“People are comfortable with you. They’ll talk to you.”
For a minute, Alex said nothing, letting this sink in.
“Which people?” he said finally.
“For instance, Comrade Stein. He is sometimes outspoken, sometimes not. What does he say to you? It would be interesting to me. To know that.”
“For his file?”
Markus shrugged, something irrelevant.
Alex sat looking out, then turned in his seat. “Are you asking me to be an informer?” Hearing himself, struck finally by the sheer implausibility of the moment, a laugh somewhere in the pit of his stomach, trying to rise then curling in on itself, one knot tightening into another.
“Informer,” Markus said, dismissing the word. “I am asking you to help me in my work. To keep Germany safe.”
“Germany.”
“Yes, I know, we are not yet a state. But we will be. The West is already making theirs. A new currency. Soon, a country. Armed. Against us. So how do we defend ourselves? How do we protect the revolution?”
“By snitching on Aaron Stein?”
Markus looked over. “More jokes. It was a worry to me at first, all this joking. Then I saw that it was useful. It puts people at ease with you. No, not ‘snitching.’ If Comrade Stein is working for the Party what does he have to fear if we know what he says?”
“And if he’s not?”
“Then it’s important for us to know. To help him correct his mistakes. As you say, we all make mistakes. He will be grateful for this, I think.”
“Markus, I’m not—” The words sticking somewhere in the back of his mouth. “No one asked me to do anything like this. When they invited me.”
“No, I’m asking you. When I saw you, at the Kulturbund, I thought, yes, someone in an excellent position to hear. And with a debt. A state that took you in, that treats you as—”
“Are you saying I have to do this if I want to stay here?”
“It’s not a question of bookkeeping, this for that. But think how pleased the Party will be, knowing how you help them.” He paused. “And, you know, very useful for me. To use this old association, the trust we have for each other. It’s just a matter of time before someone else suggests this. I’m not the only one to see your position, how convenient it can be. And eventually the Party agrees and you will do it anyway and then someone else gets the credit. But to do this work now, at my suggestion, it would be a great personal favor to me. I know, it’s only the younger brother, but we have a history. A friendship.”
“I’m not—”
“Think about this. Think of all the advantages. Before you decide. There are many who do this.”
“Who tell you what Aaron Stein says to them?”
“Stein, others. An informal arrangement. No desk at K-5,” he said lightly, another joke. “A talk, from time to time. Of course, confidential. Comrade Stein will never know. No one will.” He looked over again. “It will be our secret.”
Alex felt his stomach clench, some rush of acid.
“This is what I ran away from. The FBI watching—”
“Is it? I don’t think so. I think you were running away from prison. For your admirable Socialist principles. Now you have—the opposite. A good life. It’s a small price, to help those who helped you. Especially when they need this help. To protect themselves.” He took out a business card. “Think a little. How easy this will be. And how useful. Call here. We’ll meet for coffee. Another advantage. A friend from the old days, what could be more natural? A friendly visit, coffee. What could be more natural?”
“You’re so sure I’d be good at this?”
“You don’t have to be good. Just tell me what you hear. I’ll do the rest.”
They had left Alexanderplatz and were heading up Greifswalder Strasse. “Turn up here,” Alex said.
“I know where you live,” Markus said, smug.
But not who’s living there with me.
“Do you have someone telling you what I say?”
“Alex, so suspicious,” Markus said.
“You know, something I don’t understand. You ask me to do this and all the time I’ve been feeling—all the questions—”
“I wanted to be sure of you.”
“And now you are.”
“They say in the service you should never be sure of anybody.” He turned, a small smile. “Yes, I’m sure. At first, just a worry only. Another service rule—there are no coincidences. So you go to Lützowplatz. A coincidence? The service rule says no. But life—it’s a different thing. We have someone now for questioning.”
“You found him?” Alex said, his stomach tightening again.
“I think so. Someone in the service, so maybe the first rule is right. I’ve been suspicious of him for some time. So now we’ll see.”
Answering questions. Or just screaming in pain. Claiming to be innocent. Feeding on each other.
“I can get out at the corner here,” Alex said, suddenly aware of the street. What if Erich was up, a light on? One small detail, a light, and everything would unravel.
“It’s no trouble,” Markus said, turning into Rykestrasse.
Had he told Erich to keep the light off? He couldn’t remember. The utility closet on the stairs, the escape route, the knock signals, but maybe not the light. One slip. The world he lived in now.
The car stopped in front of the building. Alex looked up, counting floors. No light. He breathed out, then realized Markus was talking.
“How things turn out,” he was saying, the end of a thought. “When I was young, you were—all of you, all of Kurt’s friends—like gods to me. I wanted to be with you, do what you were doing. And now look. Here we are, working together. It’s such a pleasure for me. Well, so think.” A farewell touch of his fingers to his temple. “You can call me. You have a telephone, I think?”
Alex nodded.
“You see, only the best for you. One more thing? When you were talking to Comrade Stein, it was about books only? Nothing else?”
A trap if Markus already knew, listening through walls.