The Helsinki Pact

by Alex Cugia

  “My patience is at an end. I’ve had to postpone my travel plans because of everyone's inefficiency, yours and that of other colleagues. I’m surrounded by people who either lose documents or are unable to produce them – it seems as if only by doing things myself will they be done properly.”

  “I expect to finish my work today.” She considered adding his first name to attempt to initiate a friendlier conversation but couldn’t bring herself to do so and decided that in any case the attempt would be lame and counterproductive. “I’ll be seeing Spitze shortly and clearing the last details. I expect to leave for Berlin tomorrow and so my report will be delivered and considered later that day, certainly by Monday at the latest.”

  “Your excuses don't interest me. I’ll be travelling to Berlin myself in a couple of hours and I’ll meet there with my superiors. That should ensure that the replacement funds will immediately be made available and so short-circuit this ridiculous snail’s pace of activity. And while I’m at it I shall stop by and give Dieter a piece of my mind. I wanted to let you know that. That’s all, you can leave now.”

  As she left his office Bettina came close to swinging round and letting Roehrberg know what she thought of his arrogance and discourtesy. After her father had left she'd got casual work in theatres and vaudeville. Honed in heckling exchanges and in fighting off lascivious directors she'd developed a considerable ability to give as good as she got. Her skill in making vulgar and wounding comments on an assailant’s parentage and sexual proclivities was considerable and she was more than a match for anyone in trading insults in Saxon demotic. She knew she could humiliate Roehrberg as soundly as he’d just humiliated her. Seething with fury though she was her training kicked in and she forced herself to leave calmly and make her way to the lavatories.

  “Fuck Roehrberg! Fuck Spitze, too! He can wait till I get dried and sorted.”

  She took her time, part of it simply sitting in one of the stalls mulling over recent events and in particular her meetings with Roehrberg. Where exactly did he and the others fit it and how high did it go? That was something she would need Dieter’s help to unravel. She was sick of Dresden now and longed to get back to Berlin. Thomas was meeting Stephan for dinner this evening - inconvenient perhaps but it was Stephan's only time free. In any case she had to collect the photographs later from Georg and she could spend that time examining them and looking more closely at the material Thomas had stolen from Roehrberg's house. Then later, she thought, and smiled to herself at the prospect, she would collect Thomas, return to the farmhouse and they would go straight to bed. They could leave first thing in the morning. Or at least whenever they could tear themselves away.

  Her meeting with Spitze was perfunctory and formal. He was cold, distant and unhelpful in contrast to his somewhat obsequious manner when they’d last met. She realised that the Dresden office, or at least the senior elements of it, now saw her – and presumably Dieter too – as the enemy. Perhaps they’d become suspicious of what she’d found out, what she knew and wasn’t revealing.

  After a frustrating half hour during which she learned little more and was totally unable to get substantive answers to her questions she gave up. The rain had lessened but she still got wet running to her car. She turned the heater on full and sat there trying to complete her drying out, irritated and still cross with Roehrberg and Spitze.

  As she pulled out into the traffic she watched carefully for followers but could detect nothing unusual. Perhaps they already knew enough about her movements not to bother or perhaps they reckoned they'd frightened her enough and didn't need to try again their common trick of letting someone know they were being followed. Or, more worryingly, they now knew the danger she presented and were actually following her discreetly and professionally to find out all they could. Whatever the situation she would have to be very careful when visiting Georg later to collect the prints. She thought again of Thomas and hoped there had been no problems with his visit.

  She returned to the farmhouse, rested for an hour, and in a calmer frame of mind began to compile her report. This was more difficult than she’d anticipated because she needed to stick to the known facts and whatever she’d learned from her visit to the Dresden Stasi offices in order to avoid alerting any of those she now thought as suspects by revealing any hints of the ideas churning in her mind. That information was for Dieter only, to be delivered in private, and the sooner she could talk openly with him the sooner she’d be able to relax.

  So engrossed was she in her work that she barely heard the bedroom door open or Thomas cross the room to stand beside her.

  "What's this then? Had enough of me already?" As he kissed her lightly on the head she dropped her pen and threw herself into his arms. They stayed still for several minutes, enjoying the feel of the other's body, Thomas gently stroking her hair.

  "Thomas, I've had such a shitty morning. How about you with Georg? But, look, I'll soon have finished the report for Dieter and we can be out of here tomorrow, back to Berlin."

  "I spoke to Stephan again. He's fine for tonight as we'd planned but wants to meet earlier and get away by 9 at the latest. Seems he's got a really early start tomorrow, 4.30 or 5 he said, as he's got an 8.30 meeting in Leipzig, or something. We agreed to meet at the Semper Oper at 6.30 and walk round to the Italienisches Dörfchen. Is that OK? And no problems with Georg. He said he'd have the prints ready at half past six or so."

  "Perfect! I can drop you near the Hofkirche, maybe twenty past. It's only a short walk from there and I can go on to Georg's. It's busy so no one's likely to notice us. And then I'll come and pick you up at the Dörfchen, what, nine maybe, or a bit before?"

  "Come earlier, 8.30, twenty to, and you can have a drink with Stephan. He really likes you, remember, and it would be good to meet up with him again."

  By five the report was finished and checked and they spent some time sorting and packing their things ready for an early start in the morning. They went to the kitchen, settled their bill with Frau Dornbusch and drank some coffee while she prepared supper for her family and then went upstairs and got ready to go out. After the storm earlier in the day the evening was quiet and still and the moon was a little smaller and less bright than it had been the night before. Bettina dropped Thomas by the Hofkirche, barely stopping, almost bundling him out of the car, and around six forty, after following a deliberately circuitous route and confident that she hadn't been followed, she walked the last few hundred metres and rang Georg's door bell.

  Georg was tired and sweaty from working in the small, airless darkroom and was busy drying with a small, antiquated hair dryer a batch of prints pegged up on the line. A pile of contact sheets and selected enlargements were scattered on the table. The heat from the hair dryer made the room unpleasantly stuffy, heightening the smell of the chemicals and the acrid odour of the stop bath, and she immediately felt claustrophobic and uncomfortable. She took a clutch of prints into the hallway and as she waited glanced through them. Thomas had taken very clear pictures and all the minor details were sharp. She examined particularly closely the ones of Henkel’s letter and decided that a calligraphy expert would be able to make a judgement based on the prints rather than needing to see the original.

  This was useful information to pass on to Dieterrich and she remembered that she needed to update him anyway. For a brief moment she considered using Georg’s phone then realised that with his background it was certain that his private phone would be tapped. Later, once Georg had finished his work on the prints, she would call from the public phone a few streets away which Georg used when he needed to keep his conversations private.

  Of course the probability that the Stasi had tapped this public phone as well was very high, she thought, but it couldn't be helped and at least anything she said there wouldn't directly incriminate Georg. She would nevertheless have to be very careful in what she said to Dieter.

  She turned and knocked on the door to see how Georg was getting on.

  "T
urn off the hall light and come in. Nearly finished. Sorry I've been longer than I'd thought."

  In the dull red light she could see Georg fixing the last of the enlargements he'd made. He fished the two sheets out of the tray, rinsed them in another bath, let them drain for a few seconds and hung them up with perspex clips on the line above his head. He switched on the white light, yawned and then stretched.

  "All done. I thought you might like some really large prints of the handwritten note so I've added these. Thomas did a good job with focus and exposure. They've all come out pretty well."

  He picked up the hair dryer, set it going on low and waved it around in the general direction of the wet sheets, gradually bringing it closer as he noticed Bettina glance at her watch. He rubbed his fingers over the surface, gave the prints a further few wafts of warm air then took them down and put everything into a large envelope and handed it to Bettina.

  "Georg. That's wonderful. Thank you so much. You've no idea how much this has helped us but I'll tell you the whole story later when I'm able to."

  She held him for a moment then left the house and walked back to her car. It was later than she'd expected but it didn't really matter as she'd plenty of time in hand before collecting Thomas from the restaurant. She sat in the car for a short while, thinking things over, and then drove to the telephone box, waiting discreetly about 50 metres away until it became empty.

  An unfamiliar male voice answered. She gave her code name and asked for Dieter and in a moment he picked up the receiver.

  “Hello Hyena. Anything urgent to report?” Dieter’s voice was very controlled, almost bored, and she was immediately alert. "He's got someone with him." she thought. She chose her words carefully.

  "The matter I was investigating seems clear in its implications. I have very good copies of Henkel's suicide letter and from those you'll be able to establish his hand in writing it. There's also some documents about that and about related matters involving other parties which I have, as well as other very good copies of more materials which are interesting and relevant. However, there's one additional issue I've come across. It's probably nothing but a little puzzling. Are you aware of any privatisation activity in East Germany, specifically in Dresden, in the last few months?”

  There was a silence before Dieter answered. “No.” he said slowly."No. Not directly."

  “Well, we seem to have ... ”

  “We can examine your report and discuss matters in more detail later. Henkel has confessed and committed suicide. That seems all clear and straightforward and so your mission is over." Dieter's voice was firm and brusque. "However, I need you for another urgent matter which has only just come up. Return to base immediately, tonight. We’ll meet in the office in which we discussed the Prokov case.”

  He hung up before Bettina could say anything. He hadn’t even asked how Thomas’s investigation into Phoenix was proceeding, she realised. She thought over the exchange, now convinced that someone was in the office or perhaps even listening on the line. She put down the receiver with a strong sense of unease, wishing Dieter had told them openly whom they were playing against. They’d discussed the Prokov case at Dieter’s house, she remembered, so he probably now trusted no one at all. Just what was going on here?

  She hurried to her car, returned to the Dornbusch farm where the older boy helped her load the car with their things. She took a last look round the room, said her goodbyes and hurried off to collect Thomas. At least he wouldn't be hungry on the drive, she thought.

  Chapter 38

  Thursday January 18 1990, evening

  THOMAS arrived at the Semper Oper a few minutes after the half hour to find Stephan already waiting, punctual as always. As he approached he saw that Stephan was looking preoccupied and wondered if meeting so soon after Herren's assassination was really such a good idea. "We've known each other for ever, though," he thought "so I guess we can talk about things in ways that Stephan might find difficult with his colleagues."

  They greeted each other warmly and hugged, Stephan seeming to prolong the contact a little longer than usual. They separated and Thomas held Stephan by the shoulders at arms’ length, looking him over.

  “You look well, Stephan, older but more authoritative and mature. And tired, you look tired." They looked at each other for a moment and then Thomas dropped his arms. "And Herren. I guess, are you, have you, that was a huge shock to me so I can't think what it must have been like for you, so close to him."

  Stephan nodded without speaking and they turned and walked in silence towards the nearby restaurant in the Theaterplatz where they intended eating.

  "It was a huge shock to me, to everyone." said Stephan after a while. "You know how sometimes things happen and although you know they've happened part of you doesn't believe it. Maybe that's because it's just too big to take in. Even though I knew what had happened I expected to see Herren yesterday. There were things we had to talk about, important things, and I was kind of waiting to be summoned to his office but of course that never happened. I can't believe I shan't see him again."He turned away and passed his hand quickly over his eyes and shook his head slightly.

  Thomas touched him lightly on the shoulder and they continued walking in silence for some minutes.

  "I had a call from that guy I'd got to know at university, Richard Köpp, you remember? I found out later he'd gone into the BNG but we've not seen each other for a while. We talked on the phone. I know he was after information that I could give him, anything that might give a lead, but he was so sympathetic, Thomas. And that really helped, you know, like he cared and I could say things to him, like how much Herren meant to me. You know. Just that. It really helped. Just ... "

  He shrugged and they walked on, saying nothing.

  "BNG?"

  "BNG? Did I say that? Sorry, I meant BND, of course."

  They stopped for a moment and stood looking out over the river, saying nothing.

  “But things are otherwise going well, Thomas. I’m frantically busy travelling all over the place, analysing potential joint ventures between Deutsche Bank and the local Eastern ones, the project that Herren asked me to take on earlier. It was dreadful when he was killed and there was chaos, still is chaos obviously and I guess that will continue for a bit. Of course the bank had backup structures in place but because of Herren’s position and the fact that so much of his work was secret, commercially and politically, things have got pretty awkward and confused. Now there are people jockeying for position, pushing their own agendas, that sort of thing. No one's asked me about what I'm doing so I decided to just keep quiet, get on with everything, make sure that it's only me that knows in full detail what's going on with the project. In any case it's too far advanced and too good for us to pull out and if things work out I’ll be in a pretty good position now.”

  There was an odd note in Stephan's voice, almost of pleasure and of satisfaction with events, Thomas thought, and he glanced sharply at his friend. They stopped for a moment on the river bank to admire the baroque façade and colonnaded front of the Italienisches Dörfchen Restaurant ahead of them, before climbing the wide steps into the foyer, now ablaze with light. Neither had visited before.

  "Bettina comes from Dresden, as you know I think, and so she recommended this place. It's apparently quite special not only for its food and atmosphere but also its history. It's mid-eighteenth century. The Elector of Saxony, I think she said it was, was offered the Polish crown but first had to convert to Catholicism. The Pope asked the Elector to seal the deal by building an outstandingly beautiful church in the heart of the city - that's the Hofkirche, right here in front - which had to be designed by an Italian architect and built by specialist Italian workers. They all lived here, hence the name of the building, the little Italian village. Then in the early 1900s the Elbe overflowed and damaged it badly and when it was rebuilt it becameNow it’s a restaurant specialising in both Italian cooking, as you might expect, but also local Saxon food."

 
“So what’s the speciality, Polish pizza with potato dumplings?”

  Thomas laughed, and followed Stephan as the waiter led them to their table in the baroque and somewhat stuffy grandeur of the main dining area.

  “How are things going with Bettina? She seemed a great girl, very bright, I thought. What are you doing here, other than maybe going to museums?”

  "Oh, just that I'd never been to Dresden, I had some time free and Bettina thought she'd show me around. Her mother doesn't live here any longer but Bettina expected some of her old friends might be about. She's seen one or two and I've really just wandered around looking at things both with her and on my own. We're going back tomorrow or Saturday. She'll be along later to pick me up so you'll see her then."

  "And what about Berlin? You're still there and still studying, right? How's that going?"

  “I’m working on my thesis at the moment. I wasn't quite sure what direction to take but I've now selected ‘The calculation of the monetary mass in East Germany' as the topic. My supervisor is quite excited by that because of all the political changes. If monetary union does go ahead I’ll work in something on the effects of unification on the DM.” He looked at Stephan. “That's your area isn't it? You probably know more about what is being discussed right now than anybody else.”

  “Well, maybe. I was in some of the early meetings with the Bundesbank but as things heated up the numbers became much smaller and Herren decided I needn’t attend. But I do know a lot of people in high places, of course, and I keep myself informed. I'll be glad to help if I can.”

  “So what’s the latest on unification?”

  Before Stephan could answer the waiter appeared with their beers, setting a brimming mug clumsily in front of Stephan so that the liquid slopped out on the table and over the trousers of Stephan's dark Alpaca wool suit.