The Story of Henri Tod (22 page)

The time came. Caspar would lead him to the S-Bahn. Claudia would stay behind. During the preceding three days Henri had performed exercises rigorously, so that when for the first time he stepped down from the platform, he felt physically competent. Less so emotionally. He had embraced Claudia, but had spoken not a word. He thought briefly of his leave-taking from Clementa. He embraced her again, and this time said that they would see each other again, very, very soon; though not again, he supposed, at Berchtesgaden.

Tod's return was not uneventful. The car which, by prearrangement, he entered was, as projected, crowded. But as it approached the border a burly Vopo got in and began asking for papers. These were produced sullenly, and the Vopo sergeant became progressively gruff in manner. He came to Tod and stuck out his hand. With one hand on the railing to keep his balance, Tod produced his identity card with the other. The sergeant stared at it. Behind him, in a disguised treble, a passenger let go an obscenity about Ulbricht and his whores. The Vopo wheeled about but could not identify the taunter. In retaliation he turned back to Tod and shouted, “You. You will get off at the next stop with me, and answer some questions.” The next stop being the final stop in East Berlin before the crossing, the moment was tense.

“What's going on here?” A large gray-haired man emerged from the crowded corner of the car. “Sergeant”—the stranger flashed his credentials before him—“I am Colonel Himmelfarb, Volkspolizei. What exactly is going on here? Who was the man who insulted Chairman Ulbricht?” Colonel Himmelfarb had managed to place his large frame between Henri Tod and the sergeant, and now there was considerable bellowing, and the colonel asked that the passengers behind where the sergeant had been standing identify the mischief-maker. During the hubbub, Tod slid slowly away, and when the train stopped at Friedrichstrasse he stepped out on the platform as though it were his destination. The tumult in the car meanwhile subsided after the colonel had given the passengers a lecture on civic responsibility. Tod caught the next train into the Western sector. A small convoy of waiting, nervous friends discreetly led Tod as close to his personal quarters as he permitted. Only Bruni knew that he lived at 28 Kurfürstenstrasse, to which he accompanied him. Henri was tired now, suddenly, after his first protracted exertion, so he asked Bruni if he might postpone until tomorrow an account of everything that had happened during the fortnight, and why he felt it so important that he return quickly. Bruni readily assented, but said that before leaving he would insist on taking Henri's temperature and pulse, and putting him through a mild neurological examination. Henri sighed and said very well, and together they climbed to the attic of the little house on Kurfürstenstrasse, the first two floors of which had never been rebuilt since the day when the SS had stormed in to search it, after arresting its owner at his office. Colonel von Stauffenberg had been taken away to be tortured and executed for the crime of attempting to kill Adolf Hitler on July 20. Intending to burn down the entire house, they had left flaming torches, but a kindly and officious neighbor had got there in plenty of time to restrict the damage to the first two floors, which were gutted. But the scaffolding was solid, and the third floor was entirely habitable, and that was where Henri lived, proud in the knowledge of who last had lived where he now lived alone, monastically, in three rooms, the walls of two given over to volumes of philosophy, the other to research materials that gave to the leader of the Bruderschaft most of anything he needed to know about the geography of Berlin, or the background of the tyrants who governed it.

He submitted acquiescently to the quick examination. Bruni pronounced himself pleased by heartbeat, temperature, and pulse. They shook hands warmly, and Henri turned on the radio before sleeping, and heard that Mayor Willy Brandt had conferred with the three Western commandants about countermeasures against East German harassments of the workers who came to West Berlin to work, and that the three Western commandants had sent off a note to the Soviet commandant in East Berlin protesting the interference in intercity travel. Whatever was coming, Henri thought as his fatigue began to overcome him, was coming now fast, very fast. Eyes closed, he reached for the electric cord, fingered his way to the switch, doused the light, and slept, his first night in almost a fortnight asleep on a bed that had not been Adolf Hitler's.

25

Tod slept soundly and awoke refreshed, though for a fleeting moment he found the absence of Claudia and Caspar almost intolerable. He boiled water while washing and dressing, took tea and a dry cracker, and, after the routine exploration out the window, walked down the circular iron staircase that permitted passage through the two gutted stories, and walked out the door, headed, as by arrangement, for Number 12. There Bruni was waiting, and three other young men, the high command of the Bruderschaft.

Tod had carefully thought out the means by which he would get communications from Caspar. The use of the telephone was excluded: Ulbricht had cut off municipal intercommunication, so that a West Berliner could not now telephone across the street to an East Berliner to whom from his balcony he could wave, save by telephoning Copenhagen and putting through an international call.

It would need to be done by foot, and at the current political tempo it would need to be done once or even twice per day. Caspar had undertaken to do a paraphrase of the information he gleaned, unless there was detailed information that needed to be got through. Tod's decision was to send a courier from West Berlin into East Berlin, rather than ask Claudia to come west. Under no circumstances, he instructed him, was Caspar to risk passage into the West, particularly if he had on him any information that might prove troublesome. Ulbricht, without apology or explanation, was now ordering a thorough body search of up to ten percent of westbound Germans. But the Berlin Ostbahnhof, where their Berchtesgaden lay, was situated directly opposite a passage point. The courier would need only to go to Oberbaumstrasse, cross the street, enter the station through its main entrance, at the opposite end of the deserted sidings with the abandoned old coach cars, including 10206. Just to the left, after passing through the principal entrance to the station, was a row of locked compartments where travelers could leave, overnight or for a full day, a small suitcase. It was agreed that after Caspar's return from his uncle's office he would type the précis of the minutes at home, on his father's typewriter. He would then meet Claudia, who would put the message in an envelope and deposit it in one of the lockers. Provided the locker was every day fed two 10-pfennig pieces, it would not attract the attention of the inspector, as the timing mechanism would not indicate that its lease was overdue. But in the event something should go wrong with that mechanism, causing the inspector with his passkey to open the locker, he would find in it a brown paper bag, two cans of biscuits, and a half pint of schnapps. Such a parcel as might routinely be left by any East German traveler. He would not be tempted to explore in the further recesses of the locker, where an envelope would repose, in which plans for the future of Berlin were to be found.

Before leaving the station, Tod had rehearsed his hosts in the details of the operation, and Claudia had without difficulty got a locksmith to duplicate the key to the locker they would use. They then were left with one key, while Tod took the second. His courier—he would alternate Georgi and Roland—would inspect the locker during the rush hour between seven and eight in the morning, and again during the rush hour between five and six in the afternoon.

At first Tod had thought not to tell anyone the identity of his informant. But by the time he arrived at Number 12 he had decided that Bruni must know, in the event that Tod met with an accident. So when he briefed his companions on the new informant, whom he designated as “Wotan,” he shielded—and of course they understood—Wotan's identity. He would tell Bruni later in the day who Wotan was.

And so he told his companions, during the briefing, that he had reason to believe that as they spoke, Ulbricht was in Moscow, conferring with Khrushchev and leaders of the Warsaw Pact. Moreover, the purpose of that meeting was to come to a resolution involving Berlin. He also believed that Ulbricht intended to plead one more time for Russian approval of Ulbricht's plan actually to partition the city, denying to any East German access to West Berlin, and vice versa. He would, he said, expect a report on that meeting very soon, and that would be the moment when the Bruderschaft met their ultimate test.

The day was spent going over reports on the day-to-day doings of the Bruderschaft during the fortnight interval he had been gone. There was much to cover—details of hardships, of treachery, of sadism, of exploits, of rescues effected. The apparatus comprised now several hundred men and women, every one of them save Bruni fully employed in other work. Every one of them accepting assignments from headquarters and routinely risking imprisonment and life to further the objectives of the society. At four, Bruni insisted that Tod take one hour for a nap, to guard against a setback from overwork. Tod walked up to the little bedroom on the second floor and fell instantly to sleep. He would meet with Blackford Oakes at six.

That morning, six days after the Vienna meeting, Blackford had received in the mail, postmarked the previous day in East Berlin, the first communication. “Frank” had married Clementa, got her out of Vorkuta, and brought her to his apartment in East Berlin. But much to his surprise, she had flatly refused to cross over into West Berlin save in the company of her brother. “The problem, Mr. Oakes, is that Clementa Tod has complacently accepted the Soviet version of what is going on in West Germany, and her childlike fear of the Nazis, well justified as we both know, operates now to frighten her. Because for fifteen years she has heard it said about West Berlin and West Germany that the two areas are governed by Nazis and crypto-Nazis. I have tried very hard to persuade her that certain exaggerations of a political character are necessary in such adversary circumstances as divide East and West. But she will not budge. Her brother Henri needs to come here, and then, on his recommendation, but only on his, will she leave her sanctuary. Needless to say I am anxious to expedite this business. I have gone to considerable trouble to earn my purse. So kindly arrange as quickly as possible to send Mr. Tod over with the balance of the money, and the exchange can then be made. You can communicate with me by mail to this address, or you can telephone me, directly or via Copenhagen, at the above number. Your servant, Frank.”

Blackford went to Rufus. After Rufus had finished reading the letter, Blackford spoke. “I would now put the odds at ninety-five percent that our friend Frank is working for the KGB. Do you agree?”

Rufus reflected. “I'd say more like eighty percent. The young woman's fear is plausible. I assume that Mr. Frank, whose telephone number and address we now have, has taken pains to establish a convincing cover. Still, we have assets in East Berlin, and the Bruderschaft is heavy with them. So let's begin by asking for a quick investigation into the background and the occupation of Mr. Frank.”

“Suppose he checks out? I mean, satisfactory cover?”

“Then,” Rufus said, “we will put him to the acid test.”

“How?”

“A friendly gentleman will approach Mr. Frank and advise him that he has very wealthy clients who are willing to pay one hundred thousand marks if Mr. Frank will lead Clementa Tod to a designated location in West Berlin that night at, say, ten o'clock.”

“Rufus, you're a clever bug—gentleman. There's only one hole, of course. It's that hypothetically he could be on the level as a mercenary, yet honest about original commitments.”

“Could be. But his reaction to the offer when it is made will probably give us the information we need. Meanwhile, Blackford, we can no longer keep the news from Henri Tod. It is for you to handle this.”

And it was for this purpose that Blackford had, through Bruni, sent word to Henri Tod that he must see him that very day, and the date had been set for six o'clock. Blackford was both eager to give Henri the news, and apprehensive about the effect of it on a man who had not seen his sister in eighteen years, during the last sixteen of which he thought her dead.

26

Tod slept for nearly two hours, but he woke refreshed and anxious to visit with Blackford, who was there waiting, in the living room of Number 12, seated and reading
Der Spiegel
. The two young men greeted each other warmly, and Henri asked the housekeeper for tea. By prearrangement with Blackford, Bruni said he needed to go out on an errand. It had been agreed he would not return until seven.

Henri sat down and motioned Blackford to do so. “I have some very interesting information. A new informant. Ulbricht has gone to Moscow.” Henri told him as much as he had told his staff. Blackford resolved as soon as possible to telephone Rufus. Without giving details of where he had been or who had tended to him, Tod told Blackford the story of the past fortnight. “I was very lucky,” he said, contentedly. “And there will be much to do in the next few days, I would guess. But we will know more soon.”

“I've been busy also.” Blackford began cautiously. He rose then, and turned toward the bookshelf. He did not want to be staring at the face of his friend if the news proved too much to handle. Blackford had also decided to pace the narrative.

“Henri, I have here a photograph, with writing on the back of it, which you must look at.” He handed over the picture, and then turned back toward the bookshelf. He heard nothing from Henri. And then the muffled sobs, deep as from the center of the earth. Blackford turned his head. Henri had put the sofa's pillow on his lap, and now his face was buried, his shoulders heaving. Blackford spotted the housekeeper, the door beginning to open. Quickly he intercepted her, taking the tea tray and thanking her. He set the tray down on the table, and put his arm on the shoulders of his friend, whose sobbing continued.