The Berlin Package

by Peter Riva

  “Not one of ours. Be careful. Where’s the packet?” It wasn’t a packet. A packet was pure information. This was a package. He should know that. What the hell’s going on?

  “I have no packet.”

  “Repeat that.”

  “I have no packet.”

  “Were you contacted by Phillips at,” he spoke off to one side “what was the name?” he heard a voice, and he repeated it “Tegel?”

  “I met with him and he made no mention of a packet. He specifically had no message for me. He specifically said there was no message. He gave me a package.”

  “Repeat that.” Pero did. Lewis’ voice grew more urgent. “Your articles are still active,” he meant Pero was still authorized, and he had agreed to the terms of employment as an active field agent, “and we want you …”

  In desperation, on the last mission, the CIA upped his grade to field agent, or what Heep teased Pero later was really 007 status. To be sure, some of the events that unfolded were almost spy agent like, with guns and danger to all. But, to his innermost core, Pero was uncomfortable with the added authority and the danger it brought.

  “Hold it, Lewis. Article thirty-four states the agent has the right to declare himself unfit. I now do so.”

  “What are you playing at Baltazar? You have the package …”

  Pero wanted to make himself perfectly understood, “Yeah, now let me make this clear. Clearly a package you knew nothing about. Clearly, I’m involved in something already, with no briefing, no assignment beforehand. Clearly, I was even being followed by a ‘not ours’ and presumably you expect one of ours to be following me as well since you asked for a description. Clearly, you sent Arnold Phillips on the face of it because I know him, but he’s not carrying a packet but a package. He’s your man, and he’s either not following orders or your chain has broken down. I’m in the line of fire—and I hope that’s not literal. I was not ready for this. I’m not a field agent really. If anything at all,” he stressed the at all, “I was merely a gofer, a messenger boy before. That field agent stint was a one-off. Are we clear on that?”

  “You did well on that assignment …”

  “What so-called assignment? I was dumped in the deep end and to save my skin I agreed to proceed.”

  “You mean to save everyone’s skin, don’t you? I seem to remember your words,” Lewis stressed the next word, “Clearly.”

  “Okay, big deal, I was appalled at the possibility of failure when you had no one else on hand, so we all agreed to step into the fray. Let’s not forget that, everything was done with my friends’ help and agreement. I couldn’t have done and didn’t do it without them.” A group of unlikely looking tourists—too old, all men—was elbowing their way through the students. Pero decided to move across the street, toward the zoo and aquarium a few blocks away. “I’m walking, I’m getting a bit exposed just standing here arguing with you. If you have something to tell me, do it openly and let me assess if I can help,” he paused again for emphasis, “at all.” As he walked, he dropped the rest of the sausage in the garbage bin.

  Pero could tell by Lewis’ returning pause that he was wondering if he could order Pero back into his command. Sense prevailed. “Oh, well, here goes. If you hadn’t done so well before … Phillips was supposed to be given, sent from a field agent who’s down …” he meant hurt, injured, or sick, “a paper message with a photograph to pass on to you. You were to read the message, study the photograph, and give them back to him. Your instructions were to verify that information and run the message home to me.” He paused and Pero said nothing. Make the bastard finish, Pero thought. “Okay, Phillips never got back to the embassy after Tegel. Missing. He handed you a package. Can you describe the package?”

  “You first.”

  Lewis hadn’t expected that. How many variables were there here? Pero thought. “The only one in play is a vacuum packed solution of liquid with paper particles inside. Radioactive. It’s missing.” There were no variables, he got it right first time.

  “From where?”

  “Mannheim Air Force Base, Military Intel, Unit twenty.”

  “I have it, I think. Arnold said it was sent from Ulm.”

  “That fits. The field agent carrying it went out of play on the train between Nuremberg and Frankfurt. That train passes through Ulm.”

  “Where is he? The agent?”

  “We don’t know.” Lewis’ answer also confirmed to Pero that the field agent was a ‘he’ and not the southern drawl woman in customs.

  “What exactly is this blob? Oh, and how dangerous is it?”

  “Radioactivity is minimal we’ve been assured, the liquid is heavy water, absorbs emissions, stabilizes nuclear reactors. The particles are decomposed labels, half-life fifty-four years. Is it safe?”

  Pero wondered about that too. Heavy water stabilized unstable radioactive emissions, but it was hardly liquid lead. There would be contamination here, but how much? He had no idea. Still, heavy water was better protection than nothing. It should make it safe to handle. He hoped. Lewis was waiting for an answer … “It’s in my pocket, physically safe. Where was it supposed to go? And why did Arnold have it at all?”

  “I cannot answer the Arnold part yet. The sample, that’s what it is, floating in the heavy water, needed to get to the Max Planck Institute for typing, to see what isotope it matches. So far, the isotope looks like nothing produced in any reactor we know of.”

  “What’s the isotope?”

  “Uranium 234.”

  A loyal reader of Scientific American, Pero knew what that was. “A bit ancient isn’t it? Natural or man-made?”

  “Enhanced, man-made. The label was not found on the sample.”

  Oh, this is getting interesting. Pero asked, “What label?”

  “The label in the heavy water.”

  “You mean the bits of paper, fragments floating in the water?”

  “It must have begun to deteriorate. Yes, that paper is, or was, a label.”

  Pero told him to wait. He had reached the aquarium and put the phone, still on, in his pocket.

  “Ein mal, bitte,” and the woman sold him an entry ticket. He walked into the exhibit building, dark and mysterious, underwater gloom punctuated by glowing glass panes, each with a different aquatic scene. He had been here many times before. Just past the Cichlid’s tank, ten-inch marbled Oscars, fins waving gently in an Amazon floodwater simulation. He turned around to see who came in next. Just some kids and parents. No one suspicious. He took the first exit to the left and walked out of the aquarium into the zoo next door. He pulled out the phone. “Sorry about that, took a detour inside and checked for a tail. I am clear, I think.”

  “I am still here Baltazar, next time ring off and call back.” Lewis was reminding Pero of the status of this phone line, none too pleased by the delay. Lewis took a breath, “Okay, here’s what else we know, it was going to be in your written instructions. The label was found on the bottom of some gold bars the US Treasury was swapping via a Swiss bank and a dealer. The radioactivity set off alarms in Zurich airport when the shipment arrived. The Swiss searched the gold bars—nothing unusual about them but then they found those labels, some of them fragments on the bottom of a few bars. When they scraped them off and ran them through the X-ray machine, the screen went black, indicating radioactivity; the gold was mostly clean of any more particles or labels. They took the bits of paper to a decontamination center and bagged it in heavy water. A week later, the sample went missing from their evidence room. We suspect the Pentagon had it removed. A week ago, we got a call from Mil Intel asking us to collect the bag and have it tested for origin of source. They had tried and failed. They needed our help.”

  “What was the rest of the packet? What was I supposed to be reading and passing on?”

  “The rest was a request to the Max Planck scientist, Doctor Juren Schmidt, he’s a sleeper, one of ours. His image was in the photo.” Lewis meant he was a detainee of the CIA.

 
“So why did he get the package, or was he supposed to get the package, and what’s Arnold’s role? Did you brief him and if not, who did?”

  “I called him at home, but he was briefed by Station.” He meant Berlin Station, the CIA agent in the embassy. “Station is also missing. We suspect foul play.”

  “So, let’s recap,” Pero was getting angry, “Arnold slipped me a package that he shouldn’t have had in the first place, sent to me by Station, who’s missing as is Arnold now, in the airport with at least two other witnesses …”

  “Describe witnesses.”

  Pero gave him the description of the police officer spotted through Arnold’s exit door as best he could. “And there’s a southern American accent woman, dressed as customs …” And he gave him her description.

  “Sounds like Station and her escort. It’s a mandate in Berlin. Police accompany embassy officials when they are going about the city. There have been terrorist threats against personnel.” So, it meant a federal official was impersonating a police officer in uniform or had borrowed someone, probably from German Internal Security.

  Into Pero’s head popped a children’s book, this just keeps on getting curiouser and curiouser. “Okay, now what? I have a hot package, and surely you don’t expect me to go to the Max Planck anymore, do you?”

  “Stand by for a moment, there’s a wire coming in from Station.” He heard him talking, his hand over the mouthpiece.

  It’s a mistake, really. The microphones that are designed to work so far away from your mouth are tuned, finely tuned, for voice frequencies. It’s like talking on a cell phone while on the toilet, never a good idea, every sound carries, perfectly. Pero could hear Lewis talking, muffled, but clearly “He placed the phone where? Why did he do that? What do you mean she’s on the autobahn heading for Mannheim? With both the cop and Phillips? Who told her to do that? Can we speak to her? No? Well, try, damn it!” He lifted his hand. “Station is out of the area, I am not sure why. You cannot rely on her.”

  “I heard all that, careful with your open microphone. Mannheim … it’s the autobahn to the Institute, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, perhaps she’s leading them astray … whoever they are, perhaps they think she’s still got the package.”

  “Damn, okay, good thinking. Okay, that leaves you in the clear.”

  “No, it doesn’t, it means my tail is just a little looser. Now let’s get rid of this thing, and I can go back to normal work. Oh, and remember, I am not a field agent.”

  “Well, you think like one. Okay, here goes. As radioactive as it is, it cannot be sent, no mail, FedEx, DHL, no air courier. Borders, post offices, planes, truck transport—all are insecure with loads of radioactivity screening. Max Planck is out. The lab we wanted to use as a backup is CERN in Geneva. Any ideas?”

  It took Pero ten seconds of hard thinking. “Maybe—two. One, I would have to carry the package there. And I will need to talk to a friend to confirm an idea. If he agrees, we’ll need a little leverage in Hollywood. So, two, can you buy me time in Hollywood on the job I’m on?”

  “That’s an easy one. Yes. What do you need?”

  “Hollywood leverage, I need time from them on this assignment—I assume you know all about it by now.”

  “As I said, that’s an easy one. We do have your filming details. We’ll handle this through the banks, put pressure in the right place. The film people will do exactly what you ask.” He was right, banks controlled Hollywood production. If he could leverage the banks—Pero was sure he could because the CIA exerted pressure globally through the banks and World Trade Organization—then no producer would argue with a money source.

  “Okay, let me see what I need on that, exactly.” Pero thought for a moment, he could hear the little satellite connection clicks in the background. “Lewis, can you make sure the film company that I am here for understands that I am golden, can do what I please as far as time is concerned? Specifically, I want to have them understand that the clock, financial clock, is not ticking if I spend more time or money.”

  “Can do. Will do. We’ll make the financing via Germany solid, without limit. It will act as cover for extra time. Citibank had once wanted to underwrite your film it says here, so we can make them step up to the plate, put the pressure on, via them.”

  “Wow, that’s fast. Okay, the second part is trickier. I want to stash this somewhere for a week to ten days. Let the trail go cold.”

  “I was not sure I can agree with that. Where did you have in mind?” Pero didn’t want to tell him. There were leaks possible. Already there had been swaps in director’s orders, people moving all over the map and, really, he was sitting with the hot potato. When the music stopped—and it would when they caught up with Station and Arnold—he didn’t want to be left holding the bag.

  “Is there some kind of rush, I mean besides the action everyone has sprung to? Whatever the paper is inside here, it was there for a long time, on that gold bar, no?”

  “About fifty plus years or more as best we can tell.”

  “Okay then, let’s slow this down and cause the opposition to rush about, exposing themselves. Gives us time to think.”

  “Spoken like a field agent.”

  “I am not. I only want to get on with my normal work. The crew is here, permits in place, and the talent arrives tonight, I think. If I take off running now, it’ll tip everybody off. By the way, who is the opposition?”

  “We’re not sure. It’s either an inside or a slightly outside operation.” He meant no foreign government. Inside meant a rival firm or spy group. Outside meant rogue ops, possibly terrorists or criminals. “So will you tell me where you will stash it? Is it safe?”

  “No and yes in that order. But I need one final piece of information. What residue is now on my clothing?”

  “Our people here say negligible, but it’s possible. The high Zurich readings might have been an anomaly.”

  “Great. I’ll lose this coat in case it sets off a detector somewhere. And maybe my clothes. You’ll get the bill. Look, this is getting suspicious, there’s a zookeeper eyeing me. These apes can hold my attention only so long.”

  “Okay, but be careful and report in hourly.” Two clicks and he was gone. Hourly? No way. Pero needed to get back to normal life and fast.

  Folding away the phone, he went over to the keeper and asked him “Kann ich gehen nacht eine mal im aquarium? Hier ist meine billet.” he showed his ticket and asked him if he could get back inside through the exit door. He shook his head and told me it wasn’t normal. Pero explained he had taken the door outside so his phone would work and so he would nicht disturbieren (not disturb) die anderen leute (the other people). The keeper nodded, mumbled something about damn handies (cell phones), and pulled out the passkey. Opening the door, he motioned Pero in, who then thanked him profusely. He wasn’t being facetious, he thought he had spotted a tail coming through the brick and carved stone main entrance archway of the zoo about 100 yards away. The jacket looked familiar from the Steigenberger. He was sure the tail hadn’t seen him yet.

  Once inside the aquarium he quickly turned left and opened the door marked Verboten.

  Years ago, he had watched feeding time at the arowana and arapaima tank. The aquarium keeper had arranged a school group standing in front of the giant glass that held these five-foot freshwater prehistoric fish before the keeper went through the verboten door. Inside the tank, the fish snaked around the surface, effortless and graceful, silver scales shining. They had no need for camouflage. They had speed and could eat most anything in their huge, gaping, articulated mouths: frogs, birds, fish, insects—anything coming near the surface was potential prey to be swallowed whole. The demonstration the keeper arranged was to show their agility and appetite. The aquarium was only half-full of water, the upper half being a natural jungle scene with moss and plants. The keeper, behind the scenes, opened an upper door and released three little chicks. The chicks hopped about on the leaves. A
s soon as they showed themselves to the water below, the fifty-pound silver sides snake-like arapaima struck and swallowed the chick whole. It was all over quickly, no feathers, a little splash that made the kids draw back. The arapaima moved its neck muscles as its teeth, in its throat, disposed of dinner. The other two chicks went just as quickly.

  In this land of horrible children’s tales, the demonstration had the desired effect. Horror, fear, and nightmares. Raw nature.

  Pero knew where to stash this heavy water bag. He opened the trapdoor above the arapaima tank and lifted the healthiest potted plant, chosen on the assumption that it wouldn’t need replacing any time soon. He dropped the bag in and repotted the plant, then closed the trapdoor, exited the keeper’s door and resumed his tour of the aquarium. No one saw him, there wasn’t even a child visiting the darkened labyrinth.

  Next, he needed to get rid of the coat and satellite phone. He needed to be clean, squeaky clean, in case he was apprehended. Exiting the aquarium, he headed back to the Gedächtniskirche. He had seen a beggar there and planned to give him a newer coat, even if it might have a little residual radioactivity. Pero knew cloth does not hold contamination very well.

  Chapter 4

  Tempelhof

  Pero walked back from the church, now chilled by the March damp and breeze. He had liked that coat and needed to replace it quickly. He turned up his jacket collar. On the way past the bookstore on the Kurfurstendamm, he dropped the satellite phone into the blue dumpster of the street sweeper, first pushing 999 to disable and erase the memory chips. He heard the crackle of electronic destruction. Even if someone found it, it was useless and untraceable.

  Thankfully, the doorman Kamal was off helping a busload of tourists, so he turned unseen into the building and went straight to the elevators. The newspaper reader who had been sitting in the lobby on his arrival wasn’t sitting there anymore. Pero saw the woman behind the desk recognize him and pick up the phone, but Pero didn’t stop.