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Max Drexler was back at his desk. “Hans, has Herr Radler called in?”
“Yes, Sir. He said he would be catching the early morning train and would maybe call again on reaching the Hungarian-Romanian border.”
In a calm, measured voice, Max said, “How many of our suspects are in transit, Hans?”
“Two, Herr Drexler. Heinemann and Panzinger.”
“Have the local authorities report when they’ve arrived.” He dismissed him with a casual wave of the hand and made a phone call. “Kovács Zsolt, please.” He sipped the coffee Hans had made him earlier.
“Zsolt? It’s Max Drexler. How’s things? How is Kitti? Good. I wonder if you can do something for me, old friend. My boss, Harald Radler, is currently with you. You know? Good! Are they giving him an official send-off from the station? They are? Will you be there? No? Could you have someone call me when he is on the train and it has left? No! There are no issues. I just have to phone ahead. It’s the Romanians; they’re keen to make the right impression. Okay, and you. Give my love to Kitti.”
Another call. “Octavian Dragan, please. Yes, tell him it’s Max Drexler from Berlin.” He drained the cup. “Tavi, you old dog! Are you all ready for tomorrow’s visit? Yes, things are on time. Will you be at the station to meet him? You will. I’m expecting he may call in from Cluj when he changes trains but it’s not that important, a little local matter. No, of course I don’t want you to have a local chap meet him at Cluj and tell him to phone in. He’ll do his nut and remind me again that I’m not his keeper. You could ring though when you pick him up in Bucharest and I can let you know whether I need him to call me personally or not. Fine. How’s that crazy brother of yours? Yes, that was a hell of a night! Speak to you tomorrow.”
He could now keep a watchful eye on his boss, just in case; worst-case scenario, that sort of thing.
Elbows on the desk, head resting on the fingertips that rubbed his forehead, he sighed, loosened his tie, poured himself a glass of water and sat back in his chair to drink it slowly and thoughtfully.
Leaving the office, he told Hans to call the personal records office to tell the clerk he wasn’t going home soon.
In the bowels of the building, the little man glanced at the wall clock with a worried look. His wife was making a special meal tonight for their anniversary and he’d bought a bottle of Rotkäppchen sparkling wine. The conversation didn’t start well.
“Herr Colonel, have you got the authorisation slip? I can’t let you see the personal records of officers senior to you without one.” He managed to produce a nervous smile, Drexler’s reputation preceded him.
“I am the authorisation. This is a matter of national security, get me the file.”
The nervous smile was becoming harder to maintain. “Herr Colonel, I’m not being awkward. I have to follow the rules.”
Drexler demanded his name.
“Heinz, Herr Colonel. Heinz Gesner.”
Drexler smiled benevolently. “Heinz, do you enjoy your job. Answer the question.”
“Yes, Herr Colonel, very much so.”
Max leaned in towards him, ominously. “Well, Heinz Gesner, if you want to keep it you should get me that file now! If not then tomorrow you shall be emptying dustbins on the night shift, permanently!” He adjusted his cuffs and more pleasantly said, “You have ten seconds to decide and I’m being over-generous, I know I am.”
Heinz didn’t need more than a second. He scurried off, returning ten minutes later with Harald Radler’s personal file. Drexler pulled it from his hands and turned to walk away.
With years of conditioning behind him, Heinz found himself blurting out. “Herr Colonel, without an authorisation you’ll have to read it here.” He instantly regretted his stupidity.
Drexler returned to him. “Heinz, do you want to go home tonight? Do you?” His manner was disquieting.
Gesner could feel himself trembling and hoped it didn’t show. “Herr Colonel. It’s our anniversary and...”
Max stopped him with a finger to his lips and a quiet reply. “I’m not interested in why you want to go home, Heinz. I simply asked you if you wanted to go home so now answer my question.”
“Yes, Herr Colonel.”
“Good, then do so.” Max Drexler turned on his heels and disappeared through the door, Radler’s file in his hand.
It was 7.10 pm when he got back to his office and his assistant was waiting for him. “Hans, why are you still here?”
“Herr Drexler, you know I can’t leave until you have no further need for me.”
“It’s fine. You can go. I’ll be working late but I can’t see any reason for you to be here as well. Have a nice evening, Hans.”
Max settled down in his chair, file on the desk, real cognac in the glass beside him. He opened the file and began to read.
He was taken through an entire career which included significant family events: marriage, birth, divorce, re-marriage, birth and deaths. He felt a tinge of sadness reading that Radler’s wife had killed herself on the anniversary of their child’s death but he moved on and found something that momentarily attracted his attention. The previous year, Colonel Radler had gone on a junket to Hungary; they were showing off their border ‘defences’. What surprised him was it was something a more junior officer could have attended but he couldn’t suppress a little smile as he recollected Radler’s penchant for a free social event. However, the fact he didn’t recall his absence disturbed him until he remembered he’d been on leave and for a second it lost its significance. On reconsideration, it was indeed of more importance than he’d initially thought.
Radler should never have left his post whilst Max was on leave. It was a matter of a week only but still, it was against all protocol. He pondered the matter as he poured his next cognac. Yes, it was strange but it wasn’t proof that Harald was going to defect. He couldn’t go to his superiors and accuse a man such as Colonel Radler without something much more substantial. In the meantime, he had to try and manage the situation as best he could. He downed the drink and poured another.
Perhaps he should call his colleagues in Budapest in the morning? He could tell them he needed to speak to Radler urgently then tell Harald that Colonel-General Wolf, the head of Foreign Intelligence, had instructed he return to Berlin immediately. It would be a total lie that he’d find hard to ride out later whether it worked or not. Radler’s history afforded him direct contact with Wolf so it would be fairly easy for him to check out the veracity of the claim. Max felt he had to be cautious.
Perhaps the reports on Heinemann and Panzinger, their two main suspects, would release him from his dilemma. He was hopeful. Initial indications were that both men appeared to have something to hide. Still, if Radler got on the train despite what he’d been told and Max didn’t instantly receive a summons to the Colonel General’s office for a roasting, he would know Radler was making a run for it, probably getting off at the next station and doubling back in a bid for the border. He needed to consider things very carefully.
He picked another file from his tray and settled back in the big leather armchair that, along with his desk, dominated the room. The pages inside were marked ‘Streng Geheim’; the file of agent ‘Silber’ otherwise known as Klara Elenora Uhlmann, her case officer being Lemberger, a decent chap whom he knew. It was indeed unfortunate she had passed away and in such circumstances, the copy of the West Berlin ‘Berliner Morgenpost’ reported her cause of death as a heart attack whilst being ‘restrained’ during a burglary. From what he read, she had been of use in her day and had remained in Berlin during the war working for the communist underground, putting herself in peril on many occasions. He fell asleep before he could read the part that said she was a friend and former asset of Colonel Radler of Stasi Foreign Intelligence.