by Neil Maresca
“Do you have any news for me Comrade?” asked the woman.
“Very little, I’m afraid. I told you this Roosa business was a waste of time.”
“Then let’s waste no more than is necessary. Out with it.”
“He has a camera, a very new, very expensive camera. He told the girl that it was a gift from his parents, but there is no record of any package from the United States being delivered to the Roosa house.”
“I see. Is there more?”
“No more than you get from my newspaper here.”
“In that case, comrade, perhaps you should finish your chocolates elsewhere.”
Washburn rose, made a polite half-bow in the general direction of the woman who hadn’t looked up from her book, and seemed unaware that her bench-mate was leaving.
Beestenmarkt
Anke sat at her usual bench overlooking the canal. She had been coming to the Beestenmarkt for so long that people left the bench open for her, a common, unspoken agreement among park regulars that this particular bench belonged to the lonely girl who came every day to sit and stare at the gently flowing waters.
She sat in the center of the bench, a position that discouraged others from trying to sit alongside her, as it would require them to ask her to move to the side so they could sit. She did this unconsciously, without realizing the significance of her choice—it was merely what she did, where she sat every day.
On this day, however, she sat on the side of the bench, leaving space for someone else, and she sat, not contemplating the river, and her escape from her father, but thinking instead of a young American with unruly brown hair, a pleasant smile, and a gentle disposition. He had come to sit beside her the past several days, and she had grown accustomed to his company. Now she found herself looking forward to his arrival. She had made room on her bench, in her life, and now she waited for him to fill the space she had prepared for him.
She wondered, was this what it was like for her mother? Did her mother come here, as she did, to escape from Pietr Roosa? Was this where she had met her handsome American airman? Anke tried to recall her mother’s face, banished for so many years, locked away behind a door she had not wanted to open. She remembered now, happy days, days with her mother, when as a young child she came here to play in the park with the other children. Was that why she returned here, day after day, trying to regain her lost happiness? She and her mother had been happy here, but then her mother began to cry, and Anke would cry along with her, a mother’s sadness invoking a child’s tears. Then one day her mother was gone, and Anke came to the Beestenmarkt alone.
She had come alone almost every day since, and she sat alone almost every day since—until a few days ago when Lucas had come to sit down next to her. Now, she thought—she dared to hope—she would not have to sit alone any longer.
She waited for him arrive at the usual time, and when he did not appear, she waited longer, until long after the mothers had taken their complaining children home and the shadows stretched over her. She walked home dispirited, but not without hope. He’ll come tomorrow she said to herself.
Chapter 44
February 12, 1957
Office of the Director, Sector 1
USIA
The Hague, the Netherlands
Kate entered Strickland’s outer office with a small shudder of anticipation. This was Miss Hall’s domain, and she guarded it more fiercely than Cerebos, the three-headed dog, guarded the gates of Hades. Kate thought she would have preferred to face the ravenous canine than the intimidating Miss Hall, but there was no choice. It was time to turn in her reports, which Miss Hall accepted twice weekly without comment. She merely nodded in the general direction of the In Box that sat on left-hand corner of her spotlessly clean desk.
“You have your schedule for next week?” she would ask, to which Kate would reply “Yes.”
“Is there anything you need?” Miss Hall would add, to which Kate would reply “No.” and that would be that. Kate would leave. Neither would have said ‘Hello’ or ‘Goodbye’ or enquired about the other’s health, or even commented on the weather, which happened to be quite cold.
This day started off in the same way. Kate dropped her reports into the open jaws of the In Box, and waited for Miss Hall’s question. This day, however, Miss Hall said, without lifting her eyes from her work, “He wants to see you.”
Kate didn’t need to be told who ‘he’ was. Miss Hall meant Strickland, and a summons from him was rarely good news. .
“He wants to see me?” she repeated.
Miss Hall glanced up at Kate with a look somewhere between contempt and pity.
“Yes Miss Porter, that’s what I said.”
“What does he want?” Kate asked, while she mentally catalogued all the things she had done wrong since arriving in The Hague.
Miss Hall never had much patience for Kate, whom she considered to be a rich, spoiled brat, totally unqualified to be employed by the USIA in any capacity, even the menial one Strickland had given her.
“I expect he will tell you,” Miss Hall replied icily, adding, for good measure, “I wouldn’t keep him waiting if I were you.”
Kate wasn’t sure exactly why Miss Hall disliked her so much, but that was not uppermost in her mind as she approached Strickland’s office and tapped lightly on the door. She was insecure and lacking in self-confidence, so she was certain that she was being summoned to be fired, or at the very least, read the riot act for some offense she was certain she must have committed, even though she could think of none.
Strickland was seated at his desk, intently studying some papers, which Kate assumed were her reports. He motioned for her to sit, and then proceeded to ignore her for about five minutes while he continued to focus on the paperwork in front of him. Finally, he closed the folder, and looked up at her.
“Well,” he said. “How are you getting on? All’s well between you and Miss Hall?
Kate didn’t have time to respond because Strickland kept on talking. “I need you to be ready to leave for East Germany in two days. Can you do it?”
“East Germany?”
“Yes Miss Porter, East Germany. Is there something wrong with your hearing? I don’t remember seeing any mention of hearing loss in your physical report.”
“Yes, yes, of course….”
Kate didn’t get a chance to complete her thought. Strickland seemed not to even notice her response.
“One of the Brits has dropped out,” he added, almost nonstop, “so I am sending you in his place. Go home. Get packing. I’ll have Miss Hall send you everything you will need.”
Kate thanked him and left the room quickly. Strickland wasn’t one for idle chatter. She barely nodded at Miss Hall as she went past, and hurried back to her apartment to get ready for East Germany.
As soon as she had gone, Strickland summoned Miss Hall, who entered the room half expecting to be told that Kate had been fired. She was, instead, informed that she was to prepare all the documents necessary for Kate to join Peter and Lucas in East Germany.
Miss Hall was stunned. She stood in front of Strickland, her mouth opening and closing without making a sound.
“Is there something you wish to say, Miss Hall?”
Miss Hall gulped and straightened herself, as if she were delivering her final words in front of a firing squad.
“With all due respect sir, Miss Porter is not a Student Ambassador. She’s not even a student. She’s an, an….aide.”
“And you don’t think she’s worthy of the assignment?”
“I don’t think she’s a good representative of the United States. She’s, she’s…flighty.’
“Flighty? Maybe you are right, but this is only a glorified class trip. Hopefully she’ll get through it without causing a major international incident. Prepare her paperwork, Miss Hall, and let me worry about Kate Porter.”
Chapter 45
February 14, 1957
University of Leiden
Leiden, Net
herlands
The hour hand was already on the twelve, and Lucas watched as the minute hand crept slowly upward to meet it. He was seated at a long conference table in one of the meeting rooms at Leiden University. At the head of the table were Strickland, De Groot, and the French and British Student Ambassador representatives. Next to him, on his left, sat the two French students, both male, and across the table sat the lone British student, a bubbly red-haired female that Lucas remembered from the meeting the week earlier. Sitting next to her was a new addition, Kate Porter. Lucas wondered what had happened to the other British student, and why Kate was there, but he knew better than to ask. Sooner or later someone would tell him. He just had to be patient. The secretaries sat at the far end of the table, their stenographic pads open, waiting, along with everyone else for the clock to strike twelve, the official starting time of the meeting. Most had arrived early, probably because they were worried that if they arrived too late, Mrs. Van der Alte’s cakes would be gone, which, by now, they were.
Strickland was fidgeting a little, undoubtedly because Peter was not in the room. Lucas couldn’t repress a smile. He had no doubt Peter would show up as close to the twelve o’clock starting time as possible, but he was fascinated to see just how close he could cut it, so he watched the minute hand as it made its agonizingly slow progress toward twelve.
The minute hand popped onto the twelve; the little motor in the clock whirred, and just as the first chime sounded, the door opened and Peter appeared, as if summoned like some magical creature, appearing calm and composed as always. He was in his seat next to Lucas before the final chime sounded and Strickland called the meeting to order.
Most of the meeting dealt with the logistics of the trip, but there was a constant emphasis on the importance of personal behavior. The students were reminded often that they were making history, and they had to avoid any impropriety. Once they crossed the checkpoint into East German territory, they would be on their own. Neither the U.S., nor Britain, nor France had any diplomatic relations with the German Democratic Republic. If they broke any laws, or even violated any customs, their respective governments would have little ability to help them.
De Groot stressed that the GDR had no incentive to embarrass them or cause any difficulty. This was Chairman Ulbricht’s opportunity to demonstrate his independence from Moscow, and he was doing everything he could to make sure it went off well.
They would be met at the border by Frau Sanne Viser, the GDR’s answer to Professor de Groot. She, the students were told, would be with them every step of the way, and her instructions were to be followed to the letter.
“The rules of conduct, the limitations on your activities, have been carefully negotiated to protect both the GDR and you. This may be a cold war, but it is still a war,” de Groot cautioned, “and you will be going behind enemy lines.”
The meeting was brief, mainly a review of the itinerary, and a list of do’s and don’ts. It was unstated, but it was understood that this ‘class trip’ was viewed by the West as a chance to drive a wedge between the Soviet Union and its major client-state, the German Democratic Republic, and everyone was anxious that it should go without incident.
De Groot concluded the meeting and pointed everyone in the direction of a lunch buffet that been set up in the back of the room.
“That was eerie,” Lucas said to Peter as soon as they had a chance to speak.
“What was?”
“Your magical appearance at the stroke of twelve. How did you manage that?”
“Ah,” Peter laughed, “surely you know that a magician never reveals his secrets, but I will tell you it is no party trick. Timing is something I take very seriously.”
“Speaking of things that you take seriously—do you know why Kate is here? She wasn’t in the original group.”
“No I don’t, but it looks like she’s going with us, and I intend to make the most of the opportunity.”
“And what an opportunity! A week in romantic East Germany.”
“OK, it’s not Paris, but it will have to do. At least I’ll have a chance to spend some time with her. And how is your romance with Anke going?”
“It isn’t.”
“Because…?”
“Because it isn’t.”
“I think you should talk to her.”
“And I think you should talk to her,” Lucas said, nodding his head in the direction of Kate, who, along with the red-haired British girl, Penelope Standish, was making her way along the food line.
“I will, don’t worry, but not now, my master calls.”
Lucas saw that Strickland and De Groot were standing apart, near the exit door, coats on, hats in hand, waiting.
“You’d better go,” he said. “I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow morning.”
Kate paused in front of the salad bar. Penelope was behind her, talking non-stop, but Kate wasn’t paying attention. She was watching as Peter, Strickland and de Groot left the room.
She had met privately with Strickland earlier in the day, and he had explained to her that her late addition to the East German trip was not an accident. Peter, he explained, had been assigned the task of collecting a communication from an operative inside the GDR. She was to be his back-up. She was expected to do nothing more than keep tabs on Peter, and provide assistance, but only if called upon. She knew no more than that, neither the identity of the operative, the nature of the communication, not the time and place of the transfer. Strickland had made it clear to her that the less she knew, the better. Her only task was to be available, if needed, and he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, describe what she would be expected to do. “Use your ingenuity,” was all he told her.
Being told to keep her eyes on Peter Cameron was not a tough assignment. Peter was easy on the eyes. But this was different. This was business, and from what she could gather from Strickland, it was serious business; besides, it was time she rid herself of this infatuation with Peter. This would be a good test for her.
Peter, Strickland, and de Groot gathered together in a small corner of the building’s lobby, far from the earshot of the few students hurrying to get to their next class. Strickland told Peter that their operative in East Germany would contact him at a time, place, and in the manner of his own choosing. He told Peter that he didn’t know who the operative was, which if true, meant that he (or she) was very deeply embedded in the East German or Soviet governments. Peter’s task was simply to wait to be told what to do, and to do it as quickly and expeditiously as possible.
“Why did I have to study the plans for the theater?” he asked.
“Because I was told that it was necessary,” Strickland answered. “At the time, I didn’t know any more than that.”
“And now?”
“Now I know why. Our operative in East Berlin will place the package in Room B-4. You are to retrieve it and bring it back to me.”
“Anything more than that? The type of package, where in room B-4, I should look for it?”
“No, nothing more than what I told you, but experience tells me that it will be small, possibly microfiche, and it will not be in plain sight. It won’t be easy, Peter. You’ll have to move quickly. The intermission is 15 minutes. You’ll have to retrieve the package and return to your seat without being missed. I suggest you study the diagram we gave you carefully and plan at least two routes to and from your seat and room B-4.”
“What about Frau Viser?”
De Groot laughed. “Well,” he said, “you might want to kill her after you get to meet her. Hopefully, it won’t come to that, but you are right to ask about her. Do not underestimate her. She is a high ranking Stasi official, and she will be watching your every move. As you know, we believe the soviets know you are coming, so you will have to be very careful.”
“Don’t worry about Peter,” Strickland said. “He’ll be fine. By the way,” he added, turning to Peter, “don’t forget to return that camera to me before you leave. It’s very expensive, and I wo
uld have a hard time explaining to the bean-counters how I let it get confiscated by the GDR.”
“What’s Kate’s role in all of this?” Peter asked. “Why is she here?”
“She’s your plan B. If things start to go south, call her in, but otherwise, she’s just another student.”
“I assume she’s been briefed?”
“On a need to know basis, yes.”
“Which means, she knows next to nothing.”
“Exactly. It’s better that way—better for her.”
CHAPTER 46
February, 14, 1957
Office of KGB General Vasely Dunayevsky
Ministry for State Security
East Berlin, German Democratic Republic
Dunayevsky was unhappy. He had gained weight since his early days in what was then known as the NKVD. He missed field work. He was bored. He missed the war years, the danger, even the killing. He looked around his ornate office, glared at the paperwork on his immense desk. He longed for the barren, dark back rooms and underground haunts that he used to call home. He was a Bolshevik, a true Marxist. He despised all the trappings of success that now surrounded him. He had survived Stalin’s purges, mostly because he was in some god-forsaken part of the world trying to set up communist cells. He had been rewarded with a promotion and an office. The promotion was welcome, but he despised the office. I’d rather be in Siberia, he thought. He opened a drawer on the side of his desk and took out a bottle of vodka, which he examined for a moment before taking the cap off and filling a large glass that stood, like a good soldier, patiently waiting to be filled. He put the glass to his lips and took a large swallow, closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation as the harsh peasant-brewed vodka burned its way into his gut.
God, he thought, what am I doing here? I hate Germany. I hate Germans. Then he laughed, And what is a good Bolshevik like me doing calling on God? It is the fault of this damned peasant vodka. It tastes like the farmyard and reminds me of home.
A persistent tapping on his office door, which Dunayevsky recognized as belonging to his aide, Major Alexander Alexandrovich, interrupted his meditation. The General put away his vodka, and issued a stern “Enter.”
