Chapter 4: Walling In and Walling Out

Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.
--Robert Frost, "Mending Wall"

Wednesday, December 6, 1989
1 P.M.
West Berlin
Tegel Airport

Amanda yawned as they stepped out of the jetway and into the terminal. As Lee turned towards her, she held up a hand. "Don't even say it, Stetson. I shouldn't have spent so much time reading the guidebook."

Caressing her upper arm, he said, " Actually, I was going to suggest you take a little nap when we get to the hotel. I can handle the briefing myself and fill you in later."

She shook her head. "Nope, I'm here to watch your back, and that's what I'm going to do," and she slipped her hand into his.

Squeezing her hand, he steered her towards the escalator to take them to the baggage claim area, where they were to meet their contact. "All right, partner. Just don't fall asleep during the briefing, okay?"

He sensed her reproachful look, but his gaze was fixed on the men waiting at the bottom of the escalator with white placards bearing various names. He found the one reading "Mr. Sampson" with little difficulty. They ran through the recognition codes like clockwork, and were soon off to the garage.

Lee had a strong sense of déjà vu as he watched their driver sweep the inside of the car for bugs before letting them enter. 'I'm sure it won't be the last time on this mission,' he thought as he helped Amanda into the back seat and then slid in next to her.

"Good afternoon," the man said over his shoulder as he started the car. "I'm Brian Anders, senior field agent for the Agency here in West Berlin. Or Berlin, maybe I should say. The times, they are a-changin'."

"How easy is it to go back and forth between the two Berlins?" Amanda leaned forward in her seat.

"Oh, there's still a border checkpoint, but for the most part they'll just wave you on through if you have a passport or identity card. I gotta tell you, that's one thing that's troubling me about this assignment." He cast a glance back at them in his rearview mirror. "I don't understand why this Alberts woman needs to take the old-fashioned way over to the West. I mean, there are East Germans going back and forth every day now. But I understand you have a previous acquaintance with her, Lee."

"You could say that." He could feel Amanda looking at him, so he hurried on, "I understand she doesn't feel safe crossing the border."

Anders shrugged as he made a left turn, taking them onto a wide boulevard lined with six-story brick apartment buildings, all with steep, pointed roofs. "Could be. We're still checking out her story, but if she's right, I can see if she doesn't want to risk it. The East German secret police have been recruiting big time the past year or so, so it's harder than ever to know who you can trust. A couple of the old escape routes haven't been pointed out to the press yet. I'm sure we can get you through one of those."

"What do you mean, get *us* through?" Lee asked. "I thought there was no problem with us walking back and forth across the border."

"She's insisting on being accompanied all the way through, and she says she doesn't trust anyone but you to do it. Sorry, Mrs. Stetson, but I'm afraid her mistrust includes you, too."

Lee sank back in his seat with a soft snort. This was really ridiculous. How could this be anything but a trap? As if he had spoken aloud, Anders went on, "I *am* a bit concerned, which is why I came to meet you myself. I've read the report on what happened when you were here in '81, and I understand you're worried about history repeating itself. Now, Yannah Alberts has been a good source for us over the years, with your assignment as the lone exception."

"So why did you go back to working with her after she betrayed Lee?" Amanda asked incredulously.

"Oh, we didn't know it was her for several years; the information came anonymously." Brian paused to make a turn and then went on, "But for about four years now, she's been one of our best sources in East Berlin. She's never referred to you before this week, Lee, and we've never asked."

"I still can't believe you trust her," Amanda fumed, and Lee laid a hand on her arm. It was funny being the one trying to calm her down, instead of the other way around. He kind of liked it when her protective nature came out, though. It reminded him he had someone to watch his back now. Or at least that he usually did. He was uncomfortable with Yannah's insistence on working with him alone. On the other hand, he had a protective streak, too, and he'd prefer Amanda to be safely out of the line of fire. He might have gotten used to her being in danger, even gotten used to her handling a gun, but he still didn't like it.

"So what's the plan?" he asked Anders while sliding his hand down his wife's arm to entwine his fingers with hers. She gave him a small smile, and he squeezed her hand in response.

"Well, you get a couple of days to get rid of the jet lag and help us work out a strategy. Today's Wednesday. Saturday, you'll cross over and meet with Yannah, give her the basic plan. Then there's still going to be a couple of days before the actual crossing on Monday. If all goes well, you'll be headed for home within a week."

'Where have I heard that before?' Lee thought. He gave Amanda's hand another squeeze and turned towards the window.

They were nearing the center of the city, rolling through the vast expanse of the Tiergarten. Unable to nap on the flight from Frankfurt, he had paged through Amanda's guidebook and read that during World War II, when the city was under siege, the forest in this huge city park was almost entirely chopped down for fuel. Looking at it now, he realized that without reading the book, he would have had no idea the hundreds of trees he saw were so new. Amazing what kind of regeneration could occur in the space of half a lifetime. What would the city itself would look like forty years from now, once it knitted itself back together after being so brutally divided?

He suddenly remembered talking to Yannah about this very topic. With a passion he found unusual in Germans, she had insisted that East and West Berlin longed to be reunited, that as soon as the chance came, Berliners would come together and make their city whole again. He argued that years of mistrust might not be overcome so easily, that West Germans might harbor suspicion for the East Germans who prevented their fellows from escaping to the West. Then, he remembered, she rose up on one elbow, her long hair falling forward to sweep over his bare chest, and said, "There is a kind of trust that goes deeper than national borders. People may have to do things they do not want to for a time, but when that time passes, they will come together again. Any perceived mistrust or betrayals won't matter anymore."

At the time, he hadn't taken her too seriously, quite possibly because of what they had been doing for the hour before that particular conversation started, and what they resumed doing shortly thereafter. It wasn't until later, when he was finally on his way home to the U.S., that her words came back to him. He had angrily brushed them aside, considering them bitterly ironic in light of her later actions. Now, though, he realized there might have been a hidden message in what she said. Had she been asking for forgiveness before the fact? He sighed and stared out at the park, wondering if he was going to be able to get over his distrust of Yannah enough to work with her, and wondering yet again why she asked so specifically for him.

He was definitely not looking forward to Saturday.


Monday, December 14, 1981
9:05 A.M.
Checkpoint Charlie
West Berlin side

Once again, Lee found himself driving past the sign that read "You are now leaving the American sector" in the four languages of occupied Berlin. He handed over his Canadian passport to the guard, assuming a bored expression while again assessing the security around the checkpoint. He'd been correct in assuming he and Travnik would not be taking this route back, but it was an ingrained habit to be aware of his surroundings and all possible escape routes. You never knew what could happen.

'No, you sure didn't,' he thought, the last two days replaying in his mind. Yannah had been . . . well, let's just say the stereotype of cold and proper Germans definitely did not apply. He found himself hoping tonight's plan failed so he could gaze into those blue eyes at close range again. Maybe there was some way he could persuade her to make the crossing with him. He'd even briefly broached the subject with her, but she'd only laughed and ducked back under the covers, quickly making him lose interest in anything but her hands and her --

'Watch it, Stetson,' he warned himself. Falling for *any* woman was dangerous in this business. He'd learned that bitter lesson years ago at an airfield in Maryland. Falling for a double agent was even worse. 'Not that I'm *falling* for her,' he insisted to himself. 'Just . . . having a good time.'

'Is that why you couldn't drag yourself out of her apartment on Sunday till nearly noon?' a little voice said. 'Some film director you'd make, wasting half the light!'

He was about to make a mental rebuttal when something caught his attention. A car was approaching the checkpoint from the Eastern side, and instantly he realized there was something strange about the car, though at first he couldn't place it. It was the same shoddy-looking Trabant that was visible everywhere. The figure behind the steering wheel wasn't noteworthy, clad in the same shapeless coat and hat most East Berliners wore. No, what was strange was the speed of the car. It wasn't slowing as it approached the checkpoint.

He realized this only a fraction of a second before the guards did. After instinctively reaching for his weapon, he deliberately froze and made himself wrap his hands around the steering wheel. If he thought he stood a chance against soldiers armed with machine guns, he was insane. If he did anything to draw attention to himself right now, he was probably dead. All he could do was watch helplessly as the car barreled closer and closer, while the soldiers went down on one knee and aimed their guns at the driver.

The loud clatter of machine guns shattered the stillness, and he clenched his grip on the wheel. This was definitely not good. Not only did the poor guy in the car not stand a chance, but now Lee's entire mission was in jeopardy. His presence here as a foreigner at Checkpoint Charlie at the exact time someone tried to escape by crashing the gate would be highly suspicious. Worse, police patrols along the Wall increased immediately following any escape attempts. Tonight's attempt was definitely out, and it would be difficult to try anything later in the week.

The car accelerated in response to the shots, and the driver had apparently ducked behind the dashboard. The steering grew a little erratic, but the car was still headed straight for the main gate. Then there was a sharp report from one of the sentry towers. The rifle bullet punched through the top of the car, and the vehicle slewed violently to the right. It crashed through one set of gates, then rolled over into the no-man's-land between the two concrete walls.

Lee knew the area was littered with mines designed to be triggered by the weight of a human being. So it was no surprise when, a few seconds later, the still-rolling car suddenly exploded, sending metal shards flying through the air. He dove to the passenger seat, his windshield cracking a second later as the rearview mirror of the exploded car came sailing into it. A fireball rose into the sky, the heat briefly replacing the December chill. Then there was silence except for the crackling of the flames.

The silence was suddenly replaced by shouts of "Halt! Halt!" He cautiously raised his head and looked in the rearview mirror to see a soldier sprinting towards West Berlin. He turned around to see whom the man was chasing. How could anyone have made it out of that car? Then he realized the soldier was the one being chased, taking advantage of the failed escape attempt to make his own way to freedom. He watched as a handful of American soldiers came out of their guardhouse, shouting and encouraging the man on, and he clenched his own fists in a kind of a prayer.

The East German put on a burst of speed when the rattle of machine guns echoed again off the surrounding buildings. His own gun banged against his back as he leapt into the air like a hurdler, clearing a roll of barbed wire. Then the American soldiers cheered and whooped as the man staggered up to them, and Lee felt a grin break out over his own face. Man, that was really something. He knew no matter how hard the Agency was working to bring about the fall of the Berlin Wall, and indeed, the entire Iron Curtain, plenty of brave individuals took matters into their own hands from time to time. His grin died as the smoke from the still-flaming car cast a shadow across the sun. Sometimes, however, those individuals were a little too brave for their own good. He just hoped this wouldn't ruin Travnik's chance.

His thoughts were abruptly cut off by the barrel of a machine gun poking in his window. "Okay, take it easy," he said, spreading his hands across the steering wheel. "I take it this means I won't be going to Museum Island today?"

His response was his passport tossed in his face and the machine gun withdrawn from the window, but still pointed at him. "Not today, and not tomorrow," the guard snapped. "Turn around and leave."

He sighed. With no other options, he rolled up his window and obeyed.

As he put the car into reverse and headed back into West Berlin, he was astonished to find the first thought in his mind was not concern over how he was going to contact Travnik, but regret that he wouldn't get to see Yannah. 'God, get a grip, man,' he thought as he turned the car around. 'You just saw living, and dying, proof of why this mission is so important, and you're getting hung up on a woman? You know what happened last time you let someone get to you like that.'

Lee shoved back memories of blood-stained roses as he drove past the still-cheering Americans and the out-of-breath East German. He'd have to try again tomorrow, despite what the guard said. Travnik was running out of time.