“Stadtmitte is a minute away on foot, the noises we heard…” Janko leaves the ending to us to interpret.
No wonder Janko looks devastated. They were almost able to stop Tremmick’s clinic right at the beginning.
“Did you find anything of use at all?” I say.
“A letter from Tremmick to a man with initials P.B.,” Gunari replies, “It stated that he had been in a meeting with a potential investor, a female former soldier from Yugoslavia. I read the letter and knew he meant Nuri. I’ve no idea how she organised it,”
“At the end of the letter,” Janko says, “It said another meeting had been arranged at the TV tower where final details were to be ironed out, the meeting was organised for the very night we were in the church. Tremmick, Nuri and P.B. - now we know that was Paul Beckermann.
“We headed across East Berlin in a taxi back to Alexanderplatz. It was nearly midnight. I had an ominous feeling about everything. Why had Nuri not told us what she was doing?”
“She had nothing to gain from not telling you,” I say, equally puzzled.
“Exactly,” Janko replied, “We threw a few Ostmarks at the driver and jumped out of the taxi by the Neptune Fountain. There was no one around and snow was dropping out of the crisp sky like you see on a Christmas card. As we ran towards the tower in front of us, we heard the noise first. The scream of a woman falling from above,”
Both men are shaken from the memory. Janko speaks robotically and closes his eyes.
“I looked up and saw her. Nuri, plummeting from the tower. She didn’t look real. It can’t have been real; I still tell myself that today. It had to be someone else,”
“The sound,” Gunari says, “I still hear the sound of her hitting the ground in my dreams,”
“We ran over to her body which had landed on the steps outside the entrance,” Janko says, “A few people seemed to come from nowhere to see what had happened. A teenage girl started screaming like a maniac. The body on the floor. It was Nuri, our Nuri,”
“I’m so sorry,” I say for some reason, “Did Tremmick push her out?”
“I guess we’ll never know,” Gunari replied, “We had to leave her body and try and find him. Janko ran in to the TV Tower and I ran around to the other side where the other entrance is. I made my way around when I saw an old man jogging away from the building. I started to run and the guy turned around. It was Tremmick,”
“My God,”
“He was panicking, and he stumbled as he saw me running towards him. He continued in the direction of the S-Bahn station when a big West German Mercedes pulled up at the side of the road. Tremmick entered in the passenger door and the car sped away. Tremmick looked at me and smiled as he drove away. If only I had a gun I would have taken a shot at that creature,”
Gunari is exhausted from telling the story. Janko is holding back tears.
What a way to die, falling from the top of one of Europe’s biggest buildings. I mull over what went through Nuri’s head as she headed towards the concrete. Was her head full of regrets for not telling Gunari and Janko her plans or was it thoughts of her mother alone in a flat half a mile up in the sky in Belgrade?
Fallen Angel
Saturday, 10 May 1986
Falling from the sky like a doll dropping off a table. The ghost of Nuri has haunted me since I left Yugoslavia. In some ways what Nuri represents has plagued me all my life. That need to do more and more to make an impact is intrinsic to my character. I have always prided myself on my independence and hard work. I’ve never found it easy to ask for help or to admit I’m struggling. Undoubtedly, I’m toiling at the moment with the pressure but I can’t face saying this to Gunari and Janko.
“We need to be ready for any eventuality,” Gunari says. His rugged hands are rotating the beer mat continuously and speedily. I’m clearly not the only one burdened by our duty. Janko remains placid but I keep catching him staring off into the distance.
“Does Tremmick know we are here?” I ask. Gunari and Janko look at each other then shrug at the same time. It is now after nine in the evening and we are sat outside at a bar opposite to the place where we ate. I’m now hungry even though I spent three hours finishing my pasta at the restaurant.
“I don’t think he knows that we are here specifically but he will know that people are on his tail. He will be extra careful now,” Janko says, “We need a back up plan in case Gunari isn’t able to finish him off,”
“Once he walks in the main entrance I will follow behind him and shoot him in the back of the head. That is my plan,” Gunari says.
“It’s a solid plan. Have you called Bavarian Boris today?” I ask.
“Yes, he didn’t receive a call from Tremmick, so we know that the train he is taking tomorrow will mean he won’t be returning to Monaco any time soon,” Gunari answers.
The beer mat continues spinning in his big paws.
“I wonder where he will be going to,” I say.
“He will have a contingency ready to go,” Janko says, “But it could be anywhere. Oh, before I forget Ana, we bought you a gift as part of Plan B.”
“Plan B,” I say, “You make Plan A sound very ill-fated, Janko.”
Janko hands me a black bag with a distinctive gold logo of interlocking C’s. I open the bag and pull out a piece of folded red material. I unfurl it and hold it to the side of the table and I can see it is a stunning red dress. It is a thing of beauty which even I can appreciate despite not knowing the slightest thing about fashion.
“It’s by Coco Chanel,” Janko says, “Gunari picked it up for me before he left West Berlin. He is well known for his knowledge of Parisian haute couture,” Gunari chuckles uncomfortably. I would have paid money to have seen him make this purchase.
“Why have you bought me this?” I ask, I’m not sure this is the time or place for gift-giving.
“Plan B involves preying on the basest of male instincts,” Janko reclines in his chair, then sits back up again after he notices how disagreeably uncomfortable it is, “A lot of men allow their guard to drop when they notice a young, attractive girl. Tremmick is no different, we spotted that in Argentina,”
“But he’s really old,” I say, I’m astonished that old men could be in to that kind of thing still.
“Old men often have the same urges they did at sixteen,” Janko says. That sounds appalling. I was finally feeling better but this conversation is turning my belly upside down again. I turn to Gunari who is smiling and he winks conspiratorially at me.
“A second can make a lifetime of difference, Ana. All we are doing is maximising our chances of success.”
“It is a nice dress, it’s a shame I don’t have any shoes to go with it,” I’ve only got my filthy Adidas Lendls which have floppy soles coming off at the front.
“We’ll take a look back at the hotel, I’ve brought a few of Nuri’s old shoes,” Gunari says.
“Following quite literally in her footsteps eh Ana?” Janko says. Considering she fell from a very large height to her death this isn’t the most reassuring news to hear. He almost looks pained after saying it out loud. I’m sure it sounded wittier in his head.
“Yes, you are really helping my nerves Janko,” I reply, “What is Plan B?”
“Plan B may be a little more…” Janko searches for the correct word, “Improvised. Plan A should be sufficient, no messing about this time. One bullet from Gunari and then we race out of there.
“I will stay in the car with you Ana. Any problems from Gunari’s side and we will have to respond. I have put supplies in the car for a week. Potentially this may not be over by tomorrow. Our passports should be fine for most places you can reach her in a day or so.”
“There are two exits at Monte Carlo station,” Gunari says, “I will be responsible for the entrance we went through earlier today. You two will be watching the second exit. Janko is in charge and you both need to be ready to leave me here. I will return to the hotel in Nice and stay there for seven days before returning to the cottage. You
have the phone number of the hotel if you need to contact me,”
“Try and sleep tonight Ana, I know it will be difficult but the wine should help,” Janko adds.
We all amble back to the hotel together, Gunari and Janko say they are both going for a walk before bed. I am actually very tired so I go straight to my room. I pack my rucksack up with my belongings. On the table next to my bed I leave out my Casio watch and bagh nakh.
I lie in bed thinking about my mother and father. I look at the telephone in the room and I consider phoning them up. I push the thought out of my head, I’m not going to start going rogue like Nuri. I wonder what they are doing now? It has been nearly a year since the two men took me away from them. I hope they are both doing well and not missing me as much as I am missing them.
It’s the little things that you take for granted. Coming downstairs and seeing your breakfast laid out by my Dad before he headed to the depot. Or when you open your drawers and see some new socks that you know you didn’t buy yourself. All-encompassing little acts that show that my parents loved me every moment of the day.
I miss the evenings when Mum would brush my hair and sing ‘Što te nema’ to me, which means ‘Why aren’t you here?’. At the time I never fully appreciated our time spent together but now thinking about my mother and her love of Jadranka Stojaković’s music makes me unbearably upset.
Always intruding on my thoughts is the image of Nuri, a woman I have never met. A woman I have never even seen in a photograph. But I can see her etched in my mind, falling like lightning from heaven.
Potestatem Dissolvit ut Glaciem
Saturday, 10 May 1986
Sometimes I surprise myself with my level of inventiveness. I am sat nursing a glass of whiskey at the airport in Nice confident that my final escape may very well be my finest hour. This will be my final drink before the plan is set in motion tomorrow morning. I will need a clear head for my departure. I am feeling almost gleeful about the future.
All we are waiting for now is the arrival of Paul and what will be our last ever meeting. I moulded the man and all in all, it was a pretty successful job. Four decades have elapsed since we made a pact to stick together and try and build a better world, a world shaped by my own radical vision where all of the complexities of the human brain are completely understood.
I am not a man to sing my own praises but to have governments of many nations seek my help is a badge of honour. What I am most proud of is uniting the two Germanys to work together under my banner. Obviously, if it ever became public they would both pretend to know nothing but eventually the history books will add the footnotes.
At midday Joachim had burst into the living room with limbs flailing madly around as I ate my breakfast and said he had seen two suspicious looking men. He was certain they were Israeli agents. I think I have passed my paranoia on to him. The poor chap is obsessed with the thought that Jewish spies are hiding behind every lamp-post.
“How can you be so sure?” I asked, half-concerned and half-amused.
“I don’t know,” Joachim replied, calming down, “There was something about them I didn’t trust,”
“Was it their horns?” I said.
“Their horns?” Joachim was puzzled and I decided I should cut out the jokes, especially if they actually were Israeli operatives. Despite his over-suspicious nature, Joachim has a good antenna for trouble even though I was sceptical that they would have found me so soon after what happened in Berlin.
“Keep a watch today, circle the streets around here. It’s probably nothing,” I said, trying to reassure him. Joachim is most effective when he has a task in hand. It’s when he has nothing to do that he frets. And I can’t abide his ceaseless worrying. I’m convinced his anxiety is contagious, when he starts carping I feel myself sharing phantom worries.
Joachim followed my instructions which helped me complete my final preparations without his fussy intrusions. If the Jews are here already then they most likely know where I am located. I needed to set a trap so when Joachim arrived back a couple of hours later I informed him we needed to head to the train station.
Joachim told me he had to take a shower, the boy washes three times a day. His sweat glands must be faulty. It’s probably linked to his nervous disposition. I can take solace that this aids his attention to detail. His idiot brother could learn a lot from him.
Even though my plans were in hand, Joachim’s agitation led me to bear a shortness of breath. A sure sign of the onset of a panic attack. I tried some breathing exercises to relax. A walk to the station through the spotlessly clean streets should be a pleasurable experience but this could potentially be the riskiest trip of my life. I pushed out the negative thoughts from my brain and imagined tomorrow evening beginning a new life.
Finally Joachim came out dried and dressed following his shower. I gave him an even stare. It always helps to keep him on his toes.
“Are you sure you want to leave the house today?” Joachim said as he slipped on his shoes, “I told you about the two suspicious men outside earlier,”
“If they were here watching me, they would have already paid me a visit. Stop worrying so much. All we are doing is walking to the train station,”
This must be what it would have been like to have been married. Constantly fretting about me. What a nightmare that would have been to have spent my life with a person like that. Someone whose life was so insignificant that their only self-worth was garnered from constantly worrying about their significant other.
I came close a couple of times I must admit. There was a girl at university whose name I could never remember. I always called her Katerina but her name was actually Katja. She used to become so annoyed with me when I called her the wrong name. Eventually I turned it into a joke which she would laugh at but I only did it because I genuinely forgot her name.
When I graduated and told her I was relocating to Frankfurt she was astonished and greatly upset when I didn’t invite her to come. After days of incessant arguing she had coerced me into asking her to come along. It was the first time that I was made to feel guilty about my behaviour even though I had done nothing wrong. It would be the last time I allowed that to happen.
A day before I left I visited her at her parents house and told her that I would be going alone and that I had no interest in seeing her again. I listed many valid reasons why this was the case. I talked about her lack of intellectual rigour compared to me. I said that she may feel insecure about the gap between our social standing. I told her that I could have my pick of many powerful women and she should be happy for me. I thought she would rationally accept the straight truth and respect me for not sugar-coating it.
I couldn’t believe her response. She was so angry that she shouted a string of filthy curses at me. I rose out of my chair and pulled a fist back to put her back in her place when Katerina actually feinted. Her father had come upstairs when he heard the commotion and saw me about to strike his daughter. When her father and I roused her, she simply sat on the edge of her bed rocking silently.
I made my excuses and went to leave. Her father, a rotund elderly bank manager, grabbed onto my arm and said: “You’re a cold bastard,”
I reciprocated the gesture by clutching his wrist and standing eye to eye with him. I batted away his arm from mine and he did nothing in return, so I called the man an embarrassment and headed out of the house. I never saw the girl or her father again.
I frequently chuckle out loud at the thought of that pathetic old man trying to stop me. A man with no plan about what he was actually going to do after he seized my arm. It is symptomatic of the general population that they are unable to plan ahead, slaves to their own primitive desires.
My plan now was clear and I nodded to Joachim that we should start moving. We headed downstairs and into the street. The two of us both looked in each direction and no-one ran up and stabbed me in the back and no sniper shot my brains out. I curtly mentioned this to Joachim who disdainfully shook his h
ead.
It was a lovely day in Monaco, my last full day I would be spending there. The walk was pleasant and I managed to set a solid pace, I was feeling very fresh. Joachim was edgy and I had to tell him to keep calm and stop his head veering off all over the place. I’m glad this was my final day with him.
We entered the train station and the icy blasts from the air-conditioning were a joyous feeling. My back was clammy with sweat and stuck to my white shirt. I spotted an empty ticket desk and headed over to the woman who appeared utterly disinterested.
“Excuse me madam, I would like to purchase a ticket to Barcelona on the earliest train tomorrow,” The woman scarcely concealed her disdain, a typical example of Mediterranean customer service. That is one thing I won’t miss here. Southern Europeans have such an unwarranted sense of their own self-importance. She flipped through a few pages of her timetables and after a pointless and, dare I say it, deliberately long wait she made eye contact with me for the first time.
“At ten past six the train departs Monaco, stopping at Èze, Cannes, Marseilles, Montpellier, Girona and arriving at Barcelona at ten o’clock in the evening. The price is six hundred and seventy francs for one ticket.”
I handed over the money to the woman in fresh one-hundred Monegasque franc notes. The woman printed out the ticket card and listlessly handed it to me along with my change. I did not thank the woman as she was clearly unworthy of my gratitude.
After picking up the ticket and joining Joachim we travelled out of the back entrance and enjoyed a walk around La Condamine. We sat at a cafe and I took in the view of the yachts thanking my stars that this escape was going swimmingly compared to my previous acts of escapology.
It was a close call in Buenos Aires and in some ways an even closer call in Berlin five years ago. In Argentina I was almost paranoiacally obsessed with self-preservation. By the time I landed in Berlin five years ago I have to confess to being blasé with my precautions.
After a decade of keeping on the move around Europe and the Americas I had finally made my home in the South African city of Bloemfontein, thanks to the favourable BJ Vorster regime. I opened medical research clinics in many of the townships across the country.
The Wind and the Rain Page 26
