by Paul Blake
‘You never said any of this at the time; you just kept volunteering for more and more missions. I rarely saw you and when I did you were always planning the next mission. Who was she?’
‘Her name was Stefanie. I met her in the East, when it was still the East, wall and everything. She worked for the Stasi, and I was using her as a contact, one thing I hadn’t planned was to fall in love with her. She loved me and wanted to come to the West, for us to get married and live in England. I pushed her for more documents and information. She was too high placed a source to bring her out, no matter how much I wanted to.’
‘What happened to her?’
‘Well, it was late summer in 1989, ironically only four to five months before the wall came down and she would have been free. We met in a café to transfer some documents. Truth be told, I just wanted to see her. Someone in the café recognised her and saw that she was meeting with a westerner, or maybe they had been following me all the time, I don’t know, it could have been someone with a crush on her. I never found out. They pulled out a gun and shot at us. They missed me, and I returned fire hitting the man, I don’t know what happened to him or care to be honest. Stefanie died in my arms on the café floor amongst the broken crockery and glass. I covered her with my jacket and fled back to the West.’
‘Oh Alec, that’s terrible. Why didn’t you tell me years ago?’ Claudia stood up and went over to him, wrapped her arms around him, her eyes filled with tears.
‘I don’t know. It felt too personal, the wound was too fresh.’ Alec stood up and accepted the comfort from her. It feels good to finally get that out, I’ve wanted to so many times. ‘It felt like I was letting her down being happy with you, loving you.’
‘You should have told me. I would have helped you work through it.’
‘I know that now. I went back to the café a couple of years ago. It’s still there – Café Sybille on Karl-Marx-Allee. They’ve replaced the bullet holes in the ceiling and the tables. I sat in the same place and cried until I was empty. I then went for a walk along the Spree. It was only the thought of Sara that kept me from jumping in, what it would do to her.’
‘You stupid, stupid man,’ she said, as she kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his nose.
‘I know.’
‘And now? How do you feel?’
‘It feels as though I have a second chance at life. I don’t know what is going to happen with work, and quite honestly, I don’t really care. I want to be better for you, Sara, and the friends I abandoned when Roger, Mark and Sophie passed away. My life has been on pause for so long, I want to make up for the lost time. Maybe it could start with a visit to that jewellery shop you mentioned earlier.’
Claudia hugged him tighter. ‘I was only joking you know, there’s no need to rush anything. We can just enjoy each other for a while if you want.’
‘We’ll see,’ Alec said with a wink and then kissed her with passion.
‘Arthur has been a long time, hasn’t he?’ Claudia said. She was back in her chair with a contented smile on her face.
Alec looked at his watch, ‘It’s gone three o’clock. I should have had a call from Sara by now.’
He took his phone from his jacket and turned it on, ‘There a text from Sara. “Hi Uncle Alec, got your message. Since when did you have friends? Smiley face. Is he good looking? I guess I’ll see at the station. I’ll take them to Madame Claudes via the East Side Gallery. Tourists love that stuff. See you later. Bye.” Madame Claudes? That’s the ex-brothel with all the upside-down furniture on the ceiling.’
‘That’s an interesting choice. A brothel, Sara knows you well.’
‘”Ex-brothel” I said. Wait, there’s a ton of missed calls from Peter. I better call him.’
Alec pressed the button to call Peter back, it connected, ‘Hi Peter, what’s u—’ Alec stopped and listened. ‘What do you mean she’s been taken?’
21
Alec felt like his world had been turned upside down and back to front, his hands shook, his mouth felt dry. ‘What happened? Who took her?’
Peter’s panicked voice over the line wavered, ‘There was a short ratty looking guy and a massive fella, all weights and steroids. I saw her come off the train. I was at the other end of the platform. I called out her name, and she looked my way. Then the big guy grabbed her and dragged her to the exit. I chased after them, but the little one turned and shot at me with a silenced pistol. I followed them at a distance, but they got into a silver Mercedes parked outside the station and drove off. I’m sorry Stefan, I tried to get the licence, but they had covered the plates. I tried calling you a number of times, but it kept going to voicemail. Shit!’
‘That’s ok, Peter, you did all you could. Where are you now? I’ll come to you.’
‘The north side of the station, Karl-Libenicht Street. By the underpass.’
‘I know where you are. Karl-Liebknecht Straße. Stay there. I’ll be about ten minutes or so.’ He hung up the phone, stood up and put on his jacket.
‘Alec, what happened?’ Claudia asked, alarm in her face.
‘Sara was taken at the station by the two goons, they shot at Peter. I’m heading there now.’
‘Alec, wait. We don’t know if Arthur has got the word out to the Police or the Russians. You could get arrested or worse. Then you’ll be in no position to help Sara. I can go instead. They aren’t looking for me.’
‘But—’ Alec stopped, his heart pounding. The blood rushing around his head made it hard to think. He tried to calm himself down. He took a deep breath. ‘You’re right. That won’t help Sara. You sure you can get her back?’
‘I can try; don’t forget you trained me, so I’m not an amateur. If the two goons were hired by Harper then they wouldn’t have their own resources, they would be here to do the job and be out again. They would be either staying in a hotel or Harper would have set them up in the city, possibly at one of our safe houses. They couldn’t take her to a hotel. I’ll pick up Peter and try the safe houses first.’
‘Ok. You be careful, they’re quite vicious. They killed Jaromir and shot at me and Peter without any compunction. I don’t want to lose you.’
‘I’ll be fine. It’ll be alright. I’ll get her.’
‘I love you.’ It had to be said, just in case.
‘I love you too. Call me, so I have your number so I can keep you updated.’ She left the room in a rush.
Alec slammed his fist down on Newbury’s desk. He bellowed a stream of curses. He started pacing, his body a bundle of nervous energy. He kicked at his chair, which crashed over. That arsehole Harper, I’ll kill him when I see him. If anything’s happened to Sara, I’ll do worse than kill him, I’ll blind him, and I’ll rip his goddamn face off. I’ll destroy him, make him scream and make him bleed. He kicked over Claudia’s chair and then started stamping on the legs and the backrest. The brittle wood splintered and then cracked. With a final thrust of his foot, the structure broke, and the chair collapsed. He kicked the pieces over to the corner of the room, where they settled like a drunk on a bench. Alec reached for his phone and went to throw it at the wall. Come on Alec, get a grip. This will not help her, you need to think, and help Claudia and Peter get her back. He reluctantly put the phone in his pocket. He could feel the gun next to it and stroked the cool metal surface. You’re an intelligence officer, it’s time you started showing some. He took a deep breath and righted his chair. He took his phone out of his pocket and dialled Claudia. He hung up once he heard the ringing tone. While he had the phone in his hand he looked along the side for a volume button, there were two next to other. He pressed one, and a message showed the volume lower. He pressed it until there were no bars and the phone vibrated in his hand. He replaced the phone in the jacket. He pulled the chair closer to the desk and sat down. With a shaking hand and a dull ache in his temple, he reached for a pen and a piece of paper. Let’s see if I can narrow down the search for them.
So, their target is the PM, and it will happen tomo
rrow. The PM is only in town for the day. What’s on their schedule? Alec tried to think back to the meetings he attended and the emails he received. The PM will fly into Tegel airport at eight-something and head to the Schloss Bellevue to meet with the German President. After that they’ll be going to the Berliner Dom, Berlin Cathedral, to attend the Christmas Advent Concert, if I remember correctly, the concert is Bach’s Christmas Oratorio. The PM is a keen classical music enthusiast. Finally, they are going to the Reichstag Building to speak to the German Parliament before heading back to Tegel and fly back to the UK. Alec wrote the headings on the paper – Tegel, Bellevue, Berliner Dom, Reichstag. He stood up and walked around the desk, moved Newbury’s chair to one side and opened the bottom drawer. He pulled out a heavy crystal brandy glass that sparkled in the office lights and a bottle of Remy Martin XO Cognac, with its spear-bearing centaur logo silhouetted on the gold label. Only the good stuff I see for Arthur. Alec pulled the cork stopper from the cut glass decanter shaped bottle and inhaled the vanilla and grape aroma. That is just what I need. He poured a generous measure and returned to his own chair. He looked at the headings as he absent-mindedly swirled the amber coloured drink in the glass. He took a sip and savoured the taste; the rich smoothness of the liquid warmed his tongue and throat. He took another and started to think about how the assassination would happen.
Terrorists kill crudely, car bombs, IEDs and trucks. The killing indiscriminate and random. IEDs being improvised explosive devices, delivered in roadside, suicide and even animal attacks. An attack on the PM would need to be highly organised to get past the security, but to be blamed on terrorists it would need to be carried off inexpertly. Alec felt a shiver of excitement down his spine that had been absent since he became Head of Section, the events of the past few days notwithstanding. He felt a challenge to his expertise that brought a smile to his lips until he thought about the stakes. The PM being assassinated, bad as it would be, would not compare to the loss of Sara. If the Prime Minister is killed another will take their place in a blink of an eye. Sara is irreplaceable. He pushed the glass away from him, resolving to abstain until he had solved this conundrum.
Ok, Alec, you’re a terrorist how would you do it? Start from the airport. Alec considered the different approaches a terrorist would try. Tegel airport would be impossible for an unsophisticated attack such as a car bomb or vehicle attack. Too much security and no access to the runway for unauthorised vehicles. A sniper could lay up in the wide flat grounds waiting for a shot at the PM. Scaling the perimeter fence wouldn’t be hard for a professional, the eight-foot-high razor-wire topped fence the only barrier and that could be defeated quite easily by a determined attack. However, apart from the D.C. Sniper attacks in the early ‘00s, which was a killing spree designed to hide the murder of an ex-wife of John Allen Muhammad rather than a wave of terror in the strictest sense of the phrase, a sniper attack isn’t a typical terrorist method. Harper surely wouldn’t go for that option. Alec sat at the desk, tapping the pen against his lips as he thought some more. A rocket launched as the plane came into land could be effective. It would depend on the Prime Minister’s plane, an RAF 'Voyager' Airbus A330, and the counter-measures installed against rocket and missile attacks. Alec recalled the rocket attack on the MI6 building at Vauxhall Cross in London. Something similar could easily be done to a plane. I suppose. There was that attempt on an airliner in 2015. Sharm el-Sheikh, I think. The rocket missed in that attempt though. He wrote under the Tegel heading on the paper, “rocket attack?”
Next, the Schloss Bellevue. The Bellevue Palace: The official residence of the President of Germany. The Schloss is situated with the Spree running from the north-east side of the palace, down to the east. Tiergarten Park covers the remaining sides. There is a road running along the southern edge of the palace, crossing over the Spree. An attack could be made from there. A rocket attack, like Tegel airport, is a possibility. However, the assassins would need to know exactly which room the PM was in. There’s quite a lot to choose from. A vehicle attack would require busting through the reinforced fence after leaving the main road, Spreeweg, I think it’s called, and going along one of the two narrow paths to the Schloss gates. The whole centre section of the palace is protected from a vehicular attack by a concrete ha-ha. A ha-ha is a landscape feature which was installed to prevent livestock wandering onto the manicured gardens of the palace. It consists of a ditch with a sunken vertical brick or concrete wall, its top is level with the garden, so it is invisible from the house or, in this case, the palace. A vehicle attack would be a suicide attack for the assassins and a rocket attack ineffectual. I think this isn’t a possible target. Alec wrote a large “X” under the “Bellevue” entry on the paper.
Ok, now for the Berliner Dom. The church on Museumsinsel, or Museum Island. It’s large green dome an iconic Berlin landmark. The Spree backs onto the church to the North. The PM would enter the church from the Lustgarten side, arriving there by car. The assassins could strike by car bomb, operated remotely. The German police and the British security services will be checking any parked cars along the route, so there is a remote possibility of success. A sniper could work. There are a number of perches they could use that would give them line of sight to the entrance. However, as with Tegel, a sniper doesn’t scream terrorist attack. A truck attack is a possibility, however, building up speed on the Schloßplatz, the main road that leads past the church, is difficult due to the traffic and there is street furniture in place to prevent these types of attacks. A truck attack is also very much a suicide attack, the drivers rarely survive. Alec wrote “unlikely” on the paper. He then thought about it some more. A rocket attack would work, especially a mortar attack, like the IRA attack on Downing Street in ’91. The mortar attack was launched on a time delay or using a remote-control mechanism from a vehicle parked in a side street. I’d have to find out the range of a mortar, but that is a definite possibility, especially as they would know the PMs schedule and have a man on the inside giving them a running itinerary. He put a line through “unlikely” and wrote “mortar” under it.
Finally, the Reichstag, possibly the most secure and defended building in the city, there are bollards in place to prevent a vehicle attack from Dorotheenstraße, armed guards on duty round the clock. The least you’d expect for the building containing Germany’s parliament. A mortar attack from the Tiergarten park to the west of the building is possible. However, any mortar shells coming down would have to pass the Reichstag itself to catch the PM out in the open, which requires a precision I’m not sure the weapon possesses. They could bomb the building itself, but it would be touch and go whether they could identify which room the PM was in. Mind you, an attack on the Reichstag with the PM in attendance could be enough to increase Harper’s purview, whether the PM was killed or not. Alec wrote “mortar” under the “Reichstag” heading and underlined it a few times.
I think the Reichstag is going to be the place for the attack, irrespective of whether the PM is assassinated. Any terrorist attack on the building would be worldwide news. Alec reached for the glass of cognac as a reward. He brought it to his lips but thought twice and placed it back on the desk. Not yet. Need to find Sara. He turned the paper over and drew a rough sketch of Berlin marking Alexanderplatz and the Reichstag on there. The goons will have taken her to a safe house, but it will need to be within easy reach of the station and also the Reichstag. They wouldn’t risk a long drive with Sara held captive. A routine traffic stop could end their plans. They also need to be relatively close to the Reichstag in order to set up for the attack, again wary of traffic stops; they won’t want to be driving their vehicle carrying the mortar too far. I think they’re probably based in Charlottenburg. After the traffic circle at Ernst-Reuter-Platz, it’s a straight line into the Tiergarten on the B2 highway. Also, the other way from Alexanderplatz, again following the B2 it’s a twenty-minute journey to Charlottenburg. Alec circled a rough area on the map he’d drawn and marked it Charlottenburg.
He drew in the B2 route. He then marked the approximate locations of the MI6 safe houses in the area. Thrasoltstraße? That safe house consists of a whole six-story apartment block on the junction with Richard-Wagner-Straße, it hasn’t been used for over a year, something about asbestos in a couple of the apartments, I think. It has a private car park which would be ideal for storing the mortar vehicle and the assassin’s Mercedes. It also is about a two or three-minute drive to the B2. One of the reasons why we chose it. There are a couple more safe-houses in the area, none as ideally located or isolated as that one though.
Alec circled the location on the map and put the pen down. He reached for the glass and held it to his lips, enjoying the alcohol fumes tickling his nostrils. I’d better text Claudia so she can check it out. He reached with his free hand to his jacket pocket. The door opened behind him. Alec stood up and turned. Arthur.
‘Arthur, I’ve figured it out. It’s the Reich—’ He stopped abruptly as he saw the man who had followed Newbury into the office. He recognised the weasel-like face of the waiter, his nose covered in a bandage, wearing an awful smirk on his face. Alec’s gaze looked down and saw the silenced gun from the bar pointing at him.
22
‘C aptain,’ Ilyich said, his voice breaking Olegovich’s thoughts.
‘What?’ He said, curtly, his mood dark. How can one old man be so lucky? Foster is making a fool out of me. He’s been on the run since killing Polyakov and just leisurely strolls back into the British Embassy, like a man after a liquid lunch. He’s probably in there laughing at us. Having a whale of a time with his partner in crime Arthur Newbury. Sivakov had him in his grasp, and he still got away. He rubbed the scar on his cheek. He always did in times of stress.
‘Your idea of staking out the English safe-houses for Foster has dredged up an old friend. One of our teams has picked up Todor Kochanov.’