BERLIN

by Paul Grant

  ‘You have to tell me all about what happened,’ Ulrich said, ushering his father along. ‘We’ll go to the Wild Boar for a beer.’

  His father stopped. ‘That would be great, Ulrich, but I’m not sure this is the time.’ He dipped his head towards Eva.

  ‘Ah, yes, sorry, I was being selfish.’

  Eva said, ‘It’s fine, you two go. You have a lot of catching up to do…’

  ‘No, we can find somewhere to go together,’ his father insisted.

  ‘Come on, let’s walk. There’s a place near the Kneipe where we can talk,’ Ulrich said. ‘What the hell happened at Stalingrad, Dad?’

  His father sighed like he didn’t really want to say too much about it. ‘It’s a long story, Uli.’

  ‘You can say that again,’ Ulrich said laughing.

  His father smiled wryly. ‘I never thought I’d get back to you all.’

  Ulrich heard his father’s voice crack. For so long he had only held visions of that day on the platform at Anhalter station when his father said his farewell and leapt back onto the departing troop train. It had been more than ten years, and nearly eleven. Ulrich wrapped his arm around his father’s shoulder and squeezed.

  ‘You’re back now. That’s the main thing. There’s time to catch up on what happened.’

  Ulrich changed the subject. ‘You’ve seen Mum, I take it?’

  His father nodded.

  ‘She never gave up on you, not once, do you know that?’

  Ulrich turned to see the tears in his father’s eyes. He wondered if his return had all been too much for him. Ulrich couldn’t begin to imagine what he must have been through, physically and emotionally.

  They walked on towards Alexanderplatz, the café stop-off forgotten for a while. His father had regained his composure and was staring at some of the propaganda posters.

  ‘How do you stand it here with all this? It reminds me of Russia,’ he said bitterly.

  Ulrich shrugged. ‘Maybe we don’t know any different. Anyway, we can’t just walk away from it all.’

  His father turned to him suddenly. ‘Don’t believe you can change any of this, Ulrich. They won’t allow it.’

  Ulrich was surprised by the sudden gravity in his father’s voice. Behind his father, Ulrich caught sight of Eva raising her eyebrows knowingly.

  ‘It’s difficult, Dad. There’s so much going on right now. I am sure the protests will bring us something. They will have to back down.’

  Ulrich could see his father’s lips were pursed. ‘They don’t have to and in my experience they won’t.’ He was becoming animated, his voice raised more than before. ‘This place smacks of Russia. These people have taken the template and slapped it on Berlin.’

  ‘You’ve only been back two minutes. How can you know that?’ Ulrich said, then wished he hadn’t. This was escalating and it wasn’t how he imagined his father’s return.

  His voice was stern now, his eyes piercing through his son. ‘Trust me, Ulrich. I just know.’

  They continued on in silence. Ulrich was desperate for it not to be like this. Thankfully, his father must have been thinking likewise. ‘Anyway, what about this girl, Ursula?’

  ‘She’s great, Dad. You’ll really like her.’ Ulrich flashed a look across towards Eva but this time there were no smart looks; her gaze was fixed across the square towards the station.

  ‘I’d like to meet her, in a few days, once I get used to being back, once we all do.’

  The three of them laughed, the tension of before broken. Ulrich respected his father’s opinion, but he couldn’t have the first idea about what was going on in the city, about Heissner. Ulrich was bursting to say something about Markus, but knew he couldn’t betray his trust.

  His father nodded towards a bench. ‘I’d like to sit for a bit.’

  Eva instinctively linked his arm. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Fine, really fine. I just feel exhausted now. It’s been a long couple of weeks.’

  ‘We should get you back to your hotel,’ she said sharply.

  ‘Hotel? What are you talking about?’ Ulrich said, his face contorted. ‘What’s wrong with the apartment?’

  Eva shrugged, but didn’t say anything.

  His father sat down and looked Ulrich in the eye. ‘It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you in a roundabout way. I can’t stay over here in ‘the zone’, or whatever it’s called.’

  ‘It’s not all that bad…’

  ‘No, Ulrich. I need to explain it all to you.’ He had his hand on Ulrich’s and squeezed. ‘Right now, I just need some rest, but when I’ve slept, tomorrow, when you’re done at work, I will tell you everything.’

  ***

  A sudden tiredness had engulfed Klaus Schultz. It took Ulrich and Eva combined to deposit him at the pension close to Zoo station. Maria was waiting for him and took care of things from there. Klaus couldn’t describe what had happened to him. The doctor the kindly hotelier had called seemed baffled and would only prescribe rest, diagnosing a nervous exhaustion. After a hot bath, Klaus slept, not a comfortable sleep, but one of shocking nightmares and sheet-soaking sweats. He couldn’t get up if he wanted to, but every time he awoke with a start, Maria was there to mop his brow and mutter soothing words. Klaus had known nothing like it, but he did know, deep down, all the fight and perennial struggle of the past years, the daily exertion to stay alive, had evaporated from his body. Now he was back home and felt safe, the defences he’d maintained with monumental effort had melted away.

  By the second day, he was able to sit up and eat. By the third day, he felt much better and was able to walk along, marvelling at the bright lights of the Ku’damm and enjoying time with his wife and daughter. Ulrich had been to see him once, but he had been sleeping. The more he recovered, the more his concern transferred from his own condition to worry over his son. Something wasn’t right with Ulrich, and even though he’d been away for years, he knew his boy. The argument they’d nearly had rang alarm bells with Klaus Schultz.

  East Berlin

  June 1953

  He had her by the hair. These were his favourite moments, when they were weak, when they were about to crack. They didn’t train him for this, they didn’t need to. It was the part of the job he craved, the part he needed to function until the next time. He struck her again with the back of his hand across the face. Her lip was bleeding and her eye swollen.

  ‘What you’re telling me is not what I want to hear,’ he hissed in her ear. They’d told him it was best to talk close to them because during the beating there would be shock, causing ringing in the ears.

  ‘I swear I don’t know anything else. I’ve not seen him,’ she said.

  He yanked her head back with her hair, causing her to scream. She was on her knees, just where he liked them.

  ‘Our little arrangement used to work. I know what your boyfriend was up to and your sister had her care…’

  ‘I swear…’

  He gripped her hair tighter. He was sorely tempted to cut her throat; it was so soft, asking him to finish it, but he couldn’t. He had to be patient.

  ‘This is the second time you’ve told me this. I don’t want to hear it. Now who is he talking to? And this time, before you answer, remember Ilse’s medication can be stopped as soon as I give the word. I have that power.’

  When they’d first told him, he hadn’t cared much for this approach, this type of coercion. He much preferred the violence, the fear, but things had worked out quite well until this point.

  ‘Okay. Okay,’ she barely managed.

  He released the tension on her hair slightly, then finally let go altogether. She brought herself up straight and ran her hands through her hair. A real sight; he was enjoying the moment, almost sad she was about to tell him.

  She whispered something and he was forced to bend closer to her face to hear him.

  ‘What was that?’

  He was looking into her eyes now, feeling the excitement building in him. This was his moment.
Suddenly, she spat in his face, his eyes, blood and saliva. He recoiled in disgust.

  ‘You filthy bitch!’ His knife was out in a flash. The control he’d struggled to maintain had now gone. This would be all she deserved.

  ‘Halt!’

  The warning echoed in the empty warehouse. He was still angry and turned in shock. There was a gun levelled at him. He couldn’t see the man’s face in the shadows.

  ‘Put down the knife and walk away from the girl or I will shoot.’

  The words were clear. He thought he knew the voice. He was trying to control his anger, think what to do next. He took a deep breath, then dropped the knife.

  The girl would keep; he knew where to find her. If the man hadn’t shot him by now, he wasn’t going to. The girl was sobbing now, no good to him.

  He turned and walked calmly away.

  CHAPTER 27

  JUNE 1953, EAST BERLIN

  Ulrich had been putting off this day for a while now. There had been excuses as to why he hadn’t been to see Ursula. His mind had been occupied with Heissner and Markus, and then with the return of his father. He felt like his feet hadn’t touched the ground in the last few days. He’d told Markus about his father and he had seemed genuinely pleased. In fact, Markus had told him it would be a good time to move west. Ulrich, however, was determined to see the protest through, to see if they could change things here for the better. Things were coming to a head, he could sense it. In the meantime, he’d left it long enough to patch things up with Ursula, if that were indeed possible.

  He hadn’t planned what he would say, only to start by giving her the news about his father. She would know what that would mean to him; he was still having difficulty believing it himself. His father needed time to get over his homecoming. He’d looked like he could sleep for a month when Ulrich had been to see him. He would try to see him again tomorrow after work. His mother had warned him to stay out of trouble, especially now his father was back. If only they knew what he was caught up in.

  He turned on to Ackerstrasse, the light fading in the grey sky. For the first time he shivered in the cool wind. He wondered when summer would actually arrive in the city, when he and Ursula could spend long afternoons frolicking by the lakes; he’d missed her.

  He wasn’t far from the junction with Bernauer Strasse now. The street was almost in silence, the graveyard eerily still over the wall to his left. There was a beige delivery van on the opposite side of the street close to the doorway to Ursula’s apartment block.

  What would he say to her? Would she be sorry for the outburst the last time they’d been together? He hoped he’d chosen the right night, the night her father went to the Kneipe to play skat with his friends, otherwise his call might well be cut short. He crossed the road, the cemetery at his back. He’d just stepped foot on the pavement in front of the apartment block when the back doors of the beige van sprung open. Ulrich stood motionless as two men spilled out. Their hands were on him before he could utter a word. He went to call out, but he was already at the back of the van, dragged there by strong arms working in unison.

  Here, Ulrich tried to resist, pawing at the roof of the van opening. He felt a sharp pain in his ribs, then a boot to the back of his knee, and his legs buckled. Before he could alert anybody, he was in the back of the van. The place reeked with the stale aroma of sweat and cigarettes. The two men were in behind him, blocking any thought of escape. The doors were slammed shut and the engine gunned.

  His eyes were wide in fear as a bag was pulled roughly over his head. Ulrich knew now he wouldn’t be seeing Ursula tonight.

  CHAPTER 28

  16 JUNE 1953, WEST/EAST BERLIN

  The last couple of days and nights had felt like an age to Klaus Schultz. His sleep had been broken by nightmares of the interrogation at Lubjanka, and the dark, claustrophobic passages of the mine in Kolyma. At least he was out walking now, rebuilding the strength which had disappeared from his limbs overnight. With Maria by his side, he could feel himself getting stronger. Eva was also there, watching on intently, jotting down symptoms as if he were some kind of medical experiment. He certainly felt like one.

  It was morning. He sat up in bed feeling fresher than he had done at any time since his return. Maria had stayed with him at the hotel, knowing Eva could take care of herself and that Ulrich would be back home later just in case. Klaus could feel things coming together. He’d not broached the subject of leaving for West Germany again, even though he knew that’s what they had to do. One step at a time was the only mantra to follow at the moment.

  It was eight o’clock and Maria was ready to return to work. Klaus had in mind a leisurely day walking around West Berlin, maybe along Budapester Strasse and as far as the Tiergarten this time.

  ‘I have to go now. Take care and don’t overdo it, Klaus Schultz.’ Maria tapped his chest lovingly. He was still in awe of how she’d taken his return in her stride.

  There was a knock at the room door and Maria opened it quickly to see the hotelier before Eva brushed past him into the room.

  ‘Uli didn’t come back last night.’

  Klaus looked at Maria to gauge if it was normal or not. Her brow was pinched with concern. She thanked the hotel owner and closed the door.

  ‘Maybe he stayed at a friend’s place?’ Maria said uncertainly.

  Eva was shaking her head. ‘No, you don’t understand. I’ve been to the site. Bernhard said he’d not turned up to work this morning.’

  Klaus felt his stomach grip. He knew something hadn’t been right when he’d first seen his son a few days earlier. He was out of bed pulling on his clothes.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Maria said.

  ‘I have to go and see what’s going on.’

  She was shaking her head. ‘You need to take it easy. Anyway, you shouldn’t go back to the eastern sector, not if you can help it.’

  Eva hadn’t finished. ‘Nobody had started work on the site. It was chaotic. They’ve increased the work targets again! Twenty-five per cent this time.’

  Klaus was just about ready. He could feel something brewing and he was long enough in the tooth to know all this was linked to Ulrich’s disappearance.

  Maria pursed her lips. ‘I knew he was up to something. I wish I had been stronger with him.’

  ‘You can’t blame yourself,’ Klaus said. ‘He has his own mind.’

  ‘You don’t think he’s been…’

  Klaus shrugged. ‘It’s hard to say. We don’t know how much he’s been involved in all this.’

  Eva said, ‘I bet Ursula knows what he’s been up to.’

  Klaus again noted the edge in his daughter’s voice when she spoke of Ursula.

  ‘And where does Ursula live?’ Klaus asked.

  ‘Wedding.’

  ‘We’d better go and see what she has to say then, hadn’t we?’

  Maria went to say something, but Klaus was ready for her.

  ‘To Wedding, and then straight back here. I promise.’

  She hesitated for a moment. ‘Okay. Take care of Eva.’ Her daughter rolled her eyes dramatically, forcing Klaus to smile.

  ‘I’ll see you back here later. I’ll see what I can find out at the Magistrat,’ Maria said, then kissed him on the cheek. She looked him directly in the eye. ‘Be careful, Klaus.’

  ***

  After heading across the sparse-looking Tiergarten, they skirted around the back of the old Reichstag, appearing sorry for itself in its state of perennial disrepair. On their route, Klaus continued to see warning signs about leaving the British sector; they were skirting the edge of the Russian sector. He and Eva talked little on the way, focused as they were on the task of finding out about Ulrich. The situation had thrust them together, and even though the circumstances weren’t ideal, Klaus was proud to be able to help for once, instead of feeling needy and infirm.

  They reached Bernauer Strasse in the French sector. The Wedding in which they arrived was the one that Klaus remembered. It was a wo
rking-class area where the real workers had once lived, no matter what Marx or Lenin had said. Apartment blocks were packed in, tenement style. It had been a den before the war, a place where thieves and miscreants blended in with honest workers. It was a place the police couldn’t penetrate, Gestapo or not.

  The street was a long, gradually inclining street with five-storey apartment blocks encroaching on either side. There were some gaps in the line of apartment blocks due to the bombing and the old cemetery. After another five minutes they passed the cemetery and reached the junction with Ackerstrasse.

  ‘That’s the block,’ Eva said. ‘Family name Lehmann.’

  ‘Okay, I want you to stay down here,’ Klaus said.

  Eva pulled a face but agreed in the end, albeit under protest. He had no intention of involving Eva any more than he had to, even though he suspected her headstrong nature was tinged with a healthy survival instinct.

  The stairwell to the apartment was dark and covered in mould. It fell in nicely with the rest of the housing stock close to the Mitte (centre), including Maria’s place. Klaus banged on the door, and whilst there was no immediate reply, he did hear whispering and shuffling inside, so he waited before trying again. Suddenly, the door sprang open and a bull of a man in a railway uniform grabbed Klaus by the collar. Before he could react, Klaus was pulled through the doorway.

  At the end of a short hallway, the man pinned Klaus to the wall. He was shorter than Klaus, but his neck was wide enough to bulge out from his overworked shirt. His forearm was across Klaus’ chest, his nostrils flared in anger. Klaus suppressed his instinct to fight back; he’d come for information, not a brawl.

  ‘Who gave you this address?’ the man demanded.

  ‘I’m Ulrich Schultz’s father. I’ve come to speak to Ursula,’ he said as calmly as possible.

  The man pushed his forearm up to Klaus’ neck until he found it difficult to breathe. Klaus’ knee was twitching, ready to crash into his nether regions if this went on any longer.