As the radio played on and the conversation waned, the temperature fell a few more degrees. It was hardly intolerable, if only in comparison to the rest of the season which was morbidly cold at the best of times. Yet as the winds seemed to shift, the group fell silent with the moment. At first, it felt comfortable with a solemn sort of mutual cheer, but after a few telling coughs and sneezes, it was perhaps time for the first of the group to appeal to the nature of bedtime.
“Well, I suppose it’s time that I finally turn these old bones in for the night.” Mrs. Schroeder said. “I’ve a lot of nothing to catch up on in the morning.”
She turned to Lena then, and said, “Would you do me a kindness, dear, and help carry Kraut back to my apartment? I’m getting a little too old, and he’s getting a little too heavy.”
“I can help as well!” Vivika offered cheerfully.
“Oh nonsense,” Mrs. Schroeder replied sarcastically, “I wouldn’t want you and Lena to take romantic liberties in my home. Lena will do just fine.”
The group laughed again at Lena and Vivika’s expense before disbanding. A few idle goodbyes, maybe a hug or two, a few more arm punches later, and the majority sidled down the fire escapes into the darkness.
“I’ll see you in the apartment, then?” Vivika said.
“Sure thing,” Lena smiled, as she scooped up the dumb lump of puppy, “I’ll see you soon.” She didn’t want to admit it, but she was excited to have company for the night. Thus, with a skip in her step, she started carefully down the fire escape with the blubbery-mass of sleepy-Kraut none the wiser about his present mobility.
“How much longer am I going to have to do this?” Patrick asked Grandfather pointedly.
Patrick had taken a while to compose himself after the night’s… festivities… and then headed directly to Grandfather’s house. Patrick knew very well that it wasn’t his real house—Grandfather was a cautious man for a reason, and his caution had to be absolute. Yet his Grandfather had been generous enough to schedule a meeting with relatively little forewarning, and the homey little domicile was calming enough. It had bookshelves filled with books no one had (or would) ever read, chairs no one would likely ever sit in, and windows that would never let in light past the thick curtain. It looked lived-in enough, despite its strict security and singular purpose.
Patrick tried as hard as he could to keep the raw edge of emotion out of his voice. This was his own problem, after all, and Grandfather was a busy man—not to be bothered with such trivialities unless absolutely necessary. Still, Patrick was understandably frustrated. Grandfather must never know the full extent as to why, but it was important that he understood there was good reason for his frustrations. Maybe the slight limp would help provide some modicum of context.
“Well, that depends,” he answered honestly. “It’s you and Lena’s job to facilitate the British band’s wooing by the GDR. Once he is safely in our clutches, then our debts are settled, you and I. You can leave right after that. Nothing is forcing you to stay employed by me or the HVA.”
“I can leave? Truly?” Patrick growled with a note of aggression and distrust.
“As I said, once our debts are settled, you are free to go where you please.”
“And you can guarantee my safety if I step away?”
“Now you know I can’t promise that.” Grandfather answered plainly, but with a note of concern. “So long as you are my agent, and you are doing what you need to be doing, you are bulletproof. But once you are out of my sphere of influence, I can’t protect you. You might fare just fine, since the State has benefited from your nearly spotless record. But you know as well as I do that you know far too much. The State may wish to move you laterally; but it will never let you leave entirely. Certainly not over the Wall.”
“I’m not scared of the State!” Patrick spat.
“Then you are an idiot. As intolerable as some of the thugs you work with can be, they are intelligent, and they do have your back when it counts. So long as you say the right things and do the same things they are doing, at least. And not all of them are as despicable as the others. I’ve made sure to keep a variety of personalities in place to balance out the rougher edges. But the State isn’t intelligent, and it doesn’t have your back. It knows nothing of you—of your desires, of your abilities, of your opinions on the matter—it only cares about your usefulness, and about how much of a liability you are. It’s a huge unthinking system and there are hundreds of men in this system whose only job is to balance your current usefulness against your future liability. The second you lose a point in the wrong column, or gain one in the other, you will have a heart attack. Or you will be ran over by a train… or worse.”
“Perhaps that’s better than this.” Patrick said, ruefully.
“You aren’t thinking.” Grandfather chastised him. “You are having a hard time. I understand that, and I care, but kindly remember that I’m the only one who cares. Don’t abuse that privilege with weak statements like that. Luckily for you, I care enough to completely ignore your momentary lapse, and tell you this: You will have the life you desire, or one very close to it. I will put you in that position, and I will do it as soon as I can, because I understand and care about you. But you aren’t the only one I care about, and I have to take care of the others too. If you resist me, it will only make my job harder. And so help me god, if you make it harder for me to help the others because you want to whine… there will be consequences.”
“B-but…” Patrick began to argue, before thinking better of it.
“You, Patrick, are not currently ready. You have growing to do. I have to trust you to not only do the job, but to do it the way I need it done.” With this, Grandfather gave Patrick a knowing glare. “Until you can do that, you will have to learn and to grow.”
“I dealt with them.” Patrick seethed. “I made the problems disappear.”
“Problems don’t disappear if they make the news, Patrick!” Grandfather snapped. “Two musicians of an up-and-coming band from East Germany found dead… shot in the head. Both in separate alleyway dumpsters. What in the world were you thinking?!”
“What was I supposed to do?! Let them run off?!”
“Yes! That’s what you were told to make happen!”
“They were liabilities!”
“They were my assets, not yours!” Grandfather was yelling now, red-faced, and Patrick recoiled against it. Grandfather never yelled, which made it all the more a fearsome thing when witnessed. “They may have been bastards, but they were my bastards! I entrusted my charges to you, and you killed them, you little ingrate!”
“I… I…”
“Yes they were liabilities; but they were my liabilities to accept!” Grandfather barely controlled his temper. “I had my reasons, and those reasons do not require your approval! Especially when you have such a small view of the big picture! So, don’t you presume to educate me. Especially when you can’t follow simple instructions, because now your incompetence has made more work for me.”
“Then show me the big picture. Help me understand!”
“It’s not your job to understand these things, you brat! It’s my job to see the big picture, not yours. Your job is to do what I tell you to do. One day, when you are my age, you will have your own big picture to paint. And you will be painting it with kids like you who can’t follow directions. Then you will get mad at them, like I am at you, and realize that you don’t have time to explain it all to them. Because then you would have to justify it in the same manner as you imparted it, and you won’t be able to do that, because each individual plot point in that picture is based off of thousands of hours of personal experience you have garnered on the subject.