The Berlin Letters by Katherine Reay

Author:Katherine Reay
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harper Muse
Published: 2024-03-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Luisa Voekler

Tuesday, November 7, 1989

Outside Langley, the day has grown cloudy and it feels personal. Dark clouds hover above me, against me. I keep glancing in my rearview mirror and forcing out strange stiff laughs, hoping they will dispel my sense of foreboding.

“No one is following you,” I say aloud. Then I glance to my rearview mirror again, unsure if it’s true. Fairly certain it is, I nevertheless drive around looking in my rearview mirror for almost an hour, taking random turns and watching who follows. No one does. I force another laugh, and it doesn’t feel any more genuine than my first attempt.

Logically I know following me is not worth Andrew’s energy. I may interrupt a lot, but I am trustworthy. He knows I will bring the letters to him and, I believe, trusts I have not revealed anything I’ve learned within them. Yet he’s been there all along. That’s what I can’t shake. It leads to so many questions about my career, my work, my life, that I do not have time to confront right now.

I drive to the University Club. I’ve certainly heard of the club with its membership spanning the entire Who’s Who of DC, but I’ve never been there. I park in the reserved lot in the back, walk around the building to the front, and stop. It’s a massive redbrick structure with two wings pressing forward like the ends of a U. The white-painted window frames and detailing make it look both old and impressive, new and fresh. Either way—both ways—it’s formidable. I look to the right, straight at the White House. Yes, formidable. Once I’m led to a small table for two at the back of a red-painted library, I’m even more impressed.

“Mr. Porter telephoned that he’s running a few minutes behind schedule.”

I smile. The man’s “schedule” carries tony English “shhh” sounds too. I barely have time to place my white linen napkin in my lap before Bran pushes through the library’s double glass doors.

He calls from across the room, probably since I’m the only one in it. “I was putting to bed yesterday’s interview. It was gold. Sorry I’m late.” He sits and waves to a man I didn’t even know had entered behind him. “Iced tea, please.” Bran looks to me and gestures.

“Same. Thank you.”

The man leaves and Bran settles. There’s an infinitesimal pause, so I fill it. “I know you’re busy, so I thank you for this.”

His long fingers wave in a nonchalant “don’t mention it” way before I can say more. “I have wanted to see you again for many years. This is the most important appointment of my day. I’m sorry I was late.”

I take a breath and release it, willing myself to relax. Finally. Someone is willing to talk to me. My conscience chastises me as soon as the thought blooms. Aunt Alice was willing to talk to me. Sure, it felt late. But that didn’t make it any less real.

“I hope you don’t mind I requested to sit in here.

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