Prince of Berlin by Dan Sherman

Author:Dan Sherman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 1983-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

It took four days before Wilde managed to establish physical contact with one of the north German escape systems. In the end he had to settle for an unfamiliar route that had been organized by members of the Hamburg station. His operative link was a little man named Spengler. Wilde met him first in an abandoned granary south of Schewern. Their conversation was awkward, tense. Spengler kept asking about the film, insisting that Wilde give it to him immediately so that it could be passed to the West through the diplomatic route. When Wilde refused, Spengler told him, “It would be wise if you trusted us. Your Harry Rose can’t help you now.”

Eighteen hours later there was a second meeting near a village to the west. Again Wilde was questioned about the film. Again he refused to discuss a separate delivery. By now he began to grasp the seriousness of his position. Apparently not only had the Hamburg station been alerted, but so had George Clay.

Between meetings with Spengler, Wilde stayed with Lise in a boathouse beside some lake twenty miles east of the border. Here the weather was predictable with alternating periods of wind and stillness. Generally their hours together were subdued. She tended to talk a lot about the future and a subsidized resettlement in California.

As for himself, Wilde supposed that he had long since lost control of his future, and like any agent on the run he knew that there was nothing to do but wait. Although he had been told that Rose had been advised of the situation, he remained pretty well convinced that this was a goddamn he. He also suspected he may not have been told the whole truth about the ultimate supervision of his escape. There seemed to be several forces at work, each competing with the other.

On Friday, the last day, he once again met briefly with Spengler, this time in a hawthorn grove on the edge of an onion field. Spengler seemed frightened, or upset, or both. He kept insisting that Wilde had endangered the entire net work by refusing to give over the film. Wilde said nothing.

When Wilde returned to the boathouse he found Lise waiting for him in the doorway. She wore a gray sweater and a black skirt. Her shoes were dangling from her fingers. Without speaking they walked to the end of the wharf. Once again the wind had died with the approach of dusk.

“It’s tomorrow,” he said. “We go tomorrow night.”

She put her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes. “Is it safe?”

He ran his finger through her hair. “I don’t know.”

“What do they tell you about the sentries?”

“Supposedly they’ve been bribed.”

“With American hundred-dollar bills, no?” And she laughed. Then quietly, “And what did they tell you about the wire?”

“Cut … maybe.”

She began to toy with a button on his sleeve, and he guessed that she was either very tired or else had been drinking.

“I want to make love to you.”

He kissed her, very lightly. “Tomorrow.”

“No, tonight.

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