Erika Holzer - Freedom Bridge

“Listen to me, Captain. I don’t care what you have to do, but search Kiril Andreyev before the Russians grab him. I want whatever you find. And the Russians are not to know, goddammit! Do you understand?”

The usually unflappable Colonel Emil von Eyssen smashed the phone down, sweat oozing from his armpits. Staring off into space, he wondered if he dared go anywhere near the damn bridge after what had happened with Stepan Brodsky last year. Any more trouble in the vicinity of Glienicker could prove to be a personal disaster, with severe criticism being the mildest punishment. On the other hand, if he were to get his hands on the lighter first, von Eyssen could prove that a Soviet—the brother of Colonel Aleksei Andreyevich Andreyev—was the traitor, not an East German citizen.

Not his late brother-in-law, Ernst Roeder.

“Out!” the East German captain ordered.

Those who were sitting shot to their feet. Everyone left.

Except Kurt Brenner, handcuffed to a radiator, who wasn’t going anywhere soon.

After the captain finished a quick but thorough body search, he picked up the telephone and called von Eyssen.

“Kiril Andreyev has nothing in his pockets. Nothing on him—period. Should I do a cavity search?”

“Don’t be a fool,” von Eyssen snapped. “Even someone as clever as Kiril Andreyev wouldn’t hide a Zippo cigarette lighter up his ass,” he said, and hung up.

Brenner was stunned. So this Kraut, confused by his dark hair, had searched him looking for something important—a cigarette lighter. And apparently the captain had good reason to think the real Kiril Andreyev had the lighter.

Brenner felt an insane desire to laugh in the man’s face—just as a very sane idea came to him.

His instinct for survival hadn’t deserted him after all, he thought with an inner smile as he pictured a Studebaker truck just on the other side of the wall from where he sat.

During Brenner’s odyssey, Kiril and Adrienne had reached Albert Zind’s truck and secreted themselves in the tool cabinet’s small compartment.

It was close to dawn. Albert would soon be coming for the truck, Kiril thought. He heard Adrienne take a deep breath, then let the air out slowly. “How are you doing?” he whispered.

“There’s barely enough air for breathing and all I can think of is how desperately I want a cigarette.”

“I know what you mean. Legs getting tired?”

“Terribly. I think they’ll hold up.”

“Lean against me instead of the wall when you want to shift position. It will relieve some of the pressure.”

“Kiril?”

He closed his eyes.

“Why don’t you answer?”

“I wanted to hear you say it again”

“Kiril,” she said softly.

“We’d better stop talking the minute we hear voices outside.”

“There’s something I want you to know in case anything else goes wrong,” she said. “I agreed to accompany Kurt to East Berlin because—”

“Don’t explain. It was obvious from the beginning that you weren’t some apolitical wife along for the sightseeing. The questions you asked, the notes you took.”

Kiril closed his eyes, his mind on Stepan now. On their twin cigarette lighters. On the microfilm inside. He thought of their naïveté that the information would prove to be so valuable the CIA would help Stepan defect and somehow exfiltrate Kiril to get their hands on it.

And here I am, Stepan, not far from the place where you struggled to push your lighter over the side—your final protective act.

Your end and, perhaps, my beginning. Thank you, my friend, my fellow exile.

My true brother.

As Kiril held the lighter in one hand, his fingers automatically moving back and forth over it like a talisman, Adrienne reached for his hand. Her forefinger followed the outline of outstretched wings.

“What do they stand for?” she asked.

“The black wings? Somewhere in his travels, Stepan picked up a pair of American Zippo lighters and attached the emblems himself. They represent your American eagle. It was our symbol of hope. I’ve read your Declaration of Independence many times. Is it really the freest place on earth, the United States of America?” he asked wistfully.

Shifting her body, she leaned against his, needing a contact more personal than words.

“It’s still the freest place on earth,” she whispered. “And if we want to get there, now is the time to worry about what’s happened to Kurt. What he might be up to.”

“You really believe he’d betray us?”

Before she could answer they heard footsteps. A clanging noise. Someone puttering around at the front of the cab. The driver’s door opening. The ignition being cranked. The engine turning over. They winced in unison at the thud of the driver’s door slamming shut.

Albert… the battery.

The truck was ready.

“I don’t understand,” von Eyssen said in German as he paced back and forth in the East German guard house. “ Why would you give the cigarette lighter to Dr. Brenner?”

“I told you. For safekeeping. He’s an American, after all.” Brenner’s emotions were on the edge of crumbling despite his pose of nonchalance. He took a long drag on his cigarette. “Brenner’s escape plan involved less risk than mine. Why is that so difficult to grasp?”

“What plan? What risk? How did you get here from the airport? Where have you been? Who helped you? Where are Brenner and his wife?”

Brenner smiled enigmatically.

“What was your plan? Swim for the other side?” von Eyssen said slowly. “You of all people should have known better. You know what’s out there. You’d probably be dead now instead of sitting here toying with me. A bullet in the back. Loss of blood from some underwater barbed wire. Maybe ripped apart by one of the dogs on a patrol boat—”

Von Eyssen couldn’t contain his fury. “God damn it, Andreyev, where is Dr. Kurt Brenner?”

“ And his wife? I’ll tell you. But only if you let me walk across that bridge. I go free. You get the Americans and the cigarette lighter.”

And proof of what Aleksei and the Russkies were up to at the summit.

“Shall we stop playing games, Colonel?” Brenner said, feeding impatience into his voice. “You think I don’t know what’s at stake for you here? Letting me cross that bridge gets you a lot and costs you nothing. I’ll vanish into the West. The Americans are your problem. But you’d better decide. Brenner and his wife are almost out of your grasp.”

Von Eyssen made a lightning-quick calculation. If he acted fast, not only would the Russians be embarrassed, not only would Stepan Brodsky’s attempted escape finally be laid at the doorstep of both Andreyevs, but he would get the credit. The cherry on the cake? Von Eyssen’s superiors would be delighted.

“Now or never, Colonel,” Brenner snapped.

“How do you want to do this?” von Eyssen asked, acutely aware that Aleksei Andreyev was on his way. “Do you really think I’ll let you walk across that bridge, then wait patiently for a postcard from Paris?”

“Do you take me for a fool? We’re wasting time. My brother Aleksei will be here soon. You and I will walk side-by-side to the middle of the bridge. We stop about fifteen feet from the West Berlin side.”

“With my revolver in your ribs, don’t forget,” von Eyssen snarled. “Get on with it, man!”

“Think of it as a three-step scenario. I tell you where Brenner and his wife are. You verify it instantly . I cross the dividing line.”

And into West Berlin.