Chapter 43
Several weeks later, the Old Man called him into his office.
"Take a seat, Gallagher."
Gally sat and watched him pace up and down behind his desk.
"I've a job for you. You're going to Berlin."
"I've always wanted to go to Berlin, Sir. They say the beer and the nightlife are second to none. Will it be on expenses or should I get a loan out?"
"You won't have time for any of that nonsense. You won't be going alone."
"Oh, then can I take Miss Johnson with me?"
"Gallagher, try to be sensible for just a short while. You and I shall be going."
"That's a very kind offer, Sir, and I hope you're not offended but you're not my type."
The Old Man glared at him. Gally decided he'd pushed it far enough.
He started again, slowly. "Gallagher, if you weren't so bloody competent I'd have you back on school crossing patrols permanently." He made the follow-up stare count.
"Listen very carefully. You and I shall be going to Berlin to hand back Herr Radler to the East Germans. We'll have a few of the Farralland chaps with us for security." He sat down and took a file from his drawer. Slipping a sheet of paper from within he slid it across the desk. "Read that and shut the door on your way out."
They flew Radler into RAF Gatow on a C-130 transport. It wasn't the most comfortable flight Gallagher had taken. Whisked off to a safe house by Billy, Mick and a bloke the others called Johnny Mirrors, he put a call in to the Berlin Savoy and spoke to the Old Man, receiving instructions for the following day.
They settled down for the night and the conversation between Gallagher and Radler drifted to the handover.
"Of course, you know I'm interested in who I'm being exchanged for, Gally. What is my value these days?"
"I'm not sure. You tell me? You're being swapped for someone you caught a few years ago, it seems. I only know of him as 'Don'."
"Ah, Mister Creech-Kellar. I must admit to feeling pleased my value to my comrades has increased somewhat in the last months." He sipped the Asbach brandy Gally had Johnny Mirrors purchase from the Naafi at Gatow. "You know, that network was difficult to crack, they led me on a merry chase but I got them. All of them apart from the one I only knew of as Havel. Two British agents, fluent speakers. The rest were local acquisitions. So, I'm to be exchanged for Mister Creech-Kellar. I'm honoured." He held his glass out for a refill.
"Just the one, Harald. We need you up bright and early and looking chirpy." Gally smiled.
The following morning, oh dark hundred, the borrowed Embassy black Mercedes collected them. The Farralland team followed on in the locally provided VW.
For the most part, they travelled in silence. Radler, despite his bravado of the night before, was nervous about his forthcoming reception but he also had a slight yet persistent annoying feeling that, eventually, he gave in to.
He leant forward and lightly tapped the shoulder of the man in the front passenger seat. "Excuse me, but have we ever met before?"
The Old Man didn't turn. "I don't believe we have, Herr Radler." The image of an accidental pedestrian collision on the footpath outside the 'Runde Ecke' Stasi HQ and prison in Leipzig flashed through his head.
Harald sat back. "That's strange. I have a distinct feeling somehow I know you. Ach, what does it matter. My mother was a psychic. I blame it on her." He laughed.
Next to the barrier, two American military policemen and a uniformed Berlin cop on one side and Gallagher on the other, the Old Man waited impatiently. Behind them, Billy minded Radler whilst Mick and Johnny Mirrors leant against the Volkswagen, nine millimetre Brownings hidden beneath their jackets. A sign in front of them stated, in four languages - You are leaving the American sector.
With dawn fast approaching, the cobblestones were still wet from a heavy but thankfully brief shower. At the far end of the Glienicke Bridge, on the Soviet- controlled side, a grey van pulled up and Gallagher could see a group descend from it. They stood around the checkpoint. He lifted his binoculars and hovered over the face of a uniformed guard. So, that's what a Russian looks like. He was expecting something ugly and grim but what he saw looked like the sort of young man you could find anywhere.
"I think that's your man, Sir," Gally commented.
The Old Man clicked his fingers and Gally relinquished control of the binos. "Yes, that's him. A bit thinner but it's him."
"Why here, Sir? Why not somewhere else?"
The Old Man gave him a scathing look. "It's what we do, Gallagher. Besides, I'd have thought you might have noticed it's permanently blocked off to the public."
Gally's head rose slightly in understanding. "Ah, and I thought it had something to do with the river, Sir. You know? The Havel and all that?"
He received an inquiring stare and then, "A fortunate coincidence and do try not to parade your cleverness too much. It could prove to be the undoing of a potential career."
Less than a minute later: "Right, time for you to go." Gally held the car door open, gesturing Billy and Harald over and then took the wheel. The barrier on the Soviet side rose and the grey van slowly proceeded towards the centre of the bridge. The Mercedes glided forward but the Old Man caused it to stop. He signalled Radler to wind the window down.
"Die Runde Ecke, Leipzig," he said. "Auf wiedersehen, Herr Radler."
It should be enough to drive Radler half insane over the next few months he thought as Gally drove from cobbles to smooth tarmac. Maybe, even years; a satisfied little smile crept across the Old Man’s lips.
With 30 metres to go, both vehicles stopped and the occupants got out. Standing alongside each other, Gallagher murmured from the side of his mouth, "Well, Harald, it's been nice to meet you. If they ever pull your wall down we'll have to have a drink sometime but you're paying."
Radler seemed preoccupied. "What? Oh, yes! Yes, of course, Gally. However, we may be waiting some time, but I would like that."
"We won't shake hands, Harald, because I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea. Mind how you go."
Radler set off on a slow walk. At the white line marking the centre of the bridge he and his counterpart nodded at each other but didn't stop. Gallagher watched intently, looking for any sign that could tell him all was not well, his hand gripping the butt of the revolver in his pocket.
When his prize reached him, he simply said, "In the back, Sir and keep your head down. We don't want any accidents." A nod and Billy got in the back with him.
Swinging the vehicle round, they returned to the safety of the West where he pulled the car over to the side and opened the back door. His passenger looked tired and drawn.
The Old Man approached and they embraced each other. "I knew you wouldn't forget me," Don said quietly.
"How could I? I owe you my life," Havel replied. "And Vistula? We've heard nothing."
Don took a step back and placed his hand on the Old Man's shoulder. "They shot him, Havel. I'm so sorry.”