missing him by inches, and then he’d been on the sidewalk, disappearing into the milling pedestrians at the plaza’s edge. He hadn’t waited to confirm that he’d lost his tail, but instead had made his way across the square to a U-Bahn station and descended the stairs before hurrying to a turnstile and slipping through with a swipe of his card.
Standing in the busy subway station, he’d struggled over which line to take, and then decided on whichever arrived soonest. A whistle of air had come from one of the passageways to his right, and he’d pushed past the slower moving travelers to get to the platform just as the train pulled to a stop, its doors opening with a whoosh and disgorging a stream of tired passengers before he stepped aboard.
His mind had raced over his alternatives. One thing was certain – he needed to get the information he’d been given to his control officer sooner rather than later. But the man hadn’t picked up the phone any of the times he’d called that day or the night before. He probably wasn’t in town. There was no reason for urgency on his part – Heinrich’s windfall bombshell of information had come in completely unexpectedly. Normally Heinrich and his control would communicate once every few weeks, which in the current environment of non-aggression was more than sufficient. Nobody had expected Heinrich to get something this hot dropped into his lap, so there had been no emergency protocol set up.
The train had lurched forward and quickly clattered its way to the next station, and Heinrich had used the lull to consider his choices – none of which had been particularly appealing. He’d need to disappear, which would require money – a lot of money, which Heinrich didn’t exactly have at his fingertips. But surely the information would be worth a fortune – at least a small one, which would be more than enough to take him to a new town and equip him with a new identity. Maybe even get him out of Germany entirely. Somewhere warm, where he could run a bar and spend his days on the beach.
The screeching of steel wheels had jolted him out of his daydream and forced him back into the moment. Yes, perhaps the information would buy him a ticket to somewhere else, but first he would have to pass it to his handler. Based on what he knew, that wouldn’t be easy – people got killed over far less than this every day, and he had no illusions that because he was a low-level police department clerk he wouldn’t be targeted. If he was right, the data was pure dynamite. And as with all highly explosive materials, it would have to be treated delicately.
Four stations later he’d gotten out at Wilmersdorfer Strasse and emerged into the night, moving to the pedestrian thoroughfare, thousands of his fellow Berliners around him, buying him a temporary measure of security. He’d fished his cell phone from his overcoat pocket and dialed his handler’s number yet again, but it had gone to voicemail. He’d left his fourth message of the day, this one more urgent than the earlier ones.
“This is Heinrich. I was followed from work. I think I’ve been compromised. You need to bring me in. Like I said earlier – I’ve got something...big. Really big. Call me. I can’t go home. I’m out on the streets. My phone’s on.”
He’d hung up and stared at the little screen with frustration, and then sighed. It would do no good to get any more agitated. It wouldn’t be much longer until his phone rang, and then it would all be over.
That had been seven hours earlier. His control had finally called a half hour ago and set up a meet, sounding more annoyed than concerned. So now, after as many beers to soothe his frazzled nerves, he was alone on a desolate street in the wee hours, and someone who meant him no good was coming for him.
He heard footsteps echoing down the block – at least two men, moving quickly. His eyes swept the street for possible hiding places. He was still too far from the rendezvous point, so there wouldn’t be any help from that direction. And he was out of options.
Then he spotted it. A black iron gate, maybe seven feet high, but scalable.
The question was whether he could do so quietly enough that they wouldn’t hear him. And if he could, whether there was an