by Paul Grant
‘I know. I’ve got a few things on my mind.’ As soon as he said it, he wished he hadn’t.
‘Such as?’
He was reluctant to talk. Ursula’s words of warning the last time he was here were still ringing in his ears. Now Hauser had been arrested, her warnings had altogether more pertinence, more substance.
He sighed and shook his head.
‘You don’t want to tell me?’ She sounded hurt.
‘No, it’s not that. Well, it’s about Hauser, and after what you said, I’d rather not say, for your own good.’
She shrugged as if she didn’t care, but he knew she was offended.
He bit his lip, wondering if he should tell her. This whole thing had been rattling around in his mind since the man had contacted him at the Resi. With Hauser’s arrest and the new meeting, it was difficult not to talk; he usually shared everything with Ursula.
‘Hauser’s been arrested,’ he blurted out finally.
She was quickly up on her elbow, looking at him intently. ‘When?’
‘A few days ago.’ He turned away, feeling some shame that she’d been right all along.
‘What about the others?’ she said quickly.
Ulrich shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I met one of them and he was as jumpy as hell, paranoid almost.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me.’
‘There’s another meeting tomorrow,’ he said quietly, as if he was waiting for her reaction.
‘What?’ She was up off the bed now, kneeling on the floor facing him. ‘You’re not seriously thinking of going?’
Her eyes were wide, her tone incredulous. He didn’t want to say another word. If he told her about the man at the Resi, she would probably explode.
‘Uli, it could be a trap. There could be half of the Stasi waiting for you.’ She shook her head. She put her hand on the side of the bed to push herself up, which caused the sleeve of her jumper to ride up for a second. Ulrich saw the angry yellow and purple bruises on her forearm, before she quickly righted the sleeve.
‘Hey, what is that?’ Ulrich was on his feet now. ‘Where did you get those bruises?’
‘It’s nothing.’ She turned away from him. ‘Stop trying to change the subject.’
‘Never mind me, where did those bruises come from? What happened to you?’ Ulrich was concerned now.
Ursula turned to him angrily and hissed, ‘I said it’s nothing. None of your business.’
He could see the tears in her eyes and went to comfort her, but she was having none of it, fiercely pushing him away.
‘You’re a bloody fool, Ulrich Schultz, nothing more than a fool.’
‘Ursula, what is it?’ He went to put his arm around her again, but she turned and struck him hard on the chest with her clenched hand. She was shrieking now. ‘Stay away from me. Do you hear? You’ve messed everything up with your stupid ideas.’ She was sobbing uncontrollably now. Ulrich looked on, open-mouthed.
‘I… I don’t understand, Ursula. What is it?’
‘Just get out! Leave me alone!’ she bawled.
Within seconds, the bedroom door was open and Ursula’s mother stood there. She looked past Ulrich to see her daughter upset.
‘I think it’s time you left, Ulrich.’
‘But…’
‘Please, I think it’s for the best at the moment.’
He turned back to Ursula feeling totally lost, but she wouldn’t look at him. He’d never seen her like this before, but he could also see he wouldn’t get any further tonight. He took one last look back at her, hunched towards the wall, cowering from him, like he’d hurt her, and dragged himself from the room.
At the apartment door he turned and said, ‘I don’t understand it, Frau Lehmann…’
‘Maybe call round in a couple of days when she’s had time to calm down.’
She was getting desperate to be rid of him now and that made him angry.
‘But what’s wrong?’
‘Look, my husband will be home soon. It’s best you’re not here.’
She closed the door behind him quickly. He stood on the stairwell in utter shock, wondering what the last few minutes had been all about. He looked back at the door, wanting to put his fist through it. He swore angrily.
Shaking his head, Ulrich finally sloped off down the stairs feeling totally frustrated.
***
Throughout the next day on the site, Ulrich’s mood had swung between bewilderment and anger. He hated it when he and Ursula argued. It was normally all he could think about until they made up again. This time it felt much worse. He couldn’t fathom Ursula’s reaction. Even her mother seemed to know what was wrong, but was not interested in explaining to him, only on getting him out of the apartment. He’d only asked how she’d come to have such bad bruising. He couldn’t help thinking that was the crux of her reaction. He did wonder if her father had been beating her. He wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case, but then what did Ursula mean about Ulrich messing everything up with his ‘stupid ideas’? The more he thought about it, the less he could comprehend.
He knew he had to go there and sort it out with Ursula, but by the end of the day, he had talked himself out of it. Perhaps Frau Lehmann had been right; leaving it a couple of days for things to settle down might be the best policy. Then Ulrich started to think he hadn’t done anything wrong anyway. Why hadn’t Ursula come to him to try and resolve things? As he packed up his tool bag, he’d decided to seek solace among friendly faces and a Pilsner at the Wild Boar.
It was only when Ulrich was getting close to the Kneipe did he even remember the meeting. His thoughts had been so embroiled in what had happened with Ursula, it had slipped his mind.
Sauer the barman nodded to the double doors as soon as Ulrich came in. ‘There’s a lot of them up there.’
Ulrich looked confused for a moment. ‘Ah yes… the meeting.’ He held on to the brass rail in front of the bar, wondering if he should go up. He’d not given it the thought he’d planned to. He wasn’t really in the mood to make rational decisions, quite the opposite. He was sick of all the warnings from Ursula, from his mother. He didn’t really care any more.
He took one look around the bar, then said to Sauer, ‘Pour me a beer, would you? I’ll take it up with me.’
Sauer had the Pilsner in front of him in an instant. Ulrich took a long swig and let out a satisfied sigh, placing the near-empty glass down on the bar.
‘Fill it up.’
Sauer laughed. ‘Bad day?’
‘Something like that.’
Ulrich picked up the fresh glass and headed upstairs.
Pushing through the doors, Ulrich reached the narrow staircase where he could hear the hum of chatter above. Along the corridor, he could see a man posted on the door, not the same as last time. He nodded and stepped aside for Ulrich to enter. Inside the room there were many people, most of whom he didn’t recognise. This time there was no table, only a room full of men in different overalls apparently waiting. Ulrich scanned around, anxious for a friendly face. Finally, he spotted Baumer, one of the men who had spoken at Hauser’s last meeting, but there was no sign of Grund. Ulrich was surprised by the number of people present; it was almost as if there was less concern about security, not more, since Hauser’s arrest.
Ulrich didn’t have too much time to think about it further as he could see a man at the front of the room clambering onto a table. He finally stood up and started to talk, but Ulrich didn’t hear the words. He felt sick. He looked towards the door, searching for an escape, but realised he couldn’t leave now, not without attracting attention to himself. He desperately scanned the room, checking if he could see anybody else he knew, but aside from Baumer, he didn’t recognise anybody. In fact, all he could see were men listening intently, rapt by the words, the incitements of the man with an angry red scar across his cheek.
***
After the meeting, Ulrich made his excuses and left the Wild Boar as quickly as he could. With all his attention
on Ursula, he’d not really thought about the meeting and not prepared his mind for what he might find there. This was the last thing he’d expected. He wondered if his reaction had drawn anybody’s attention. He was sure it hadn’t been the case, as the other men had been so intent on listening to the speaker. The meeting was vastly different to those led by Hauser where everybody’s opinion had been sought and respected. This time there had been more people in attendance, from all the different industries in the eastern sector, but it seemed they were there only to listen, to listen to the man with the scar.
Ulrich learned the man’s name was Heissner. He spoke well, encouraging them, cajoling them, telling them it was time to do more. Ulrich had been surprised by the strength of his message, and how it had been stated so openly. This wasn’t just about targets any more, this was apparently about rights and freedoms, free elections. The protest had seemingly taken on a whole extended aspect and Heissner had the men cheering their agreement. There was no doubt it sounded appealing, but Ulrich knew it could never happen. The East German government would not allow it, and more to point, the Russians would never allow it.
Ulrich couldn’t understand it. This man Heissner was putting a target on his back, virtually asking the Stasi to come and take him, as, Ulrich realised, were all the people who had attended the meeting.
Something was about to happen and it didn’t make Ulrich feel excited; it only gave him a feeling of deep foreboding. The man who had warned him at the Resi bar had been right, and now Ulrich only had one thing on his mind; he had to contact that man as quickly as possible.
CHAPTER 15
JUNE 1947, KOLYMA, RUSSIA
Such was the weather, Klaus was working outside the maintenance shop on a bench. He was focused on filing the rough edges off a shovel when he saw the deerskin boots. He automatically looked up and was surprised to see Burzin smiling at him, wafting away the mosquitoes. It was so warm that Burzin was in shirtsleeves. Klaus watched on as he expertly clipped open his lighter and lit the cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. Dirk chose this moment to exit the shop.
‘Would you mind giving us a moment, Hausmann?’ Burzin said.
Dirk nodded quickly and shot back inside, nervous as he was of authority. Klaus put down the file, intrigued by the visit.
‘We do have hot days in Kolyma after all.’ Burzin had a wry smile.
Klaus didn’t reply. There was a reason that Burzin had ventured out of his cabin, but it wasn’t to talk about the weather.
In the intervening months, Klaus had done his best to ensure the recently excavated material had been loaded in the area he’d buried Stransky’s body. Being responsible for the conveyors helped in this process. However, if his body was ever going to be given up, it would be when the ground had thawed. It still made Klaus anxious whenever he spoke to Burzin, even after so many months.
‘I thought you’d like to know your friend Dobrovsky has called off the search.’
Burzin had a wide grin across his face, like the news was as much of a triumph to him as it was to Klaus. Klaus’ heart was racing at the thought that Markus could actually have made it away from Kolyma.
‘And Schram?’
Burzin raised his eyebrows, then took a long drag on his cigarette making Klaus wait.
‘He didn’t find him. Dobrovsky went back to Moscow empty-handed.’
Klaus let out a huge sigh of relief. They both laughed, brought together for a moment in their shared enemy’s failure. Klaus couldn’t help wondering what had happened between the two of them. He wondered what made Burzin hate the man so much that he would find common ground with a German prisoner of war. It also gave Klaus an indication of the circles Burzin had once operated in; he was never to be taken lightly, as Klaus had suspected the first moment he’d set eyes on the wily kommandant.
‘You really think he’ll make it out of Russia, back to Germany?’ Burzin asked.
Klaus had dreamt about it. Burzin’s news had now raised his hope that it was possible.
‘I have no idea, but if anybody can, then he can.’
Burzin nodded slightly, threw down his cigarette end grinding it into the dirt, and walked away.
CHAPTER 16
JUNE 1953, BERLIN
From Friedrichshain, Ulrich had crossed the river into Treptow, then to the street in Kreuzberg in the American sector, following the instructions the man from the Resi had given him. He’d been watching over his shoulder, taking minor detours as the note had encouraged him to do. On the corner of Luckauer Strasse and Oranienstrasse, he’d located the building. Stooping to tie his bootlaces, he’d made a mark with a piece of chalk; small but visible if one was looking for it. With that task completed, his meeting had been set for the next day, and that’s where now, his work done, Ulrich headed.
He pushed his questions and doubts out of his mind. The argument with Ursula and her unexplained outburst, the appearance of Heissner and the disappearance of Hauser, and possibly Grund, all had to be shelved. Meeting the man who’d sought him out at the Resi, now Heissner had surfaced, was the most important thing on his mind. The man could probably answer some of Ulrich’s questions, assuage his doubt, even merely put things in perspective. He felt he could trust the man, as sure as he could trust anybody at this time.
Ulrich picked up the pace down Hardenbergstrasse, close as he was now to the rendezvous point. Much of the area here was wasteland, cleared of the rubble from the bombing of the war, but not yet built upon. His tool satchel on his shoulder, Ulrich walked under the rail bridge on which Zoo station resided. On the other side, beige trams moved in all directions, with people rushing home from work. Ulrich felt a light tap on his arm. The man was at his side and already at the road crossing, ready to head in the direction of the Ku’damm.
Ulrich caught on quickly and followed. For a few minutes the man didn’t speak a word, they just kept walking, reaching the Ku’damm via Joachimsthaler Strasse. Ulrich hadn’t been to this end of town for some time. He couldn’t believe the number of new shops and building work going on. He wondered if he should be fitting cafés rather than working on grand gestures like Stalinallee. He knew the money was far better.
The man finally slowed his pace, turning slightly to Ulrich. ‘You have some news?’
Now he was here, Ulrich wondered what he should say first. It seemed the man wanted to keep it brief, yet he was determined to get his own answers.
‘Your man turned up yesterday.’
He nodded, seemingly unsurprised.
‘He’s called Heissner. He’s slipped into Hauser’s shoes and a bit more,’ Ulrich said.
‘And Hauser?’
‘Arrested, along with others no doubt.’
‘Where did you see him? Heissner.’
Ulrich stopped walking. ‘Why are you asking me this? You know so much already, so surely you know there was a meeting at the Wild Boar?’
Ulrich wondered if this was some kind of test, but after his last twenty-four hours, he wasn’t really in the mood for games.
The man shrugged. ‘Point conceded. But I don’t know the content of the meeting or who was there exactly, which is why I’m asking you.’
Ulrich was staring at the man now, his anger growing. He was young, no more than ten years older than him. He dressed well and was focused on his job, but Ulrich felt him arrogant and expecting too much from him for a first discussion.
‘Who the hell are you? I don’t owe you anything.’
The man shrugged again. ‘But nevertheless, you’re here.’
Ulrich was open-mouthed, not for the first time recently.
‘Look, let’s keep walking. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.’
‘Why should I? What is all this cloak-and-dagger stuff anyway? Chalk on walls, creeping around. I am giving you information, what you want to know. I deserve some answers.’
‘You do, but I still prefer to keep walking.’
Ulrich gave up and reluctantly followed. He’
d come so far, he may as well see it through.
They passed the well-dressed folk enjoying the warm weather outside Café Kranzler. Finally it seemed the man was ready to talk.
‘I work for the West German government.’
‘You mean the Yanks?’
‘No, I mean for the West Germans.’ He looked at Ulrich seriously. ‘You should know better than to believe everything you here on eastern sector radio.’
‘So, why the interest in Heissner?’
‘This is big, Ulrich. The whole thing. I don’t expect you to get your head around it first time.’
‘Try me.’
Ulrich saw a fleeting smile cross the man’s lips. ‘It doesn’t surprise me that Hauser has been arrested. Their State Security will know most, if not all, people that have been attending those meetings.’
‘We were careful,’ Ulrich said, the anxiety rising in him. He’d suspected what the man was telling him was true; he’d had enough people caution him about it. ‘Our meetings were only about the norms. We’re no threat to them.’
‘That’s naïve, Ulrich. The slightest threat and they stamp it out. I shouldn’t need to tell you that.’
The man was right. Ulrich remembered what they had done with churchgoers in those early days at school. They really were no threat yet the teachers had lined up the Catholic kids in front of Ulrich’s class and invited ridicule. Many of them were even kicked out of the school. The smallest divergence from the party line was not tolerated. It was the beginning of Ulrich’s disenchantment with the party. So many things had happened after that.
Ulrich nodded. ‘That’s something that doesn’t add up. Heissner was shouting about all sorts of freedoms yesterday: free speech, free elections. It could never happen in East Berlin.’
‘He might be a plant, Ulrich.’
‘A Spitzel?’
‘Something more than that. Trained by the Russians themselves.’
‘That doesn’t make sense. He’ll cause a revolt the way he was talking. He’s on fertile ground. The men in that room are struggling to feed their families. Why would he want to fuel protest?’
