Sektion 20 (5 page)

The antipathy was mutual. ‘Herr Schoenberg, I have to tell you we are disappointed to see you. We let it be known that we would have preferred to deal with another operative. There are several people in our organisation who hold you responsible for the arrest of our two comrades in Munich.’

Kohl tried to control his anger. ‘There are no grounds at all for that fanciful conclusion,’ he snapped.

He tried to be more placatory. ‘Rest assured their detention was nothing to do with the Ministry of State Security. We are not amateurs, Herr . . . ?’ Kohl raised an inquisitive eyebrow to ascertain his contact’s surname.

‘You may call me Klaus,’ said the man brusquely. ‘You must know our procedures. My comrades will be arriving shortly.’

But they didn’t. Kohl and his contact spent a sullen couple of hours in virtual silence, staring out at the occasional flurries of snow that danced outside the window. Kohl maintained an icy calm. He was beginning to think his journey had been futile.

The phone rang. Klaus nearly leaped out of his skin. He snatched it up and Kohl heard an angry voice in the earpiece. Klaus turned to glare at Kohl.

‘There are several suspicious people in the streets around the apartment block,’ he said. ‘My comrade is convinced they are plain-clothes police. Are you sure you weren’t followed into the building?’

Kohl stared at the man without replying.

‘I told them we should never have trusted you,’ said Klaus. ‘How do we know you won’t betray us? Maybe the secret service know your face?’

Kohl could feel the weight of his pistol in his jacket pocket and had to restrain himself.

They were interrupted by the sound of a key in the door. A young woman wearing sunglasses, a large hat and a mini skirt, burst through the door.

She started when she saw Kohl. ‘Who is he?’ she demanded.

‘They sent him over from the East. He’s supposed to be helping us,’ said Klaus. ‘So where the hell have you been?’

‘I was supposed to meet Ralf and Brigitte but they didn’t show up.’

‘They rang just now,’ snapped Klaus. ‘Did you notice anything odd out there? Were you being followed?’

‘Of course not,’ she snapped back at him. ‘What did Ralf say?’

‘They thought we were being watched. There are suspicious people hanging around outside.’

She shook her head and shrugged.

‘You shouldn’t have come here,’ Klaus said to her. ‘You’re putting the operation in danger. If Ralf and Brigitte were being trailed, then so are you . . .’ Klaus was almost hysterical in his exasperation.

The woman seemed indifferent to his concern. Instead, she turned on Kohl. ‘And what the hell are we doing collaborating with jumped up neo-Nazis like the Stasi?’

Kohl was shocked that a woman – a girl – felt she could be so opinionated.

‘And how do we know
he
won’t betray us?’ the girl added. ‘How do we know he hasn’t tipped off the cops?’

Kohl had had enough. These people were inept. It was time to go. He got out his gun and swiftly screwed his silencer to the barrel. The two of them stopped arguing only when he was pointing his weapon directly at them.

‘Shut up,’ he said brusquely. ‘I’m sure your neighbours are finding your conversation of great interest.’

Klaus went white. ‘They are out during the day,’ he managed to stammer. Kohl noticed with some distaste that he had wet himself. He clearly thought he was going to kill him. The girl was made of sterner stuff but she was still doing her best to stop her hands from shaking.

Kohl moved the barrel of his gun from one to the other, relishing his power. ‘Take off your clothes,’ he said. They both looked aghast. ‘Quickly,’ he ordered.

They hurriedly stripped, the girl bravely muttering that he was a pervert. That made Kohl smile. He had completely lost his trust in these people. He wanted to leave the apartment quickly, anonymously and alive and he did not want them following him.

‘You.’ He turned to Klaus. ‘Give me your keys and put all of your clothes in that.’ He pointed to a plastic bag on the coffee table.

‘What, all of them?’ said Klaus, with a look of terrified disbelief on his face.

‘Just the ones you’ve been wearing, you
Arschloch
,’ said Kohl.

While they gathered their clothes, Kohl knocked the phone off the table and crushed it into several pieces with his boot.

He stepped towards the door with the bag. ‘You may tell your organisation I had nothing to do with the arrests of your comrades. And whatever has happened today is, likewise, entirely down to your own stupid bungling.’

He left, swiftly double-locking the door behind him, then despatched the bag of clothes, the keys, and his gun, down the apartment rubbish chute. He did not want to be carrying a gun if he was stopped by the police. By the time his captives had pulled on a fresh set of clothes and found a spare set of keys, Kohl was halfway down the adjacent street and taking the keys for his Mercedes from his pocket. As he drove off, a man in a plain grey coat and a black patch over his right eye watched the car turn towards the city’s ring road. When the Mercedes moved out of view, he spoke into a small two-way radio transmitter.

It was dark now and the headlights of Kohl’s Mercedes were picking out flecks of sleet amidst the persistent rain. He rubbed his tired eyes and squinted at the road ahead. If he kept going, and the snow held off, he should be home by midnight.

Kohl pulled deep on a Marlboro. He liked these American cigarettes, although he would never dream of smoking them in front of his colleagues. He had promised himself a coffee before he crossed over but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was being followed.

Had he had a lucky escape? Had there really been plain-clothes police around the building? Or had his contacts just been smoking too much cannabis and were overcome with paranoia?

Maybe it was because he was tired, but Kohl could feel himself getting increasingly angry. He felt a real, deep hatred for these young people – hippies all of them – and the ones in East Germany who wanted to be like them. In his day you joined the
Hitler-Jugend
or the
Bund Deutscher Mädel
and you did what you were told.

The young were meant to be the fighting reserve of the Party. If that was the case, then God help them. Even the kids who were in the Free German Youth seemed to want to grow their hair and listen to pop music. That was OK these days, he had been told, although there were limits on what was permissible. They had been infected, all of them. But it was the ones who really let their hair grow and listened to the banned music and never attended youth meetings, they were the ones who were a real cancer in the Republik.

Chapter 6

Anton came running up to Alex in the lunch break. ‘Effi’s been arrested. Her parents told me they’d had the Stasi round. She’s in Hohenschönhausen.’

They’d all heard of that. It was a detention centre in the east of the city.

‘And there’s been a shooting at the Wall,’ said Anton. ‘Heard it on the Western news the other day. Didn’t think much about it until I heard Holger had gone missing.’

Alex went cold. Anton’s excitement was unsettling. And he was being very indiscreet. ‘It’s got to be them,’ Alex whispered. ‘Did you know they were going?’

Anton shook his head. He held up his fingers to count the options. ‘He’s either dead, injured, in custody, or got away. What do you think?’

Alex walked away without replying.

He went to Holger’s apartment as soon as school was over. His mother answered the door again, but only opened it a few centimetres. ‘Don’t come here again, Alex,’ she whispered through the crack in the door. ‘We’ve had the Stasi here. I don’t know what’s happening.’ Then she broke down, and her words came out in breathless sobs. ‘They won’t tell us anything . . .’

The door shut and Alex walked home, trying to fight back his own tears. It was not surprising he failed to notice the beige Wartburg and the man inside who pointed a camera at him.

The next morning the school secretary summoned Alex from a maths lesson and ordered him to report to the Principal’s office. He was sure this was about Holger, and as he walked the short distance down the corridor he felt grateful to his friend for not telling him about his plans to escape. Now he could go in and claim with transparent honesty that he knew nothing.

Two middle-aged men, in nondescript suits and severe haircuts, were sitting at the Principal’s desk. They motioned for him to sit and fixed him with piercing stares.

Alex gave a cautious smile and asked them how he could help. They continued to stare and Alex began to feel the sweat run down his back.

‘You are a known accomplice of the border violator, Holger Vogel,’ said one of them.

So, it was definitely true. Holger had tried to escape.

‘Holger is my friend,’ said Alex. ‘I know he has disappeared because his mother told me. But I know nothing about border violations.’

The questions came rapidly and alternately from the two men.

‘You are aware that border violation is one of the most serious crimes?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And do you swear that the border violator never mentioned his intentions before he committed this crime?’

‘No, sir.’

‘You were aware? Do you mean he did mention this?’

‘No, sir, he never spoke to me about it.’

‘And are you aware that assisting a border violator is a crime almost as serious as border violation itself?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Did you suspect at any time that Vogel harboured any negative delusions about the DDR?’

‘Did he ever voice such delusions to you?’

Alex was getting confused.

‘I am happy to swear to you both that I never heard Holger say anything about his escape plans . . .’

‘Escape?’ said one of the men angrily. ‘This is not an
escape
.’ He spat out the word. ‘It is a betrayal by a traitor to his country. Your usage indicates a harbouring of false opinions. Have
you
ever considered “an escape”, as you put it?’

Alex did his best to keep the fear from his voice.

‘No, sir. I am a loyal citizen of the DDR.’

‘Then why are you no longer a member of the Free German Youth?’

Alex was lost for words. A pregnant silence hung in the air.

‘You may go.’ The younger man paused as he glanced at his file. ‘Master Ostermann, we will call you again if we require any further assistance.’

Alex got up to leave and was surprised his legs could still carry him out of the room.

Chapter 7

A week after his trip into West Germany, Unterleutnant Kohl was called into the office of his senior officer, Colonel Theissen. ‘We have bad news on the Hannover operation,’ he told him. ‘There have been arrests. A man and a woman shot dead. Our contacts with the Red Army Faction are convinced you betrayed them. It’s too much like the Munich operation. They think you’re the kiss of death.’

Kohl framed his response with care. Theissen could have him down in the basement steaming open envelopes for the rest of his career.

‘Colonel, I can assure you I followed procedures exactly as instructed,’ said Kohl. ‘These people are complete bunglers.’

‘I’m sure you did. And I’m sure they are,’ said Theissen plainly. ‘But we shall take you off Western operations for now. Wait until everything settles down.’

Kohl was disappointed. He would miss the chance to buy the goods he liked and the ones that fetched such a good price in the East. The perks far outweighed the dangers of trips like those.

‘You can go back to domestic work for a while,’ said Theissen, and handed him a file. ‘Put in some time with Sektion 20. These two are in need of attention. I’m sure you’re just the man to sort them out.’

Sektion 20 dealt with dissidents. Kohl was sent for a short session of retraining. He was instructed on how young people, infected by Western culture, were the greatest threat to the Republik. ‘Adversarial asocials’, ‘negative-decadents’ was how the directives described them. Kohl didn’t need to be told this. He knew exactly what they were talking about.

Geli and Alex Ostermann fitted that profile snugly, spreading the ideology of the enemy with their music and personal appearance. They were prime candidates for preventative hindrance – no question about it. The boy was transparently under the influence of the class enemy and in thrall to the capitalist lifestyle. And he was an associate of a known border violator. She had had close relationships with adversarial asocials in the past. And now her coursework at college was displaying harmful tendencies.

It was important, Kohl realised, to make a good job of this assignment. His actions in Hannover had been criticised. The Red Army Faction had made it plain they considered him a class enemy and that relations with the Stasi were now extremely strained. Herr Kohl knew he was under suspicion. He had to prove he was one of them.