Chapter Fifteen

The additional medication kicked in quickly, and Barbara felt the pain ease. Willing herself to relax and forget about the German and Costa and everything, she slipped into a relatively peaceful sleep. Something kept clawing at the back of her mind, demanding to intrude on her rest, but either she or the meds kept the creature at bay.

Later, she didn't know how long, she awoke with a start. When she opened her eyes, Agent Garcia was standing next to her bed again. He was saying: "Dr. Williams, wake up." Barbara was very groggy after the big dose of pain meds. She thought perhaps it was a dream. When she saw that there were three more men in suits standing around her bed, she revised her assessment. Perhaps it was a nightmare? She decided the best thing was to close her eyes and wait until it went away.

"Dr. Williams, wake up. It is imperative that we speak with you," Garcia insisted.

Shit, she thought, they're not going away. She opened her eyes again.

"Dr. Williams, this is the Head of the Legal section from the German…," he kept going but she couldn't understand him. He looked at another man, and she heard the word "Bundesnachrichtendienst," though the way Garcia pronounced it, she wasn't sure. She also thought he said "Bonn." She kept wondering what was going on, still not certain it was real. Garcia pointed to the fourth man, dressed in an ill-fitting suit, "… is George," she missed the name again, "assistant director of the FBI from Washington." That she heard clearly. "Over there is Marianne Jaspers, from the German contingent at the Conference."

Marianne, Barbara thought with surprise? She tried to see her German friend, but she was hidden behind the men. Oh no, she told herself, Garcia is talking again. I'd better pay attention.

"…, but they want to talk to you in person about Frenzel."

She couldn't remember who Frenzel was. Did she know anyone named Frenzel, she asked herself?

"Mrs. Williams, are you listening?"

Who had said that, Barbara wondered? It was the George FBI person. I'd better say something, she thought.

"Ah, yes, I'm listening."

Then one of the German men was speaking, but she had stopped listening. She was remembering who they were calling "Frenzel"…. God no, they're going to ask me about HIM, AGAIN, she told herself. No, I'm not going to talk about him. Why do they all keep asking me about him? Just go away and leave me alone, she pleaded. Did she say that aloud, she wondered?

"Mrs. Williams, you must listen. You must talk to us about Frenzel," a harsh, accented voice said. One of the Germans was ordering her to talk about Frenzel. No, she said to herself.

"No," she said aloud.

"No?" the German asked.

"No, I will not talk to you about…him." There, she'd said it.

Now Garcia spoke: "Dr. Williams, you have no choice. You are a witness in a capital crime involving Karl Frenzel. You must speak with us."

Groggily, she considered what he said. She couldn't think straight. This must be wrong, this questioning her when she was drugged. Was it legal? She doubted it, but what could she do? No choice…she always seemed to have no choice….

"Mrs. Williams, you told Agent Garcia that you saw Karl Frenzel in the German Democratic Republic in 1985. That cannot be. We have records proving that Karl Frenzel was living in Munich in 1985."

The whole thing was coming back to her, as her head cleared. It finally sunk in: They had sent someone all the way from Bonn. They must be really worried, she comprehended. Of course, it was a black eye for the BND, if this Frenzel had been a Stasi officer. How did he go from Stasi officer in 1985 to the BND? That was the question they would have to answer, IF she were telling the truth.

"How could you have seen him?" pressed Ulrich Waldeck, the assistant director of the BND. What Barbara had surmised was true. Waldeck knew it would indeed be an embarrassment if Frenzel had infiltrated the service before unification; that he had simply stayed after unification without anyone catching on was unthinkable.

Beyond the public embarrassment, there were personal issues. If Frenzel was not who he thought he was, this man had made a fool of Waldeck, who had trusted Frenzel implicitly, considering him one of his best agents. Why his best agent had shot the woman in the back, he didn't know, but Waldeck was certain he must have had a good reason—didn't he?

On top of it all, Robert McCall was involved. McCall and Waldeck had worked together a number of times, and the Agency man had always proved himself the better operative. He did not like Robert McCall.

While Waldeck was recalling his dislike of her husband, Barbara was trying to put together a coherent response. She knew that this man could not have been in Munich when she had seen him in the East German prison. She felt compelled to give them some kind of answer, as much as she wanted to resist.

Waldeck pushed her again: "You must answer. How could you have seen him? He wasn't there."

"The man you're calling Frenzel…," she began. The BND assistant director bristled. "I saw him in Bautzen in 1985."

"I told you, that is not possible!" he exclaimed.

"He was there. Spring, 1985." She was adamant.

"You are mistaken!" he declared vehemently. Then, hoping to catch her off guard, he softened his tone: "Come, Mrs. Williams, it was long ago. How can you possibly be sure?"

"I am not mistaken," she said in a controlled voice. She considered how to say what she had to say. "It was not long ago. It is now."

"What in the world?" the FBI assistant director asked. He was familiar with Williams' record. She had served the Agency well for many years. But had she lost it, he thought?

"It is yesterday, it is today, it will be tomorrow. I will never forget him. I can close my eyes and see him any time. I am not mistaken." Barbara was fighting to keep emotion out of her voice. Under normal circumstances she was very good at this, but the meds were making it much harder. Plus, she felt the weight of these four men, all bearing down on her. It was as though they were trying to change her life. If only she COULD change it, she thought angrily. But no, that man would always be part of her life.

"Perhaps you only saw him once or twice? How could you remember if you only saw him once or twice?" Waldeck asked.

She laughed, bitterly. "He was there every day, watching." This was getting too close to what she did not want to say.

The BND man snorted. "So, he was watching…." He was consciously demeaning her words, demeaning HER. Now it was personal. He wanted to break her. "If you're so sure he was there, tell us exactly what he was doing, other than watching, I mean," he sneered.

Listening to Waldeck pressuring Barbara, Garcia wondered whether this vile man had read the woman's file, the one the FBI assistant director had shown him. He himself certainly didn't want to know what the man in the prison, whoever he was, had done to her. In fact, he didn't like any of this; he had tried to talk them out of it, but his superior had overruled him. Garcia believed Barbara. Why didn't the others simply accept it: Frenzel had been an East German spy. It was their screw up, but they were making Barbara pay for it, Garcia thought, and his boss was going along with it. There was nothing he could do to help her.

The Head of Legal Section from Washington, Ulrich Schmidt, also didn't want to hear any more. The BND was behind this whole enquiry, because they did not want to take responsibility for their stupidity. But why take it out on this woman, Schmidt was asking himself? He had family in the east, and she had been in that horrible prison because she helped people in the east. They should just leave her alone. He tried to signal Waldeck to stop, but he plowed ahead. If Schmidt had known how much Waldeck personally disliked her husband, Robert McCall, maybe he would have demanded Waldeck stop then and there. But he did not know.

The assistant director of the FBI, George Sanders, was getting tired of this whole affair. He had other things on his mind. He knew the Germans had screwed up, but he had been instructed to go along with whatever they wanted. He did nothing.

Standing near the door behind the men, Marianne Jaspers was appalled at what they were doing to her friend. If only she could help, she thought. But there was nothing she could do.

Barbara looked at the four men around her bed. She had never told anyone but Robert what had happened in the room where the man "Frenzel" had sat and watched. She wasn't about to tell these bastards, she vowed.

"I am not going to tell you," she said, gritting her teeth but holding her ground.

"Well, you clearly do not know it was Frenzel. You have forgotten," Waldeck said with triumph in his voice. The other men stared at the floor or out the window, anywhere but at Barbara. Hard as it was, Marianne looked directly at Barbara, willing her to be strong.

Barbara's anger burned white hot. It blew everything else out of her mind, leaving her in state of complete calm. She could do something to save herself, and she did. She sat up a little in the bed. It didn't hurt too much, because the pain meds were still active. She turned the covers back, untied her hospital gown, and opened it. The men froze.

Pointing to the scar on her right breast, she looked directly at Waldeck and said, with no sign of emotion: "If I ever forget, this reminds me. He told the other one to cut me right here. Then he watched. That's what I meant, he watched." Opening the gown more, she went on: "He left me other reminders, too. You see, here's another, right here…." She was pointing at the scar on her left breast, the one where she thought they were going to cut off….

Garcia exclaimed, moving to cover her again: "No, Barbara, please."

She spoke to Garcia but didn't take her eyes off Waldeck: "But Agent Garcia, he doesn't seem to understand. I have even better evidence than his, you see, here…." She moved the covers down farther.

The Head of Legal Section was mortified. Damn this fool from the BND, he cringed. "That's enough," Schmidt said, to everyone in the room.

The fool from the BND was not satisfied, though. "Just because you have scars doesn't mean you remember the man. We have written proof…."

Griping his arm, Schmidt moved his compatriot away from the bed and said stonily: "Perhaps we should reexamine YOUR evidence, Herr Waldeck."

Barbara knew then that she had won. Her show and tell—that's how she thought of it—was making them back off. But she didn't feel victorious; she only felt drained and exhausted, her anger burned out. She lay back and closed her eyes, hoping they'd be gone when she opened them again.

The door burst open. Thank goodness, she sighed.

Robert McCall was livid. When he saw who was in Barbara's room, he was certain what was happening. They—including his supposed friend, Garcia—had taken advantage of his absence and Barbara's weakened condition to put pressure on her, probably to change her story, probably to save their own skins.

McCall seldom raised his voice, but this time it was necessary. "All of you, get out of here, now!" he shouted, pointing to the door. "Get out!"

"Robert…," Garcia started, wanting to apologize.

McCall turned his head to Garcia and snarled: "YOU, out." Next, he stepped into Waldeck's space, put his hand on the man's chest and said: "Waldeck, I bet this was all your idea. I always knew you were a fool, but I never knew you were a sadistic son of a bitch." He shoved Waldeck toward the door.

By this time, assistant director Sanders, who recognized McCall, and the Head of Legal Section, who didn't want to know who this man was, had already retreated. A red-faced Waldeck turned on his heel and left, followed by Garcia. As Garcia passed McCall, he said: "Robert, I had to. I didn't have a choice."

McCall only glowered at him.

Marianne Jaspers had not left. She approached Barbara and said: "Barbara, I am so sorry."

Barbara opened her eyes to talk to her friend. "Marianne, you've seen what it's like. Think about it."

Marianne nodded and walked through the door. She'd hand in her resignation tomorrow.