I read the article again. Felix Schopp . . . Spreebogen Variation . . . Yugoslav Attack . . . Lionel Steiner . . . Commander Steiner—

My heart drops into my stomach.

Commander Steiner! The same name I saw on the identity papers in Granddad’s wardrobe.

It’s him. Your granddad! He must have changed his name.

Jake! I’m still reading.

My throat feels like it’s going to close over and my hands are shaking like I’m at the dentist. I read the first paragraph again and hope I’m reading it wrong. But the same name jumps out at me again – Lionel Steiner – and it’s the same year that was written on the cards.

I read on:

In a closely fought final with George Templeton from Richmond High, Felix used the Spreebogen Variation of the Yugoslav Attack, after castling queenside to combat his opponent’s Dragon Variation of the Sicilian Defence. Felix said, ‘I’m really happy to have won, but I couldn’t have done it without my granddad’s help.’ Felix’s teacher, Mr Keytes of Southwick High (Bristol), said, ‘Felix has only been playing for a couple of months. He’s a wonderful lad, and we are all very proud of him.’

Lionel Steiner . . .

I shake my head. It can’t be true. But I recognize the word Spreebogen. Spreebogen Park; it was the place Granddad went through on the way to his sister’s house. Why did he tell me that? After the things he said about people being watched all the time and tortured and then put into prison. He wasn’t one of them. He was the one who put them there! But it can’t be right. It can’t be. My granddad would never do that.

Felix, what are we going to do?

I don’t know.

Maybe we phone the police and get a reward.

It’s my granddad!

You could still visit him in prison.

Jake, go away.

I drop my phone and lie back on my bed.

This isn’t true. Me and Jake were only playing when we thought Granddad was a spy. But what if the things Jake said were true – the ripping of the paper, the camera on the lamppost, his curtains always being closed?

I jump up and turn on my laptop. I don’t want to look, but I need to know. I type in ‘Lionel Steiner’.

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopaedia

Lionel Steiner. Commander in the Stasi (former East German secret police). World Chess Champion 1962. No image available. 1943–? Status and whereabouts unknown.

I don’t want to read any more, but I can’t help it. I sit back in my chair. Images flash through my head. The soldiers, East German spies with binoculars who put wire taps on the phones, the Berlin Wall.

It was just a game, a stupid game in the park, but what if it was real all along?

I close my laptop down and lie on my bed.