by Eddy Shah
'I thought you said the police weren't after you.' Bernard was suddenly concerned. They realised he understood English.
'Nothing we did,' Adam reassured him. He turned back to Billie. 'Go through the embassies. That's the only way. Contact our intelligence people.' He pointed to the portable that was still slung round Bernard's neck. 'Let me use the phone.'
'Doesn't work.' Bernard shrugged. 'I stole it.'
'You're a bigger crook than....'
'If I'm going to be a businessman, then I need to look like one. At least I didn't murder anyone.'
'Neither did we. Look, we need to find where the British or American embassies ar....'
A police siren cut across Adam as the green BMW it was attached to swung behind them, its blue light and flashing headlights insisting they pull over.
'Christ!' swore Adam.
'Maybe I should tell you. The car's also hot,' shrugged Bernard as he pulled into the kerb. 'Fucking bailiffs.'
The police car stopped in front of them. Adam turned and gave Billie a warning glance as two policeman climbed out and came towards them. Adam noticed one of them had unfastened his holster button; they weren't expecting trouble but they were prepared for it.
One of the policemen signalled Bernard out of the car.
'Stay put,' Adam told Billie as Bernard opened his door and clambered out.
'Licence!' demanded the policeman.
Bernard took out his driver's licence and handed it over.
'Where've you come from?' asked the second officer as his colleague examined the document.
'Leipzig,' lied Bernard.
'This isn't the Leipzig road.'
'Via Dresden. To see some friends.'
'Let's see your insurance and registration documents,' said the first policeman as he handed back the licence.
'I left them at home.'
'The law requires you carry them with you.'
'My mistake.'
'The rules are for your own good. You Ossies should understand that.'
'I'm sorry.'
'It is your car, isn't it?' As the first officer spoke, his colleague walked round to the passenger door and looked into the car. Adam and Billie smiled back.
'Of course.'
'What do you lot do?' asked the second officer across the top of the Trabant.
'I'm a salesman.'
'And your friends?'
Bernard paused. Maybe they didn't know the car was stolen. Maybe it had just been a routine check. Maybe the condition of his passengers had alerted the policeman. 'Friends. I picked them up in Dresden.'
The pause had been too long. The second policeman, now suspicious, leant down and opened the passenger door. 'Would you mind getting out. I'd like to run a check on the car.' Adam knew that was only a ploy. The check was on them.
'You stay here,' said the first policeman to Bernard. 'I'm going to radio in and run a computer check on the car,' he shouted across at his colleague as Adam and Billie stood on the pavement.
'Where're you from?' the first officer asked Adam.
'Dresden.' Adam saw the suspicion build in the policeman's eyes as he looked him over. Christ Marcus, I must look terrible. Unshaven, in army fatigues, ill fitting boots. He probably thinks I'm a deserter.
'You in the Army?' The policeman suddenly wondered if Adam really was a deserter.
'No.'
'You always dress like that?'
'It's cheap.'
'You're not German?'
'No. British. We're wandering around Europe.'
'Let's see your passport.'
'Not here. In Dresden. '
'Have you got yours?' he turned to Billie.
'No. It's with his.'
The policeman suddenly remembered his morning briefing. He cursed himself for not remembering, cursed his tiredness because he was about to go off duty. These were the two. The ones they'd been told to watch out for. He looked towards his partner and saw he was leaning inside the BMW, talking on the radio. He decided to wait for him. The Englishman could be dangerous. He smirked, felt smug, saw the door of promotion opening. 'All right,' he said. 'You don't need passports if you're community members. But you should always carry some identity. For your own good.'
'Fine,' smiled Adam. He knew he'd been recognised. 'Won't happen again.' Out of the corner of his eye he saw the first officer scramble out of the BMW, noted the sudden urgency in his movement.
'Hey,' he heard him shout across to Bernard. 'Did you say that car's yours?'
'Yes,' replied an anxious Bernard.
'Our computer says the car was stolen in Cotbus this morning.'
'Can't be.'
'Shit,' warned the officer next to Adam as he realised that things were starting to go wrong. He reached for his revolver, but was too late. Adam had swung behind him, pinned his arms to his side and lifted out the revolver into his own hand. He stood behind the policeman and pointed the barrel straight at his temple.
'If you value your partner's life, don't draw your weapon,' he warned the other officer.
There was no hesitation. The policeman stopped where he was, his hands now held high. Behind him, on the pavement, a woman screamed and what few passers-by there were panicked away from the scene. One woman, her plastic shopping bag in her hand, stayed frozen to the spot under a lamp post near the BMW. She was too frightened to run away.
'Nothing to do with me,' shouted Bernard, turning and running down the street. 'Crazy people. I only gave them a lift.'
'Step away from the car,' ordered Adam, pushing his hostage forward in front of him, edging towards the BMW. 'Are the keys in?'
The policeman, with his hands still held high, moved away from the car. 'Yes,' he replied.
'Billie, get into the driver's seat. Start her up.'
Billie stepped out from behind him and walked quickly to the car. As she got to the open door, the second policeman suddenly flung himself at her, pulling her down into the road, drawing his pistol as he did. Adam fired at him, but unused to the German police issue 9mm Glock 17 and not wanting to hit Billie, missed. His hostage started to struggle and Adam rammed the gun hard under his chin. The officer stopped battling as his partner dragged Billie towards the protection of the front of the car, his drawn gun now held at her body.
Bloody stand-off, Marcus.
'Let my partner go,' the policeman shouted. 'You can't win.'
Adam knew they wouldn't shoot Billie. It wasn't how they were trained. He pushed his hostage forward towards the open door, shielding himself with the policeman from the other. Then he leant in and, with his free hand turned the ignition key. 'Let her go,' he shouted to the second officer. 'I know you won't shoot her. But I'll kill this bastard. That's for sure.'
'Tell them,' argued Billie. 'Get them to call the embassy.'
'It won't work.'
'Please, Adam. It's the only way.'
'Can't take the chance. Let her go.' He pushed the gun harder into his hostage's chin. 'I've nothing to lose.' To reinforce his point, he swung the gun away and fired a shot towards the woman under the lamp-post. He aimed to miss, but the policeman didn't know that. The shot ricocheted off the metal post, harmlessly away from the sobbing woman who had shut her eyes and was praying to her God. 'I told you I've got nothing to lose.'
The policeman hesitated, then threw his gun away and stood up. Adam pushed his hostage away from the car. 'Hurry, Billie. Come on. Get in.'
But the policeman hadn't given in. As Adam closed his door, he leapt across the bonnet and dragged Billie down to the pavement, away from the car. A police siren blasted from nearby and Adam knew she was beyond help. His only hope lay in doing what he had always done. Resolve the problem himself. He knew she wouldn't be harmed, that once the CIA had her under their wing she would return to America. He had to go on. Then, when this was all concluded, he would seek her out.
He crunched the gear into first and pulled away. As he careered down the road he saw the policeman who had been hostage pic
k up the revolver that his partner had thrown down and open fire. But he was too far away, his increasing speed carrying him to safety.
The last vision he had was of Billie screaming, her face turned towards him, the policeman still dragging her away.
I love you, Billie.
Look after her, Marcus.
Whatever happens, look after us both.
Ch. 75
Embassy of the USA
Neustädtische Kirche Strasse 4-5
1080 Berlin.
'They've picked up the girl.'
'Who?'
'Berlin police.'
Hilsman looked pleased with himself, as if he had personally apprehended her. The message had been telephoned through by Gebhart at Police Headquarters and the Secret Service man had taken great pleasure in letting the DDI know that he was the senior contact for the police.
'We want her here,' said the DDI.
'Not so easy.'
'Why not? She's our operative.'
'There's been too much fucking publicity. That's why. There was some shooting. That crazy Englishman. Blasting off at a crowd. The media are screaming for information.'
'We've got to talk to her.'
' When the dust's settled.'
'That could be too late.'
'Give it a couple of hours. Then we'll go down to the cop shop.'
'I don't want any German flatfoot listening in. This material's classified.'
'That's the only way they'll play ball.'
'Then pull some fucking strings.'
'We're doing what we can,' Hilsman replied huffily.
'It's not enough.'
'Look, you guys have screwed up. This whole mess is yours. The Germans are going to stick to their guns.'
'I don't want any cops there when I see her.'
'Why? What's going on here that I don't know about?'
'That's Agency business. If you want answers, you get clearance.'
'What's so special about this girl? What the hell does she know?'
The DDI said nothing. That was something that concerned him too. What the hell was going on? What the hell did the girl know?
He found out four hours later.
More than he thought, less than he feared.
The police had run a pretty thorough interrogation before they rang the embassy and told him, courtesy of Hilsman, to come over to the police station. They arrived one hour after midnight and were let in through the back door, as instructed. They waited in an ante-room for another twenty minutes before Gerbhart came in.
'I'm sorry to keep you so long,' he apologised insincerely, pulling up a chair to join them. 'But the press...like dogs with a bone. They've gone now. Deadlines are past.'
'What's she said?' asked the DDI.
'Very little. Except that she wasn't involved in the murder at Nordhausen. And neither, according to her, was the Englishman.'
'Nothing else?'
'That she works for you and will only report to you.'
'Five hours to find that out. Christ, you could've called us earlier.'
Gerbhart had been under pressure from his superiors to hand the whole thing over to the Americans. He stood out against them; it went against the grain not to know what was going on. Bloody hell, it was his patch. 'It was difficult, what with the press and everything.' He'd have persevered if his boss hadn't finally succumbed to pressure and ordered him to call the Americans. 'They found the Goodenache body and panicked. They knew him from America and he'd promised to show them the old rocket sites in the mountains. From the War. That's why they were there. They took off for Dresden. While they were there, they saw their pictures in the paper. They left the hotel they were staying in - we checked that out - she's telling the truth - and decided to come to Berlin. She says they got mugged on the way. By some crazy Ossies.'
'Ossies?' asked Hilsman.
'East Germans. They were robbed and locked up in a house. She doesn't know where. They escaped and got a lift up here. They were heading for the American and British embassies. What they didn't know, if she's telling the truth, is that it was a stolen car. That's why they were stopped by a police car.'
'That it?' came in the DDI.
'We have a full transcript for you to read.'
'Later. I want to see her now.'
'Certainly. I'll come in with...'
'Alone. As you were instructed. '
Gerbhart shrugged and stood up. The DDI followed his example, Hilsman stayed where he was. His instructions were also specific. This was CIA territory.
'You're in big trouble,' the DDI said to Billie, after he showed her his credentials in the interrogation room. 'You look a mess.'
'I want something to eat,' she insisted.
'Later.'
'Now, damn it. I haven't eaten for nearly two days. You want me to starve to death in front of you?'
'Why didn't you ask the cops?'
'I did. Strong silent types. Easier for them to intimidate a woman.'
'Okay, okay.' He went to the door and called for Gerbhart. When they'd arranged for some sandwiches, he closed the door again and searched the room for a listening device. Satisfied that it was clean, he pulled up a chair and sat across the table from Billie. 'Now tell me what happened. All the way from New Orleans.'
The only interruption was fifteen minutes later when a policeman knocked on the door and brought in some stale, curled-up-at-the-edge cheese sandwiches and a flask of coffee. Billie was too hungry to notice and devoured the plateful that was in front of her. The DDI poured two cups from the flask and waited for her to finish. She continued her report over the coffee. The DDI never spoke, just registered what she said and made the occasional note so he could take her back over it at the end. It was nearly an hour before he spoke.
'You trust the Englishman?' was his first question.
'Yes,' she answered. Billie hadn't told him of their personal relationship, nor did she intend to. She didn't know the DDI already had a police report that her bed hadn't been slept in in Nordhausen. 'Why?'
'Don't you find it strange? I mean, just taking off like that. In New Orleans, after this guy, Fruit Juice. Then all the way over here.'
'No. Not when you know the man.'
'How do you know you weren’t set up? Just a cover for him.'
'I wasn't.'
'Why're you so sure?'
'Because I am.'
'Anything personal between you two?'
'No.'
He decided to leave it. 'And you think they're going to try something tomorrow. At the Reichstag.'
'It all points to that.'
'Maybe. Do you think he's gone there?'
'Knowing him - yes.'
'Okay. Let's go through it again. But this time we stop for questions.'
It took another hour before they were finished. Then the DDI left her, found Gerbhart and arranged for a hotel room, with police guards, for Billie. 'She says she wants some clothes,' he added.
'What sort of clothes?' asked the police chief.
'I don't know. Jeans, anything. Just clean clothes.'
He returned to Billie. 'You're staying at a hotel tonight.
'I want to go to the Reichstag tomorrow,' she said.
'We'll see. The police haven't finished with you yet.
'Do I tell them any more?'
'Nothing. You say it like you already did. And I don't want anyone else to know what you told me. I mean anyone. This is just between us. Understand?'
'Yes.'
'Good.' He knew she'd follow his instructions.
Hilsman was still waiting for him when he returned to the ante-room. 'What she say?' he asked.
'Just what she told the police,' the DDI said. He then went on to tell Hilsman the truth about New Orleans and their flight to Europe. He never mentioned the Reichstag.
'What about the Englishman?'
'What about him? He'll probably show at the British embassy.'
'He's armed.'
'Who said?'
'Gerbhart. They found the police car. Two revolvers in the trunk were missing. One of the cops is a marksman at a shooting club. He was going there after he came off duty.'
'I didn't know that.'
'His off duty clothes were also missing.'
'Where'd they find....?'
'Western end of the Tiergarten. The cops actually waved him through a security barrier. Parked about a mile from the Reichstag. With those clothes, it's going to be easy for him to become just another face in the crowd. If he shows up tomorrow.'
'Then we arrest him. Unless he pulls his weapons. Hell, we can't take that chance. I guess we'll just have to take him out.'
Ch. 76
Square of the Republic.
Tiergarten
Berlin.
The crowd had been building since the early morning and, with only two hours to go, nearly a quarter of a million people filled the square. The crowd barriers had been positioned overnight and all around the square, police vehicles, including riot control vans, lined the side roads. There had been a sudden snowfall overnight and the early morning street cleaners had wheeled out their snow ploughs and swept the four centimetre deep covering into deeper piles around the preimeter.
The square, a vast open area, ran up towards the elevated Reichstag. At its centre was a gargantuan arch supported by six stone pillars that reached the full height of the building. The carved legend 'Dem Deutschen Volke' was a symbol for one people. The building had four great towers in each corner, representing the original states that had become one nation: Wurtenburg, Bayern, Sachsen and Prussia.
But the symbolism of the building, this badge of unity for the commentators and the television cameras, was not appreciated by many of the crowd who had gathered there. As with any large gathering, there were many different factions, many opposing viewpoints.
It was something Adam was aware of as he mixed with the crowd, moving steadily forward under cover of the jostling mass towards the front of the square. Most of the people were there for a day out, to touch history in their beloved Berlin. Mixing among them were the rabble rousers and activists peddling their own brand of politics and reform. Some were quite harmless; the Greens and others who wanted to save the earth with their peaceful meandering agendas. But others, under the banners of reaction and revolution, were there to make their own brutal point in the name of whatever cause they believed was their right. He smelt the trouble brewing and knew the water canons and riot batons would be in use before the day was finished.