The Helsinki Pact (50 page)

He pulled out a pad from his
briefcase and started jotting down the things they needed to do
immediately. He had to call home to Frankfurt and contact John here
in Berlin, telling them he was travelling outside the country and
wouldn’t be reachable for another month, just in case someone found
his file and started enquiring for him. They were probably safe
here in Kai’s flat for a while but Bettina would have to stay
inside and avoid being seen. And he would need to be especially
careful at border crossings. Although now people could move freely
there were still a series of formal checkpoints where he would be
easy to spot.

Thomas pressed the record
function, put on the headphones and then lay back on the easy chair
and quickly fell into a fractured doze. The sound of a key turning
in a lock woke him suddenly and for a moment he lay back confused
as to where he was but certain that someone was entering Dieter’s
office. It was only when the door swung open suddenly in front of
him that he realized the noise was right here, that someone was
entering the apartment.

Chapter 42

Friday January 19
1990

THE slam of the door startled
Bettina awake and for a moment she was lost, groggy and unsure of
herself in the unfamiliar surroundings. Instinctively, still half
asleep, she rolled on her back sliding her hand beneath the pillow
for her pistol as she did so. That there was nothing there brought
her to full consciousness and she looked towards the noise, fearing
that whatever had made it might be the last thing she would see. It
came back to her that in this supposedly safe location, dog tired
and distressed with all that had happened, she’d dropped her gun on
the floor by the bed as she crawled under the duvet. She could see
the gun now, just out of easy reach and with its safety catch
on.

At the same sound Thomas had
jerked upright, fully awake, and was raising himself from the chair
and dipping into the rucksack beside him for his own gun. As his
hand closed on the butt and he moved it round, ready to fire
through the canvas, the figure turned towards him and beamed with
delight.

“Thomas!” John exclaimed. “Hey! I
didn’t know you were here. When did you get back?”

Thomas removed his hand from the
rucksack and lay back in the easy chair, his heart pumping
furiously and the adrenalin tenseness slowly ebbing. He thought
John’s dramatic entrance had probably shortened his life by a
couple of years but he was nevertheless delighted to see his
friend. He rested his forehead in his palm for some moments,
breathed slowly and deeply, and waved a hand in laconic greeting in
John’s direction.

“God, John! You have no idea how
close you came ... ” He broke off and looked at his friend,
dispelling the image of John collapsing on the floor, blood
staining the carpet, which had flashed through his mind. “Hey, man,
it’s really great to see you. How are things? Thanks for dealing
with the tapes – that was really, really helpful.”

“Well, if I’d known you were back
I wouldn’t have come all this way to make the change today – you
owe there me there, pal! Anyway, what’s all this about? You need to
fill me in with what’s been going on, what’s so interesting to need
all this stuff. What’ve you been up to?”

As he spoke Bettina rolled off
the bed, yawned and stretched and as the movement caught the edge
of his vision and John turned to look at her with frank admiration
she smiled at him, her foot nudging her pistol out of sight under
the bed.

“Bettina, this is John. I've told
you about him and how helpful he's been - despite being a citizen
of the evil Empire. There are a few good ones around, you know." He
laughed as Bettina pulled a face at him. "John, meet
Bettina!"

She stretched out a hand and
shook his warmly as she looked him over, noting his build, fair
hair and frank expression. "Hi Bettina. I'm sure glad to meet you
at last after all that Thomas has told me." He appraised her in
turn, adding "I'm from Minneapolis but my granddad's from Berlin,
that's my mom's dad, and my other grandparents were from Heidelberg
so I'm kinda back home studying here." They smiled at each other.
She could imagine him filling out a purple football shirt, a huge
white number on the front.

"Hey, can I join the party too?"
Thomas stood with arms akimbo, looking at each in turn. "We've been
away for a few days, only got back in the early hours this morning,
really zonked. I’d have called you shortly to let you know we were
here – sorry it wasn’t soon enough to save you the trip. But,
really, thanks again for changing the tapes, that’s been so
helpful. Coffee?”

“Had some already, thanks, but
I'll take another. Glad it's helped but I’m just not used to
getting up early like this every morning. Now that my PhD's over I
can go home, become a boss and not an employee, work when it suits
me." He laughed and waved his hand round the room. "So what have
you been up to with all this? Going to tell me anything
yet?"

“I’m sorry, John, but, look, it's
complicated and this is just a bad time. I’ll fill you in with the
details soon when we’re both a bit less frazzled and with less on
our minds. Promise. There’s another thing, though ... I, I need to
get away for a bit. There could be some people looking for me
because I, well, I couldn't pay some debts in time and they're a
bit pissed off. I need time to sort things out. Don’t tell anyone
about this place. Absolutely no one. And if you hear of anyone
asking for me tell them I’ve gone on a trip abroad and won’t be
back for a month or so and, no, you don't know where. These people
are hard so it’s really, really important that no one knows about
this place, about me or where I am.”

“Look, Thomas, I have some money.
If you’re in trouble I can ... ”

“Thanks John, you’re a real
friend.” Thomas interrupted. “But this is something I need to solve
on my own.”

John looked at him intently. He'd
come to realise that Thomas was deep in something strange but also
very important to Thomas. He'd listened to some of the tapes from
time to time but they told him nothing other than Thomas had
apparently hidden a microphone in someone’s office or house nearby.
What was that about?

They shook hands and embraced and
as John reached the door he turned back and laughed, punching
Thomas lightly on the shoulder and then again looking at him
closely.

“Do you know, when I was checking
the tapes, making sure they were working, recording properly, I
heard some odd stuff, like someone was talking about Mielke as if
they knew him. He's the head of the Stasi, right? Or was, anyway.
And for a ridiculous moment I thought, Hey, maybe he’s listening to
what’s going on in some Stasi office or other. Strange times, mad
thoughts. Ain't that crazy!” He chuckled, raised an eyebrow,
punched Thomas lightly again, adding "Remember, if you're in
trouble ... " and the door clicked shut behind him.

Thomas walked over to where
Bettina stood looking out of the window and put his arms round her
waist, leaning his head on her shoulder. She covered his hands with
her own, leant back on him and they stood for several minutes
without speaking.

“What is it, Bettina?” He turned
her to face him, stroked the hair out of her eyes and kissed her
lightly before holding her close. “What is it? Are you thinking
about Dieter again?” He caressed her cheek with the back of his
fingers and again kissed her lightly, this time with a small
response, followed by her suddenly throwing her arms round him and
holding him tightly, her head pressed to his chest.

“Yes, it’s Dieter. I can't stop
thinking of him lying there. And that's mixed up with how we get
out of this. I'm trying to think through this and I'm getting
really afraid, Thomas. I know these people. I know what they can
do. They're about the worst enemies we could have and they won't
stop. And there's also Paul, my brother. Oh, Thomas,
Thomas."

There was a long silence and then
she pulled back, turned slightly and stared at Thomas, her eyes
welling until her face crumpled and she threw herself back against
him, her cheek again on his chest. He stroked her hair.

"But where does Paul fit it? Is
he in danger too? You’ve never mentioned Paul, other than saying he
lived somewhere between Berlin and Dresden and didn’t do much of
anything. I don’t understand."

“Paul wasn’t an agent. In fact
he’d just finished technical university in Leipzig and started a
job with Robotron Zeiss where he was doing really well. We were
pleased, but also because he could now live at home. Then one night
he got caught up in a fight. He was meeting some friends in a bar
he didn't know and confused the name. He's homosexual and the place
he went to, the wrong one, turned out to be a hangout for closet
Nazis and queer-bashers. He wasn't known so one of them challenged
him and I guess then taunted him, slapped him around a bit and it
all got out of hand. Wrong place, wrong time, no one to help him.
Someone pulled a knife but in the fight the guy got stabbed instead
and later died. In the fuss Paul managed to escape but of course
got picked up later. At the trial everyone there in the bar said it
was his fault, said he'd started it, and so he got fifteen years,
no chance of parole. Nothing we could do."

"God, that's really tough. But
what has this got to do with you. Or the Stasi?"

“A couple of weeks after the
court case I got a letter summoning me to the Stasi offices. That’s
not the kind of invitation you can ignore. Dieter met me,
introduced himself, said he was sorry to hear about what had
happened to Paul, could see what had gone wrong and was I prepared
to do something to help. Of course I was! So Dieter made me an
offer I really couldn’t refuse – every year I helped the Stasi
would bring two years off Paul’s sentence, maybe even more if I was
really good, really helpful. I was 16 then, four years younger than
Paul. That was 1982, autumn, so now less than a year left for Paul
if the deal is honoured.”

Now she was no longer holding
back her tears. Thomas let her rest her head against his shoulder
and continued stroking her hair, reassuring her, willing her to
feel safe with him.

“I started with Dieter pretty
much straight away, little things at first, watching this person or
reporting on that one, but then it quickly became more serious and
almost before I knew it I was a full-scale agent, an undercover
one. And Dieter was good to me, as I said. He was absolutely
punctilious in dealing with me and I know that he came to trust me.
He helped me a lot too, in various ways. Trouble is that he too
often went his own way, took decisions that he thought were best
for the country even if they went against the rules. Despite the
mania for collecting and noting every bit of potentially useful
information Dieter would never tell me what was in my file and I
had a suspicion maybe he'd even kept quiet about this deal. I just
don't know but as I trusted him it didn't really matter. At least
until now."

“I’ll talk to the BND agents in
West Germany. It’s got to be a package deal. Either they help your
brother out as well, or we won’t collaborate. But I need to have
all the details.” He was trying to sound confident, but had no idea
whether they would accept such a proposal or whether they had the
power to interfere with a judicial sentence. It was already a
stretch to save himself and Bettina but there might be value to the
BND in getting trustworthy information about the Stasi from one of
their agents and he’d just have to talk that up. There might be a
small window of opportunity before a mass of ex-Stasi agents
changed sides and flooded the BND with information.

“Do you really think there’s a
chance ... ?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t
know. But it’s the best chance we have. And the more valuable the
information we can give them the better for us and the more chance
we have of getting Paul out. They’re going to find out about Paul
and about you anyway once they start combing through the archives
but they won't necessarily know about the deal. And they’ll find
out about me. Our information’s valuable now so we need to use it
now. Six months down the line it could be too late.”

She pulled away and again looked
steadily at Thomas, then nodded slightly. “It doesn’t seem I’ve
much choice. Who are you going to call?”

"Stephan mentioned someone he was
friendly with at university who was apparently recruited to the
BND, Richard Köpp, his name was. Anyway, Stephan learned in a
roundabout way what he was doing now, although it was secret.
Apparently he also rang up following Herren's death and Stephan
said he was really sympathetic then, although he was clearly also
chasing information. I never met him but Stephan said he was pretty
bright but could be a bit distant. Maybe not senior enough, I
guess, but it’s a start. Look, will you listen to what’s happening
while I’m out?"

When Thomas closed the front door
behind him and stepped on to the pavement the sun was shining
brightly, lighting up the grey exterior behind him and giving it a
slightly rosy hue. The pavements were crowded with people going to
work and the streets were filled with vehicles jostling for space,
many of them emitting bursts of exhaust fumes which stung his
throat. It was still the capital of a sizeable industrial country
and one of the busiest cities of the Warsaw Pact, he reflected as
he walked. He wondered how many of these ordinary citizens going
about their business had been, perhaps even still were, Stasi
informers and the thought took away some of the pleasure he felt in
the bustle and the warming sun.