We reach the Police Station. They take us in and lock us up in cells. I can see the police officers seated round their desks laughing, talking, smoking. Have to think fast. Really fast. I remember the telephone number of the original agent. It’s in my mind, flashes across my memory. I make signs to the police officers. I somehow get the message across to them.

‘Embassy. Sri Lanka. Embassy. We go … there. Country embassy. Go back … country … home. Home. Get taxi. Here, hundred dollars I have. I pay … for all. All of us. Others have money also. We pay taxi.’

It is my plan of escape. They are convinced, only too happy to get rid of the burden.

I first go to a phone booth. I repeat the number which I’ve carried in my head. Establish contact with the original agent.

Instructions are given.

‘Wait at the railway station. I will send someone else.’

Another guide arrives and we prepare for the next lap. The last lap of our journey. We look at him silently. We have got to trust him.

We pile into the taxi the policemen have arranged. Halfway, we tell the driver, ‘Look. Money. Dollars. Dollars. Free us. Let us go free. Free.’

The driver accepts the money. We are several kilometres away from the city. He counts the notes before tucking them away in his wallet. Then he opens the doors of the taxi. We get off. We stand in the middle of nowhere. We have to make a split second decision. From this point onwards we will walk back with the guide, to the city. Past the wood. Oak. Birch. Fir trees. Ancient woods. Fugitives can hide here but for how long? And food? From where? We have nothing. Better walk on. A motley group of us. Hope no police patrol cars come upon us again. We reach Berlin and enter through the Brandenburg Gate.