Someone high up in the Kennedy administration had told the CIA to stop trying to take control of the Signals Exploitation Center in the building. Since then I hadn’t seen Thomas Lane. My buzzer on my Tempelhof tank rang. To my surprise, Thomas, Kurt, and a man I didn’t recognize stood outside.
“This is James Joerger, who’s on his first overseas assignment,” Thomas said by way of introduction. “He’s Kurt’s new protégé.”
Joerger looked to be my age, thin, and under six feet tall. He had unruly, long blondish hair and a ruddy complexion. During our handshake, his grip felt weak. Throughout our meeting, he only made furtive eye contact with any of us. He lacked the usual self-confidence of a CIA agent.
Kurt started us off. “What I am about to tell you is strictly ‘need to know.’ In Berlin, only the four of us will ever know. For the last ten years, one man and his wife have been at the center of one of the most productive parts of our espionage efforts against the East Germans and Russians.”
Thomas said, “That’s an amazingly long time in the spy game.”
“A little over three months ago, one of their sources was arrested and tortured.” Kurt looked directly at me. “Eventually, the Stasi learned enough to guess the identity of the couple.”
“How can I help you?” I wondered if my confusion was apparent.
Kurt seemed to be trying to convince me of something, but what? Then I realized—he was attempting to manipulate Thomas into taking an action.
“Two days ago, one of the messages the CIA received and translated in the building was from Stasi Headquarters to Ulbricht’s office. It was an arrest warrant for our couple and their family,” Kurt said. “The document instructed the arresting officers to closely monitor the agents’ activities for the next few days. If possible, they are to be arrested with evidence against their sources and their Western handlers. It instructed them to attempt to identity of the rest of the espionage ring and their contacts in the West…”
“—Captain, I recall that you severed and repaired the top of an East German storm drain during the construction of the tunnel,” Thomas interjected.
“Yes, that is true. As far as we know, the storm drain repair is almost invisible from their side.”
“Is there any reason we couldn’t get eight people out through the tunnel by reopening that hole?” Kurt asked.
“It’s certainly feasible. Are the people in Washington willing to risk compromising the existence of our tunnel and facilities that some have called the ‘greatest intelligence coup of the century’ to rescue them?”
“At this point in time, we only have permission to assess the feasibility of such an operation,” Kurt said. “We have managed to get one or two people across to the West at will, but extracting all eight safely would be tough, especially since three young children are among the group.”
Was Kurt encouraging Thomas to use the tunnel so it would be open and available for our sixteen? I wondered.
Thomas added, “The East Germans have had months to detect and eliminate all of the easy ways to get people to the West. This is a potential solution. We haven’t much time to improvise another scheme.”
I went over to a flat storage cabinet, opened the third door down, moved a few drawings around, and withdrew a top and side view of the storm drain and our tunnel. I spread it out across the conference table. “This is our tunnel. It hit the storm drain here. The path of that drain goes from the River Spree all the way back to this area, which was once the manufacturing hub of Berlin. Now, it’s primarily damaged and abandoned buildings.”
“What are these smaller pipes?” James asked.
“These side drains bring the water down from the streets.” I pointed. “Here’s the vertical shaft that provides access to the drain system from the surface. It’s located in the abandoned industrial complex I sketched in here.”
I retrieved a map of East Berlin. “That complex is located here, about a half a mile from where the tunnel and drain meet.”
“How would you make a hole in the repaired tunnel flooring and storm drain?” Kurt asked.
“Jackhammer is the quickest, but it makes a lot of noise,” I replied.
“Won’t the noise attract attention?” Thomas wanted to know.
“The whole area is covered with ruined and vacant factories and warehouses,” I stated. “If we scheduled the extraction for Sunday, when the area is deserted, we’d have to be awfully unlucky for someone to even detect noise emanating from a drain grate on nearby streets. I seriously doubt anyone could determine the location of the noise source, or what caused it.”
In the East, it doesn’t pay for an ordinary citizen to become too curious,” Kurt said to validate my statement.
“Who’d run the jackhammer?” Thomas asked.
“My senior NCO, Chief Weber. He helped to build the tunnel and knows about the storm drain. We still have an electric jackhammer in our basement storage area at the building.”
Each man thanked me, shook my hand, and left.
If they have us open the tunnel, perhaps we could use it too. No that’s impossible. Or is it?
Chapter 138
Thursday, November 16, 1961
Thomas Lane ordered Kurt to spend every waking hour searching for alternate ways to extract the American double agents and their family from East Berlin. For the first time in several days, he joined us in my tank late the next day.
“That son-of-a-bitch at the Austrian Embassy is threatening to give the photos of our sixteen escapees to the Stasi unless we pay him an additional million West Marks!” Kurt exclaimed in disgust.
Scott and I were shocked.
“That’s $250,000 on top of the $230,000 we’ve already paid him!” I exclaimed.
“I’m willing to pay him, but I’m concerned that we’ll never see those passports,” Scott said with obvious concern. “He may just continue to make demands.”
“If he gives the photos to the Stasi, our loved ones will be in immediate danger, probably even arrested,” Kurt’s voice cracked with emotion. “Bernard and Emma Fischer and my beloved are sufficiently well-known to be identified immediately.”
“We must act quickly,” I replied. “Tell Scott about the double-agent extraction.”
Kurt nodded, “Since I determined the CIA would need to immediately extract eight people from East Berlin, I’ve urged Thomas to use Robert’s tunnel and the storm drain for that task. I initially viewed it as an option. Now, it’s our only possible route.”
“When?” I asked.
“This morning we received permission from Washington. The Secretary of Defense plus heads of the CIA and NSA approved the tunnel extraction for our double agent and his family this Sunday afternoon.”
“And then we’ll use it to extract sixteen additional people,” Scott shouted. “Thank God!”
“A dream opportunity that will be entirely under our control.” I exclaimed joyously as we all rose to our feet in unison, shook hands and embraced each other.
Kurt nodded. “It doesn’t leave us much time to make our plans and notify our escapees. Here’s what I’d suggest…”
Chapter 139
Saturday-Sunday, November 18-19, 1961
The Chief and I spent most of Saturday morning transporting tools, form building material including fast drying concrete mix in bags, a ten-foot extension ladder, a mixing tub, cans of water, waterproof boots, flashlights, a hoe to mix the cement, and miscellaneous items into the tunnel. We reviewed each activity to be certain that we had everything we needed.
The Chief said, “So at 1600 tomorrow, Kurt and I’ll go down into the storm drain and construct the form. You’ll then fill in the hole.”
“After an hour, you two will tear down the form and be extracted from East Berlin by the CIA and U.S. Army. You both speak German like natives, so that process should go smoothly.”
“We should be back by 6 p.m.,” the Chief agreed.
“There are only probably a million things that coul
d go wrong,” I added.
“Sir, I think we need to be armed just in case. I took a semi-automatic grease gun for me, plus two .38 caliber pistols for you and Captain Taylor out of the arms locker.”
“A prudent move, Chief.”
The Chief and I met Thomas, Kurt, and James Joerger at the main entrance to the building at 0700 Sunday morning.
At our excavation site, I handed out gloves and ear protection. “If you think a jackhammer is loud, you should hear it in a confined space like this.”
Soon parts of the tunnel flooring were loose. Working as a team, we removed pieces of concrete and cut the rebar, piling the rubble nearby.
When I suggested to Thomas that he might help he replied, “I’m equivalent to a two-star general. I don’t do grunt work.”
Two hours later, we lowered the step ladder down into the hole and removed the rubble which had fallen through.
Thomas looked at his watch. “Our visitors should arrive at the rendezvous site in about forty-five minutes.”
“Are you going to return to ensure that the tunnel is sealed?” I asked,
“Kurt, you’re in charge after James and I leave. You’ve sufficient help. If there’s a problem, Captain Kerr can get additional subordinates to help reseal the hole.”
“Weren’t we going to limit the number of people who know about this operation to us five?” Kurt asked.
“Once we get our double agent and his family out, the need for that level of secrecy ends. You’re in charge. Call the safe house if anything goes wrong.”
Thirty minutes later Kurt looked at James. “It’s time.” They both donned rubber boots. Kurt lowered himself down into the drain. James handed down a box of flashlights, a box of rubber boots of various sizes, and then joined him.
Almost half an hour later, we heard children’s voices. One sang,“Splish-splash, Ich nahm ein bad.” (Splish, Splash I was taking a bath). Another child giggled.
James stuck his head up through the hole in the tunnel. “They’re behind me.”
Thomas moved toward the hole and helped each person up into the tunnel, giving the adults cold, perfunctory handshakes.
The group consisted of an older couple in their sixties, a couple in their early forties (the double agents, I assumed), a man in his thirties, and three boys who ranged in age from a pre-teen to a preschooler.
“Are we in the West yet?” the older gentleman asked.
I said in German, “Not yet. Soon.”
Once they were seated on electric carts, they received blindfolds. In English, Thomas explained, “Please put these on for the trip to the West. Once we arrive at the surface, you‘ll be told when to remove them. Soon, you‘ll be in a safe house in West Berlin while we arrange transportation for you to the United States, where you‘ll be given asylum.”
Kurt translated.
Washington had insisted that our visitors be blindfolded to avoid any knowledge about their route to freedom.
The small convoy departed with Thomas and James driving.
An hour later, Scott arrived in one of the carts. Per our plan, he and Mark had hidden in the back of the van that brought boxed lunches for the men on duty that day.
He exhaled, the nervous strain evident on his face. “We’ll bring Mia and her parents through in thirty minutes. Wish us luck.”
I gave him a thumbs up. More than luck would be required, I feared.
Kurt looked at Scott, “We’d better leave now. It takes almost 15 minutes to get there, and we need to make sure they weren’t followed before we contact them.”
Chapter 140
Sunday, November 19, 1961.
Scott successfully brought Mia and her family through to safety. Confident the second group would arrive soon, I sat in the driver’s seat of one of the carts. I heard the faint footfalls coming from the tunnel entrance. No one should approach from that direction, I thought. Scott said he’d stay with Mia and her parents until summoned. Kurt was due to return with his female friend and daughter via the storm drain; the Chief is with them.
“Scott, is that you?” I called quietly.
No response.
“Scott?”
Stepping out of the cart, I fingered the .38 at my side. Just as I unbuckled the strap on the holster, Thomas appeared and pointed a pistol at me.
I strained to catch my breath. No way, not a panic attack, not now, under no circumstances, I vowed, clenching my fists tightly.
My resolve stiffened: That son-of-a-bitch will not win this time!
“Ah! Captain Kerr. Slowly unbuckle your belt and allow your weapon to drop to the ground.”
As I complied, he moved closer.
“Where are Kurt and Chief Weber?”
“In my office changing into their suits,” I replied.
“How soon will they be back?”
“Very soon. Why are you here? And what’s with the gun?”
“Despite specific orders, I knew you, Captain Taylor, and Kurt Altschuler would try to get people out of East Berlin. The temptation was too great.”
“As soon as the Chief and Kurt get back, we’ll reseal the tunnel according to the plan. You’re welcome to help me mix concrete.” I tried to hide my growing anxiety.
“I took a photograph of Captain Taylor as he led two women and a man into the elevator of this building. You’re probably using one of the apartments upstairs to hold the escapees until they’ve all arrived.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“When does your wife’s family arrive at the storm drain entrance?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I feared he could hear the nervous edge in my voice.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” Thomas taunted.
As he bent over to move my weapon out of reach, I thought, it’s now or never. I lunged at him.
He retreated with my gun and holster in one hand and signaled with his weapon for me to move back. For a fat old fart, he moved quickly.
“Why do you care if we use the tunnel? Your double agent has been extracted.
“I care very much. My leadership at the very highest levels have made it clear my future is dependent on my taking control of this facility for the CIA. Your unauthorized use of the tunnel is prima facia evidence of NSA and DoD’s inability to manage such an essential national intelligence asset. In addition, Kurt, Scott, and you have done everything possible to humiliate and belittle me—so each of you will suffer as your loved ones languish under the yoke of a totalitarian regime or suffer equally while you’re in prison!”
Thomas Lane’s decibel level increased with each word until he raged, “My recent reprimand as a result of your wife’s unwillingness to follow my orders was particularly galling!”
“My wife isn’t under anyone’s chain of command. What you were suggesting would have put all her family at significant risk, and you knew it!” I shouted as anger replaced my fear.
We glared at each other, “So, what are you going to do if you do succeed in subduing all four of us?”
“I don’t need to capture you four. With my testimony and a few more pictures, your superiors will arrest you. You’ll each be convicted of conspiracy, numerous violations of established security procedures, misuse of government property, and failure to follow orders. You’ll likely get thirty years!” His smug expression betrayed his eagerness for revenge.
“Sending us to prison won’t help the CIA gain control of this facility.”
“To the contrary—it’ll prove that NSA and Air Force can’t maintain the security of this building. My small camera has proven very useful,” he smirked, patting his pants pocket.
As I again moved toward Thomas, he waved his gun. “If you take another step, I’ll kill you. On occasion, my plan included eliminating you,” he sneered, “so don’t tempt me.”
I halted. Footfalls in the tunnel became audible. This time, it had to be Scott.
“Stay where you are. I’ll shoot you if you make a sound o
r move,” he whispered as he knelt down behind the cart.
I had to warn the others, but how? Then it hit me. Force Thomas to fire his gun. I heard voices and splashes of people coming through the storm drain. Thomas didn’t appear to have heard them.
I lunged at him, my foot caught in the hoe and I plunged forward and hit the tunnel floor hard.
He fired his weapon. Realizing I hadn’t been hit, I looked around for a weapon and grabbed the first thing I saw—a claw hammer from the pile of tools.
Thomas stared at his pistol, stunned that his first shot failed. He hesitated. I buried the claw hammer in his wrist. His gun skittered across the floor. My second blow with the hammer flat on the side of his head knocked him unconscious.
Scott rushed to my side, collected Thomas’ gun, and returned mine to me, “You okay, Kemosabe?”
Kurt scrambled up the ladder, gun in hand, and surveyed the scene quickly, “There are handcuffs in the briefcase over there. Cuff him.”
I complied, then checked his condition, “His pulse is steady. He’ll survive and be madder than hell when he wakes up. He threatened to send us all to prison for thirty years and even threatened to murder me.”
Kurt’s daughter entered the tunnel and screamed when she saw Thomas, who was bleeding from both his wounds. She hid her face against her mother’s body as Kurt directed them to one of the carts.
“I’ll take these two up to the penthouse and return. Chief, why don’t you come with me? We need to determine if anyone accompanied him.”
The cart left after our guests donned blindfolds.
Scott asked, “Is there any place we can put him while we complete the extraction of Anna’s family?”
“We built a locked storage room at the far end of the tunnel for the NSA technicians to use,” I replied.
Scott nodded and grabbed one of his legs. I grabbed the other, and we dragged him into the storage room and locked the door.
The Berlin Tunnel Page 34
