Kragan had taken Kaas under his wing and transferred him to the Stasi pre-trial detention establishment at Berlin-Hohenschonhausen. There, under the protective umbrella of the Hoeneker regime, Kaas had excelled at the intimidation and torture that was the mainstay of the Stasi method. Pain was something he enjoyed dishing out. He seemed to have no sense of fear, but that had been easy in the days when the Party ruled supreme and there was no opposition. By the end of the Eighties he was the youngest captain in the crack Guards Regiment Feliks Dzierzynski. Then the Wall came down and everything changed. With no prospects and a troubled future, Kaas turned to Kragan once again. The older man, himself an outsider in the new world, had already joined the National Socialists at the request of Peter Frick. He admired Kaas' lack of fear, saw it as a formidable weapon in such a cool thinking operative. Working for the National Socialists had suited Kaas. It was his home, his passport to the world of pain and violence he enjoyed so much. The discipline of a police state was what he had grown up with, what suited his talents best.
Kragan had the coffees waiting for Kaas when he arrived. Both men were dressed in styles that were suitable for the Atlantic. A spacious, cheap self service place, it was packed with young people on their way home from the fairground.
'Lined them up for later on?' he asked.
'No, sir. I didn't know what you wanted to do.'
'No pleasure this trip, Walther. Unfortunately.'
Kaas shrugged. He knew Kragan's hunger for young girls, usually those under the age of fourteen. It didn't mean anything to Kaas, everyone had their own secrets. And Kaas had soon learnt that part of his duties in the criminal division of the Stasi had been to supply the hierarchy with whatever was needed by way of eroticism and perversion. There was always something for someone in the criminal world. 'I read there was a riot in Berlin. At the Olympistadion,' he said.
'Not good. These riots.'
'It said it was a big riot.'
'Bigger than expected.'
'I'm glad to see they can work on their own.' Kaas meant the other storm troopers.
'It wasn't difficult. Everyone was pleased with your leadership in Hamburg and Neu-Isenburg.'
'Is the main project ready?'
'The plans are in place. We need you back in Dresden. It's time to train your people.'
'How many?'
'Four. Including you.'
'Tight.' He shrugged. 'But enough. I choose the other three?'
'Of course.' Kragan already knew who were Kaas' favourites, whom he would choose. It was important that an operation of this magnitude had continuity. Kaas' team would give it that. 'This whole thing will be strictly on a need to know basis. That includes your team.'
'When can I tell them?'
'At the last moment. The training will ensure their readiness.'
'How long?'
'A week. Ample time.'
'Do we go back together?'
'No. Fly to Berlin. There's a plane from Charles de Gaulle Airport at nine tomorrow morning. A driver will meet you at Tegel Airport and take you to Dresden. Finish your work tonight. Avoid suspicious movements. I shall probably be back before you.' Kragan took a newspaper out of his overcoat and openly passed it across to Kaas, as friends would when discussing points of interest. 'There's a good article on Berlin in there. Read it. I want you to understand exactly what is expected by the time I see you tomorrow.'
The two men left soon after. Kaas returned to his final night at the fairground and Kragan to the InterContinental.
The desk clerk had gone off duty, but had he seen Kragan, he would only have seen another businessman in an expensive coat returning to his hotel after a night out.
Ch. 59
As the British Airways Boeing 757 twin engined jet touched down on Runway 27 Left at Heathrow at 8.33 a.m., Adam concluded that there would probably be someone watching for him at the shuttle terminal. He decided then to brazen it out. The last thing they would expect was the obvious, it was a certain way to catch them flat footed.
The immigration officer at Manchester hadn't made anything of it, but Adam knew he recognised the names from his priority list. As soon as he saw Adam's passport he had flicked his eyes down at the register under the counter.
He reached over and took Billie's American passport, flicked through it.
'You two travelling together?' he asked in a thick northern accent, too nonchalantly for Adam not to notice.
Jenny had already gone through the crew customs, signed her general declaration and disappeared into a back room to sort out all the customs formalities on the imported aircraft. Their farewells had been short. They all had other things on their mind.
'Yes,' said Adam.
The immigration man nodded and passed Adam's passport back. 'Where will you be staying in England, miss?'
'Where will we be staying, darling?' Billie turned to Adam.
'We're going to hire a car and do some touring,' he declared. 'My friend's never been here before. We'll drive until we find somewhere to stop for the night.'
'Why did you come across on a ferry flight?' asked the immigration man.
'Cheaper than a scheduled flight.'
The immigration man was loath to let them go, but the instructions on the register were clear. 'Do not detain. Do not cause suspicion. Identify their probable destination. Proceed with caution. Report immediately. Contact customs to clear without search.' He was tired and there was little else he could do without alarming them. He handed Billie back her passport.
'Can't you stamp it?' she asked. 'I get that done everywhere I go.'
'We don't stamp passports,' said the immigration man huffily as he turned away from the desk and went into the little room behind that served as his office.
Customs had waved them through the green section. Adam was relieved; his brown bag with the weapons had been his only concern. He didn't know that Customs had already been put on notice to clear them through.
Now as they left the shuttle lounge at Heathrow, mixed in with the commuters and shoppers who had come down for the day, Adam saw the tail. Military type in a camel coat hiding behind a newspaper. Adam chuckled and took Billie's arm and led her straight up to him.
'Looking for us?' he asked cheekily.
'Sorry?' queried the Military. He was out of breath, had obviously been dispatched to Heathrow in a hurry in case Adam turned up there. He had run down the long corridors to the lounge and arrived just as the shuttle passengers were disembarking.
'We're going home. You can pass that on to Control.'
They left the shuttle lounge with the Military confused and still pretending to ignore them. As soon as they had turned the corner, however, he put his paper down and headed for the row of pay phones that lined the wall.
'How did you know he was waiting for us?' asked Billie as they caught a taxi into the centre of London.
Adam chuckled. 'They're desk jockeys, not field men. We probably have the best field operatives in the world. But they're in Northern Ireland, places like that. These guys are jokers.'