Date: Mon, 25 May 2020 07:09:26 +0100 From: Vincent Appleyard Subject: The Geisenberg Conspiracy Chapter 10 The Geisenberg Conspiracy by Vincent Appleyard A story set in East Germany in 1965 Please help keep the wonderful Nifty Archive going by donating to: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Chapter 10 The day had been full of drama, fear and excitement. Corden had taken Markus and Robert away from Becker's house and straight to the farm, driving with a kind of controlled recklessness. As far as they were concerned, he was one of Berg's men, a Stasi hood. The three of them had been silent all the way until Markus demanded to know where they were headed, by which time their destination was almost in view. "You heard what Berg said. He wants to talk to you. To you both. Where we're going, you'll be safe. It's not far now." "Is it...to Herr Wagner's farm?" he asked, recalling the names that Berg had used. "Yes. Do you know them?" He had gone silent again, seeming to be thinking hard. "No. Yes. I've seen them at Geising. I've seen the kid before. I've never really met them, though." And now he had. A rush of strangely-disconnected activity seemed to occupy the hours following their sudden, unannounced arrival. First, Corden's hurried conversation with Anna, her hands white with flour from her baking whilst the boys remained in the car, discreetly. Then there was the whole rigmarole of Anna rushing out and insisting, over Corden's objections, that the boys be brought inside straight away and then her fussing around them, attending to their injuries, demanding loudly that someone be held accountable. The already tense atmosphere was only intensified by the shocked reactions of Karl and Johann and also of that other lad, Ernst whom Corden had met before at the pond. The drama, fear and excitements that they had already experienced that morning were no preparation for the disconcerting turmoil that now descended on the farmhouse and which swept them all up in a dizzying, uncoordinated swirl of movement. "Berg will be here soon," Corden had said and Anna had recoiled a little at the darkness that she saw flash in his face. Karl had been sent off to fetch Rudi from about the farm and they had both come back running and a little breathless. Corden had taken Rudi to one side and told him in some detail of the morning's events in Adorf. He held back on the one detail that worried him the most - the pistol shot; Berg's shooting dead Hans Becker. He had no idea what story would be put about and was already concerned enough to be extremely cautious now in what he said, lest it should in some way contradict what Berg would be presenting as the official version of events. He realised that this very sensitive matter was partly what Berg needed to talk to Markus and Robert about so urgently, to get them both on board. Ernst was being sent back home and Karl experienced an awkward moment of indecision as to whether he would accompany his friend at least part-way on his walk back across the fields. His natural loyalty inclined him towards doing so, the still-vivid memory of their shared beating and the sexy play that had led to it, an even greater inducement. But he chose instead to stay and not to miss the new excitement there at the farm. After the boys had said their farewells and Ernst had headed off, Rudi slipped quickly out and caught up with him and laid a friendly arm around his shoulders as he walked. "If there's a next time, I will tell your dad...as well! You'll get two hidings for the price of one!" Ernst recognised the peace-offering that was the twinkle in Herr Wagner's voice and allowed himself a shy, rueful smile as Rudi ruffled his hair with genuine affection as he said good-bye. After that, there was little for Karl and Johann to do except stand about outside, uncomprehending. They had watched the older boys being led upstairs by their mother and had felt suddenly jealous, as if being usurped. In the middle of the turmoil, the three men from the neighbouring farm, the Raff's, the three expected guests to Anna's party, all turned up brandishing bottles and cracking jokes and when Berg arrived soon after, the atmosphere became very awkward. The three men clearly seemed aware of who Berg was and were constrained and rather sullen in his company. They were standing round the hearth, warming themselves against the fire that Anna had now prepared, talking amiably amongst themselves but they went quiet when Berg entered and when Anna directed him to the boys' bedroom upstairs, along with Markus and Robert, for their private talk, there were meaningful looks exchanged that betrayed an underlying distrust of the man. Berg remained for only twenty minutes or so, dedicating his time exclusively to what he had to say to Markus and Robert. He came down alone and made his farewells, conscious no doubt that his presence had already cast a pall over the gathering. Corden skulked about by the window, impatient for Berg to leave. He had little time for social niceties and Berg had already stretched his tolerance to breaking point. He had no doubt the man would survive and prosper but cared little now. They might have forged an alliance at one time; indeed, had done so briefly, storming Becker's house. But then the shooting, the murder brought an end to that. What struck Corden most was the ease with which Berg seemed to forge his passage through this world. He would have made a good ally and Corden wondered, almost against his better judgement, if perhaps he might still do so at some point in the future but thought it unlikely. He recalled the man's words from their first meeting in Adorf: "A potential friend of yours actually, if you like...a useful friend to have." That's what Corden needed now, a friend; a man, a woman even he could open himself up to. But he felt the possibility of that was still beyond him. Berg had given Corden a rather pleading look as he left, rather melancholy. Corden, finally, couldn't work him out and simply let him go with the briefest of nods, not unfriendly exactly but falling so far short of proper friendliness that no impartial witness could have mistaken it for anything but a final goodbye. "Herr Erlich," said Berg, formally. He nodded, almost a bow in its gravity and smiled once more that thin, unlikeable smile and left. When Markus and Robert came down, they said nothing of what had been discussed upstairs. Neither Corden nor any of the others would ever know what had passed between Berg and the boys nor what was spoken of between the two of them in the minutes they had spent alone together after Berg had gone but both boys looked relieved and Anna smiled as she ran her hand through the hair of first one then the other, seating them at the table. Sitting with the Wagner family that evening around the big kitchen table, Corden had laid out his plans to Rudi and Anna. He would go back to England, not to London but to the West Country of his childhood. He was still young enough to start again, to work a farm, maybe, as Rudi did. He even claimed that the time spent with Rudi and his farmer friends had given him some useful pointers in that regard. They were all drinking beer from hefty, rural steins, Markus and Robert included and during the course of the evening, both Johann and Karl had managed to take the odd sip here and there, their father seeming happy to indulge them. The conversation grew loud and emphatic, punctuated by loud outbursts of laughter. Rudi lolled about in a his chair getting drunk whilst Anna managed the room, somehow keeping an eye on her kids, acting as hostess to the guests, maintaining order and serving food, all whilst having a good, unconstrained time herself. Everything she did appeared to Corden to be done entirely on her own terms and yet she was so subtle in her ways, so solicitous of those around her, that even the roughest of their neighbours accepted her occasional admonition with good grace, meekly, almost with gratitude. She herself drank from a bottle of cherry brandy that it was generally understood to be hers and hers alone. She drank directly from the bottle with great delicacy, each time flashing her wide smile afterwards around the tumbling room. The three other men, a father and his grown up sons who worked a nearby farm were rough and hearty company who teased each other endlessly, teased Rudi to the extent that he took shelter in his drink, teased Corden and his preposterous ideas on farming but mostly teased the children - Johann, Karl and Robert. In fact, they evidently included Markus in this latter group since they teased him as well, the same as they did the younger ones. Once or twice, Anna had to shush them with mock-severity at the crudity of their language, the rudeness of their jokes in front of these innocents. Food was bought out and more beer and for a while the party continued in a quiet, almost sombre mood, the atmosphere not recovered from the ghost of Berg's presence, which still was felt as an inhibition. There was polite, slightly strained talk of work matters, the farms and the economy and it was only when one of the neighbours, the older of the sons, told another rather filthy anecdote which centred on Walter Ulbricht going to a bar and eventually featured a heifer and a billy-goat in quite obscene cameos, that everyone seemed to relax again. "Joachim, you cannot tell a joke like that!" objected Anna with fierce mockery. "Not about our President!" She burst out in terrific peals of delighted laughter and grabbed hold of Johann who was looking puzzled. "I don't get it!" he said. "You're not supposed to get it, darling!" Anna assured him, planting a noisy kiss on his head. "I get it!" said Karl, mischievously. He grinned and made to take a sip of his father's beer but Rudi batted him lightly away. "Here's to the First Secretary of the Socialist Unity Party!" declared the neighbour's other son, raising his stein. He belched loudly and with disgusting force, something that all the gathering understood, even little Johann. Corden had remained quiet through all this. He was watching Markus and Robert, their grave, subdued exchange of looks, their evident interest in each other, the way they occupied a space all of their own, a world perhaps. He was mesmerised slightly by the detail of their self-absorption, how one would shift a little on the bench only for the other to mimic the movement. How Robert's hand would cover his face or mouth as if shyly, a gesture copied unselfconsciously and without guile from one that Markus made. There was a naturalness about their bodily engagement with each other, the closeness they allowed, that Corden found beguiling. The shadowed looks they cast about when others spoke to them or in any other way encroached upon their union, revealed a sympathy between the two that so attracted Corden's gaze, his wonderment, he scarcely paid attention to the conversation going on around; the jokes, the toasts, the attention-seeking of young Karl and Johann. The party didn't go on very late, they'd be too much work to do the following day for that. Anna had suggested that Corden, Markus and Robert sleep in the barn. She had blankets and some lamps. Whilst not very drunk, they were all too happily inebriated to be bothered where they slept and simply accepted the practicality of the arrangement and allowed Anna, helped or maybe hindered by her sons, to set things up accordingly. Each of them settled down unfussily in a corner of the barn and lay there thinking their own thoughts. Gradually, Corden felt his mind sinking down through seeming layers of some thick, soft material as if the world was swallowing him whole but gently, all the while sustaining him even as he was devoured. But on the very point of his succumbing to this lulling sensation he felt himself roused and on turning onto his side he glimpsed Robert moving gracefully and with purpose from his own corner to where Markus lay stretched out. It was almost out of habit that Corden shifted his position noiselessly so as to watch, the unmediated response of a hunter who instinctively adjusts to the demands of a changing world. For a second, he imagined himself a sort of human camera, recording impassively, receiving the live image and rendering it immobile, his nervous system processing the data with blank objectivity and without any involvement in the actual, living drama that was unfolding before his eyes. But he couldn't do it any more. He realised suddenly and with shocking certainty that he no longer cared to view the world through such a remote and chilly lens and in not caring, he couldn't, simply couldn't carry on the way he had for all these years. He felt his body tense and straining and made an effort to relax. He lay back and turned his head again towards the two boys, watching more casually now, disinterested but at the same time with a kind of eagerness, a willing engagement that he hoped they could somehow sense telepathically, as it were, even as their focus on each other intensified. Markus now took Robert in his arms and in their embrace the boys seemed to Corden balanced and attuned in spirit even as their limbs were entwined. They shed a kind of loving radiance which shone from their faces, smilingly. Each gesture that one made was met with corresponding gestures from the other and their physical acceptance of each other's body as they stripped and touched was like a dance. They kneeled and leant close, face to face, a mutuality of intent that made no demands but offered of itself a vulnerability, a simplicity and a keen, unspoken tenderness that hung between them in the silence of their shared, exclusive world. They kissed long on the lips, broke apart and kissed again, more passionately now. And Corden knew that here he glimpsed the very image of true friendship. Here, a peace between two equal beings, lifted up amidst a warring world. Here was gentleness and comfort, ease and a balancing of pain and joy. He realised with a kind of rueful contentment, that nonetheless was almost as a pain to him, that he did not need to watch their lovemaking and so he turned again onto his side and faced the wall. And Markus and the boy made love again, each penetrating the other in turn, slowly and longingly and urgently and deeply through the night. And all through this, Corden slept, his tired mind untroubled now. He slept till nearly 8.00am, almost unheard of for him and when he roused himself and looked about, remembering, he saw at once that both the boys were gone. They had, in fact, got up at dawn and walked about the field, uncertain in the thin, morning light. They had felt a glory about them that would maintain them through the day, well after Herr Rihm had arrived at half-past six to pick up his son and to take Robert home. Now there was a change in the Wagner household with all the raucous energy of the night before being replaced by an energy of a different type, more familiar, more purposeful, as Rudi, Anna and the boys as well applied themselves to routine, daily tasks around the farm. After a quick re-fuelling with coffee, Corden changed into his overalls and moved his car into the barn. He spent the next two hours tinkering and getting the engine back to the way he wanted it and then took himself off for a long, energetic walk in the surrounding countryside. By the time he returned, it was gone 4pm and the sky was already beginning to darken. For want of anything better to do, he focussed his attention back on his vehicle, going over the same checks; pointlessly making the same minute adjustments. He tried not to think too much of anything and a kind of blankness overtook him as he became thoroughly absorbed again by his work. At one point, however, he startled himself with the sudden, penetrating thought of Markus and Robert together, an insight of distinct clarity which illuminated, for barely half a second, the exact nature of those modifications to his own psyche that his brief contemplation of their passionate exchange had, he suspected, helped to bring about. The knowledge vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving him feeling strangely bereft and unsettled. He was finished here, he knew. Finished with the spying game. Finished with London. He thought briefly of the Chief but quickly dismissed him from his mind. He thought of Gough-Hardy, his handler and laughed out loud a bitter, rather raucous laugh that troubled him with its bitterness and finality. As always, the image followed, from his childhood, of Brother Vernon in the chapel, the schoolroom, the showers. He was very quiet for a few moments, recalling the beatings and humiliations that they had endured as boys, the sweetness of their youthful camaraderie in spite of it all. He knew the fallout from those years had marked him, had appeared and re-appeared in different ways, in varied guise, throughout his life; his hidden life, his secret life, his life as a professional voyeur. He'd always supposed he had been searching for love; that love would release him and elevate him. All those years of waste and frustration, holding out always the lure of love. Always the lure resisted or the grabbing of it messed up, fouled or incomplete, his putative lovers incompetently handled. And now he had experienced something of that sweet release, perceived in the tenderness and vulnerability shown to each other by Markus and Robert, he realised that what he'd wanted all along was friendship, nothing more. He valued friendship above all else but had never really contemplated just how far away from its fulfilments his grasping for a different kind of love had pushed him. He felt himself failed by the strictures of his own passions which had kept him, darkly watching, always too, too vigilant a presence amidst the entangled, constricting memories that were the legacy of his childhood and which had prevented him in adulthood from moving forwards emotionally. Now he knew deep down that he was ready; ready to reach out, ready to engage with the wider world, the adult world. Ready, in other words, to blossom. Karl and Johann had appeared in the doorway of the barn and were standing shyly, as if unsure as to the right approach. Finally, they drew closer, grinning but still shy and rather awkward. A golden light seemed to dance around their forms, making them seem as messengers from a God that Corden long ago had cast out from his soul. Even so, for all the gentle spirit they projected to him now, they still retained in Corden's eyes the fierce naturalness of little animals, burrowers in the debris of the world. It was Johann who spoke but Corden understood instinctively that his query was made on behalf of both boys. "Uncle Gunther? Are you really our uncle? I mean, really-really?" Corden looked down at the boy, at his puzzled, innocent face screwed up with the urgency of his question. He felt weary now and in his tiredness, ready to give in to all the vast but subtle changes that he felt were about to overwhelm his life. "No," he said, hesitating. "No, I'm not." He had a faraway look in his eyes as the years seemed suddenly squeezed into the one ball of remembrance. He felt as if he were gripping onto something very tightly but did not know quite how to let go. And then a realisation came to him, he thought from nowhere, and he did. "My name's Corden. Eric Corden. And I'm your friend." They accepted this without comment. It was, it seemed, enough for them. He slowly reached out a hand to either boy and they in turn took a hand each, sensing the import of the moment but without understanding. Corden felt their little fingers, cool against the warmth of his palms and he tingled somewhat at their touch, something like a glow possessing him, scintillating his inner being. Slowly, rather gravely, they led him back to the farmhouse where Anna and Rudi were waiting to say goodbye. The evening sky was spread with stars, clear and beckoning. For a moment, Corden paused and all three of them looked towards the West where Venus rose, a small, tight ball, persistent in her influence. They all three gazed in silent reverence. The farmhouse stood before them, lit from within and giving off a sense of warmth and homeliness. Corden had a sudden vision of a future, lit and bright. "Will you come back?" asked Karl, suddenly. "Oh, I expect so," said Corden, not truly sure he ever would. They moved again and Corden gave their hands a gentle squeeze and felt their little fingers squeeze him in return, urging him forward. THE END