“You?”
“Irene trusts me. So Markovsky does too. But I have to do this alone. If you come anywhere near him, they’ll know and it’s over.” He opened his hand. “Gone.”
Markus said nothing for a minute, standing still, only his excited eyes giving him away.
“You surprise me,” he said. “To involve yourself in this.” A question.
“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“I thought you would protect your friend.”
“I am protecting her. You’d find him sooner or later and then you’d blame her. She had nothing to do with it.” He held up his hand before Markus could speak. “I know, I know. But it was his choice. Now that you’ve got him, you can leave her out of it. They’ll be too busy grilling him about the Americans to care about her. And congratulating you. Another promotion. At least. You wanted to work together. All right. This way we both come out ahead.”
“Yes? What do you get?”
“A powerful friend in high places,” Alex said, looking at him. “What could be more useful?”
Markus didn’t answer for a second, looking for something in Alex’s face. “Yes, what?” he said finally, his tone a kind of handshake. “I cannot guarantee that I can do anything about the trial. You must understand that.”
“Get me postponed then. Saratov will be a lot more receptive tomorrow. One more thing? As far as Irene is concerned, I had nothing to do with this. It was all you.”
“You want to—stay with her?”
“Markovsky’s not coming back. She’ll be alone.” He looked over at Markus. “You take the credit.”
“When does this happen?”
“They’re moving him this afternoon. I’ll call you when we leave. You don’t want to have a car sitting around if you don’t have to. Not in the Western sectors. They won’t leave the West. You’ll have to make the grab there.”
“That’s not a problem.”
“I’ll be in the car. So no fireworks. Just a quick snatch and you’re gone. They won’t be expecting this, so you won’t need an army. Two should do it. Be quick and nobody will know. Except Markovsky.”
Markus looked at him, the beginning of a smile. “You have a liking for this work.”
“No. From now on we just have coffee, like you said. But this one fell into my lap. And you never know when you’re going to need a favor.”
Markus nodded. “Where are they taking him?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll call. Then you’ll be waiting for us.” He paused. “We’re not going to have another chance at this.”
“We only need one,” Markus said.
Alex took the U-Bahn, changing at Nollendorfplatz, a busy transfer station with several levels, an easy place to lose a tail. He let a train go by to see if anyone else stayed behind on the platform, then went downstairs. The train for Innsbrucker Platz was nearly empty, a weary late-morning crowd of rubble women and old men, their faces vacant. He thought of Markus, the eager eyes, so close now. What was the experiment? Two scorpions in a bottle, both safe if neither attacked. But one always did.
He got off a stop early, at the Rathaus Sch?neberg, and walked across the park to RIAS. No one behind, on his own. He passed the spot where the car had been waiting and went in through the back gate. Ferber was in high spirits.
“We’ve had calls from all over to broadcast it again. People who missed it. Radio Berlin’s ignoring it, which is always a good sign. They usually like to twist a story, confuse things. This one they won’t even touch. Ha. Radioactive. Like the mines.” He smiled, enjoying his own joke. “Tell your friend he did a great job. You know, I thought today everybody would be talking about Mother Courage. But no. The Erzgebirge. A great success.”
“How’d you like another? Something to follow it up.” He took the tape from his coat pocket and handed it over.
“Another? From Erich?”
“No. From me.”
Ferber looked at him, waiting.
“Why I’m leaving. For the West. The exile returns East, then says no. I won’t testify against Aaron. You can splice in anything you like. But don’t broadcast until tomorrow, okay? By then it’ll be true.”
“You’re sure about this?” Ferber said gently. “It’s an important step. You can never go back.”
“I know.”
“Then welcome,” Ferber said, taking his hand. “You know they’ll try to stop you. A name.”
“Only if they find out before I leave. So don’t tell them.”
“No,” Ferber said, smiling weakly. “It was Aaron? That made you decide to do this?”
“Not only. But it makes for a good finish,” Alex said, indicating the tape. “What happens to a good man in a police state. What’s going to happen to everybody.”
“You know we were at school together? Boys. A Communist, early. A believer. Well, everyone was a little bit in those days. Unless you believed the Nazis. And now this.”
“Are you going to cover the trial?”
“They won’t allow anyone from the West. But I can tell you what it will be. Aaron’s friends will be asked to attend. Anna and Stefan and—oh, anybody who might have a voice. And they’ll sit there and hear lies about him and know they’re lies and no one says anything. Only one voice now. Stalin’s. They are there to bow in public. Aaron’s punishment? They say it could be five years. In solitary. Five years. Maybe a madman after. My old friend. But the lesson’s not for him. It’s for them, the others. Now they know what is expected. And they’ll applaud the verdict.” He nodded. “You can hear it for yourself, on Radio Berlin.” He held up the tape. “Thank you for this. One person who says no.”