by Alex Cugia
“Later.” she said, turning the light off. “Later, Thomas. Now we must sleep. We've so much to do tomorrow. Good night.” But in the darkness she lay there as before, still.
He moved and kissed her lightly on the chin before brushing his lips over hers then lay back, his arm lying as before, feeling the warmth of her lower thigh on his hand. She clasped her free hand with his and drew it upwards leaving him to curl and uncurl his fingers in slow glissandi, his courting finger now dipping and stroking and easing open the moistened, tumescent surfaces, sliding it gently upwards and and curvingly towards him, upwards and back, as her breathing quickened and, moving her hand cupped and grasped and stroked him in turn until with an urgency new to each of them they joined fully together.
Chapter 33
Wednesday January 17 1990
“GOOD morning! I hope you both slept well.”
"Thank you, yes." said Thomas. "I had a wonderful night. Both of us, I think."
Thomas glanced at Bettina and they smiled complicitly at each other as Frau Dornbusch welcomed them with a jug of steaming coffee and set a large plate of toasted bread on the table.
“There was a call early this morning for you, Fräulein.” she added. “He called himself Georg and said he needed to talk with you urgently. He said to come to his office, if possible.”
Thomas looked enquiringly at Bettina but she ignored him, giving her attention to the butter and conserve she was spreading on the toast in front of her. They chatted with Frau Dornbusch about trivial matters for a few minutes before quickly finishing breakfast and returning to their room.
"Stop it!" she said, trying to sound severe but spoiling the effect with her smile as Thomas slid his arms round her waist and pulled her towards him. "I have to ... mmmhhh .... get ready .... mmmmmhhhhh ... to see ... " She finally pulled away from his embrace. " ... Georg." It sounded like a command as she skipped out his reach.
"I'll see him on my own and you can stay here and check through those documents you stole from Roehrberg, find out if they're interesting. We'll catch up later on back here."
In half an hour she was at Georg’s office finding him again oblivious to interruption, working on a pile of documents. Again she watched him for a few moments before she knocked softly, then more loudly, on the door. He glanced up, shook his head very slightly, waved her away and gestured that they should meet outside in a few minutes. When he appeared round the corner of the building he looked grave and serious and with an air quite different to the one he’d had at the previous meeting.
“What’s up, Georg? You look like something terrible has happened.”
“Let’s take a walk a bit further away, shall we? It’s about the mill. Yesterday I asked some of my older colleagues if they knew of any registrations of sales of state-held industrial assets in recent months. A couple of them seem to know everything that goes on here. Let's find somewhere quiet, somewhere no one can hear us, and I'll tell you what I've learned.”
He took her arm and they walked in silence for some minutes, crossing the Elbe and making for a small park on the other side of the river. A narrow footpath wandered over the grass and Georg selected an isolated bench set some distance back from the track and away from bushes and trees.
“I managed to find the approximate date yesterday through a friend who used to work at the mill. Apparently the restructuring was announced and approved a month and a half ago. I assume if the mill was sold it must have been at the same time. So yesterday afternoon I started checking the archives within the last couple of months for the sale details. I even went back to three months before, but there was nothing there.”
“That’s very strange.”
“Listen, Bettina. While I was there, Wolfgang, one of the older colleagues I mentioned - we call him the walking archive as he seems to know so much - came in to look for something. So I asked him if he knew of any documents relative to the privatisation of a flour mill. He immediately looked startled, then fearful and turned around to check if there was anyone else in the room. He closed the door, came over to me, put his finger to his lips and whispered, in a tone I’d never heard him use: ‘Why are you poking around in this, Georg? Don’t get yourself in a mess. Forget about it. Just forget all about it if you care for your life and your family.’ He looked seriously worried. I think you’ve hit on something very suspicious and very ugly.”
Bettina sat looking at him, intrigued by this new twist. “But then ... why didn’t you find the document? Did you check everywhere?”
“I went through everything, file by file. There was absolutely no sign of it.”
"What about Wolfgang? Can you trust him? Maybe he was warning you off because it's something he's involved in."
"Trust?!" he said sharply, and laughed. "I should have thought you would know you can fully trust almost no one in this place. No one. Nearly everyone's a spy of some sort. Even family members." He glared at Bettina and then after a moment took her hand and patted it. He shook his head slightly and sighed.
"I'm sorry. That was unkind. I do believe what you told me earlier. It's just. This place. It gets to you and you can't think straight. The police and the Stasi watch everybody. Everybody's told it's their duty watch others, to report anything suspicious. It's to reduce crime and anti-social behaviour, they say. They tap telephones, listen to people, photograph people, keep records, note who meets whom and where and for how long." He laughed shortly, without humour. "They say it's for state security, for everyone's security, that if you've nothing to hide you've nothing to fear. And they wonder why people go mad, why they try to escape, why they kill themselves. That's the corrosive effect on society, on any society, of spying on everyone."
They sat in silence, George still holding Bettina's hand then got up and they walked slowly across the grass towards the river.
"Wolfgang is sound. At least, as far as I can tell, and I have no choice but to trust him."
Abruptly Georg stopped walking and stood motionless staring at the distant ruins of the Frauenkirche across the river and just visible through the trees along the banks. Bettina held her breath, waiting.
“Unless, ... unless they forged the dates and the protocols.” he said slowly. “That would explain why the matter is so sensitive and dangerous. If Wolfgang knew that had happened that would explain his alarm. It’s a serious infraction of Court procedure. Falsification of public documents is a serious crime in law. Sure, the Party just changes the law when it wants to keep tabs on people's communications but this is different. That’s it! That’s what must have happened.”
“But how is that possible? Aren’t the documents registered one by one, with all sorts of signatures from different people?”
Georg was again silent, thinking over the issues. He spoke slowly and carefully.
“The various parties involved sign the documents at earlier stages and these are certified by the public notary. Then there are only two signatures required for the registration of all public documents. One is that of a state notary, the other that of the president of the Court. So unless they counterfeited these signature it means the notary or the president, or quite possibly both, are involved. But the documents also need to be assigned a protocol number and registered in the relevant archives. That’s the job Wolfgang does. Someone must have told him to add a document to the existing protocol lists. That could only be someone very senior within the Court – well, unless Wolfgang’s part of it and did it on his own initiative, and I’d find that very hard to believe.”
“But why wouldn’t they have just registered it now? Why would they backdate something like this?”
“I guess they’d want to protect themselves in case anyone decided to investigate the sale. Properly done, it would be extremely difficult for anyone to prove that the sale didn’t take place a long time ago and that the procedure followed wasn’t regular according to the law at the time.”
"Could someone other than Wolfgang assign a number and register the document
so that he wouldn't know?" asked Bettina.
"Yes, possibly. Particularly if the insertion in the archives was supposedly some years ago." He thought for some moments the shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. Well, yes, they could, but Wolfgang's meticulous and sooner or later he'd find the cuckoo and wonder why it was there. That's what's happened, I'm sure of it. He's followed it through and been told in no uncertain terms that he'd better forget what he saw. So it must be someone really high up. Poor Wolfgang. He's the one in danger. No wonder he was terrified when I mentioned it."
He paused for a moment, lost in his thoughts and mulling over the problem. Suddenly his expression changed.
“But wait, no, there's an even better reason for backdating things. Sure, it hides malfeasance but more importantly it secures ownership. After five years from when an act of sale is registered it’s no longer open to raise objections to that sale. Any rights of creditors or those with title, whatever they happen to be, are automatically annulled. It’s as if they never existed.”
“You mean the sale becomes irreversible.”
“Exactly. Whoever did this is probably understands the law well enough to know this. So when the country is unified they’ll be able to avoid any risk of West German politicians investigating, maybe to support past private owners of the propertly, and getting the sale overturned. No one will be able to do that.”
“Not unless they can prove that the sale was fraudulent and the supporting records falsified.”
“Sure, but how do you do that? If they filed all the documents correctly, there is no way to tell the fact occurred at a different date. You would have to get someone who signed the document to testify to its falsity. Or persuade Wolfgang to speak out - if he's still alive that is.”
“And who would the signatories be?”
“In this case, we have no idea who the buyer is but if you are correct the selling entity must be the state. They would both sign - that's easy here, of course. Then later, as I mentioned, the document gets signed by the President of the Court and by the state notary. We don't know if these have been forged or if those officials are also involved.”
“But it looks as if the Party is involved as well. Given the risks it’s probably someone high up in the chain.” Bettina said. “No wonder Wolfgang told you to stay out of it.”
“If they’ve done everything by the book then even if you found the document - and at this point it could be registered any time prior to now, or before January 1985 if my theory is correct, which means finding it will be almost impossible - then you would have to prove ... ”
“At least we’ll be able to know who’s involved. I think we’re too deep into this to simply pull back.”
There was a long silence and then Georg sighed.
“Information can be very dangerous Bettina, and you should understand that better than most. I need a little time to think this thing through. Right now I’m not sure I want to risk my life to discover which of the crooks stole some asset from the state.”
Bettina stared at him for a moment, her initial shock turning to anger.
“Georg, you’re the one who used to rant at home against the injustices of this regime, the hypocrisies, the low-level dealings. You started a newspaper to expose them, for God’s sake! When I was a kid, I was scared but secretly I really admired your courage." She stopped for breath. "Just the other day, you get on your high horse and tear strips off me for being in the Stasi. But I’m ready to take risks for the sake of justice, in defence of our laws and country. What’s happened to you?”
There was a long, awkward silence. Georg looked at the ground, unable to hold her gaze.
“I’m sorry.” he said finally. “It was a long time ago and there were different reasons. And now, after all these years, I'm tired. I want to help, I know I should help, but that's what a surveillance state does to you, I'm tired. I thought I could fight the state. I don't think I can. I’m very sorry.”
“At least tell me where I’d need to search for the document.”
“It would have to be in the Archive building, in Lothringerallee, assuming they’ve backdated it.”
“Do you go there often? Couldn’t you try to find the document while officially doing something else?”
“I used to go there a lot, but these days hardly ever. So if I went now, after having mentioned this to my colleagues, it would look very suspicious. Who knows who's in on the scheme. You know how the Stasi works - little bits of information here and there fitting together and making a bigger picture. I'd be arrested. And anyway, it’s going to be almost impossible to find. We don’t know the false date, only that it’s 1984 or earlier, and there’s thousands of documents. Each archive room holds only a few months of each given year and I couldn’t just wander around the place. I would need lots of time to do this properly.”
"We don't have time. The state is about to collapse and that's what these crooks are counting on. Georg, we've got to do what we can to stop them."
She moved close to him, put her arms around his shoulders and laid her head on his chest.
"Georg. Please. Please help me." As she looked up at him he looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "Remember the paper Georg. Remember what you thought was so important to fight. This is important. Remember what you fought for. Please Georg."
Gently he opened her arms and stepped back out of them. "I'm so sorry Bettina but that will has gone. I'm tired of being watched. Tired of always being careful about what I do. I've done nothing wrong and I've nothing to hide but knowing the state's watching you just makes you fearful. You always start to wonder. What's it going to be like if I really do dodo something illegal? I can't face that. I'm just too tired. Too tired. I've got to look after myself."
He turned and walked away and as he did she watched his stooped shoulders and dragging walk, and feltfeeling a wave of immense pity for him and anger at what how her country had so damaged the man she’d knowndone to this honourable man and admired for his ferocious integrity.
Chapter 34
Wednesday January 17 1990, afternoon
SITTING alone in his office, his colleague Ussolzev then away briefly in Leipzig, KGB agent Putin reflected on the recording he had first listened to the day before. The kneipe known simply as Egon's, just a few streets away from the KGB office in Angelikastrasse, was favoured by senior officers of both the SED-PDS, as the East German Party had now become, and of the Stasi as a discreet location in which to discuss sensitive matters.
With the Stasi now officially disbanded on the previous Saturday and with the DDR in a state of near-anarchy places like Egon's had grown in importance. Trust between colleagues had become fragile and taking care not to be overhead had become even more of a priority than usual. Böhm was still nominally in charge of whatever was left of the Dresden Stasi though in practice Herbert Kohler had taken over. Dresden's Party secretary, Hans Modrow, had become Prime Minister in December and although nominally retaining his position had conceded authority to Roehrberg.
Although the Stasi and the KGB had worked closely together Böhm had become increasingly irritated with Putin's activities. Seeking to build a network of spies for his own use in targeting students and foreigners in East Germany Putin had successfully turned several who had already been active as Stasi informers. A complaint to Mielke had led to a reprimand to Putin but although Putin promised to scale back his activities, at least where existing Stasi agents were concerned, he had in fact ramped them up as the political turmoil increased and the dissolution of the East German state became imminent. "My loyalty is to Russia and Russia's interest," he'd said "not to the DDR."
No one realised, however, that Egon - sound, reliable Egon who had been loyal to the Stasi for many years - was now also one of Putin's and that there was built into the fabric of the kneipe a sophisticated and highly sensitive directional and noise cancelling recording system that meant that everything said there was always fully open to Putin. Every morning one of three assistants woul
d collect the previous days recordings. Then between them they would copy the tape for security, listen to everything and mark for Putin's attention items of interest, typically delivering a tape and notes to him the following morning, but occasionally rushing urgent matters over. A planned assassination didn't really fit into the urgent category unless Russia's interests seemed to be affected.
Putin glanced at the notes on Sunday's recording, saw the reference to Roehrberg, moved to the marked point on the tape, and pressed play.
"Where is the money now?" he heard Roehrberg asking and then Henkel explaining that he'd moved it initially to his office in small batches and then discreetly to a deposit private section in a local storage facility as they had earlier discussed and agreed. He'd passed the key over to Roehrberg as he spoke.
"The problem now" he added "is this investigation. We'd counted on longer, a couple of weeks or so, to muddy the trail, lose the cash through these foreign trips, but when Dieter called Böhm and had him check with me on some pretext or other I had to call him back and say the money had mysteriously vanished."
"Did Böhm believe you at the time? And what about Dieter?" asked Spitze.
"I don't know for sure. I think Böhm swallowed it or in any case decided he'd no choice but to go along with it. Maybe we ned to pay him off. Dieter's something different. You know what he's like, keeps digging at things till he gets the answer, won't be bribed or threatened so he's difficult."
"I spoke with Dieter yesterday" said Roehrberg "and he told me he's sending down an assistant of his to look around and check things out, Bettina, Bettina something, List, I think. We're meeting tomorrow though how Dieter thinks someone junior like that can find out answers I don't know."
"Sounds like we shouldn't have much to worry about, then." said Henkel. "You can work your famous charm on her, Rudi, you'll have her lapping it up, tell her anything she wants to hear and she'll swallow it!"