“I’ve been away for five years.”

“Okay. When Stalin died last year, there was this big workers’ strike in East Berlin, and then throughout the whole of the DDR. As many as half a million took to the streets to demand free and fair elections. Even policemen defected to the side of the protesters. This was the first big test of the Stasi as run by Mielke. And effectively, he broke the strike.”

“Big-time,” said the other Ami.

“At first martial law was declared. The Stasi opened fire on the protesters. Many were killed. Thousands were arrested and are still in prison. Mielke himself arrested the minister of justice, who’d questioned the legality of those arrests. Since then, Comrade Erich has been consolidating his position within the East German hierarchy. And he continues to expand the Stasi’s network of secret informers and spies, and to build the organization into the image of the Soviet KGB. The MVD, that was.”

“He’s a bastard,” I said. “What more can I tell you? I have nothing else to say about the man. That day in Johannesgeorgenstadt was the last time I saw him.”

“You could help us to get him.”

“Sure. Before lockdown tonight, I’ll see what I can do for you.”

“Seriously.”

“I’ve told you everything.”

“And it’s been very interesting. Most of it, anyway.”

“Don’t think we’re not grateful, Gunther. Because we are.”

“Might that gratitude stretch as far as letting me go?”

Bow Tie glanced at the Pipe, who nodded vaguely and said, “You know? It might. It just might. Provided you agree to work for us.”

“Oh.” I yawned.

“’Sa matter, Bernie boy? Don’t you want to get out of the stir?”

“We’ll put you on the payroll. We can even get your money back. The money you had when the Coast Guard picked you up in the sea off Gitmo.”

“That’s very generous of you,” I said. “But I’m tired of fighting. And frankly, I can’t see this Cold War of yours being any more worthwhile than the last two I took part in.”

“I’d say it could end up being the most crucial war of all,” said Bow Tie. “Especially if it gets any warmer.”

I shook my head. “You guys make me laugh. The people you want to work for you. Do you always treat them like this?”

“Like what?”

“My mistake. The other day, when I was handcuffed with a hood over my head, I formed the distinct impression you didn’t like my face.”

“That was then.”

“You don’t see us ill-treating you now, do you?”

“Hell, Gunther, you’ve got the best fucking room in the place. Cigarettes, brandy. Tell us what else you need and we’ll see if we can get it for you.”

“They don’t sell what I want in the army PX.”

“And what’s that?”