Date: Sat, 2 May 2020 23:15:13 +0100 From: Vincent Appleyard Subject: The Geisenberg Conspiracy Chapter 3 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 3 Corden's car was nearing the entrance to the camp. He gripped the wheel tightly as he peered ahead over the rough terrain. His Trebant 601 Estate was ideal for his cover; as Gunther Erlich, he was a small-time, independent supplier of spare parts for agricultural machinery, working out of Nuremberg. But the stacks of sales literature and boxes of samples which took up much of the back seat had made for an uncomfortable fit when it came to squeezing in Karl and Johann. The small boot compartment was likewise full of items compatible with Corden's cover. Anna sat, rather inelegantly in the front and whilst the boys dozed, squashed together as they were, with Johann's head lolling lightly against Karl's chest, she talked in a quiet, rather wistful voice about her friendship with Matthias Berg. The journey itself was uneventful, the only serious traffic being encountered as they swung a mere kilometre south of the very Trebant factory at Zwickau where the car had been manufactured and again, when they hit a tailback of lorries, presumably heading for Dresden. Corden looped East and by the time they were approaching Geisen, there was the sound of regular, light snoring from the back of the car and neither he nor Anna had spoken for nearly twenty minutes. "I'll stay out of sight," he said, evenly. "You just need to get word to Rudi. Tell him I'm hoping to talk to him about advance orders for the new Forschritt tractor range. Just get him away from Berg. I won't need long." "You might need to get away quickly...without us." "Yes, I might at that. Will you be OK?" "Yes, of course. We come here often with the boys. They love it here. Matthias might even let them stay for the weekend. Karl would be thrilled...Johann, less so, I think. He's still a bit young to play with the big boys." Corden looked at her doubtfully as he swung the Trebant through an open gate onto the grounds and killed the engine. They were a good half-kilometre away from the accommodation block. They both looked on in silence as a group of boys in PE kit appeared momentarily against the treeline, then disappeared again into the woods. Anna turned to her sons and began to rouse them gently but before she had brought them fully awake, there came the sound of quick, rather heavy footsteps from behind the car and three men were suddenly there, one in front, one on either side. "We need you to accompany us, Herr Erlich," said one, politely. "Please, do not be alarmed. Everything is in order." "Hello again, Frau Wagner," said another. "Rudi is waiting for you inside. It's great you've brought the kids, he's been anxious to see them. Come on, we'll get you some refreshments. We've got hot chocolate!" Corden presumed they were the three men who had picked Rudi up earlier in the day, Berg's men. The one who seemed to be in charge, the short, stocky one in front, nodded to Corden with a kind of mysterious deference, extending an arm and pointing to indicate that he should exit the car and follow them to the house. He got out of the car extremely carefully. Despite not seeing any weapons on the men, he assumed that they were armed and it was possible that they made the same assumption about him, although he was not. "What's this about?" he asked, thickly, determined to keep as far as possible to his agricultural-salesman cover. "Please...," said the stocky man with a reassuring smile. Anna had got out as well and had her boys huddled, still sleepily, against her. Slowly, the small group made its way towards the main building - Corden and two of the men ahead and Anna, Karl and Johann behind them, followed by the stocky man bringing up the rear. They reached the front entrance just as a thin, pale disc of moon appeared on the Eastern sky. .............................................................................. Corden observed the young man opposite him. They were both seated in fine, leather armchairs and were facing each other across an expensive oak desk, inlaid with panels of a darker wood, its edges heavily scrolled. Both desk and chairs seemed to recall an earlier century and were definitely out of place in the otherwise drab and functional office with its worn, oatmeal carpet and regulation filing cabinets. A record player sat on a long trestle-table to the side and the tinkly sounds of a solo piano rose and fell through the small, rather inadequate speakers. "Kinderszenen!" declared the young man. "You like Schumann? "Scenes from Childhood", I think is how you would say, no?" He peered at Corden and nodded along in appreciation for a few seconds. "Dieter Zechlin is one of out great artists, I think. Sadly under-appreciated in the West." Corden looked blankly ahead. "You will join me in coffee?" the young man enquired earnestly, suddenly more animated. "It's the real thing. I have it brought over specially. From Paris...usually." Without waiting to be asked, he lifted a modest coffee pot and poured Corden a small measure into a delicate cup, replenishing his own afterwards in the manner of a considerate host entertaining a house guest. "Help yourself to milk...sugar." He gestured generously to the small spread of items which lay between them. Corden didn't reply or make any move to help himself to anything. "I expect you are wondering why I have asked to see you," said the young man, eventually. He had a pleasant, intelligent face, narrow and slightly serious. His light brown hair had been allowed to grow out somewhat but it still looked like a military cut. He was smartly dressed in an elegant green jacket and a crisp, white shirt with a tightly knotted tie that also reflected evidence of military service. There was a discreet Party badge pinned to the lapel of his jacket. "I was," answered Corden bluntly. "First of all, who the hell are you?" Berg paused, almost wincing, as if a long-awaited, long-anticipated moment, fraught with potential difficulty, could no longer be put off. He smiled, thinly but with some genuine enthusiasm. "I think you know perfectly well who I am. As I know perfectly well who you are." Corden remained silent. He didn't see why he should make things any easier. "We are, both of us, in a very delicate situation," Berg continued, smoothly. "I appreciate that. I can respect that; respect your...professional sensibilities. As you know, I'm sure, my name is Matthias Berg. You know my position. You know who I work for. I, in turn, know full well who you work for, Herr Erlich but please bear with me. You see, your...present predicament...is not my concern here. I do not need to know any more about you or your activities and once we have completed our discussion you will be free to go. Free to return to Nuremberg or Berlin, as you choose...or to London, or wherever." He paused and scrutinised Corden's face for reaction but evidently saw nothing there but the faint flush of hostility and a slight puzzlement. "I give you my word. As a gentleman." Seeing no reaction, he added in a more lively, expressive tone. "Alright then, if you prefer, as a friend of Anna's and Rudi's. A potential friend of yours actually, if you like...a useful friend to have." Corden still said nothing, neither did he reach forward for the coffee. Berg leaned back and took a sip from his own cup, as if in encouragement. "Yes, it is really rather good! Are you sure you won't try some? It's far superior to what you will be used to over here." Seeing that he was getting nowhere, the young man straightened up slightly and adopted a more business-like pose. "I've been tracking you for some time, you know...your clandestine activities with Rudi, I've followed with great interest. You're rather good, I'd say. Yes, a highly accomplished agent. Somewhat wasted, I would have thought on the little titbits that Rudi feeds you on. Rather starved, actually. Anyway, I pulled Rudi in the other week and showed him the file I have on him. He was quite put out, poor chap. Quite, quite frightened, actually. After all, it's quite a charge sheet - fraternising with anti-democratic elements, reactionary forces...foreign counter-revolutionaries. That's you, by the way. So when I instructed him to call you to arrange an urgent meeting at his farm...well, naturally, he did so. Of course, I had my colleagues pick him up before that meeting could take place." Corden was staring hard at the young man now, feeling rather foolish. "I can assure you, however, that Rudi did not give you up. He has not been indiscreet nor has he incriminated you in any way. I suppose it must have crossed your mind. As I said, I've been aware of your activities for a number of months now and..." "Why didn't you just have me picked up at the farm? You could have arrested the pair of us!" Berg actually smiled at this. "I really couldn't," he said, finally. "That would have been too...too obvious. Too much like a show. No, it was far better to lure you out here where we can talk...without the need for such dramatics. I prefer to do my work away from the spotlight." Corden had been listening carefully, his mind churning. A faintly stupid look spread across his face as an idea took shape. "My God!" he declared suddenly. "This operation's not been sanctioned, has it? You're running this off-book, aren't you? A little bit of private enterprise!" Berg looked away as if distracted. He seemed, momentarily, lost in the Schumann. Eventually, he reached down and removed a large manilla folder from the right hand drawer of the desk and placed it squarely on the ink blotter between them. He drew out a 4 by 6 inch photograph and pushed it towards Corden. "You will recognise this man, of course." The photo was a formal portrait of a middle-aged man in a Major's uniform. He stood ramrod straight and stared out beyond the camera with an intense, puzzling look that was hard to decipher. "Why would I?" answered Corden, belligerently. Berg ignored the question and began talking, almost intimately, as if speculating out loud but with a degree of discretion still as to any conclusion. "Hans Becker, my...esteemed colleague in the service. You have, I think, been very interested in him for a long time. Not yourself, maybe, not you personally. But the people you represent...certain parties in London...are very interested, I know, in getting a closer look at Hans Becker. Having a...relationship with him. I know he has been approached. In secret...in most secret ways. I have my ears to the ground, you know. I can recognise the sound a pig makes as it hunts for truffles...and Hans Becker would be a prize truffle indeed!" Corden was lost in thought. When he came to himself, the LP on the turntable had ended and all he could hear was the repetitive scratching of the needle in the final groove of the disc as it continued to spin round aimlessly. "What is it you want, Berg?" He was aware that this was the first time he had uttered the younger man's name and recognised the significance of the moment. Berg regarded him quietly for a few seconds and then, wordlessly, withdrew some larger photographs from the folder. Corden saw their graininess, the slight blurring of the image and the unusual angle from which they had been shot and straight away knew that they were taken without the knowledge of the subjects. He studied them one by one for some minutes. Each image showed a middle-aged man and a young, probably still-teenaged boy. Both of them were naked and each picture was sexually explicit in a different way. The man, despite the poor quality of the photographs, was, without doubt, Hans Becker. He was caught in profile, the craggy features unmistakeable, as he thrust an erect penis into the mouth of the boy who knelt before him. In another, he had his back to the camera, which must have been secreted high up in a room above, and was fucking the lad, who propped himself on a tiled surface and embraced Becker with arms and legs, opening himself up. Becker's face was caught in a twisted, orgasmic grimace in a mirror behind the boy who, himself, seemed to be screaming, or panting open-mouthed, a wild, rather desperate, glazed look on his face as he abandoned himself, Corden had no way of knowing how willingly, to being penetrated. The setting seemed to be some kind of changing room, a bathroom maybe. Wash basins could be seen as well as the mirrors and tiled surfaces. "Who's the boy?" asked Corden eventually, his voice even and carefully controlled. Berg was silent a moment longer. "The boy doesn't matter." "Doesn't he, now?" exclaimed Corden, suddenly angry. "I mean...he's not...his conduct is not the issue. I know him. His name's Markus. He is one of my boys here at the camp. One of our Young Leaders. He is a good boy, a fine young man. I don't want or intend him to be embarrassed by these photographs." "But you do want Becker to be. Why?" "I want him to be more than embarrassed. I...need him to be effectively neutralised. His power, I mean. He has become a serious impediment to my progress and now has gone too far. He is actively having me investigated over some nonsense - political stuff. But it would damage me...damage my prospects, you understand?" "So what do you propose? You could have these photos slipped out to the right people. You'd damage Becker far more than he can damage you." Berg sniffed slightly and rose. He moved to the record player and lifted the arm off the still turning LP. "That is not the case, I'm afraid. Right now, he has far more influence than I can muster. Really, I can't be seen as the one to bring him down. Everyone knows he is my main rival...but if you...I mean...your people, were to have these photographs in your possession, you could easily use them to..." "...to blackmail him?" cried Corden, with contempt. "To finish him! What I am saying is that your interest in Becker is mis-placed. In five years time, maybe six or seven, but soon...I will be in a far stronger position. I am suggesting that you have backed the wrong horse if you really think that Becker represents the future. It is I, myself, that represents the future. It is me you should be talking to, not Becker!" Corden looked slightly stunned. "Are you offering yourself as an agent? Offering to turn?" Berg swivelled quickly towards Corden, a look of anguish on his face. "Don't be ridiculous!" he exclaimed. "I am merely pointing out that in the not-too-distant future, it will be in our mutual interest to have an understanding. The current political stalemate cannot last. There will be a thaw in our relations - that is my analysis and my fervent hope - and when that happens, it will be me you want to be dealing with, not the likes of Hans Becker! I want you to arrange for these photographs to land on the desk of my superiors in Berlin - in a way that keeps me out of it. Let it be known that the source is British Intelligence - they'll believe that. With any luck, they will have Becker shot." Corden was again deep in thought. "You know," he said carefully. "London might not agree. They might just go back to Becker with these and wave them under his nose. "Come and work for us, Hansi, or else!" I wouldn't put it past them. We could have him eating out of our hands!" "They would be stupid to think so," said Berg with a dismissive chop of his arm through the air. "You should tell them that. Tell them to forget about Becker. Think of the future, the long-term. Tell them...it is the right strategic move." "Why me?" asked Corden, eventually. For the first time, Berg hesitated and seemed to really contemplate his answer. "Convenience," he said, simply. "Your connection to Rudi...and to Anna, of course. And I admire you. I admire your work. And I need you. By myself, I have not sufficient power to bring down Becker. But you - I mean with the whole weight of British Intelligence behind you - you could make it happen in a way I simply could not. It is a question of opportunity." "You'd give him up? Despite what he means to the Stasi?" "You have seen the photographs...yes, that man I would give up. Wouldn't you?" "Don't play the innocent with me, Berg!" said Corden, hotly. "We make this play and all your problems with Becker go away. We do your dirty work for you and your path is clear. No Becker. No investigation. No black mark on your record." Berg seemed stung by this outburst. He pursed his lips primly and turned to face Corden. "Yes," he admitted. "It is true that I shall be the main beneficiary...for now. But I urge you to think of the future. Think of what progress could be made once I am established in a position of greater authority. Is it not worth the risk?" Berg left the question hanging in the air, took a deep breath and buttoned his jacket. "When were these taken? Where? How did you get hold of them?" "You do not need to know," replied Berg sharply. "London will ask. I'll need some details if I'm to convince them." Berg contemplated this, seeming to weigh in his mind the merit of Corden's argument. "They were taken here, actually. About two weeks ago." He stopped speaking and busied himself with removing some fluff from his lapel with a fluttering motion of his hand. "Here?" said Corden. He frowned and gave Berg a slightly sideways look. "You set this whole thing up, didn't you? That boy's one of yours. Did you tell him to seduce Becker? Is that what you do? Pimp them out on the side?" Corden had become unreasonably agitated. Finally, he settled back in the armchair, aware of the fatuousness of his outburst. Again, Berg seemed to be slightly offended but made as if he were prepared to overlook Corden's remarks for the sake of keeping the peace. "You took those pictures yourself, didn't you?" said Corden, wearily."You watched them at it and...click...click...click...," Berg drew himself up, as if to make an official declaration. "Please excuse me, Herr Erlich. I must leave you alone for a few moments. When I return...if the photographs are still on the table, I will take it that you have declined my offer. So be it. You will then be free to leave." He made a little, formal bow. "I will not have you followed," he added as an afterthought. "Your word as a gentleman, I suppose," said Corden with a bitter laugh. Berg simply gave his thin, unfathomable smile and exited the room. When he returned some minutes later, the folder of photographs was gone. .................................................................... Whilst Corden was listening to Berg lay out his proposals, Rudi had been waiting for Anna on the top floor of the building, in what looked like a classroom. They had embraced quickly and Rudi made a big fuss of his children, both of whom had fully woken up by now. One of the men, who had accompanied them from the car and led them upstairs, had disappeared for a few moments. Rudi thought this was out of consideration for the privacy of the couple's reunion but the man then proceeded to throw open the shutters of a serving hatch behind which he had prepared a saucepan of rich, hot chocolate for them all to share even though it was only the boys who actually wanted any when it came to be offered. Anna stroked Rudi's face with a finger whilst he looked awkward and tongue-tied. "Hey kids! I need to talk to your mother. Go and play. Go and explore...we'll stay up here." He turned, uncertainly, to the man in the kitchenette. "That's alright, isn't it? The boys are free to roam about? They usually go and play outside...," "Yeah, that's fine." said the man. "So long as they don't try to run away!" He made a mock-gesture towards Johann, raising his thick, powerful hands in a comic stranglehold. "Stay inside," said Anna, quietly but firmly. "Don't go far. Behave yourselves!" She flashed them a slightly anxious smile and Karl looked at her, almost in defiance. Both boys stood there for a second, immobile. "Well go on, then, scram!" urged Rudi and they turned and charged out. Rudi faced Anna again and shrugged his shoulders mightily, a gesture that she took to be his way of apologising to her for being such an idiot; for ever getting himself involved in the murky, uncertain world that Corden had drawn him into, for underestimating her friend Berg and for putting her to such trouble, dragging her and the kids out here, with all the attendant worry and concern as to his whereabouts, his safety and her own, ultimately. Anna looked at her husband with a fondness that she could not disguise. He was, in the end, a decent man and a good father to the children. It was enough for her and she was prepared to forgive him much in the light of this simple fact. She moved quickly, unfussily towards him and took him in her arms. Despite the presence of their guard, still pottering about in the kitchen, she kissed Rudi passionately and for a long time, letting all her feelings erupt in a single focus around his somewhat startled face. They remained entwined and connected for many minutes and only separated, each quickly re-adjusting themselves, when Karl and Johann burst back into the room, having apparently exhausted themselves in their explorations. The two boys stood there panting and grinning at the show of love between their parents until Johann turned to his elder brother and made a face contrived to express the depth of his disgust at this amorous display. All laughed at this and Rudi drew the boys towards him, for a brief moment holding his family close and tight, his life suddenly seeming clear and without complication. Eventually, Corden himself re-appeared, his interview with Berg having concluded. He shook Rudi by the hand, rather ruefully, although relieved to see him looking relatively cheerful under what were, after all, very stressful circumstances. In fact, Rudi was somewhat off-hand and cool towards Corden, not entirely sure that he was totally in the clear as regards his setting-up of his now-former handler. Corden, however, was realistic about such things and accepted that Rudi never had a choice in the matter. With Berg fully aware of their activities, there was no longer any question of Rudi providing new material in the future and Corden's own usefulness to his masters in London was at an end, in that respect. It was probably the end of the road for them all, he realised. However, it did appear that there was no objection to their actually meeting, now that Berg had laid his cards on the table and Corden proposed that he drive Rudi back to Adorf, debriefing him on the way. They couldn't all fit in the car and Corden wanted to have Rudi alone in any case, so Berg had to arrange for one of his men to drive Anna and the children back. Despite what Anna had previously thought, her boys did not seem that keen to stay in Geisen after all. They were fidgety and overtired and maybe going down with something, some late Summer cold, she thought. They arrived at the farm near midnight, not long after Corden and Rudi, the boys having dozed all the way. By the time they had been put to bed it was too late for Corden to head on to Nuremberg and Anna had insisted that he stay the night with them, stay a couple of days perhaps. And so, with blankets and a lamp, he made his way to the small barn, quickly setting himself in a corner, perfectly comfortable. Before he slept, he took the photographs of Becker and the boy from his overalls and studied them once more. His eyes, his mind drawn ever to the lad. Markus he was called, apparently. Eventually, Corden replaced the photographs but could not free himself from the lure of the images. He lay there thinking until, finally, he drifted off. His sleep was consumed with vivid dreams of Karl and Johann bathing, Markus opening himself and when he woke at 3am, he felt his cock hard, felt his body drenched in sweat. He lay there waiting for the dawn; for light to come and penetrate the dark.