by Fox J Wilde
Lena had no idea what was going on. However, there appeared to be some sort of power struggle going on between the two—something much like a prank, but far more insulting. Something had happened, both without her knowing and with her assistance. Almost as instantly as she realized she was a pawn, Lena realized she hated being one. Yet, as the colonel appeared to regain his composure (pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his furrowed brow) she realized that Grandfather appeared to have won. That was marginally safer for her, right?
“Maybe I will have you for mutiny,” the colonel said dismissively, after smoothing out the front of his uniform. “Maybe I’ll have you all for mutiny. Then you and your precious whelp here can laugh off your little jape in a Gulag together.”
“And what should I do with my precious whelp, Colonel?” Grandfather said with poorly feigned contrition.
“Throw her in a cell…release her…beat her, starve her, wrap her up in a package and send her to the Americans for all I bloody care! She’s worthless to us now!” With that, the colonel stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind him, guards in tow. Not that Lena particularly liked being referred to as ‘worthless’, but perhaps ‘worthless’ was a good thing to be to a high-ranking official who had just casually mentioned letting her go. Oh, her heart had skipped a beat on that one.
“Well,” Grandfather began, “now that that little ordeal is over, let’s figure out what we are going to do with you.”
“I…I d-don’t understand...” Lena stuttered, honestly.
“I don’t expect you to understand all the intricacies and nuances of that nonsense,” he responded. “Let’s just say that officers have a game they play with each other.”
“A game?”
“Yes…although it’s a game no one really wants to play. But it’s a game that everyone wants to win, so they play, realizing all the while they are going to lose. It’s because as long as they still have cards in their hand...no matter how poor...they still haven’t technically lost.” Grandfather took a moment to walk slowly behind his desk and plop down in the wooden chair behind it. He rubbed his face, before continuing.
“Lena, a word of advice for your older years.”
“Yes, Grandfather?”
“Just because you’re still playing doesn’t mean losing isn’t inevitable. Learn to recognize when it is…and then give up, no matter how much pride you have to swallow. Continuing to play doesn’t always mean you still have a fighting chance, but it almost certainly means a greater cost. Learn to recognize this, and you will always be ahead of the other losers who don’t. Plus, it leaves more time for finding a game you can win at.”
“Yes, Grandfather.” Lena said, not fully understanding what he said, or even how it correlated.
“Also, Lena?” he said with a slight twinkle in his eye.
“Yes Grandfather?”
“Never miss an opportunity to screw with Russian Intelligence.”
Lena laughed. Still, she didn’t understand the significance of what he had said. She just figured the comment was more for him than it was for her. Yet something was now nagging at her and she had to ask, “Grandfather, what did Hans do?”
“Oh, Lena...” Grandfather spoke, with a grave tone in his voice, “He did something very bad. Yes, something very bad indeed. Maybe one day we can speak about it, but for now—and for the foreseeable future—it is not safe for you to bring him up again. Please understand—and I’m sorry to say this—but you will likely never see the poor boy again. Best to just forget about him.”
Lena should have known this was coming. No, she did know this was coming—she just hadn’t wanted to admit it. Even now, she still just wanted to pretend that it wasn’t true. Hans and those big handsome eyes of his…gone for good? It was a truly terrible thought and thinking about it brought a sniffle to the bridge of her nose that threatened to spread into a pretty embarrassing crying session.
Yet still, her undecided future might well be decided here and now. So, she resolved to say whatever she had to say to finally get out of this terrible place. She would play the changed young person. She would see the wickedness of her former ways and be a good little puppet. She would love the GDR and all that it represented. She would spout the axioms, tout the policies, tow the party line and toot the horn of the Politburo in all its newfound majesty. Hell, she’d even praise the damn Wall if she had to.
“So now we arrive at you, young Lena.” Grandfather spoke as if sensing her disquiet, “What are we to do with you?”
“Grandfather…I…I...”
“Oh don’t even think that I’m sending you back to those wretched black cells,” he spat. “There isn’t even a reason to keep you here. This place is for terrorists and seditionists...maybe criminals, if somehow the jails magically fill up. But only actual criminals. As far as I’m concerned, you should have just been given a good yelling-at and sent on your way without your supper.” Laughing a little to himself in some profound amusement, he added, “Starting a punk band and speaking out against the GDR...what with the Secret Police running around...really, what were you and those morons you play with thinking?”
Lena honestly didn’t know anymore.
“Ah, to be young and stupid! It really is a beautiful thing, if not irritating.” he mused, “I was not so unlike you in my youth—just not so gloriously open about it all. Still, it is rather frustrating the nonsense we have to contend with in these walls. The Secret Police are just incapable of knowing a real asset when they see it. ”
“But Grandfather,” Lena began, “Aren’t you a Secret Policeman?”
“God’s no! You honestly think I’d waste my advanced age on shooting pepper balls at young girls and making them hold my cigarettes? Look at me, Lena. Do I look like I have enough life left in me for that?!”
“You look...” Lena attempted to answer honestly. Then she realized she might be rude to do so.
“I’m old, Lena. I have better things to occupy my time with. Namely, foreign intelligence with the HVA.”
“The HVA?” she asked, surprised.
“Oh, it’s just another mindless acronym to make it all sound more important than it is. Cameras, pencil guns, bureaucracy—that sort of thing—and honestly, after a while it all gets bloody boring. That’s why I love meeting bright young people like you, so that you can do all my work for me, and I can finally get down to the business of being an old man: waking up to my own farts, dying in my sleep and blaming it all on the youth.”
Lena laughed.
“In any case...” he said, giving Lena a serious look, “There really is no reason to keep you here anymore. That is…provided you’ve learned your lesson?” He said this with a raised eyebrow and knowing glower that suggested she say precisely what needed to be said. This was obviously not the time for her to lip off.
“Yes, Grandfather. I promise! Absolutely I’ve changed…cross my heart and...”
“Oh, knock it off,” he said sarcastically. “I know you’re a raving little shit. That’s what I liked about you in the first place! You should know by now, I don’t care what you think; I care what you do. And it’s doing that’s going to get you out of this place. If you are willing to do something for me, that is, then I see no reason you should spend another night here.”
“What is it?” Lena asked.
“Well, normally my colleagues here would relegate you to a minor role...something anyone could do, really. You know, keep an eye out for dissidents; spy on your neighbors; tattle on your friends; all sorts of unsavory activities that I know you wouldn’t like and probably wouldn’t do. Unskilled labor, really. But quite honestly, I think you’re smarter than that. I think you have potential—a rare mind, and keen ability to think on your feet. Personally, I think you have the ability to go far. If not in our organization, then certainly in the GDR. And if our little meetings have proven correct, I think I hav
e something in mind that you are uniquely prepared for.”
Sweet freedom was so very, very close, she could almost taste it. After months of eating the life-equivalent of saw-dust-packed hard-tack, she was now mere sniffing-distance from a ripe young peach bursting with sugar and nectar. She was so ready to gobble up the sweet peach of freedom that she began salivating. She would do absolutely anything he asked, she realized, even inform, if she had to. Yet what he said, she was definitely not uniquely prepared for.
“Young lady,” he said with an ornery gleam in his eye and a mischievous grin, “I want you to start a band.”
Vorgetäuscher Held
“He meets with a tall man every Wednesday,” Lena whispered. “I don’t know his name. He looks to be about thirty, though; and he dresses very smartly—like he belongs in a magazine.”
“And what do they talk about?” the Stasi officer asked.
The cafe was small, but filled with people. It was evening and folks were out relaxing after a long day’s work—a beer here, the odd coffee there—and clouds of cigarette smoke wafted throughout the room, gently carried along by the jazz music and clapping of the patrons. This was the perfect meeting place for Lena and the young officer. It was out in the open to not arouse the suspicions that lone alleyways often did. Yet, despite her worries that nosy passersby would overhear, the officer assured her that no one cared. She wasn’t so sure at first, but she got used to it.
The two of them were a young dating couple out on the town for a coffee. They weren’t, obviously. It was just a cover. Nevertheless, she was dressed like she meant it, with the lowest-cut blouse she could safely filch, and the closest thing to a skirt she owned. He, on the other hand, was dressed plainly in gray and brown—blasé, just like everyone else. Even though the two weren’t actually dating, this miffed her slightly. Despite his indifferent dress and the fact that he wasn’t much older than her, he was quite pretty. Maybe not Hans-pretty, but he had a sort of slender beauty to him, like a dancer or footballer and his smile was quite charming in an obnoxious sort of way.
“I can only make out small parts. He mentions Herr a lot and the albums that he buys. Lately, he’s been talking about Jonathan and Janet, though. He mentioned something about parties that they go to on the weekend.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I do, yes. Although I feel that he’s holding back key elements. It’s not that what he’s saying is untrue—just that it’s not the entire truth.”
“And why do you feel he would do that?”
“Because Mr. Müller does not like the Stasi.” she replied, gesturing with her hands, “but he also retains loyalty to our rooftop gatherings; he feels that we...”
“Don’t move so much,” the officer interrupted her. “Eyes are drawn to cheer and exuberance and you’re attracting too much attention. When we are talking, you must appear uninteresting.”
“Yes, Sir,” Lena replied before continuing, “He feels that we deserve a...”
“Don’t call me ‘sir’,” the young officer interrupted her again. “Remember, we are supposed to be dating and this is a casual place. We must be appropriately casual. Ears cue up on titles.”
“Yes…errr…honey?”
“We are not that far along in our courtship,” the young officer laughed, “You may call me by my name.”
“Alright, Patrick. Well...”
Lena had been informing for the Stasi for nearly three months now. She met with this young officer every Tuesday and Thursday evening, spilling the beans about many aspects of her ‘secret’ life. She told him about her latest band, about the bands she played with, about her continued rooftop gatherings, about…well, most aspects of the lives of others. When needed, she would follow various people and learn everything she could about them.
Currently, she was following Mr. Müller, whom she already knew to be a Stasi informant. Her job, given to her by this young officer, was to follow him at a distance and spy on his meetings with his own Stasi officer. She had no doubt Mr. Müller’s officer knew that she was there, as he gave regular reports on Lena. “She follows too closely,” one report said; “She looks around awkwardly when M turns,” another divulged. Lena took these critiques to heart, and learned from them the very best she could.
“That is enough,” Lena’s officer interrupted her again. “You are doing very well, Lena. M’s officer reports that you are finally learning how to tail correctly.”
“I’ve been working very hard at it,” she replied, feeling good about herself.
“You still have a ways to go, however. Remember what I told you about ‘heat levels.’”
Heat levels was a simple concept and referred to how hot you were on the tail. If the person you were tailing interacted with you in any way (scanning in your direction, slowing to listen for footsteps, looking directly at you, being in one place for too long), you were too hot and received a strike, raising your heat level. Once you reached ten strikes, or ‘heat levels’, you simply walked away. Better to give up and pick up the trail later than to never be able to pick it up without being instantly recognized.
“I remembered.” Lena smiled, proud of herself.
Did you notice anyone on your way to meet with me?” Patrick asked with skepticism in his voice.
Lena thought about it hard. Counter-surveillance training was difficult for her. For one, it never naturally occurred to her that she might be followed. So, she had to constantly remind herself to keep a sharp lookout. Second, it was difficult to naturally look over your own shoulder to scan for anyone without arousing suspicion.
“I noticed someone in a red hat,” she said, awkwardly.
“Wrong. This one was wearing a brown jacket.”
“Everyone wears a brown jacket!” Lena replied, trying to keep from moving too much.
“Yes…that’s the point—to blend in. If he was wearing a red hat, he wouldn’t.”
“But the last one was!”
“That’s because you stink at counter-surveillance,” he replied, matter-of-factly.
Lena was trying. She really was. But this new realm she had found herself in was so foreign and hard for her to navigate. It didn’t really come down to specific clothing like red hats or brown jackets. You were looking at everyone for everything. You had to memorize the outfits of everyone you saw, and keep a rolling list of which outfits you saw more than others. This was impossible. As far as she knew, shadow people were constantly following her everywhere she went, and it really wore on her nerves. More unnerving still was the fact that she never saw any of these shadow people (unless they were wearing an obvious red hat). The old Lena would have taken that to mean that those people weren’t there. Now she understood they were always there; she just didn’t see them.
“I won’t ask if you used the alternate route since you didn’t see your tail this time,” her officer continued, “But did you take the proper first route?”
“I did!” Lena smiled, trying to appear as normal as possible. “Around the corner store, stop outside the bank, left on 9th, three blocks on the right side of the road, right on 6th, two blocks on the left side, and then backtrack a block to the cafe.”
“And with all of that, you still didn’t manage to see him?” her officer replied, annoyed.
“Well...”
“It’s not a big deal,” he reassured her. “We’ve got plenty of time, but if you don’t start improving in a month, I’m going to put an officer on you 24/7 until you learn.”
Secretly, Lena figured she was already being followed 24/7, but she didn’t admit to it.
“I may just do that anyway…” he continued, “I can see that this stresses you out. You need to get used to being followed so that you appear more natural. Have you found our camera yet?”
Dammit, this was the most annoying thing in the entire world. The stupid Stasi and their stu
pid hidden camera in her stupid apartment. Just the thought of it made her want to jump out of a window. As soon as Lena had been released from prison she had been informed that her apartment was bugged. This wasn’t surprising. Bugging houses was the Stasi’s bread-and-butter for suspected dissidents and informants alike. However, Grandfather had informed her that if she found the hidden camera, it would be removed and she would be rewarded with a bug-free apartment from there on out. She spent hours every day looking for the damn thing. She pulled all of the books off the shelf, looked under all the vases and checked under her bed. She even looked inside the fridge. No matter how hard she tried, though, the thing completely evaded her notice.
“No,” she replied, showing much annoyance.
“Well, let me ask you this,” the young officer said, amused by her temper, “what are you looking for, exactly?”
“A camera.”
“You are looking for a camera that’s hidden?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you looking for a camera that’s hidden?”
“Because…because...” she honestly didn’t understand why he would ask her such a stupid question.
“Let me try this another way. What do you think a camera is going to look like?”
“A camera,” she said, trying not to sound as insolent as she felt. “A small black thing with a lens on the front. How many ways can a camera look?”
“Alright,” he began again, laughing. “So we’ve hidden a camera in your apartment. Right?”
“Right,” she responded, fuming.
“A camera that we don’t want you to find, right?”
“Right,” she responded, exasperated.
“Have you ever thought that maybe the hidden camera wouldn’t look like a camera?”
For a second, Lena considered hitting something. It was really frustrating how dumb he thought she was—asking her what she honestly thought a camera looked like…what a stupid question! Everyone knew what a camera looked like. Yet as she settled in to his last question, her thoughts stopped in their tracks. Now that he had asked her that last question…well, it had never occurred to her before that a camera would look like anything other than a camera, or that a ‘hidden’ camera could actually be concealed in plain sight and that it could literally look like anything. A pencil, perhaps…a book…maybe—it could be anything.
