He turned back to look at the city far below. Its historic buildings – ruined, semi-ruined, or rebuilt – could be picked out one by one. In the centre, the festering sore left as a reminder: the blackened remains of the Frauenkirche. Müller wondered what was going through his mind – was he reimagining that awful night that had killed both his parents and left him an orphan? Were the bellows of his memory reigniting the flames of the firestorm in the scene before him?

‘There are two people in all of this who want – who need – the truth to come out, warts and all. One is Dr Arnold Southwick. The other is myself, for personal reasons. But both of us need you to be a third, Comrade Hauptmann. We’re relying on you to find and expose the truth.’

Chapter 40

40

It was all very well for Bahlow to talk about ‘the truth’, but he worked for an organisation which Müller knew too well often engaged in concealing truth. Whether that was necessary for the security of the Republic was of course another matter. No doubt its agents – and even unofficial collaborators such as Tilsner – would argue that was exactly why they did what they did. Müller’s own views down the years had become increasingly jaundiced.

Her musings were interrupted by a young uniformed female officer, carrying an envelope in her hand. She placed it on Müller’s desk.

‘Someone left this for you at the front desk, Comrade Hauptmann. They said it was urgent.’

‘Thank you, Comrade,’ replied Müller.

She tore the envelope open and began to read its contents. As she did, she was aware of Tilsner having got up from his own desk, and hovering over her shoulder.

‘Anything interesting?’ he asked.

She didn’t answer immediately, and instead began to read, shielding the note from her deputy.

I have some information for you in connection with the death of the middle-aged male in Gorbitz. I believe you are the investigating officer. You’ll find me in Room 619 at the Hotel Lilienstein between 2-3 p.m. Please come alone.

She glanced at her watch – 1.45 p.m. The Lilienstein was the first of three near identical Interhotels arranged in a row along Prager Straße – all named after topological features in nearby Saxon Switzerland, not far from Lotti’s family home and former place of work. The Lilienstein and its neighbour, the Königstein, were reserved mainly for international guests and would therefore be closely watched by the Stasi. The third and furthest hotel, the Bastei, was mainly used as a union holiday home for guests from within the Republic. She gathered her coat and started to get up.

‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on?’ asked Tilsner.