Effi’s ‘thank God’ was a little too heartfelt.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Nothing. Not yet, anyway. Someone turned up at the door and suggested that Rosa’s adoption might not be legal.’
‘Who? When?’
‘Yesterday. He said he was from City Hall, and he probably was, but the Russians must be behind it. Thinking it over, I feel sure they’re just trying it on, but at the time I felt almost hysterical.’
‘I can see why.’
‘Well, I’m glad you’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll come to the airport.’
She sounded calm enough, but Russell could hear the tension in her tone. Next morning, as his military flight droned its way across Bavaria, he found himself willing the pilot to step on the gas, as if some inner voice was warning him that their time was finally running out.
Merzhanov
Berlin from the air was more of a shock than Russell expected-either three months away had blunted his memory, or he’d just grown accustomed to cities that didn’t look like some fantastic giant had repeatedly hit them with an outsize hammer. There were signs of rebuilding, but they still seemed far too few for the time that had passed. One thing was certain-if the Fuhrer suddenly emerged from hiding, he would recognise the place.
Effi was waiting at the terminal doors, lovely as ever, eyes full of worry. Before taking the U-Bahn home they went for a walk in nearby Viktoria Park, where in pre-war days they’d often enjoyed the panoramic view from the top of the Kreuzberg. This time they eschewed the climb, circling the base of the hill as they discussed the latest Soviet behaviour.
‘You and Shchepkin can fix this, can’t you?’ Effi half-asked, half-pleaded.
Russell shrugged. ‘I hope so. I just don’t understand what anyone thinks they could gain from threatening us like this. It doesn’t make sense. And until it does, it’s hard to know what we should do about it. But I can’t believe they want to take Rosa away from us-they’re just trying to scare you. We just don’t know why.’
‘According to Shchepkin the two men who tried to take me for questioning were investigating Sonja Strehl’s death, but back in April the police were telling everyone that no investigation was needed. It must all have something to do with Sonja’s death-I can’t believe the Soviets are that upset about losing my services.’
‘They should be,’ Russell suggested gallantly, ‘but they probably aren’t. Shchepkin will be able to find out.’
‘I hope so. This feels worse than waiting for the Gestapo to turn up.’
Russell pulled her to him. ‘They won’t take Rosa away from us,’ he promised.
‘I’ll kill anyone who tries,’ she vowed.
‘We’ll do it together. Now, I have some bad news for your friend Lisa.’
Effi looked up. ‘Uschi’s not dead, is she?’
‘Far from it. She’s getting married in a couple of months. To a young Party zealot.’
‘And she isn’t the slightest bit interested in escaping to America,’ Effi guessed.
‘Precisely.’ Russell explained what had happened, and how the girl had thought herself abandoned. ‘I’ve got a letter for Lisa, and a picture of the happy couple.’
‘Oh dear.’ Effi looked at her watch. ‘It’s time we went to pick up Rosa. I’ll go and see Lisa tomorrow.’
As they walked back to the U-Bahn she told him that Zarah was cooking him a ‘welcome home’ meal, and that Thomas had been invited.
‘Just Thomas?’
‘Hanna’s still at her parents, and Lotte’s got a new boyfriend, another young zealot by all accounts. Thomas told her he was pleased with her romance. When she asked why, he told her the family needed all the political insurance it could get.’
‘Annaliese?’
‘She’s fine, positively glowing, as they say. But worried about Gerhard. She says he keeps muttering under his breath.’
Russell sighed. ‘He’s too honest for Ulbricht’s KPD. Have the Russians been acting up?’
‘Nothing serious.’
After collecting an excited Rosa, they dropped off Russell’s suitcase at the flat and continued on to Fasanen Strasse. Zarah was already cooking, and Thomas arrived not long after. It felt like a real homecoming to Russell, and the joy of seeing his family again was only slightly marred by the absence of his son, and the fear that soon they might all be scattered again. Catching Zarah alone in the kitchen, he offered congratulations for her and Bill’s engagement.
‘I’m sure Effi could get work in America,’ Zarah said, clearly unaware that some was already on offer. ‘And you know you could,’ she added, conveniently forgetting the devil’s bargain that held him in Berlin.
The thought of returning to America was far from unappealing, Russell thought later, although Zarah’s prospective hometown in Iowa was probably not the most obvious fit for Effi or himself.
He had another ‘welcome home’ the following morning at the Berlin Operations Base HQ in Zehlendorf. It wasn’t as warm or fulsome as the one on Fasanen Strasse, but still a big improvement on his usual reception in the villa above Trieste. His old Berlin boss Scott Dallin was long gone, and the current incumbent, Brent Johannsen, was less annoying than most of the Americans Russell had met in the Intelligence business. He looked as Scandinavian as his name suggested-tall, blond, and almost insulting handsome. Johannsen was quick on the uptake, impressively thorough, but rather too narrow-minded. He was ruthless enough when he had to be, but unlike some he didn’t seem to enjoy it.
Johannsen was in a talkative mood that morning. ‘This is top secret,’ he confided, with the air of someone who didn’t give a hoot how many people knew. ‘There was a high-level meeting yesterday in the British Sector-we really are going to bring in a currency reform.’
‘I don’t suppose the Russians were invited.’
‘No way. This reform’s coming, and soon. Before the month is out.’
‘Here in Berlin?’
‘Maybe, maybe not.’
Russell shook his head. ‘That’s not good enough. Whoever controls the currency runs the economy, and whoever controls the economy runs the country. If Washington leaves Berlin out, then they’re handing it to the Russians.’
Johannsen just shrugged. ‘That’s above my pay-grade. All I know is there’s no such thing as a secret meeting in Berlin, and the Russians will be fully briefed on this one. Which means trouble for us. They’ll want to get their retaliation in first.’
‘Probably,’ Russell agreed. He was wondering if this might be how the Americans meant to abandon Berlin, but he couldn’t really believe it to be true. That would be like admitting they’d finally lost the peace. Could they do that? If they could, then he really should send Effi and Rosa away.
‘When’s your next meeting with Ilych?’ Johannsen was asking. Ilych was Shchepkin’s codename.
‘We meet on Fridays.’
‘Well, see what you can get out of him. In the meantime, we’re fresh out of defectors, but seriously short-staffed. Martin Bronson’s on compassionate leave, and I’d like you to run Claptrap until he comes back.’
‘Fine,’ Russell agreed. After Trieste, BOB’s long-standing surveillance of VD-stricken Soviet officers would be refreshingly straightforward.
After reading her daughter’s letter, Lisa Sundgren stared blankly out at the busy Ku’damm, a solitary tear running down each cheek. Angrily wiping these away, she picked up the photograph and scanned it again, as if she might have missed something crucial. ‘I hardly recognise her,’ she said eventually.
‘It’s been a long time,’ Effi said.
‘I know, but what can I do?’ Lisa almost pleaded.
Go home, Effi thought, but that seemed too brutal an answer. ‘You have another daughter,’ she offered gently. This one is lost to you, she thought.
‘I know that, of course I do. But I can’t just walk away from Uschi, forget she exists. I can’t.’
‘It needn’t be forever. John thinks the situation will improve over the next few months, and then travel in and out will get easier.’