by Eddy Shah
'Piss off. I hope that's not your prick you're sticking in my back,' he said, his annoyance obvious. He spun round.
'Not in this weather, Major,' said the curly haired man. He held a large metal spanner against Kragan's body. 'Fall off in the cold.'
'How the hell...?'
'Did I see you? Eyes in the back of my head, sir.'
Kragan nodded in admiration. 'I thought your desire to fuck those two tarts would have kept your attention off me.' He knew Kaas' reputation and sexual capacity well. He knew everything about all his men. 'Anyone else been around?'
'No, sir. Nobody suspicious.'
Kragan believed him. 'We need to talk. Can you get away?'
'Yes, sir.'
'There's a cafeteria restaurant on the Rue de Rivoli. The Atlantic. Be there in five minutes.'
Walther Kaas had been his best man in the Stasi, had fulfilled everything Kragan had ever asked of him. He had found him as a young officer in the Prenzlauer Berg division no more than seventeen, but he already had a considerable appetite for the harsh and cruel police work that the Stasi required. Prenzlauer Berg was one of the most deprived and crime ridden areas of East Berlin and an ideal proving ground for the young officer. It was a haven for the criminals who lived off the poor. Kaas' reputation grew as he relentlessly tracked them down. His brand of police work soon became feared, especially his ruthless ability to torture confessions out of even the most innocent.
Kragan had taken Kaas under his wing and transferred him to the Stasi pre-trial detention establishment at Berlin-Hohenschonhausen. There, under the protective umbrella of the Hoeneker regime, Kaas had excelled at the intimidation and torture that was the mainstay of the Stasi method. Pain was something he enjoyed dishing out. He seemed to have no sense of fear, but that had been easy in the days when the Party ruled supreme and there was no opposition. By the end of the Eighties he was the youngest captain in the crack Guards Regiment Feliks Dzierzynski. Then the Wall came down and everything changed. With no prospects and a troubled future, Kaas turned to Kragan once again. The older man, himself an outsider in the new world, had already joined the National Socialists at the request of Peter Frick. He admired Kaas' lack of fear, saw it as a formidable weapon in such a cool thinking operative. Working for the National Socialists had suited Kaas. It was his home, his passport to the world of pain and violence he enjoyed so much. The discipline of a police state was what he had grown up with, what suited his talents best.
Kragan had the coffees waiting for Kaas when he arrived. Both men were dressed in styles that were suitable for the Atlantic. A spacious, cheap self service place, it was packed with young people on their way home from the fairground.
'Lined them up for later on?' he asked.
'No, sir. I didn't know what you wanted to do.'
'No pleasure this trip, Walther. Unfortunately.'
Kaas shrugged. He knew Kragan's hunger for young girls, usually those under the age of fourteen. It didn't mean anything to Kaas, everyone had their own secrets. And Kaas had soon learnt that part of his duties in the criminal division of the Stasi had been to supply the hierarchy with whatever was needed by way of eroticism and perversion. There was always something for someone in the criminal world. 'I read there was a riot in Berlin. At the Olympistadion,' he said.
'Not good. These riots.'
'It said it was a big riot.'
'Bigger than expected.'
'I'm glad to see they can work on their own.' Kaas meant the other storm troopers.
'It wasn't difficult. Everyone was pleased with your leadership in Hamburg and Neu-Isenburg.'
'Is the main project ready?'
'The plans are in place. We need you back in Dresden. It's time to train your people.'
'How many?'
'Four. Including you.'
'Tight.' He shrugged. 'But enough. I choose the other three?'
'Of course.' Kragan already knew who were Kaas' favourites, whom he would choose. It was important that an operation of this magnitude had continuity. Kaas' team would give it that. 'This whole thing will be strictly on a need to know basis. That includes your team.'
'When can I tell them?'
'At the last moment. The training will ensure their readiness.'
'How long?'
'A week. Ample time.'
'Do we go back together?'
'No. Fly to Berlin. There's a plane from Charles de Gaulle Airport at nine tomorrow morning. A driver will meet you at Tegel Airport and take you to Dresden. Finish your work tonight. Avoid suspicious movements. I shall probably be back before you.' Kragan took a newspaper out of his overcoat and openly passed it across to Kaas, as friends would when discussing points of interest. 'There's a good article on Berlin in there. Read it. I want you to understand exactly what is expected by the time I see you tomorrow.'
The two men left soon after. Kaas returned to his final night at the fairground and Kragan to the InterContinental.
The desk clerk had gone off duty, but had he seen Kragan, he would only have seen another businessman in an expensive coat returning to his hotel after a night out.
Ch. 59
London
England.
As the British Airways Boeing 757 twin engined jet touched down on Runway 27 Left at Heathrow at 8.33 a.m., Adam concluded that there would probably be someone watching for him at the shuttle terminal. He decided then to brazen it out. The last thing they would expect was the obvious, it was a certain way to catch them flat footed.
The immigration officer at Manchester hadn't made anything of it, but Adam knew he recognised the names from his priority list. As soon as he saw Adam's passport he had flicked his eyes down at the register under the counter.
He reached over and took Billie's American passport, flicked through it.
'You two travelling together?' he asked in a thick northern accent, too nonchalantly for Adam not to notice.
Jenny had already gone through the crew customs, signed her general declaration and disappeared into a back room to sort out all the customs formalities on the imported aircraft. Their farewells had been short. They all had other things on their mind.
'Yes,' said Adam.
The immigration man nodded and passed Adam's passport back. 'Where will you be staying in England, miss?'
'Where will we be staying, darling?' Billie turned to Adam.
'We're going to hire a car and do some touring,' he declared. 'My friend's never been here before. We'll drive until we find somewhere to stop for the night.'
'Why did you come across on a ferry flight?' asked the immigration man.
'Cheaper than a scheduled flight.'
The immigration man was loath to let them go, but the instructions on the register were clear. 'Do not detain. Do not cause suspicion. Identify their probable destination. Proceed with caution. Report immediately. Contact customs to clear without search.' He was tired and there was little else he could do without alarming them. He handed Billie back her passport.
'Can't you stamp it?' she asked. 'I get that done everywhere I go.'
'We don't stamp passports,' said the immigration man huffily as he turned away from the desk and went into the little room behind that served as his office.
Customs had waved them through the green section. Adam was relieved; his brown bag with the weapons had been his only concern. He didn't know that Customs had already been put on notice to clear them through.
Now as they left the shuttle lounge at Heathrow, mixed in with the commuters and shoppers who had come down for the day, Adam saw the tail. Military type in a camel coat hiding behind a newspaper. Adam chuckled and took Billie's arm and led her straight up to him.
'Looking for us?' he asked cheekily.
'Sorry?' queried the Military. He was out of breath, had obviously been dispatched to Heathrow in a hurry in case Adam turned up there. He had run down the long corridors to the lounge and arrived just as the shuttle passengers were disembarking.
'W
e're going home. You can pass that on to Control.'
They left the shuttle lounge with the Military confused and still pretending to ignore them. As soon as they had turned the corner, however, he put his paper down and headed for the row of pay phones that lined the wall.
'How did you know he was waiting for us?' asked Billie as they caught a taxi into the centre of London.
Adam chuckled. 'They're desk jockeys, not field men. We probably have the best field operatives in the world. But they're in Northern Ireland, places like that. These guys are jokers.'
'We're still a long way from Herr Goodenache.'
'We'll be there soon. Trust me.'
'You keep saying that.'
'And you keep following.'
'Hmm,' she grumbled, then sat back and looked out at the rush hour traffic crawling into London on the M4.
'Sorry you came?'
'No. Just that...not a lot seems to happen. I'm tired, worn to a frazzle, dirty. My body's cramped from spending all that time in the back of the plane. I've probably lost my job, probably a hunted fugitive in my own country. Hell, this is rapidly turning into shit. So much for looking for excitement. Nothing's happened since we left New Orleans.'
'And you think this could be a wild goose chase?'
'What do you think?' she snapped at him.
'It could be. But I live in a world of half chances. I probably shouldn't have left New Orleans as I did. But then I've always done what I probably shouldn't. And, in view of what you've told me about the computer and knocking off all those agents, this whole thing is a lot bigger than just guarding Trimmler. At the end of the day we're working for our own people. We've not turned against them, just creating space to work in. If we fuck up, then we go back, hold our hands out and let them smack us. If we're right, then we've served Queen and Country. Sorry, President and Republic.'
'Still a helluva long shot.'
'Maybe. But it could end up as the only game in town.'
She had loved the flat and it had cheered her up unexpectedly. She had assumed it would be functional and simple. Now she saw the love that had gone into it, saw it for the home it was, sensed it as only a woman can.
He had shown her to the guest bedroom. 'Get some sleep,' he told her. 'I've one or two things to do. If you do get up later and find an old lady around the house, then....'
'Lily. You told me.'
'You'll like her. Don't forget, you're probably jet lagged on top of everything else.'
'Prop lagged, you mean.'
He laughed. 'Whatever. It's still only four thirty in the morning in New Orleans. See you later.'
He left her to settle down and went into his study.
He made three calls, the first of which was to Lily.
The second was to a number in Manchester. When a girl's sleepy voice answered, he said 'As arranged. Shouldn't be late.' Then he put down the phone before the number could be traced. He knew the line was probably bugged by now.
The third call was to Coy, his briefing officer in London.
'We really are in the shit, aren't we?' came the sarcastic reply.
'Are we?' replied Adam. It was game time.
'You were ordered to stay and help our friends.'
'Things changed. I decided to take the initiative.'
'You always do. Is the woman with you?'
So the Americans were keeping Coy informed. 'Yes.'
'Why?
'She wanted a holiday. Never seen England before.'
'Did she come of her own volition?'
'Do me a favour. Of course she did. How much do you know about our friends' difficulties?' He heard the sharp intake of breath.
'Wait,' commanded Coy, then Adam heard him speak to someone else in the room, his voice muffled by the hand over the receiver. 'You need to come in here,' he said at last.
'No. I’m too tired. Hell of a journey. '
'No. We need to talk now. All right. I'll ring you back in five minutes.'
Adam grinned and put down the phone. They'd be frantically disconnecting the wire tap. The last thing they wanted was for the Americans to know they were about to learn their secrets.
The phone rang nine minutes later. It was Coy. 'This is a free line,' he said. 'Tell me about their difficulties.'
As briefly as possible, Adam told Coy about the computer virus, about the death of the American agents and about Trimmler's conversation with Goodenache. He even told him about Fruit Juice and the manner of Trimmler's death. He never mentioned Nordhausen or the involvement of the Russians, but knew that if he could commit the British Secret Service, it would keep the CIA off his back and give him the time he needed. These security agencies all loved gossip, especially about their allies.
'In the shape of a swastika?' exclaimed Coy when he had finished. When Adam didn't answer, he continued. 'Gruesome, even for the Yanks. Did the woman tell you this?'
'No,' Adam lied. 'I overheard various conversations between her and other CIA people,' he lied.
'Why did she come with you?'
'She knew I was leaving. I forced her,' Adam lied.
'All the way across the Atlantic?' came the disbelieving reply.
'By then I think she'd decided she might as well continue. After all, she's one of their people. Maybe she just wants to find out what's going on.'
'Possible.' Coy paused and Adam waited for him to continue. 'An intriguing tale,' he said at last.
Adam chuckled to himself. Coy had bitten. 'I need some sleep,' he said, hoping he could get the time he wanted.
'Yes. It would be better if you didn't mention our conversation to the woman. Say we haven't contacted you yet.'
'I understand.' You're damn right, I understand. Now the tongues would start wagging round MI5, MI6 and the other, smaller intelligence agencies. They'd love to see the Yanks dig themselves out of this hole. Keeping the girl out of touch, of her own volition, would add spice to the game. 'By the way, your chap at the shuttle was rather obvious.'
'Did she see him?'
'Yes.'
'Pity. But if you keep your head down, say the flat's being watched, she should accept that. Just play along with her.'
Very bright, thought Adam. She'd really believe that, after your goons have already shown themselves. 'A splendid idea,' he said.
'Good. We'll contact you tonight.'
'Tomorrow might be easier. I'm going to get some sleep, then I need to keep her amused for the rest of the day. A call in the evening might warn her something's up.'
'First thing in the morning, then.'
'And could you keep someone watching the front door. I don't want her sneaking out while I'm in bed.'
'Good idea.' They both knew the place was under surveillance already. 'Talk to you tomorrow with your instructions.'
Adam put the phone down and went to the front door. He switched all the door and window alarms on before going to bed and crashing out. But before he did, he made sure the brown holdall was ready for use under his bed.
Lily let herself in with her alarm key at six and found Adam in the shower. She left a cup of tea for him on his bedside table and went into the kitchen to prepare the evening meal.
'Is our guest still asleep?' he asked as he walked through into the kitchen in his toweling robe, the cup of tea in his hand.
'Out to the world,' replied Lily. 'What time do you want me to wake her?'
'Give her another hour. She's had no sleep for nearly two days.'
'Coffee or tea?'
'She's American.'
'Coffee, then.
'Decaffinated.'
'We haven't any.' She smiled as Adam looked up quizically. 'You always told me, no unleaded in this house. What do you think she'd like to eat tonight?'
'Steak and kidney?' he asked.
'Not much time. But all right. I'll manage.'
'Thanks,' he grinned, then leant over and kissed her on the cheek. 'It's good to be home.'
'Your mail's in the study. Mostly bills,
from what I can see.'
'Some things never change.'
He put on a cool cotton grey shirt and loose cotton slacks. The leather slip-ons were an old pair, comfortable and cool. When he was satisfied with his appearance, his hair now well gelled back in its customary style, he went to the study and examined his mail. There were the usual circulars, a few invitations to nothing very exciting, and a batch of bills. When he had finished, signed a few cheques for Lily to post for the gas and electricity and other essentials, he wandered into the kitchen.
Billie had joined Lily and they had obviously hit it off. Lily was proudly going through her steak and kidney pie recipe and they were both working together and preparing the meal.
'Sleep all right?' he said.
'Didn't I just? Hey, do you eat like this all the time?' replied a fully refreshed Billie.
'Yes.'
'You wouldn't want to move to California, would you?' she asked Lily.
The old lady smiled and shook her head.
'You couldn't afford her,' remarked Adam.
The meal, one hour later, was as good as they expected.
'Penny for them,' said Adam, when they were half way through the meal and she had said nothing for a while.
'Despair,' she said softly.
'Don't tell Lily. She'll think it's the food.'
She smiled and shook her head. 'Lily's beautiful. And so's her food. No, I was just thinking about…being alone. I mean, I've been alone ever since I left Peter. I've lived with guys...Gary was just the latest. But, I could've done without them. I just didn't want to be on my own. When you don't have a purpose, you know, it's easy to keep looking for something...I don't know. ' She paused. 'Something other people can't give you.' She suddenly stopped, her eyes watering.
'Go in. Get it out.'
'For all his faults, for all our shouting and yelling, for all the bad, we reached heights I never knew I could. And I miss him desperately. Old 'screwing around, don't let me get old' Peter. Nothing replaces truth and....real love. Substitutes never work. However hard you try and make them fit. Maybe we only fall in love once. And everything else is just...second best. Guess we can't always face our own failures. Or don't want to.'