Smuggler's Treasure by Robert Elmer

Author:Robert Elmer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Zonderkidz

12

KAPITEL ZWOLF

PROTEST

The next morning Liesl shivered in the light drizzle as she dodged the spray from passing cars and hurried to the end of Leipzigerstrasse. The rain had pounded the city during the night, filling the streets with angry gray puddles. She pulled the hood of her jacket farther over her face, but the walk from home had already soaked her.

And even when she reached the end of the strasse, she couldn’t stop shaking — maybe not just from getting soaked. She felt in her pocket for her notebook, hoped it hadn’t gotten as wet as her clothes.

A group of about thirty teens huddled under sheets of plastic and a few umbrellas just around the corner from the western side of the wall. Here, in the shadow of the wall, a person could spray paint slogans (and many had) or even shout at the guard towers. But what difference did it make? Now, if they could spray paint the other side, that would be something. But of course the machine guns and mines and barbed wire lay just over there, daring anyone to try to escape.

“Liesl, isn’t it?” Katja, the girl who had protected her at the meeting, met her with a smile. “Nice to see you again, but — ”

“Jürgen said you decided to meet here at nine. I thought I’d just stop by, see what happens.”

Katja took Liesl’s sleeve and turned her away from the group.

“Listen, are you sure you want to be here? I mean, did Jürgen tell you about our plan for today?”

“Not really, but I can guess. Some kind of protest, right? A few signs? I’ll take some notes for my paper. The one I’m writing for history class.”

Katja looked around the group, opened her mouth, and then closed it. As if making up her mind, she said, “Right. Well actually, Liesl, it’s going to be a little more than that. So if I were you, I think I would turn right around and — ”

“Hey, look who’s here!” Jürgen plowed into the group like a movie star schmoozing for the press, ready to grant autographs to an adoring public. “Is everybody ready for this?”

The group murmured and parted to either side, leaving Liesl to face their leader.

“I’ve called the press,” someone offered. “Reporters should be here any minute, if they don’t mind the rain.”

“Perfect.” Jürgen nodded. “And the ropes?”

“In my bag.”

Wait a minute. Ropes? Liesl wondered, as one of the group dropped a sack at Jürgen’s feet. Another couple of teens arrived with protest signs shouting in big letters: Gorby: Tear Down That Wall! and The Wall Is History! And a dozen others Liesl couldn’t read, stacked in a pile.

“But — why in English and not in German?” Liesl wondered out loud.

“Oh, come on.” Jürgen grinned. “If we had just German signs, none of the Americans watching their TV news would understand what’s going on, here. Verstehen Sie?”

Yes, she understood, and she began to see that maybe this was more than she’d bargained for. Too late.

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