by Lee Jackson
“People are already crowding in front of the crossing points expecting an announcement any day. The longer this goes without one, the more likely it will die from neglect. Or, if the crowd keeps pressing, it could lead to violent retaliation by the East German government. If the declaration is read out publicly by a known official, the government won’t be able to stop it. We’re forcing their hand.”
Atcho stared at her. “We?” he queried brusquely. “Who’s we? Who is doing the preempting? Not you, obviously.”
Sofia forced a laugh. “No, not me.” Her expression became somber. “That representative of the Social Unity Party I told you about, Wolfgang Sacher. He’ll read the press release, but it’s dangerous for him. He won’t do it unless he has security around him, and safe passage out of East Berlin immediately.”
“So, what are you supposed to do?”
“He was a friend of my father’s,” Sofia said. “I knew him when I was a child. We’ve met in various places over the years.” She saw Atcho’s questioning expression. “I’ll tell you about it another time. You know I was a covert operator.” He nodded. She continued. “We’ll put undercover security around him right after he makes the announcement. My face at the press conference is the signal. When he sees me, he’ll know the plan is in place, and he’ll read the announcement.”
Atcho gaped. “You’re supposed to be inside East Berlin at the site? At the time the press announcement is made? But it’s not the official announcement, it’s a preempted one?” His brow creased with anger. “Are you crazy? Do you know what the Stasi will do to you if this goes wrong and you’re caught? What about that security team? Get real. They’ll be regarded as spies. You’ll be treated as a spy. You know what they do to spies? Especially those caught trying to bring down a totalitarian regime?” He glared. “They shoot them. Or worse.”
“Which is why we’re volunteers. Our government officially knows nothing about it.” She regarded him stubbornly. “We’re all big girls and boys. We’ve known the risks of our jobs for a long, long time.” She reached up and held Atcho’s face in her hands. “We’re expecting large crowds when Wolfgang reads the announcement. It includes an order for the border guards and passport officers to stand down. With that, we think the crowds will press through the gates immediately.
“After Wolfgang reads the announcement, we’ll work him into the crowd. His family will be there too, and we’ll escort them through the gates into West Berlin. To freedom.” Her voice broke. She caught herself. Then her eyes glinted with determination. “My family too.”
Atcho was speechless. He took her in his arms. “Your family will be there?”
Sofia nodded into his chest and pulled back. “The East German government shot and killed a hundred and forty people escaping over the Wall since it was built—and who knows how many others along the border?” Anger shook her voice. “All the people ever wanted was to live their own lives…” Her voice broke again. “This is my only chance to make sure that doesn’t happen to my family.”
“I know,” Atcho said softly. “You don’t have to explain.” He thought of the hundreds of Cubans lost at sea attempting to reach Key West. He recalled the desperate action his friend, former KGB Major Ivan Chekov, had taken to rescue his own family from Soviet clutches the year before. “Why didn’t you come to me? I could have put another team together.”
“The operation was planned and dropped on me before I knew about it. The CIA knows about my family connections and decided to use them. I was happy to accept the assignment. It’s all set. The team is here, we’re rehearsed, we know what we’re doing.”
Atcho continued to hold Sofia, but a discomforting thought entered his mind. “Sofia,” he said after a few moments, “who would know why you’re here? How did they find out?”
“I don’t know.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Whoever it is knows some of your background too.”
“What did Shelby have to say?”
Sofia sighed. “He’s concerned. I told him I would lie low until mission execution. The heavy lifting is on my teammates, and they’re already on the other side of the Wall.”
She fell silent, not meeting his eyes. She felt badly for still deceiving him. Completing the mission would require two forays into the East. Her private discussion with Shelby had been heated. He wanted to scrub her participation. She had persuaded him that expecting Wolfgang to trust a substitute on short notice was unrealistic.
“We’re all at risk,” she had told the CIA station chief. “We can’t trust the East German government to do the right thing. It’s taken them nearly three decades to get to this point. If we don’t do the mission, more decades could pass. If I pull out because I’m compromised, Wolfgang will worry about making things more dangerous for his family. He’ll balk. Count on it.”
Shelby had acquiesced to her continued participation in the mission with the proviso that Sofia report on her next trip into East Berlin. “I’ll make a final decision then.”
With that conversation fresh in her mind, Sofia now held Atcho close. Exhausted, they finally fell asleep, still wearing their street clothes.
Sometime later, while Sofia slept, Atcho left the sofa and crept into the living room, closing the bedroom door quietly. He took the phone to the length of its extension cord and placed a call. He spoke almost in a whisper for a few moments, then hung up and went back to the bedroom.
He contemplated waking Sofia, so they could change into pajamas and move from the sofa to the bed, but she seemed so peaceful. Instead, he took his place next to her once more.
8
While Atcho and Sofia slept, Klaus and Etzel studied the layout of the Mövenpick one more time. They had spent the day since the first kidnapping attempt poring over sketches and the security arrangements around Atcho and Sofia. In particular, they had induced hotel staff members to provide key information for their new plan.
They paid particular attention to the floor where the state department delegation and its security team were housed. They had studied methods used for protecting American diplomats on foreign travel. They also learned that a security operations cell had been established in a room across the hall, that the door remained open around the clock, and that an agent was always posted in front of the couple’s door.
Before dawn they entered the hotel through a back entrance, dressed in workmen’s coveralls. They took a freight elevator to a floor two levels above their target. Klaus had a towel thrown over one shoulder. They moved swiftly to a set of stairs that descended within a short distance of the room. When they spotted a surveillance camera in the stairwell, they slowed their pace to one indicating nonchalance.
On reaching the floor, they engaged in light conversation and entered the hall. Down the corridor, a state department security agent watched them. As they drew near, he spoke into a handset and stepped into their path. The brothers raised their hands as if to submit to a search. The agent reached out to pat down Etzel.
In a flash, Etzel grabbed the man’s wrist, jerked him forward, swung him around, and tightened his other arm around the agent’s neck in a chokehold. Then, he held a cloth with a liquid substance close to the man’s nose. Seconds later, the agent slumped to the floor, unconscious.
At the same time, Klaus moved to the open door of the security operations cell. He reached into his coveralls and pulled out a pressurized canister. It contained dry, siliconized micro-pulverized CS2—an aerosol version of tear gas. He peered quickly into the room, prepared to release the fine incapacitating cloud. An agent stared into a surveillance monitor. Another started for the door, his hand already on his pistol.
Klaus tossed the canister deep into the room, grabbed the door handle, and slammed the door shut. He drew a gas mask and goggles from another pocket and donned them. Reaching into a third pocket, he brought out a steel device bent ninety degrees at the center. One of the arms was tubular. He slid that end over the handle and wedged it against the door, preventing the handle fro
m rotating down. Then he snatched the towel from his shoulder and pushed it against the bottom to prevent gas from escaping. From inside the security cell, he heard coughing and gagging.
Etzel threw on his own protective gear. He located two surveillance cameras and fired muffled shots into them. Then he fired additional shots into the lock of the suite.
He looked at his watch. Thirty seconds had passed since they had entered the hall. He broke the door open into Atcho’s and Sofia’s suite. Crouching low, he stepped inside and positioned himself in the doorway to keep watch.
Klaus entered, sizing up the suite. Seconds later, he stole into the bedroom. Atcho and Sofia were still curled together on the sofa. Klaus put the nose of his MP5 next to Atcho’s head and nudged him. Atcho awoke with a start.
“Don’t move.”
Atcho turned his head to look at Klaus through sleepy eyes.
“Wake up your wife. I need you both in the living room. Quickly. I won’t hesitate to shoot first if necessary.” He pointed his weapon across at Sofia.
The commotion had already awakened her. “Who are you?” Her voice was hoarse. “What do you want?”
“Get up.” Klaus fired a bullet into the sofa between Atcho and Sofia. Then, he herded them into the living room at gunpoint.
“We’re in a hurry,” Klaus snapped. He gestured toward Atcho. “You’re coming with us.” He tossed Atcho a set of goggles and a gas mask. “Put these on.”
Atcho did as ordered while watching Klaus. Atcho’s eyes shifted briefly to Sofia. She stood with a calm, composed face. He turned back to Klaus. “You were the gunmen in the van. You shot your own men.”
“Shut up.” Klaus indicated Etzel still keeping vigil by the door. “My brother will cover us on the way out,” he told Sofia. He tapped his MP5. “Don’t follow. Go back to the bedroom. Open a window.”
While he spoke, Etzel pulled two more CS2 canisters from his coveralls. He held one ready to activate.
“I planted a bomb in this room,” Klaus told Sofia. “I have the remote. If I have any trouble on the way out, I’ll blow it.” He jabbed Atcho in the ribs. “Keep that in mind.” Grabbing Atcho by the scruff of the neck, he shoved him toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Etzel uncapped the canister and tossed it into the living room. Sofia hesitated, and then ran into the bedroom. Etzel prepared the second canister as Klaus and Atcho moved past. Then he closed the door.
Etzel had fitted the last canister with a tube. He crossed the hall, stooped to one side of the security cell door, fed the tube under it, and opened the valve. When he heard the sound of more gas spilling into the room, he moved on.
Atcho peered at the security agent lying unconscious on the floor in the hall. He had no time to see if the man still breathed.
Klaus pushed Atcho along the corridor the way he and Etzel had come. Behind them, his brother tossed a smoke grenade. Within moments, the stench of it filled the air. Alarms clanged, and water poured out of the ceiling’s fire suppressors.
Klaus pulled Atcho into the stairwell and down one level. They emerged on the next floor. Already, people rushed from their rooms in panic. “Don’t try anything here,” Klaus told Atcho in a low voice. He pulled an electronic device from his pocket. “Remember, I have the remote. Etzel has one too.”
They pulled off their gas masks and headed to the back of the hotel. The numbers of running people thinned. They took the freight elevator down.
They emerged on the bottom level of a parking garage and headed toward a dark corner. A steel-mesh door leading into a utility room stood open. A dim bulb cast faint light inside. Klaus shoved Atcho through.
They moved behind some machinery. While Etzel kept watch, Klaus moved a grate on the floor. Below it a set of steps led into the ground. “Go,” he ordered.
At the bottom, he stopped. “Put this on.” He handed Atcho a blindfold. “These are the tunnels that Hitler built. If you don’t know where to make the turns, you’re dead. If you want to see your sweet Sofia again, don’t make trouble.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll know soon enough.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Simple. I deliver you, I get something.”
They proceeded at a fast pace, with Klaus pushing Atcho along. The air stank from decades of moisture and decay. Klaus used a flashlight to avoid debris and water puddles, and to find crude route markers. Sometimes, they walked straight a good distance. Then they made several turns. A few times, they crawled on their knees through even smaller tunnels.
Atcho could not tell if all the turns were necessary, or if Klaus had spun him around to confuse him. One thing was certain: without a guide, he would be lost in this maze, possibly never to emerge.
When they had walked for roughly ten minutes, they heard running footsteps. Soon, Etzel caught up with them, panting.
“We’re safe,” he told Klaus, switching to a language the brothers had in common—one that Atcho did not understand. “The door into the utility room is locked,” Etzel continued. “I have the only key. The light is turned off, and the machinery is pulled back over the grate. If they find that entrance, they’ll still have to make their way through these tunnels. We’ll be long gone.” He watched Atcho carefully and was satisfied that the man did not understand what they were discussing.
“What do you want with me?” Atcho interrupted with undisguised anger.
“I told you,” Klaus snapped. “I deliver you, I get what I want.”
“What do those people want? The ones you’re delivering me to.”
“I don’t know. I don’t care. All I care about is getting what I want.”
“And that is?”
“Keep going,” Klaus growled. “Etzel, lead off. Fast.”
They continued their trek through the dark, Etzel forging ahead. The stench made breathing nearly unbearable.
Atcho steeled himself against distress. “Etzel,” he called, “how much farther?”
“Shut up,” Klaus grunted from behind. He jabbed the MP5 into Atcho’s back. He called ahead to his brother in the language they had used before. “Etzel, he thinks he knows your real name.” They laughed.
Atcho understood nothing of the exchange.
After more time trudging in darkness, they came to a set of stairs. At the top, Atcho caught a breath of clean air. His spirit buoyed momentarily. Then he heard the low rumbling of distant traffic and felt wind on his face. He was outside. One of the brothers shoved him forward a few steps. He heard a door creak and close. He was indoors again. Faint light shone through the blindfold.
“You can take off that scarf,” Klaus said. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Atcho removed it. He was in a dimly lit room with high walls and a single door. An open window high above his reach provided ventilation. It also let in a late-autumn chill. There was no heat. A table and chair were set in the middle of the room, and a cot with some blankets was placed along a wall. Etzel was not in the room.
“Sit down, get comfortable,” Klaus said amiably. “Welcome to East Berlin. I don’t know how long you’ll be here. It shouldn’t be long.” Atcho sat on the cot.
“A few things for you to know,” Klaus continued. “I won’t hesitate to kill you. Don’t give me a reason. I saw what you can do. I won’t take chances.”
Atcho rubbed his hands together to warm them. “You just created a sensation. Do you think the US will let that pass?”
Klaus chuckled. “I don’t care. I don’t exist, and neither does my brother. No one knows who we are or where to look for us.”
“I’ve seen your face.”
Klaus grinned. “Yes, and my brother’s too.” He laughed. “So, what?” His eyes bored into Atcho. “I want you to hear a phone call. If you make a sound, it will be your last.” He tapped the MP5 still slung over his shoulder. “Am I clear?”
Atcho nodded and leaned his back against the wall.
Klaus went to the door and knocked. Etzel
entered carrying a rotary phone on a long extension. His omnipresent submachine gun pointed in Atcho’s general direction.
Klaus dialed the phone and waited. “I have what you want,” he said into the receiver. “It’s here. In the East.” He listened. “The price went up,” he broke in. “I want two of them. One for Baumann, and one for me.” His face showed no expression as he listened again. “Understand this,” he retorted into the receiver, “I took a lot of risk. That’s my price. Tell Baumann he has twenty-four hours. Then he gets what he wants, you get what you want, and I get what I want. I’ll call you. If the deal falls through, I’ll tell you where to pick up your package. Expired.”
9
As soon as Sofia saw Klaus throw the canister, she knew what it was. Momentarily, she was undecided about what action to take. I can’t help Atcho if I’m dead. She ran into the bedroom and threw the door closed while flipping on the light. Then she grabbed the pillows from the bed and jammed them across the bottom of the door. She scooped up her purse with her pistol and ran into the bathroom. There she used towels to seal off airflow below the closed door.
She looked around the walls. A small vent was embedded above the mirror over the sinks, its louvers lifeless. She flipped a switch by the door, activating a ceiling fan. The louvers opened to circulate air. Then she called the hotel main desk.
“Security is aware of an incident on your floor,” the operator said. “The police have been notified. Help is on the way.”
Within a minute, Sofia heard movement in the bedroom and then a knock on the door. “Ms. Stahl. This is the hotel security duty officer. May I come in?”
Sofia did not immediately answer. She grabbed her gun, aimed it at the door, and crouched against the wall in the far corner behind the bathtub. “I’m armed,” she called. “Open the door slowly. If I see a weapon, you’re dead.”
