back to Leipzig?’