The Berlin Spy Trap
Page 15
Gunter had been sent to Spain. Preiser and his agents had gone to keep watch on him. It was one of Preiser’s men that had attacked Stack in the mountains. Stack had fought him off. The man must have then followed Stack in his car and ran off the road. He hadn’t been dead when Stack had left him. Stack remembered now. He moved impatiently in his seat. They knew he would go to Spain, he thought. They had it planned for Lorenzo to contact him. They knew he would be sent to Spain…
The convoy turned off the ring road. Lieffer took a call over his radio and issued a further series of orders.
They knew that he was going to Spain, Stack thought. Just as they had known that Gunter would be sent there. They had also known that Stack was in East Berlin when he had gone in search of Criller.
He grunted audibly. Lieffer looked at him, but Stack was far away. He was thinking of the other doubts that at times had troubled him. Berak hadn’t had the same success in Berlin that he had managed in Prague. There had been the failures, and his suspicions. The opposition had got on to him too quickly for Stack’s liking. And Gunter also. They had thought that the leak had been through one of Berak’s contacts, but had that been the whole story? Had it not also been through Stack himself? Had they not also flushed him?
He had kept himself in a very strict, disciplined routine, he thought. No one had been allowed to get close to him. No one. That had been his weakness. Or had it? Had it not also been his strength? No one had been allowed to get close to him. No one other than…
Again, he grunted audibly. They had also brought Sue into the game. Lehna had showed him Sue’s picture to throw him, and keep him interested. They had kept Sue in reserve at Ruddi’s studio so that they could use her as additional bait. They had known all about her, just as they had known that Schmidt had worked for Lieffer. That Schmidt had access to Lieffer’s records. So it was around the same circle again, he thought. Always pointing to the same person. But how were they going to carry out their assassination? How? How?
They came to the John F Kennedy Platz and the Schöneberg Town Hall. The atmosphere was charged and noisy. The square was crowded with spectators and demonstrators. A line of white-helmeted police kept them away from the receiving bay.
As Lieffer’s convoy came to a halt, the Liberty Bell from the Town Hall tower started tolling. It was immediately joined by a noisy barrage of anti-Yugoslav slogans and fireworks, until the demonstrators realised that the tolling bell only indicated the time and was not greeting the official party. The noise from the demonstrators subsided, but a clash between one of the groups and the police continued.
Stack saw it all at a glance and felt the acute, electric tension. He also saw the official welcoming party at the foot of the steps, surrounded by police and Press photographers. And he saw Max Schafer. It wasn’t difficult to pick him out. He was wearing his colourful bow tie and had the inevitable cigar in his mouth. He stood behind the other Press men at the top of the steps. There was a camera with large telescopic lens slung around his neck.
Stack looked hard at him. It was always Max Schafer that Stack’s suspicions turned to. Everything pointed to Schafer. Everything.
‘He didn’t even know Lorenzo,’ Stack muttered, as if trying to finalise his thoughts.
‘Who didn’t?’ Lieffer asked sharply.
‘Max,’ Stack replied.
‘That’s surprising,’ Lieffer said. ‘I thought Max would…’
Stack heard no more. He saw Max touch the camera hanging from his neck, and the camera seemed to magnify in size. Stack felt his throat go dry and his pulse start to take off. He recalled what Sue had told him about Ruddi. Ruddi used to be an instrument maker, she had said. My God! Stack thought. That does it. It had to be the camera!
‘The camera!’ Stack exploded. ‘We’ve got to stop him.’
‘Who?’ Lieffer shouted, and held Stack back.
‘Max,’ Stack called out. ‘That camera is loaded!’
Stack got out of the car as the official party drove into the square. He didn’t hear Lieffer shouting his orders. He didn’t hear the fireworks, the yelling, the shouting, the cheering, the scuffling. Nor did he see the clash between the demonstrators and the police, or the official welcoming party move to greet the two Heads of State. All he saw was the straight-laced cigar-smoking Max Schafer, standing by himself at the top of the steps — and the camera.
Stack ran as fast as he could. Hot on his heels were two Federal men. A figure appeared in front of Stack. He side-stepped it and reached the steps. He saw Schafer take hold of his camera.
‘No, Max!’ Stack yelled. ‘No!’
He ran up the steps and collided with Schafer as he was taking aim. Two other bodies also flung themselves on to the man.
Schafer collapsed to the ground under the barrage of flesh and muscles. More of Lieffer’s men gathered around. The pomp of the state visit continued unperturbed. The visiting party stepped out of the cars. The crowds cheered, or demonstrated, according to their allegiance. The scuffle with Schafer was lost in the heat of the emotions and aura of the occasion. Schafer was bodily lifted from the ground and taken to the Town Hall.
Stack watched. There was a slight hold up at the entrance to the building. Schafer turned and looked at Stack. Their eyes met. There was no look of sadness in Schafer’s eyes — no look of friendship — no look of animosity — no look of anything. It was just a blank. Stack felt sorry. He had hoped for some indication to show that their friendship had meant something, but there was no such sign. Schafer looked away and was manhandled into the building.
Ah! What the hell? Stack thought. Why should he worry? He thought of Berak instead and felt better. Perhaps Berak would have forgiven him if he had known, he thought, and Gunter also. Perhaps he could now forgive himself.
He walked slowly back across the square to Lieffer’s car, and stood leaning against its polished bodywork. The sun felt warm on his face. It was all over, he thought. It was finished, and so was he. They couldn’t use him again for some time. He had been too exposed. He felt as if a weight had been removed from his shoulders. As if his inside was starting to thaw. He turned his back on the car and watched Lieffer walking towards him.
‘You were right about the camera,’ Lieffer said quietly as he came up to Stack. ‘Thanks — John.’
Stack looked at him and smiled. ‘That’s okay,’ he said.
‘Would he have used it?’ Lieffer asked.
Stack shrugged. You have to be married to something or somebody, he thought. Max Schafer had said that, and with Max it hadn’t been the Press business, or a wife. Max Schafer had been married to their cause. The look on his face had told Stack that.
‘If it was loaded, he would have used it,’ Stack said, and forgot about Max Schafer.
‘What now?’ Lieffer asked cheerfully.
What now, Stack wondered? What was going to fill the vacuum now? Before he had got involved, it had been Sue. She had occupied all his time. Sue! The very thought of her made him feel a warm glow inside.
‘I think I will go and invite my wife out to lunch,’ he said enthusiastically.
Lieffer smiled. ‘Good,’ he said warmly. ‘I’m pleased, because she’s waiting for you.’ He moved his head to indicate the end of the convoy of cars. ‘I brought her along just in case.’
‘You did!’ Stack exclaimed. ‘You did!’ He looked along the line of cars and saw Sue.
She waved and smiled at him.
‘Sue!’ he called out, his excitement increasing. ‘Sue!’
They ran towards each other and met halfway. He took her in his arms and held her close.
The iceberg inside of him had all melted. His winter was over.
*****
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ALSO BY GEOFFREY DAVISON
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Copyright © The Estate of Geoffrey Davison, 1974
The Estate of Geoffrey Davison has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events, other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.
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eBook ISBN: 9781913335441