The following is a rough-draft excerpt from my novel, Gyeosunim.
Friday, June 4, 1988
 |
| Photo: Google Maps |
“It wasn’t a nightclub, it was a restaurant and bar.”
“What’s the difference?” shot back Charles, obviously upset.
“Sir, a nightclub usually has a DJ and a dance floor. This was a large bar with lots of tables and no room for dancing. They had a full menu, like a restaurant. Very different.”
“Spare me the lesson, Axam, and answer the question.”
We were in Kaufhaus des Westens, or KaDeWe, as Berliners affectionately called it. It was a large department store that dated back more than eighty years, situated along Tauentzienstrasse, just a couple of blocks to the southeast of the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church and Europa-Center. Charles Townsend was taking me clothes-shopping.
“I’m not one-hundred-percent sure that she was there before me but I know that she hadn’t followed closely behind me or I would have noticed her. When I entered the venue, I scanned the room, looking for a place to sit, but all of the tables were occupied. The only vacant place I saw was a lone stool at the bar, and I took it. There couldn’t have been more than a minute from the time I walked through the door and the time I sat down. It was only moments later when she was by my side.”
“And you didn’t see her when you… how did you put it… ‘scanned the room’?”
“The place was packed, sir, and I wasn’t looking for any particular individual. And she looked different than when I had last seen her. My guess is that she was already in the resto-bar and saw me come through the door.”
“What are the chances of you randomly choosing a place where she would just happen to be? Did she mention this place to you when you were talking at Checkpoint Charlie?”
“No. Although, she did tell me that she was staying at a hotel on the same street, near the Bahnhof Zoo. This resto-bar couldn’t have been more than a few blocks from where she said she was staying. I should have stayed away from the area.”
“Bloody right you should have.” Charles pulled an off-white button-up shirt from a clothes rack. “Here, is this your size?”
Medium, with a thirty-six centimeter collar. “Yes, I think so.”
“You’ll have to try it on.”
“Yes, sir.” We moved on to another rack with navy trousers.
“Tell me again about your conversation at the border. What questions did she ask you? Did she try to find out where you were staying?”
“She asked if I wanted to share a taxi and asked which part of the city I was staying in. I was vague and told her the train station near the zoo.”
“You could have told her an area that is much farther from the Hotel Kurfurst.”
“With all due respect, sir, I don’t know this city the way you do. I’ve only been to the airport and the straight-line areas between my hotel, the department’s offices, and Checkpoint Charlie. I think I’ve explored more of East Berlin than West.”
“What’s your waist size, Axam?” Charles had lifted a pair of pants from the rack. “Eighty-eight?” He examined the tag that was loosely stitched onto the waist.
“That seems a bit large, sir. I haven’t shopped with European measurements in a very long time. In Canada, I wear dress slacks with a twenty-eight-inch waist and thirty-four-inch inseam.”
Charles returned the trousers to the rack and found another pair. I could see in his eyes that he was performing a mathematical conversion, and when he confirmed his calculations, handed me the polyester pants.
“As I said, sir, I really don’t think she followed me into the resto-bar. It was just a fluke encounter.”
“But she has seen you in disguise and out. And you say she asked you if you were a spy?”
“That almost came out like a joke.” I said the words but I didn’t really believe them. I sounded as though I was trying to defend her, but defend her from what? I didn’t know her. I didn’t care what she thought. And I wouldn’t see her again.
Everything was in place for the mission, which was set to go tomorrow. All agents were in place. Gunther was already in play. A promotion was being offered in his department, and today Gunther was set to request consideration for that new job. He would be filling out paperwork and meeting with his superiors. This was all done to give the appearance that he was looking to further his career, rather than abandon it. Sure, it put more of a spotlight on him, but who in his right mind would defect in the middle of being vetted for a new position? And because tomorrow is a Saturday, little would be investigated until Monday, when Gunther would be safely in London.
“There are no jokes and few coincidences in this business, Axam. You know that.”
“Yes, sir, of course.”
We moved on to jackets and Charles moved to a line of light windbreakers. A long rack displayed dozens upon dozens of identical jackets. The most pale of yellows took up most of the polyester fabric, with a turquoise green and drab blue stripe running around the waistline. I had seen a few men wearing similar jackets on the Berlin streets. It was a popular cut and would help me blend in to the crowds. Whatever crowds that Charles had in mind for me. He still hadn’t said a word. But judging from this shopping trip, and my previous experience of mixing with the general population as an observer, I knew that Charles was readying me for surveillance work.
He looked at my feet and saw my black walking shoes. “I suppose those will do,” he said in a tone that almost sounded disappointed. Perhaps if I was a senior director, such as he was, I would be in a better position to afford the fashionable kind of shoes that were always on his feet. Changing the subject, Charles added, “And you don’t know this Gwen girl’s last name, you say.”
“Exactly, sir. She offered only her first name when we met at Checkpoint Charlie.”
“And you didn’t provide her your name? Your alias, rather.”
“No, sir.”
“Go on, try them on,” he said, raising his chin to indicate where the change rooms were located.
This wasn’t much of a disguise but was simple enough to have me hide in plain site. Which was what I was trained to do. But Charles’ next move for me was still a big unknown.
No comments:
Post a Comment