by David Young
‘I wish we were on our way back. We’re not. After this detour, we go to the polar ice.’
‘Past Denmark and the BRD?’
The pilot nodded. ‘Unless they’ve suddenly dug a new ship canal through Finland and Norway and failed to tell us, there’s no other way.’
*
Müller expected Soviet troops to greet them on the deck, but the welcoming party were civilian. Civilian and remarkably trusting, considering there were nuclear reactors on board. Müller explained what they wanted, again following Schwarz’s script, and again with him standing directly behind her with his hidden gun in his pocket poking into her back. They were escorted to a room which Müller explained they needed for their sole use, with the crew helping to carry the contents of the construction soldiers’ sled.
After providing them with bedrolls and sleeping bags, the crew left them, saying they were welcome to join them in an hour’s time for breakfast. Müller thought she’d be hungry, but all of a sudden tiredness overwhelmed her. All she wanted to do was sleep. That, and return to Berlin to see her children. Already Helga would be wondering why she’d been out of contact for so long.
She picked up one of the bedrolls and a sleeping bag, then threw a set to Tilsner.
‘Presumably it’s OK if we grab some sleep?’
Dieter nodded. ‘Some of us may, too.’ Then, checking the room door to make sure no one was looking through, he waved his pistol in the air. ‘But at least one of us will always be awake and on guard. So don’t think about trying anything.’
Tilsner shrugged and yawned. If he had an escape plan, it looked like he – too – was intending to get some sleep first.
‘There’s nothing we can do, Karin. This tub will be taking us back to Sassnitz – or maybe Rostock’s more likely. Until we get there, we might as well get some sleep. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.’
Perhaps he was trying to lure their captors into sleeping too, hoping to disarm them. More likely he realised the odds were against them at this stage. Once back in a port in the Republic, it would be a different matter.
39
Things seem to be spiralling out of control, and I fervently wish I’d never thrown my lot in with Dieter and his friends. Yes, he’s attractive, I still fancy him – but he’s led me and the others into danger. There only seems to be one way out of this mess – kill or be killed. I find it impossible to believe his ruse has worked. That the Soviet crew has been duped into thinking we’re under arrest when in fact it’s the reverse – we’ve captured two police officers and are holding them at gunpoint, on a Soviet vessel, with boxes of guns and dynamite stolen from the barracks at Prora. The audacity of it is scarcely credible. The stupidity of it is scarcely credible. Yet, it’s happening. Right now. And I’m trapped in the middle. What I’m hearing doesn’t make me feel any more at ease. In fact, it has the precise opposite effect.
‘OK, Mr Know It All,’ says Joachim, speaking in a whisper so as not to wake the two detectives who’ve either gone to sleep or are making a good job of play-acting. ‘For some reason, you seem to be an expert on Soviet icebreakers.’
‘I remember learning about this one at school,’ says Dieter. ‘One of those interminably boring lessons about how wonderful our Soviet friends are. At least this was more interesting.’
‘How many crew are we up against?’ asks Holger.
‘I can’t remember. But it’s more than a hundred.’
‘A hundred?’ echoes Joachim. ‘How the hell can we take out a hundred of them.’
‘We don’t have to, do we? All we need to do is take control of the bridge. Force the captain to go where we want. It might not necessarily be suspicious. There’s no way this vessel should be here.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ asks Joachim.
‘It usually operates in the Arctic – we already heard from the helicopter pilot it’s on its way up there. If we force it to divert to Kiel, Copenhagen or Gothenburg, then at least initially, that’s not going to look suspicious.’
Joachim snorts in response. ‘Good luck with that.’
Dieter glowers at him. ‘I’m working on it. I’ve got us this far, haven’t I?’
‘Yes,’ says Holger. ‘From the shit into even deeper shit. I’ve had enough.’
‘There’s no turning back now, mate. I’m not going to face the death penalty – and I’m not going to let any of you stand in my way either.’
He isn’t looking at me when he says this. He eyeballs Joachim and Holger in turn. But I know it applies to me as much. Perhaps more so. I suspect Dieter is beginning to think that Joachim was right to start with – that I never should have been allowed to join them on this trip.
With all my heart, I wish that had been the case.
40
Stasi HQ, Normannenstraße, East Berlin
0700 hours, 2 January 1979
‘We’ve run into difficulty, Comrade Minister.’
‘You, Jäger. You’ve run into a spot of difficulty. I warned you that if anything goes wrong, I’m holding you responsible.’
‘Be that as it may, we have a problem. The port authorities in Sassnitz have passed a message to me, from the captain of the Arktika.’
Mielke gave a long sigh. ‘Go on, Jäger.’
‘Müller and Tilsner gave the impression that they had the criminals under arrest, which is why the Arktika captain and the Soviets allowed them on board. At least, I think that’s correct.’
‘That is correct, Jäger. Are you telling me the criminals are not under arrest?’
‘I can’t say that for certain, Comrade Minister. What I can say is that the crew members are suspicious. One of them thought he spotted one of the criminals prompting Müller and Tilsner. Almost as though they were the ones under duress. He didn’t spot a gun, but it was almost as though they were being jabbed in the back. There was an atmosphere.’
‘Yet Müller and Tilsner have guns?’
‘Yes, and they used them to bring the criminals on board and force them on the helicopter.’
‘It may be something and nothing, Jäger. Let’s hope for your sake it is. Meanwhile, please instruct the captain to continue his course to Rostock whatever happens. If the criminals try anything, if they are in control, they might try to hijack the ship using Müller and Tilsner as hostages. If that happens, the captain should head for Rostock. The police officers are expendable as far as I’m concerned. Do you have anything to say about that, Jäger?’
There was a moment’s silence at the other end of the line. ‘No, Comrade Minister. I understand what you are saying. I will relay the message – but should it come from Moscow?’
‘Don’t worry about that, Jäger, you pass that message on. I don’t mind if you convey my thoughts about Müller and Tilsner, to underline the situation for the captain. I’ll make sure the message is reinforced from the Moscow end of things, or from wherever the Arktika takes its orders. Do we know if there are Soviet troops on board?’
‘It’s a civilian ship, Comrade Minister, so as far as I know, no, there aren’t. Though according to the captain, they have access to a limited supply of weapons for emergencies.’
‘Please suggest to the captain he prepares himself as best he can. I’ll talk to Moscow.’
41
The frozen Ostsee
2 January 1979
After a couple of hours’ fitful sleep, Müller was prodded awake. She was disorientated; wondered where Helga and the children were. Then she remembered. She’d chosen to leave that life behind again, at least temporarily. A smaller flat, she now realised, would have been a fair price to pay for her safety and for continuing to be a fit and proper mother to her children.
Dieter was jabbing his pistol into her side again. ‘Wake up. We’re going on a visit to the bridge.’
Müller stood and dusted herself down. ‘I need to go to the bathroom first.’
The young construction soldier tossed back his hair, as though he didn’t care about M
üller’s bodily needs. Then he seemed to come to a decision. He moved over to Tilsner, who was snoring steadily, and kicked him awake. ‘Get up. It’s time for a bathroom visit.’ He turned to Irma. ‘I’ll go with him. Irma, you go with her. And make sure you’ve got your gun.’
*
There were no women’s toilets on a vessel where the entire crew was almost certainly male. Nevertheless, Dieter allowed them the courtesy of ladies first, while he stood watch over Tilsner outside. Tilsner was holding his empty Makarov, and Dieter’s handgun was concealed in his jacket pocket.
As soon as they were inside, and the door was shut, Müller tried to reason with Irma.
‘You can turn this round, Irma. I would vouch for you, say your boyfriend put you under pressure to do what you did.’
The girl wouldn’t meet her eyes. ‘Just go to the toilet if that’s what you want to do. I don’t want to talk to you.’
‘Have you thought about how this is going to end? You’re already waving a gun around. You’re on a fast track not just to jail, but to the mortuary, Irma. Is that what you want? To end up like Beate, like Mathias?’
‘Shut up. Otherwise I’ll bring Dieter in here.’
Müller entered a cubicle, holding her nose to try to keep out the stink of male bodily functions and sweat. They didn’t seem to have heard of cleaners. But it was a squatting toilet with hose attachment – at least she wouldn’t be catching any diseases by sitting on the same seat as Soviet merchant sailors. She had to pull her borrowed camouflage trousers down, while trying to make sure they didn’t fall in the filth. After relieving herself, she tried one final time to persuade the girl. ‘Think over what I’m saying, Irma. I can help you, you can help us. This doesn’t have to end in a tragedy, although Dieter seems hell-bent on making sure it does.’
*
‘I don’t know what you’re planning,’ Müller said to Dieter a few minutes later, as he used his jacket-covered gun to prod her towards the bridge. ‘But when we get up there, I have one request.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I want you to ask the captain to send a message to my children in Berlin.’
‘I don’t have a problem with that,’ said Dieter. ‘As long as you do everything I want. If you don’t . . . ’ He pushed the gun barrel into her ribs. Even though it was covered with two layers of material, it still hurt.
*
As they walked into the bridge control room, Dieter ended his subterfuge with the weapon. He held it against Müller’s temple and pushed her along.
He began speaking in Russian. Almost fluent Russian – certainly too good for Müller, but he was evidently a well-educated young man; he’d chosen to throw the Republic’s expensive medical training back in its face. She managed to understand the gist of what he said: take us to the West, otherwise the lady police officer gets it in the head.
The captain seemed unfazed.
‘We can take you to Lübeck. But if there’s any trouble we won’t. That’s all I’m willing to offer.’
Dieter nodded, and Müller exhaled in relief.
It seemed too easy, but when guns were being waved around, anything could go wrong.
42
Joachim has gone to the bridge with the male policeman – the one she calls Tilsner – so I’m alone with Holger in the room.
Everything Major Müller said to me in the toilets was true. I know that. Dieter is no doubt full of himself by now, thinking that he’s taken over a Soviet ship. Believing that they will ferry us to our freedom. I want to believe that too – but I’ve seen how they work. And that’s assuming that his ruse of using Frau Müller as a hostage has worked. Down here, Holger and I have no way of knowing.
‘What do you think’s going on?’ I ask him.
He shrugs. He looks as fed up as I feel. ‘It’s spiralled out of control, hasn’t it, Irma? Was this what you were expecting?’
I give a shake of my head. ‘Do you think we can talk some sense into them?’
‘Not really. Dieter might be a firebrand, but one thing he said is true. There’s no turning back. If we give up, we’re probably facing – what? – life in jail at the very least.’
I kick out at Dieter’s bedroll. ‘Or worse.’
‘I don’t want to think about that. We’ll have to stick together, Irma. However this plays out.’
I feel myself stagger as the ship gives a lurch. ‘What’s that?’
He looks out of the smeary porthole window, wiping it with his sleeve. Once, twice, three times – as though he can’t see. ‘It looks like we’re moving.’
Where to, though? That’s the question. Has Dieter succeeded in his reckless gamble? Or is everything over, and we’re being taken back to the Republic?
I slump to the floor, my head in my hands. Holger crouches next to me, prises my hands away and holds them gently in his. They’re not the delicate, perfectly formed hands of Dieter. These are meaty, solid, industrial. As though Holger’s real vocation should have been to stay in the East – working for the workers’ and peasants’ paradise. ‘We’ll be OK,’ he says. ‘I’m sure of that. You’re a strong woman, Irma – not many would have been brave enough to come with us.’
I laugh bitterly at that. ‘You don’t know me, Holger. You wouldn’t be saying that if you did.’
‘I know enough,’ he says. ‘I know that Dieter’s a lucky man to have you.’
We hear the door opening behind us. Holger drops my hands and his face suffuses with a guilty blush. I turn. It’s Dieter – back from the bridge – this time with the male policeman at gunpoint.
He shoves the policeman into the corner, pulls me up to him, dancing me round for a couple of turns. ‘We’ve done it,’ he laughs. ‘They’re taking us to Lübeck.’
The West! I want to believe it like he does, so I smile, and let him spin me round. I want to dream of our new life there. But I’ve been on a boat like this before, full of hope as he is, only to see it dashed a few short hours after we’d thought we’d reached the promised land. What followed after that was far, far worse than what I’d had to suffer in the Republic as a child and then a teenager in the Jugendwerkhof. And I’ve seen his ruthless side – and it worries me. If he can be so cruel to others, who’s to say it won’t be me next?
‘Where’s Joachim?’ I ask.
‘Up on the bridge, with the policewoman. Making sure the crew do what we say.’
I smile and give him a slight nod. Doesn’t he realise this is all too easy? The Soviets will not accept being humiliated like this. ‘Our socialist friends’, as schoolteachers like to call them, are in reality our masters. I know in my heart something terrible will happen, but in my face, in my actions, I try not to show it.
‘How many hours to Lübeck?’ asks Holger.
‘The captain reckons five or six hours. We can take turns to get a few hours more sleep, but Holger, you need to take over from Joachim next on the bridge.’
‘Shouldn’t we make sure we’re further west before we head into port?’ I suggest. ‘Kiel, for example. Copenhagen, even.’ The idea of Lübeck worries me. From Geography lessons at school and in the Jugendwerkhof, I know the sea border bisects Lübeck bay. The East German or even Soviet navy could block us, board us . . . there are so many things that could go wrong.
Dieter looks at me as though I’ve farted from my mouth. ‘Are you ever satisfied, Irma?’ he asks, anger written over his face.
I don’t think I am, no. But that’s why we’re here, doing this, isn’t it? Because we weren’t satisfied with our lives. We thought we could change them, find a better way. It’s the cherries in the neighbour’s orchard again. It’s human nature.
*
I doze a little, cuddled up to Dieter. In my dreams, I’m back on that cargo ship of four and a half years ago, watching the signs pass as we travel along the canal, realising from the colourful adverts that we’re already in the West. And then I’m in Hamburg, on the Reeperbahn, the lights are dazzling, and I reali
se my skirt is too short. People are looking at me. Men are looking at me. Sizing me up like a piece of meat. I try tugging my skirt down, but someone’s hand is on my bum. I feel myself panicking, wanting to escape, and then—
I wake. It’s Dieter’s hand on my bum. But not in a lecherous way. He’s rested it there as he sleeps. There’s movement in the room. Holger is getting up and waking the male policeman.
He sees me looking at him quizzically.
‘It’s time for me to relieve Joachim,’ he explains. ‘He should be back down soon.’
The male policeman groans. ‘Why do you need me to go with you?’
Holger jabs him with the gun, but he looks as though his heart isn’t in it. Not like Dieter, who’s now passed out from his adrenalin high.
‘You’re our insurance policy,’ says Holger. ‘It’s just the way it is.’
After they’ve gone, I decide I’ve had enough of trying to sleep. I move to the porthole to see what sort of view there is. The sun’s come up – its brightness dazzling on the ice; I have to shield my eyes. This must be the right-hand side of the ship. I can make out the chunks of ice pushed to the side by the icebreaker’s bow, but otherwise it’s a frozen white wasteland. Sunlight spells danger for us. Without the snow clouds as cover, helicopters will be flying. Who’s to say that the Republic’s Fallschirmjäger aren’t already in one of them – in mid-air – ready to storm the vessel? That’s why I know this isn’t going to work. Why people like that Stasi colonel Jäger and his ilk will never let it work. They’re humouring us for the time being. They are still in control.
*
Joachim is back, along with the male policeman who looks thoroughly down in the mouth about being pushed around by people he no doubt regards as worse than dog shit.
‘It’s worth taking a look on the other side,’ says Joachim. ‘You can see the coastline.’
‘The BRD already?’ I ask, hopefully.