Chapter 1: The Frozen Groundswell

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun,
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
--Robert Frost, "Mending Wall"

Friday, December 1, 1989 (three weeks later)
10:30 A.M.
East Berlin
Alexanderplatz

The tall concrete buildings towered soullessly over the streets below, casting shadows that seemed to stretch for miles. Alexanderplatz was one of East Berlin's finest housing complexes, a conglomeration of blank-faced grey buildings near the end of the Unter den Linden, the boulevard that cut through the center of the city and until recently came to an abrupt halt at the Brandenburg Gate. From the apartment, she could just see the pale line of the Wall weaving its way from north to south, crumbled in places and completely broken through at the Gate. The streets below seemed deserted compared to a month ago. The riotous celebrations that burst out when the Wall fell had stilled. People realized that, however sweet the taste of freedom, they still had jobs to go to and work to do. It would be a while before the Wall was entirely down.

"Forever, if some have their way," she muttered as she turned away from the window. As a trained agent, she knew standing next to the window was inviting trouble, even fifteen stories up and with the December sun only barely rising above the horizon. She couldn't help but look towards the West, only a couple of kilometers away on foot but as closed to her as when the barbed wire and the mines were in place. Closed to her because of what she knew, and because she could trust no one on this side of the border with the information.

Yet that information had to get across. The West Germans had to know about the violence a hard-core Communist group was planning if reunification talks continued at their current pace. But with the group infiltrating all levels of the East German government, she didn't know whom to trust. All she knew was that a fellow agent warned her that her name was on a list of people not allowed to leave the East. She would only be safe, her friend warned, if she stayed where she was and kept quiet.

But she couldn't keep quiet. Though her loyalties and even her identity had occasionally become confused over the years, she knew where her responsibility lay. She did what she did for her people, the *German* people, and now was not the time to back down. She would have to find a way through.

Sitting at the small desk in the one-room apartment, shaking her long blond hair back over her shoulders, she began to write a note. She didn't know if the old codes and routines were being maintained, but she had to assume they were. For all the work the Agency did to change the world, it was conservative in some ways. Its agents wouldn't jettison their practices before it was completely obvious they were outdated, on the off chance that useful information might pass through old pipelines.

The note was nearly the same as the one she had written over nine years ago. Heavily encoded, it would be misleading to any East Germans who found it, yet perfectly understandable to the West Germans and Americans to whom it was directed. 'The beauty of working both sides,' she thought, not for the first time.

She wondered if she dared add an extra line to the note to make sure it found its way to the right man as swiftly as possible. Surely the Scarecrow hadn't changed his code name after all these years. She knew he would help once he received her message. After all, he owed her his life.

Wednesday, December 9, 1981
1:12 P.M.
West Berlin
Tegel Airport

Though it was the middle of the day, the low angle of the sun in the southern sky made it feel like it was nearly sunset. As Lee headed down the metal stairway and across the tarmac to the terminal, he checked his watch to make sure it really was afternoon and he had really reset his watch to the right time zone.

As he entered the terminal, he saw a short man with a small placard reading, "Mr. Steadman." Lee walked over to him and began the sequence of recognition codes. "My boss told me there would be a limousine waiting for me, this time with *American* beer."

The man nodded. "Yes, Mr. Heinz wanted to make sure you had a pleasant journey." His English was only slightly accented, but Lee had the feeling the accent was faked, since he had been told one of the American agents stationed in Berlin would be meeting him.

"The flight from Boston was long, but at least it was smooth." Actually, it hadn't been from Boston, nor had it been smooth -- the turbulence over the Atlantic had made it nearly impossible to get any sleep. The short hop from Munich to Berlin was bumpy as well. But the sequence had to be followed.

"I trust you were able to sleep for at least four hours on the way?" The man's brush-like mustache moved up and down as he spoke, and Lee tried to keep from staring at it.

"Yes, the red wine helped me fall asleep." That wasn't true either, but it signaled the end of the sequence. Keeping in character, the man took Lee's larger carry-on, and the two proceeded towards the garage as a businessman and his driver would.

Not until they were in the car -- not a limo, Lee was disappointed to note -- and the man had run a wand over the interior to check for listening devices, did he stick out his hand to introduce himself. "Mark Peterson," he said, using his other hand to peel off the mustache. "I've been in Berlin for about three years now, with the Agency for five more. Originally from Illinois."

"Lee Stetson." They shook hands over the seat divider. "I understand you're the one who asked for me?"

Mark shook his head, his curly hair bouncing as he turned back towards the steering wheel and started the car. "Actually, our East German contact requested you. Said they wanted the best man the Agency could find for this job, since it's likely to be a little tricky. I asked around, and you were the winner."

Lee certainly didn't disagree with that assessment of his skills, but he wondered why the agents already stationed here weren't adequate for the job. West Berlin was one of the toughest postings the Agency had, and the people working here were among the best. He'd seen them in action a few months ago when he'd helped them capture Doneck and his fellow agents, unfortunately killing the East German's brother in the process. "I guess it's just that I'm used to working with my partner. I haven't done any solo missions for a few years now."

"I think you'll find with this mission, the fewer people involved, the better." Mark paused to merge with traffic, and then went on, "You've read the briefing materials?"

"Yeah, a couple of times. I still don't understand why a Russian would travel to Berlin to defect. If he's already sneaking out of the Soviet Union, why not go all the way to the border with West Germany? Surely there are easier places to cross over than the Wall."

"Ah, Russians." Mark shook his head. "They think they gotta make a statement, you know? The rumor is, there's information Travnik wants to pick up in East Berlin on the way, to make himself more attractive as a defector. I don't know what it is, but somebody thinks it's important enough to bring you all the way over here."

"Hey, I'm just following orders, same as you. Besides, it looks like I have to do all the 'fun stuff' while you guys stay safely on this side of the Wall."

"Yeah, you'll change your opinion of what the fun stuff is after you meet the German you'll be working with." Lee raised his eyebrows in question, then realized Mark couldn't see his face. The other man went on, "She's a real looker."

"She?" Lee supposed he shouldn't be surprised. There were more and more female agents every year; he had been working with Francine Desmond off and on for about a year now, and Emily Farnsworth had been with MI-6 for some time. And of course, there had been Dorothy. He wrenched his mind away from her as he addressed Mark. "So you've met her?"

Mark shook his head. "Nah, just seen her picture. She's actually an East German double agent, but she never comes over to West Berlin. We've worked with her on a couple of defections before, but nothing like this. Her name's Yannah, or Jane as we'd say. Yannah Alberts. Believe me, my man, she makes a strong argument for maintaining good foreign relations, if you know what I mean."

Lee laughed obligingly. He wasn't above a little extra-curricular activity now and then, but completing the mission was the top priority. And since a double agent was involved, letting his guard down would be a particularly bad idea. "When do I meet her?"

"Not for a couple of days. Like I said, she never comes over to the West, so it'll have to wait till you get over there. Travnik is planning on our help in seven days' time, so you'll have a few days to work out the final details with us. After that, you'll cross over and do the same thing with Yannah. Then you'll bring the guy over and go home."

"Sounds simple enough." Something didn't seem quite right, though Lee couldn't put his finger on it. Not just the fact that he was sent to do something the agents stationed in West Berlin were perfectly capable of doing. Something he read in the file before leaving home, something about Pyotr Travnik, the Russian defector. He sat back in his seat and watched the city rush by, confident his brain would make the connection sooner rather than later. He was one of the Agency's best, after all.