Free Brandenburg by Henry Porter

world scarce half made up.”’ He paused. ‘Beautiful words. And a beautiful drawing to describe deformity, wouldn’t you say? But this sketch before you is also revolutionary in its compassion, a work that breaks free of the controlling taste of the patrons of the time. In his own hand the artist has written beside the boy’s head, “ No so se Dio m’aiuta ” - I don’t know if God will help me. And so the artist, like a photo-journalist today, witnesses the injustice of the young boy’s condition, and provides a challenge to God and therefore to the religious authorities. Why? Why are people born like this? Why do men shrink from them and dogs bark at them in the street? These are the questions of a revolutionary conscience and I maintain a socialist conscience. Carracci calls God and the Church to account.’
    Over the next forty minutes he developed the theme of artistic conscience. When he reached the end he opened his hands to the audience. ‘No,’ he said. ‘God does not help this man. But we must. That was Carracci’s message.’ With a tip of the head he thanked them for their attention.
    The hall burst into spontaneous applause.
    ‘It’s the same lecture he gave in Leipzig. It’s why he was chosen by Kafka.’
    ‘He was chosen by Kafka!’ said Griswald.
    Harland nodded. ‘And now I understand why.’
    Griswald, no slouch when it came to reading the subtext, puckered his brow. ‘What are you talking about, Harland? What haven’t you told me?’
    ‘Just that. Rosenharte gave that lecture in the early summer in Leipzig. It seems that Kafka - whoever that is - liked the look of him. You see the lecture can be read two ways. If you are an unimaginative commie it appears to comply to the usual Marxist theories about the suppression of the masses and the rise of capitalism et cetera, et cetera. It can also be seen as an argument against persecution by the state and the stifling of free expression.’ ‘A bird who can sing several tunes at once,’ said Griswald. ‘Hey, look, Jessie’s on the move.’
    She had left her chair and was on the edge of a group of admiring academics gathered round Rosenharte, waving her arms comically over the heads of the others. Rosenharte got up to greet her. They kissed and she gave him a light congratulatory hug. Then she broke free and tapped her wristwatch to say that she had to leave. As she went she blew him a kiss. Harland spotted the small padded envelope that she had slipped into his hand.
    ‘The ball’s in play and our man’s on his way,’ said Harland, noting the two Stasi agents hurrying down the central aisle to be near Rosenharte.
    ‘So there goes our agent. Sent before his time, scarce half made up,’ said Griswald.

5
A House in the Forest
    The lights of fireflies were pulsing on the fringes of the airfield near Ljubljana, Slovenia when the Stasi convoy pulled up beside an old Antonov 26 which stood with its props gently revolving in the warm night air. Rosenharte watched them fleetingly before the party clambered up a retractable stairway and dispersed through the aircraft. It smelled of fuel and tired upholstery.
    Biermeier appeared in the cockpit door looking self-satisfied, walked up the aisle nodding to his men and sat down heavily next to Rosenharte.
    ‘Which airport are we flying into?’ asked Rosenharte.
    ‘It’s enough for you to know that you’re returning to your homeland,’ he replied.
    ‘I hope there’s something to drink. Anything will do - a beer or some water.’
    Biermeier gave him a long-suffering look and barked the order to one of the Stasi officers who had accompanied them from Trieste, then turned to Rosenharte. ‘So, you got the first delivery from your friend. That is good. But what interests me is the dead man. Who was he?’
    ‘I told Heise. I don’t know - some drunk who had a heart attack.’
    Biermeier nodded and frowned at the same time. Rosenharte examined his profile with interest. His runaway chin and