The Draining Lake de-6

by Arnaldur Indridason

  “Only vaguely,” Rut said. “He sometimes came for dinner with us at the dormitory. But I never got to know him especially well. I was always homesick and… the conditions weren’t that special, bad housing and… I… it didn’t suit me.”

  “No, obviously things weren’t in very good shape after the war,” Elinborg said.

  “It was just awful,” Rut said. “West Germany was redeveloping ten times as fast, with the west’s backing. In East Germany, things happened slowly, or not at all.”

  “We understand that his role was to get students to work for him,” Sigurdur Oli said. “Or monitor them somehow. Were you ever aware of that?”

  “They watched us,” Rut said. “We knew that and everyone else knew that. It was called interactive surveillance, another term for spying. People were supposed to come forward of their own accord and report anything that offended their socialist principles. We didn’t, of course. None of us. I never noticed Lothar trying to enlist us. All the foreign students had a liaison they could turn to but who also watched them. Lothar was one of them.”

  “Do you still keep in touch with your student friends from Leipzig?” Elinborg asked.

  “No,” Rut said. “It’s a long time since I saw any of them. We don’t keep in contact, or if they do, I don’t know about it. I left the party when I came back. Or maybe I didn’t leave, I just lost interest. It’s probably called withdrawing.”

  “We have the names of some other students from the time you were there: Karl, Hrafnhildur, Emil, Tomas, Hannes…”

  “Hannes was expelled,” Rut interjected. “I was told he stopped going to lectures and the Day of the Republic parades and generally didn’t fit in. We were supposed to take part in all that. And we did socialist work in the summer. On farms and in the coal mines. As I understand it Hannes didn’t like what he saw and heard. He wanted to finish his course but wasn’t allowed to. Maybe you should talk to him. If he’s still alive, I don’t know.”

  She looked at them.

  “Was it him you found in the lake?” she said.

  “No,” Elinborg said. “It’s not him. We understand he lives in Selfoss and runs a guest house there.”

  “I remember that he wrote about his Leipzig experiences when he came back to Iceland, and they tore him to shreds for it. The party old guard. Denounced him as a traitor and liar. The conservatives welcomed him like a prodigal son and championed him. I can’t imagine he would have cared for that. I think he just wanted to tell the truth as he saw it, but of course there was a price to pay. I met him once a few years later and he looked awfully depressed. Maybe he thought I was still active in the party, but I wasn’t. You ought to talk to him. He might have known Lothar better. I was there such a short time.”

  Back out in the car, Elinborg scolded Sigurdur Oli for allowing his political opinions to influence a police enquiry. He ought to keep his mouth shut and not attack people, she said, especially elderly women who lived by themselves.

  “What’s wrong with you, anyway?” she said as they drove away from the block of flats. “I’ve never heard such crap. What were you thinking? I agree with what she asked you: where does all this anger come from?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Sigurdur Oli said. “My dad was a communist like that, never saw the light,” he added eventually. This was the first time that Elinborg had ever heard him mention his father.

  Erlendur had just got back home when the telephone rang. It took him a while to realise which Benedikt Jonsson was on the other end, then suddenly he remembered. The one who had given Leopold a job with his company.

  “Am I bothering you, phoning home like this?” Benedikt asked politely.

  “No,” Erlendur said. “Is there something that…?”

  “It was to do with that man.”

  “Which man?”

  “From the East German embassy or trade delegation or whatever it was,” Benedikt said. “The one who told me to hire Leopold and said the company in Germany would take action if I didn’t.”

  “Yes,” Erlendur said. “The fat one. What about him?”

  “As far as I recall,” Benedikt said, “he knew Icelandic. Actually, I think he spoke it pretty well.”

  28

  Everywhere he turned he ran up against antipathy and total indifference on the part of the authorities in Leipzig. No one would tell him what had happened to her, where she had been taken, where she was being detained, the reason for her arrest, which police department was responsible for her case. He tried to enlist the help of two university professors but they said they could do nothing. He tried to get the university vice-chancellor to intervene but he refused. He tried to get the chairman of the FDJ to make enquiries but the students” society ignored him.

  In the end he telephoned the foreign ministry in Iceland, which promised to enquire about the matter but nothing came of it: Ilona was not an Icelandic national, they were unmarried, Iceland had no vested interest in the matter and did not maintain diplomatic relations with East Germany. His Icelandic friends at university tried to pep him up, but were equally at a loss about what to do. They did not understand what was going on. Maybe it was a misunderstanding. She would turn up sooner or later and everything would be clarified. Ilona’s friends and other Hungarians at the university, who were as determined as he was to find answers, said the same. They all tried to console him and told him to keep calm — everything would be explained eventually.

  He discovered that Ilona had not been the only person arrested that day. The security police raided the campus and her friends from the meetings were among others taken into custody. He knew she had warned them after he found out they were being watched, that the police had photographs of them. A few were released the same day. Others were detained longer and some were still in prison when he was deported. No one heard anything of Ilona.

  He contacted Ilona’s parents, who had heard of her arrest, and they wrote moving letters asking whether he knew of her whereabouts. To the best of their knowledge she had not been sent back to Hungary. They had received no word from her since she wrote to them a week before her disappearance. Nothing suggested that she was in danger. Her parents described their fruitless efforts to persuade the Hungarian authorities to look into their daughter’s fate in East Germany. The authorities were not particularly upset that she was missing. Given the situation in their own country, officials were not concerned about the arrest of an alleged dissident. Her parents said they had been refused permission to travel to East Germany to enquire into Ilona’s disappearance. They seemed to have reached a dead end.

  He wrote back telling them he was looking for answers himself in Leipzig. He longed to tell them all that he knew, how she had spread underground propaganda against the communist party, against the student society FDJ, which was an arm of the party, against the lectures and against restrictions on freedom of speech, association and the press. That she had mobilised young Germans and organised clandestine meetings. And that she could not have foreseen her arrest. No more than he did. But he knew he could not write that kind of letter. Everything he sent would be censored. He had to be careful.

  Instead, he said he would not rest until he had found out what had happened to Ilona and secured her release.

  He stopped attending lectures. During the day he went from one government office to the next, asked to meet officials and sought help and information. As time went by, he did this more out of habit, as he received no answers and realised he never would. At night he paced the floor of their little room in anguish. He hardly slept, dozing for a few hours at a time. Strode back and forth hoping that she would appear, that the nightmare would come to an end, that they would let her off with a warning and she would come back to him so that they could be together again. He woke up at every sound on the street. If a car approached he went to the window. If the house creaked he stopped and listened, thinking it might be her. But it never was. And then a new day dawned and he was so terribly alone.

  Even
tually he summoned up the courage to write a new letter to Ilona’s parents telling them that she had been pregnant by him. He felt as though he could hear their cries with every key he struck on her old typewriter.

  Now, all those years later, he was sitting with their letters in his hands, rereading them and sensing again the anger in what they wrote, then despair and incomprehension. They never saw their daughter again. He never saw his girlfriend again.

  Ilona had disappeared from them once and for all.

  He heaved as deep a sigh as ever when he allowed himself to delve into his most painful memories. No matter how many years passed, his grief was always as raw, his loss as incomprehensible. These days he avoided imagining her fate. Previously he would torture himself endlessly with thoughts of what might have happened to her after she was arrested. He envisaged the interrogations. He saw the cell beside the little office in the security police headquarters. Had she been locked away there? For how long? Was she afraid? Had she fought back? Did she cry? Had she been beaten? And of course the biggest question of all: what fate did she meet?

  For years he had obsessed over these questions; there was room for little else in his life. He never married or had children. He tried to stay in Leipzig for as long as he could, but because he no longer went to lectures and was challenging the police and FDJ, his grant was withdrawn. He tried to persuade the student paper and local press to print a photograph of Ilona with a report about her unlawful arrest, but all his requests were turned down and in the end he was ordered to leave the country.

  There were various possibilities, judging from what he read later when he probed into the treatment of dissidents across Eastern Europe at that time. She could have died at the hands of the police in Leipzig or East Berlin, where the headquarters of the security police were located, or been sent to a prison such as the Honecker castle to die there. That was the largest female prison for political prisoners in East Germany. Another infamous prison for dissidents was Bautzen II, nicknamed “Yellow Misery” after the colour of its brick walls. Prisoners were sent there who were guilty of “crimes against the state’. Many dissidents were released soon after their first arrest. That was regarded as a warning. Others were let out after a short internment without trial. Some were sent to prison and came out years later; some never. Ilona’s parents received no notification of her death and for years they lived in the hope that she would come back, but that never happened. No matter how they implored the authorities in Hungary and East Germany, they received no information, not even whether she was alive. It was simply as if she had never existed.

  As a foreigner in a country that he did not know well and understood even less, he had few recourses. He was well aware how little he could do against the might of the state, of his impotence as he went from office to office, from one police chief to the next, one official to another. He refused to give up. Refused to accept that someone like Ilona could be locked away for having opinions that didn’t match the official line.

  He repeatedly asked Karl what had happened when Ilona was arrested. Karl was the only witness to the police raid on their home. He had been to collect a manuscript of poems by a young Hungarian dissident which Ilona had translated into German and was going to lend him.

  “And then what happened?” he asked Karl for the thousandth time as he sat facing him in the university cafeteria with Emil. Three days had passed since Ilona disappeared and there was still hope that she might be released; he expected to hear from her at any minute, even for her to walk into the cafeteria. He glanced regularly towards the door. He was out of his mind with worry.

  “She offered me some tea,” Karl said. “I said yes and she boiled the water.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “Nothing really, just the books we were reading.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Nothing. It was just empty conversation. We didn’t talk about anything special. We didn’t know she’d be arrested a moment later.”

  Karl could see how he was suffering.

  “Ilona was a friend to all of us,” he said. “I don’t understand it. I don’t understand what’s going on.”

  “And then what? What happened next?”

  “There was a knock on the door,” Karl said.

  “Yes.”

  “The door to the flat. We were in her room, I mean in your room. They hammered on the door and shouted something we couldn’t make out. She went to the door and they burst in the moment she opened it.”

  “How many of them were there?”

  “Five, maybe six, I don’t remember exactly, something like that. They piled into the room. Some were in uniform like the police on the streets. Others were wearing ordinary suits. One of them was in charge. They obeyed his orders. They asked her name. If she was Ilona. They had a photograph. Maybe from the university files. I don’t know. Then they took her away.”

  “They turned everything upside down!” he said.

  “They found some documents that they took away with them, and some books. I don’t know what they were,” Karl said.

  “What did Ilona do?”

  “Naturally she wanted to know their business and kept asking them. I did too. They didn’t answer her, nor me. I asked who they were and what they wanted. They didn’t give me as much as a look. Ilona asked to make a phone call but they refused. They were there to arrest her and nothing else.”

  “Couldn’t you ask where they were taking her?” Emil asked. “Couldn’t you do something?”

  “There was nothing that could be done.” Karl squirmed. “You have to understand that. We couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t do anything! They meant to take her and they took her.”

  “Was she scared?” he asked.

  Karl and Emil gave him a sympathetic look.

  “No,” Karl said. “She wasn’t scared. Defiant. She asked what they were looking for and if she could help them find it. Then they took her away. She asked me to tell you that everything would be okay.”

  “What did she say?”

  “I had to tell you that everything would be okay. She said that. Told me to pass it on to you. That everything would be okay.”

  “Did she say that?”

  “Then they put her in the car. They had two cars with them. I ran after them but it was hopeless, of course. They disappeared around the next corner. That was the last I saw of Ilona.”

  “What do they want?” he sighed. “What have they done with her? Why won’t anyone tell me anything? Why don’t we get any answers? What are they going to do with her? What can they do with her?”

  He rested his elbows on the table and clutched his head.

  “My God,” he groaned. “What has happened?”

  “Maybe it will be okay,” Emil said, trying to console him. “Maybe she’s back home already. Maybe she’ll come tomorrow.”

  He looked at Emil with broken eyes. Karl sat at the table in silence.

  “Did you know that… no, of course you didn’t know.”

  “What?” Emil said. “What didn’t we know?”

  “She told me just before she was arrested. No one knew.”

  “No one knew what?” Emil said.

  “She’s pregnant,” he said. “She’s just found out. We’re expecting a baby together. Do you get it? Do you realise how disgusting it is? That fucking bloody interactive fucking surveillance! What are they? What kind of people are they? What are they fighting for? Are they going to make a better world by spying on each other? How long do they plan to rule by fear and hatred?”

  “Was she pregnant?” Emil groaned.

  “I should have been with her, Karl, not you,” he said. “I would never have allowed them to take her. Never.”

  “Are you blaming me?” Karl said. “There was nothing to be done. I was helpless.”

  “No,” he said, burying his face in his hands to hide the tears. “Of course not. Of course it wasn’t your fault.”

  Later, on his way out of the c
ountry after being ordered to leave Leipzig and East Germany, he sought out Lothar for the final time and found him in the FDJ office at the university. He still had no clue as to Ilona’s whereabouts. The fear and anxieties that had driven him on for the first days and weeks had given way to an almost intolerable burden of hopelessness and sorrow.

  In the office, Lothar was cracking jokes with two girls who were laughing at something he had said. They fell silent when he entered the room. He asked Lothar for a word.

  “What is it now?” Lothar said without moving. The two girls looked at him seriously. All the joy was purged from their faces. Word of Ilona’s arrest had spread around the campus. She had been denounced as a traitor and it was said she had been sent back to Hungary. He knew that was a lie.

  “I just want a word with you,” he said. “Is that okay?”

  “You know I can’t do anything for you,” Lothar said. “I’ve told you that. Leave me alone.”

  Lothar shifted round to entertain the girls further.

  “Did you play any part in Ilona’s arrest?” he asked, switching to Icelandic.

  Lothar turned his back on him and did not answer. The girls watched the proceedings.

  “Was it you who had her arrested?” he said, raising his voice. “Was it you who told them she was dangerous? That she had to be removed from circulation? That she was distributing anti-socialist propaganda? That she ran a dissidents” cell? Was it you, Lothar? Was that your role?”

  Pretending not to hear, Lothar said something to the two girls, who returned silly smiles. He walked up to Lothar and grabbed him.

  “Who are you?” he said calmly. “Tell me that.”

  Lothar turned and pushed him away, then walked up to him, seized his jacket by the lapels and thrust him against the filing cabinets. They rattled.

  “Leave me alone!” Lothar hissed between clenched teeth.

  “What did you do with Ilona?” he asked in the same collected tone of voice, not attempting to fight back. “Where is she? Tell me that.”