Free Brandenburg by Henry Porter Page A

sloping forehead meant that his face ran to a bulbous point at his nose. He had several moles on his neck, which evidently presented problems when he was shaving, and a little red rash had appeared at the top of his cheeks. He was unprepossessing and oafish, yet he was far from stupid. He gave the impression of a man with a large character who’d consciously forced his personality into the Stasi norms of merciless reliability.
    ‘We’ll have to look into it further. You must understand that this seems very suspicious. We know he was following you in Trieste.’
    Rosenharte shrugged. ‘Look, I don’t know who the hell he was. I didn’t want to go to Trieste in the first place. Schwarzmeer forced me. Frankly, I don’t want anything to do with this business.’
    ‘You have no choice. Now tell me what was in that package she gave you.’
    ‘I have no idea. You have the package.’
    ‘But she must have told you what was in it. She must have made a hint or two.’
    Rosenharte recoiled from his garlic breath. ‘I know nothing except that it concerns Nato defence programs. Why don’t you open it for yourself?’
    ‘She must have told you more.’
    ‘Is this an official debrief, or should I wait until I see General Schwarzmeer?’
    ‘This is my operation - I have security clearance.’
    ‘As I understand it, this operation concerns the gravest issues of national security. Open the package but don’t compromise me. I’ve done my job.’ He turned away and looked out on the flashing light at the end of the wing. Eventually Biermeier gave up on him and moved to be with the other members of his team. An unexplained delay kept them there for an hour before the engines started up and the plane rumbled down the tarmac, causing the fittings of the interior to squeak and the lockers to crash open. Once they were airborne, Rosenharte moved to the port side of the cabin to look out over the Alps with a certain boyish glee, as they took a course that skirted Austria and flew north-east towards Hungary and Czechoslovakia. The landscape was pretty well illuminated by the half moon and he could just make out the ridges along the tops of the mountains. He thought of walking the valleys below with his brother, a thing they had promised they would do once Konnie’s health improved. He always insisted it was simply a matter of time but two years had passed without him being able to raise the energy. He needed treatment in the West and that was what Rosenharte was going to get for him.
    After two hours, with first light beginning to show in the east, the plane circled three times then landed on a runway at a military base somewhere in the south of the GDR. They taxied past the humps of fortified aircraft hangars where men in overalls could be seen moving about beneath naked lights.
    Two Ladas and a military truck awaited them, but only Biermeier and three officers got off the plane with Rosenharte. Then the Antonov, emitting a good deal of black exhaust from its starboard engine, turned and prepared to take off again, he assumed for Berlin-Schönefeld, where Annalise’s material would be examined.
    Now back on German soil, the Stasi had become a degree more officious and, as they walked to the cars, the largest of the men took hold of his upper arm. Rosenharte shook himself free and spun round. ‘Understand this: I am not your prisoner!’ Biermeier nodded to the man, who dropped back a couple of paces, but Rosenharte knew that this didn’t bode well. In their eyes he was more suspect than helper.
    He had to reverse that.
    They set off through what he knew must be a restricted zone. On several occasions the empty road swung by large compounds of apartment blocks and stores that had been flung down in the great beech forests to accommodate the Russian military, massive buildings quite out of character with their surroundings. About forty-five minutes on, as the road began to climb, they reached a gateway and two men appeared from a