by Michael Dean
Andreas Lübke was gripping the waistband of his trousers awkwardly as he and Gerhard Söderle were about to leave the station, only to be called back. They had been taken off the Baader-Meinhof road block at the last minute. Sergeant Heuss sent them to the hospital to interview the victim of an attack in the street. No further details were given. Gerhard Söderle went white.
*
Hans Stiefel, a drop-shouldered man with long black hair and glasses, had not had a good day. He had put a spindle on backwards in his job as a weaving machine operative at Elsas Textil in Solitudestrasse. The yarn broke. The foreman had yelled at him. In the evening, he had difficulty learning the names of colours and shapes in his beginner’s English lesson, though Mr de Launay had been very patient.
Far worse, however, was to befall him. Hans had left the lesson 15 minutes early. He couldn’t stand any more; he had made an excuse and got out. In the street, just outside the school, he was set on for no reason, first by one man, then by two more. He had been dragged into a chemist’s shop doorway and repeatedly beaten up.
He was taken to hospital. They put him in a nice two-bed room but he couldn’t sleep because the man in the other bed was a mad old bastard with a broken leg who kept roaring his head off in a foreign accent. Something about vans and wanting to sack someone. Hans Stiefel was scared of him.
Then two policemen came to the hospital to take a statement from him. One of them was wearing sunglasses and kept his hand over his face all the time. The other one, the fat one who kept losing his trousers, wrote down everything he said and then arrested him. He, Hans Stiefel, the victim of the crime, was arrested — apparently for urinating in a cemetery. He would be put on trial as soon as he was discharged from hospital.
The world had gone mad. Either that or he had a double somewhere.
37
Naomi loved Himmelfahrt’s affinity with fun. He made the business of living fun. His ideas for the few days they had left in Ludwigsburg did not include any arrangements or practical plans for the future. Instead, he had a list of ways of enjoying themselves and a burning desire to do all of them at least once, but preferably more, in the short time they had left.
The words ‘get pissed’ appeared on the list quite a lot. There was a list of ‘Farewell Visits’ which included (in no particular order): the Post-Canz, the Alte Sonne, the Deutsches Hans, the Hotel Heim, Frank’s Grillstube, the Bahnhotel, the Linde, the Würrtemberger Hof, the Piroschka, Studio 46, the Karpfen, the Ratskeller, the Jägerstüble, the Krone in Möglingerstrasse, the Krone in Friesenstrasse, the Schlachthof, the Schlosshof, the Waldhorn, the Ludwigslust, the Löwen in Hauptstrasse, the Löwen in Eglosheimerstrasse and — but only if there was time — the Rad in Brucknerstrasse.
And he had a surprise lor her. He always had surprises for her. She had once mentioned that she had never been to a Besenwirtshaft. This is quite a tradition in Swabia: a private house applies for a drinks licence, ties an old-fashioned twig broom (a Besen) outside the house and serves just one dish (usually pork with Spätzle) and wine from the local vineyard.
Himmelfahrt had asked his classes about it. Dieter Sinjen knew of one and got him and Naomi in. He then drove them there and picked them up when it was over (just after eleven). Sinjen was non-judgemental to the point of disinterest about Himmelfahrt and Naomi’s relationship, as were most of their other pupils.
Himmelfahrt had a tinge of guilt about running out on people like Dieter and many others. He was a popular figure in lessons now. He instinctively knew how to teach and how to amuse. His students were even more relaxed now he had stopped looking at the most attractive women’s breasts the whole time (he only did it part of the time and slightly more subtly).
*
In December 1971, the time had finally come for Marcus Himmelfahrt and Naomi Plutznick to flee Ludwigsburg together. The train left at 5.30 in the evening. Naomi was to teach her morning class and a class of John’s, which she had taken over while he was in hospital. Himmelfahrt had a conversation lesson at one o’clock, but he intended to miss his 3.30 lesson, to help Naomi with the cases.
Himmelfahrt was deliriously happy. He planned to keep his last day’s timetable to show their children. After the conversation lesson, he went on impulse to the City Bank, in Schillerplatz. He had already cleared his account, but he suddenly thought of changing some Deutschmarks into sterling for their arrival back in Britain.
There were two queues. The clerk at the end of the longer queue, Norbert Sibulsky, was a deeply contented man. His rhythm and blues band, the Junggesellen, had at last split up because nobody (in Norbert’s view) could be bothered to practise enough, and so they no longer saw their old manager, Hermann Schaffner. The one-time drummer, Jens Körner, had gone to Norbert’s flat on some pretext, stayed the night and then the next three days. They were lovers, they were partners, they were married in all but name.
Himmelfahrt, however, joined the shorter counter queue, which slowly led to Sabina Göller. Sabina had been receiving treatment after the trauma of Hermann Schaffner’s party. Her analyst had taught her to record her accomplishments. Sabina Göller had accomplished the following: She was no longer in love with Norbert Sibulsky, she was indifferent to him, well, not entirely indifferent, she still watched what he was doing, she still invited him for coffee and the occasional meal (which he refused) just to be friendly, but, by and large and all in all, she was not in love with him.
Another achievement: She had insisted that Christl, her pretty younger sister, spend more time looking after her baby and less time having sex with the United States army.
Another achievement: She now believed herself to be attractive to men. She repeated this to herself in her head, then muttered it out loud, even as she worked on this, her first day back after treatment. ‘I am attractive to men. I am attractive to men.’
Himmelfahrt reached the front of Sabina Göller’s queue. Sabina said ‘Grüss Gott’, and give him a big, friendly, sexy smile. Himmelfahrt didn’t notice the smile. He thought vaguely that it wasn’t really worth changing money at a German bank, he’d get a better rate if he left it until Ostende, or even on the ferry across. And anyway he was suddenly busting for a leak. He grimaced. He did not return Sabina Göller’s greeting. Without thinking, he turned on his heel and walked back to the door.
All the fragile confidence Sabina Göller had won from her treatment left her like air hissing out of a split balloon. That customer (male) had rejected her smile, her greeting. He had walked out. He had fled from her. He thought she was physically repugnant. She must be a lesbian after all. Sabina Göller started screaming at the top of her voice.
In retrospect, this reaction appeared perfectly logical because just as Sabina’s screams echoed round the bank, it was held up by armed robbers. This was what the world’s press (wrongly) reported as the Baader-Meinhof gang’s first bank robbery: Ludwigsburg, December 14, 1971. Ludwigsburg’s local paper, the LKZ, got it right, describing it as a follow-up to the Marbach hold-up.
As Himmelfahrt was bouncing to the door of the bank, heading for the nearest toilet, he was distracted by a pretty blonde cashier smiling at him. Lati Pattilainen, the Finnish trainee bank worker, was gripped by the usual stomach cramps which always heralded the onset on her period. She was grimacing. Bank robbery or no bank robbery, she fled to the Ladies. The distracted Himmelfahrt, meanwhile, did not recognise Lati as the girl he had met at the Aliens Office, but in returning what he took to be her smile, he had walked straight past a long-faced woman with straight blonde hair, a Roman nose and big eyes coming in the door — even though she was quite pretty.
He missed the gun in her hand, too. This was Gudrun Ensslin, star-turn of the Baader-Meinhof gang, scourge of the bourgeoisie.
Himmelfahrt’s exiting shoulder caught Dorothea Stoll, coming in behind Gudrun Ennslin. He didn’t notice her gun either. Dorothea, knocked off balance, half-turned, swore and aimed the pistol at Himmelfahrt (who she had never seen before). But Himmelfahrt, st
ill, as he put it, ‘busting for a leak’, rushed past her, oblivious, and was out of the door and away.
Inside the bank, Norbert Sibulsky, a happy man, did as the robbers directed him, thought of Jens, thought of his love and quietly prayed.
Sabina Göller, plunged back into the murky pit of insanity by Himmelfahrt’s rejection of her femininity, went berserk again, as she had at Herman Schaffner’s party. But this time society appreciated her efforts considerably more. Her screaming, biting, tearing, kicking, utterly fearless attack on two armed robbers (they fled empty-handed) was rewarded by the award of a medal for — as it said in the citation — ‘Bravery in defending the Federal Republic from terrorists’. She also got a front-page write up with photo in the 15 December edition of the LKZ.
It steadied her. It finally gave her some appreciation and recognition, which was all she had ever wanted.
*
Having gone to the toilet as his final act on the language school’s premises — he did not see that that as symbolic, just expedient — Himmelfahrt made his way back to Ludwigsburg-Ossweil by bus. He vaguely noticed all the sirens and police cars, but was not curious about them. Back in the Biederzimmer, he packed his backpack with all his stuff. This took just under 90 seconds. He thought it would do no harm to hang on to the Biedermeiers’ key.
He was a bit early for Naomi, but he set off anyway. His landlord, Lothar Biedermeier, saw him on the stairs, carrying the backpack he had arrived with. Himmelfahrt hurried past the little man and away. The minute he got out the door, Herr Biedermeier scurried to Frau Biedermeier. The two of them scrambled upstairs and stood aghast at the empty room. They checked the wardrobe, they checked under the bed, they checked the space under the eaves.
They found the transmitter.
Herr Biedermeier rarely used a telephone. His childhood home had not had one, but also trotting off to places he could just as well have phoned filled up his days and made him feel useful. But he telephoned now. Twice.
The first call was to Frau Stikuta. But having had enough of Herr Biedermeier’s complaints about Mr Hill, who was on his way out anyway, she said she was busy and would phone him back.
Herr Biedermeier’s second call was to the police.
*
When Naomi got back to Schumannstrasse, Himmelfahrt was waiting outside with his backpack at his feet.
‘Marcus!’ she said. ‘People will see you!’
‘Sod ’em!’
They kissed, more caution being thrown to more winds, and went inside.
In the street, Siegfried Gruber contacted Pullach with yet another urgent message. This time, with the image of Himmelfahrt’s backpack in his mind, he insisted on speaking to Herr Neumann himself.
*
Gruber’s report that there had been an assassination attempt on a British spy on West German territory had been taken seriously. It would have been taken even more seriously if the report had not come from Gruber. There had been a meeting of all yellow-stripe personnel — those dealing with relations with friendly nations (mainly America). All their communications were marked with a yellow stripe, as a reminder that they were not to be automatically shared with the allies they possibly referred to.
Evaluation of Gruber’s report was difficult. It was attempted at a meeting in the secure (swept for bugs) Meeting Room 2 on the third floor in Heilmannstrasse. Coffee, soft drinks, an apple cake, Zwetschgentorte, (damsons), Eisbombe (mainly cream) Bienenstich (sort of, custard), Sachertorte (chocolate), Nusstorte (with nuts) were available and consumed with gusto (the Eisbombe went first, the apple cake stuck a bit).
The meeting was presided over by Günther Bemmann, the most senior yellow-stripe operative, recently returned from Post-Post-Convalescence. Alfred Neumann was due to attend but was written off sick for three days with a heavy cold, with suspected circulatory complications.
Gruber, Günther Bemmann told the meeting, had not helped his case by his earlier tying up of valuable resources. The blue towel he had sent for analysis had been found to contain limestone soil, semen and urine. The orange peel contained traces of orange.
Gruber’s request that a cemetery in Ludwigsburg-Ossweil be dug up had been rejected out of hand, as had his request for a 24-hour watch on a suspected dead-drop at this cemetery.
However, there clearly had been a deliberate attempt to run a van at the Englishman. This had been confirmed by witnesses who, unlike Gruber, were not idiots. Did this have anything to do with increased SSD activity in Ludwigsburg? This activity was led by Lieselotte Quednau, who they believed still carried the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel. East German intelligence used military ranks, the BND didn’t, they were state officials not military, and despite themselves they could be impressed by these ranks.
Lieselotte Quednau, Bemmann informed the meeting, was being watched. But the BND wanted the rocket scientist Siegfried Henkins as much as the Ossis did and they had no objections to Frau Quednau finding him for them. So she was being left alone at the moment.
Amazingly, there was yet another Ossi agent in the small town of Ludwigsburg, Kai-Uwe Prengel. He had been spotted at the border as he crossed to the west, because of his distinctive east German haircut. When he was followed in the west for his first hour, to see if he exhibited any signs of Ossi behaviour, he had done exactly what they were looking for: he gawped at all the shop windows, especially the clothes shops. The humorous, urbane, cultivated Günther Bemmann did a brief imitation of a hick East German in front of a western shop window, to laughter round the table.
It was decided that Bemmann would go to Ludwigsburg himself to investigate. In the event, Bemmann’s departure was delayed as the next day he was off sick with swollen tonsils, and then decided, understandably, to get his pancreas checked out.
At that point, an urgent message from Gruber came through saying that Mark Hill could be about to leave West Germany. The message was relayed to Neumann, still in bed with a cold and the possible circulatory complication, who in turn patched it through to Bemmann, who took it in the middle of his pancreas check.
There was then a supporting message from Ludwigsburg police, who had been told to relay any information about Mark Hill direct to the BND. Ludwigsburg police had visited the Biedermeier household, calmed a hysterical Herr Biedermeier and taken the transmitter (Herr Biedermeier had insisted on a receipt). They confirmed to the BND that Hill’s room had been cleared.
Why had Hill abandoned the transmitter? Bemmann had no idea. Was it anything to do with the attempt to kill him by running him over? They didn’t know. Yet. And the big question: why was Hill leaving? Again they didn’t know, but it could be significant. It certainly warranted the breaking off of the pancreas check and a dash to Ludwigsburg by fast car.
Hill could not be allowed to leave West Germany before the BND found out what he was doing and why the SSD was trying to kill him. No way, absolutely not. Bemmann ordered a watch on Ludwigsburg station. He would take up position there as soon as he arrived. The next international train was due to leave at 5.30.
Bemmann radio’d ahead from his car, speeding towards Ludwigsburg. Hill was not, under any circumstances, to be allowed to slip the net and leave Ludwigsburg. He must be taken back to Pullach for questioning.
38
Himmelfahrt heaved Naomi’s cases around, enjoying this masculine role. She was taking only two cases, a white round one and a decrepit square black one. He noticed a photo album on the occasional table.
‘Don’t you want to take those photos?’
‘No, they’re wedding photographs. I left them there for Hartmut. You won’t look at them, will you?’
‘No! Oh no darling, of course not.’ He kissed her. ‘But shouldn’t you leave Hartmut a note, or something. Tell him what’s happened for when he comes back at the weekend?’
‘No, that’s OK. I’ve already told him.’
‘Whaaaat?’
Although, come to think of it, Himmelfahrt did not know why he was surprised. Naomi, who was
a natural letter-writer, had written to a few of her closest girlfriends in England about how she had cured him, with her womanhood. Himmelfahrt was resentful, briefly, that his problems were being aired all round Birmingham, but only briefly. He was proud of her for what she had done for him.
And she had told John his true identity. She told everybody everything, because she was the most honest, straightforward person he had ever met. For a kick-off, when she said she had come, she had bloody come! OK! Fine! And now she had told Hartmut they were going.
‘How did you tell him? Phone?’
‘No, I wrote to him.’
‘When?’
‘The day before yesterday.’
‘Oh my Gawd!’
Himmelfahrt thought rapidly. It was probably too late lor Hartmut to set his brothers onto them, so they were OK there. He might come himself, though. No sign of him yet, but it was as well they were going on the 5.30 train.
‘I had to tell him,’ said Naomi. ‘I had to give him a chance. He had a right to know.’
‘Yes, of course, luvvy. No problem.’
Himmelfahrt bent to pick up the heaviest of the cases. His trousers split along the seam at the back from waistband to crotch, revealing blue Marks and Spencer briefs. Naomi was screaming with laughter.
‘OK,’ said Himmelfahrt. ‘Looks like we’ll have to do this elopement backwards so nobody sees my arse.’