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Rupert Wilkinson left the consulate, an envelope under his arm containing faxed copies of Hungarian border maps. He’d phoned the request in during the previous day, direct to the little man who sat in the bowels of the building where these things were kept. He’d wanted the lot, the DDR, Czechoslovakia and Hungary but the reply he got made him settle for Hungary. The man had told him that a nice young blonde woman from the fifth floor had asked to see the same, days before, but had eventually left with only the material for Hungary. The old fella couldn’t remember her name, something German he thought. Rupert suggested Astrid. That was it!
Using the secure line, he filed a further report to his boss, Chamberlain, telling him, besides his encounter with the ‘Stasi agent’ John Baker, he’d also detected he was being followed by members of what he believed were possibly a Stasi hit squad. The reason he’d made that up was simple. If he was going to return to his previous life undetected, it gave him a lot of leeway should he have to employ extreme measures and eliminate the opposition or ‘defend himself vigorously’ as the report would invariably state.
He laid it on thick and Hugh fell for it all the way. At least that’s what he thought. Hugh, in turn, informed him of Astrid Hopkins arrival in Berlin and said she was using the alias of Molly Foster. Given what Wilkinson had just told him, Hugh said he’d instruct Astrid not to seek contact until Rupert felt it safe to do so. Felix received no mention.
So, Astrid had met with Baker. His locally recruited surveillance team, employees of a private investigation company that specialised in divorce issues, had reported the Berlin Zoo meeting, housed the female and discovered she was using the Foster details. The description of her didn’t fit the Astrid he’d met, who’d worn no makeup and seemed almost plain to him, the hair was all wrong as well but was probably a wig. Having contact with Baker meant he probably wasn’t working for the Yanks and if he wasn’t working for them, who? The Israelis? The DDR co-operated closely with Arab countries at a military level and with the Palestine Liberation Organisation. All were hostile to Israel. Radler would be a scoop for them but they wouldn’t be employing this London boy, they’d be operating on their own. That meant, whoever he really was, Baker was operating for the British. He was pretty sure he wasn’t contracted by the SIS for the job, that’s why he had been sent. The Security Service? Why? It only meant one thing to Rupert. Baker wasn’t interested in a defector because he’d been sent to flush out a ‘mole’. He’d walked straight into it. He’d wasted time trying to get information from a man who never had it in the first place. He should have just killed him outright.
The realisation made him feel slightly better about the decision he’d made. He now knew Astrid and Foster were the same and she’d had contact with Baker so the simple solution was to kill her at the same time they killed him.
Joachim Denzinger and Otto Schnitzer had never met. In fact, they were completely unaware of each other’s existence. However, they did have some things in common. They were both ‘sleeper’ agents of the Stasi, trained in assassination and, whilst neither could be described as a spring chicken, zimmer frames were a distant necessity. Joachim ran a small stationary shop that couldn’t be considered busy, there being only room for one customer at a time, and Otto carried on his trade as a cobbler from a shop some would consider never obviously open. They’d been on the contacts list Drexler had given him, the one he’d committed to memory. He’d met them individually but now he had to put them into play.
Part of the conversation Gally had with the two MI6 agents at the hotel had concerned Rupert’s state of mind and possible actions. They’d all agreed that, if he’d bought Chamberlain’s apparent lack of knowledge of the true situation, he’d have to act soon to eradicate the competition, whoever they worked for, before the truth came out. His major concern, though, would be neutralising a defector’s ability to harm him and, although he could easily now flee through the wall to the East, they agreed his Stasi masters would not be well pleased if he jumped the gun and defected unless it was absolutely unavoidable.
At more or less the same moment that Rupert decided that Baker and ‘Molly Foster’ would have to ‘go’, Felix, Gally and Astrid had concluded it would most probably be his next important move.
If Felix Barber was noticed when he left the hotel no one commented on it nor did it generate any action. Conducting counter surveillance from the comfort of his room overlooking the street, he and Astrid had sat back from the net curtains and watched the watchers with the aid of a small pair of binoculars. The arrival of the dull red coloured Renault 4 hadn’t been noticed until its occupant sidled up to one of the surveillance and pretended not to have a conversation.
Realising he needed to check it out, he left the hotel, made a quick inspection from the opposite pavement then, whilst asking a passerby for directions he wasn’t listening to, he took a more leisurely glance on a closer walk past.
Otto Schnitzer rummaged around and found his silencer lodged between the seat and the back rest. Stuffing it between his legs alongside the pistol, he turned and grabbed the flowers, resting them on his knees; none of it missed by Felix. Shovelling some change in the nearest phone box, he spoke to Astrid telling her to stay in his room until called again then he told Gally to arm himself and took the U-Bahn.
Outside Gallagher’s place, sat in a little cafe from where he could quietly observe, Felix quickly identified the surveillance team.
Joachim Denzinger had parked up and watched the street for 10 minutes until he was satisfied he’d located the people he needed to speak to. Casually and unobtrusively, he introduced himself as a photographer sent to obtain some close-up shots of their target then went back to his car. Felix found him sat in a dirty white Volkswagen fastback and he didn’t like the look of the small metal case attempting to hide in the passenger footwell. He made a call to a friend.
The assassination plan was simple enough - on the hour, confirm with a nod the targets hadn’t left their hotels, stroll in, knock on the doors, shoot whoever answered (and anyone else in the room), place the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the handles, close the doors and then calmly walk away. If challenged by reception on the way in, Otto was delivering his flowers to the recipient’s door and Joachim was a dear friend Herr Baker was expecting.
Kilometres apart, watches eventually and finally checked, both men left their vehicles and strolled in. Outside the rooms, Otto slid the silenced Beretta from within the bunch of flowers and Joachim dragged his gun from a shoulder bag. Taking deep breaths, hands tightened on their weapons.