Of course, when the Berlin Wall fell at the end of 1989, the whole world changed. It certainly changed for the KGB in Dresden. Popov remembered that December evening so clearly. From a side-balcony of the KGB’s mansion on Angelikastrasse, he had watched the crowds ransacking the hated Stasi headquarters. Then a bunch of them had broken off to attack the KGB office itself. In what was probably one of the most defining moments of his career, Popov had confronted them unarmed.
‘This house is strictly guarded,’ he had said in fluent German. ‘My soldiers have weapons. And I have given them orders. If anyone enters the compound, they are to open fire.’
Later, of course, the story was much embellished. In some versions, guards were positioned with AK-47s at the windows of the building ready to shoot. Others claimed that Lieutenant-Colonel Popov, as he then was, had brandished a pistol when addressing the crowds. But the key point was through his prompt and successful intervention Popov gained vital time.
Next day, they had destroyed most of the files; communications, lists of contacts, agents’ networks etc. They all went up in smoke. But Popov and his colleagues managed to spirit some of them back to Moscow. One of those files was Mina’s.
Well, he had protected her back then, Popov thought. Thanks to him, KGB files from the Dresden office never fell into the hands of the government of the newly unified Germany in the way the Stasi files did. Had they done so, the government would certainly have learned about Mina and it would not have taken them long to discover Mina’s real identity. If they had, Helga Brun’s brilliant career might have taken a very different turn.
‘Those were the days weren’t they, Mina?’ Popov repeated. ‘Do you remember when we walked along the banks of the Elbe together?’
‘Don’t call me Mina. I’m not Mina.’
‘You’re lucky the Stasi didn’t keep a file too.’
Helga Brun was suddenly indignant. ‘I would never have worked for the Stasi. Disgusting bunch!’
She turned to face him. She had loved him then. They were virtually the same age. And there had been this powerful physical attraction. She had once, daringly, asked him, ‘Igor, were you born with an erection?’
By this time they were nearing the far end of the Tiergarten. The security detail was closing up on them. The Chancellery building loomed ahead.
‘What do you want?’ she asked. ‘You had better be quick. In another five minutes we’ll be surrounded by guards.’
‘I’ll give you a hug now, for old times’ sake.’
He pulled her towards him in a brief embrace.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sitting at the back of the Plenary Chamber in the row of seats reserved for high officials, Thomas Hartkopf, state secretary at the German ministry of the interior, watched with interest as President Igor Popov addressed the Special Session of the Bundestag.
It was a brief but well-judged speech. At a time when NATO and the EU had been testing Russian patience to the limit with their ill-judged sanctions over Crimea and their crude enticements to both Ukraine and Georgia (encouraging them to join NATO, for heaven’s sake!) Popov knew full well that at least in Germany many people, including the chancellor, were reluctant to provoke the Russian bear into a counter-attack, since – as recent history of the twentieth century had shown only too clearly – it would be, above all, Germany that paid the price.
So Popov studiously avoided any mention of the European Union and its irritating ambitions. He emphasized instead the historic ties between Russia and Germany.
‘Above all,’ Popov said, ‘let us stress the friendship between our two great countries. Russian-German relations are as old as our nations. The first German tribes appeared on Russian territory in the late first century. In the late nineteenth century Germans were the ninth most numerous ethnic group in Russia. But what is important is not just the numbers, but the role played by these people in the development of the country and in Russian-German relations. They were peasants and merchants, intellectuals, military men and politicians.
‘As a good neighbour in the West,’ Popov continued, ‘Germany often symbolized for the Russians culture, technical intellect and entrepreneurial wit. Small wonder that in the past all Europeans were known as Germans in Russia and the Europeans’ settlement in Moscow was known as the German Village!’
Popov paused, playing it for laughs. The Honourable Members duly obliged with a round of applause. What a showman the man was, Hartkopf thought.
There was more to come. ‘Nor should we forget Princess Sophia Augusta Frederika of Anhalt-Zerbst, who made a unique contribution to Russian history. Ordinary Russians called her Mother, but she went down in history as Russian empress Catherine the Great.’
He gestured towards the German chancellor: Helga the Great!
By the time he sat down, Popov had them eating out of his hand. It wasn’t just his gift of oratory and the sly sense of humour. The claws for the moment were well-concealed, but they were still there.
When it was her turn to speak, Chancellor Helga Brun sensed the mood lightening in the Chamber.
‘I thought I would start by talking about football,’ she began. ‘I know that’s a safe subject. Of course, Germany was delighted to win the last World Cup in Brazil in 2014, and we are all looking forward to the next World Cup in Russia in 2018.’
The parliamentarians applauded enthusiastically. President Popov leaned over to the chancellor and in a stage whisper said, ‘Maybe it will be a Russia–Germany final.’
Thomas Hartkopf’s attention began to wander. It always did when people talked about football. Couldn’t stand the game.
So he listened with half an ear as Helga Brun moved on from football, to welcome President Popov on his historic visit to Berlin. He heard her speak eloquently of the importance of the relationship between Russia and Germany, as Popov himself had. Then she started on about Europe. Funny, wasn’t it, how even the best-intentioned people could drone on?
The chancellor finally grabbed his full attention when she started to reflect on current challenges, particularly the war in Syria, the refugee crisis and its impact on Germany.
‘Let me be clear about this,’ Helga Brun said. ‘In the presence of my good friend, Igor Popov, President of the Russian Federation, whom we are honoured to have with us today, I condemn the surge in German attacks on refugee shelters. That is unworthy of our country. I believe that the issue of asylum could become a bigger challenge for the European Union than the Greek debt crisis or the stability of the euro. Indeed, the issue of asylum could be the next major European project, in which we show whether we are really able to take joint action.’
Thomas Hartkopf could sense the sudden change of mood in the Bundestag Plenary Chamber. It was as though a door had been left open and an icy blast had entered the room. Basically, he knew, the members were fed up with the asylum issue. Many of them thought that Germany had been far too generous to refugees already. How many more could the country absorb?
As the chancellor spoke, he could see members fidgeting on their well-padded seats. Surely the chancellor was not going to spoil the morning with some ill-judged platitudes about the need for compassion and brotherly love?