Reginald Rosenfeldt - Battlefield Berlin

"Sure Lech, no doubt about that." Herold filled the vodka three fingers high in the tankard and placed him next to Lech lounger on the ground. "Hail to our little dreams and the dirty reality!"

The brandy was lukewarm and the fluted glass sticks to Michael Herolds fingers. Bravely, he gulped down the first sip of decency, and looked then on Bronslavs living room. Nothing has changed here since his first visit, even the dusty silk rose adorned the rosary that still dangled near the door. The pea-sized prayer-beads consisted of dark polished amber, just like the corpus of the wooden cross that has his place between the windows. Thoughtfully, Michael remained before the crucifix, and looked down to the faded photographs.

Joseph Zcybulski: Unusual laughing before the restored convention house of the Marienburg, the once so mighty castle of the templar knight. Joseph, shag-pipe smoking in Gdansk, near the Krantor, and with rolled up sleeves at the shipyard in Szczecin.

“Stir not thy hard heart?" Lech Bronslavs voice was bitter. "All these beautiful shots of Joseph brave face. God in heaven, what was he for a modest young man. Dumb and idealistic, he still dreamed of a free country."

Lech pushed himself up and seized with trembling fingers the greasy glass. For a moment he stared into the back and forth sloshing vodka, and then he waved him accusingly in Herolds direction. "And what’s about you? Has Joseph influenced you so strong, that you want to cheat me? For months, you no longer see me, and then, out of the blue, you have just today time for a little chat? Oh, come on!”

Michael Herold was about to reply, but Lech just waved wearily. "Must you not justify yourself. Is there really no reason for any excuses or sentiments. Did you come here only for Joseph, so let us talk only about him."

With an energetic movement Bronslav gulped the vodka down and whispered hateful: "Do you really want to know what makes me almost sick? It is this horrible feeling to have totally failed at the crucial moment. You must know, I have invoked Joseph, I have roared, where is your faith? What is with the eternal values of mother church, signify they nothing more for you? At this point, he grinned cheekily, and then I know, how much Joseph despised our old ideals. Yes, whatever seemed sacred and beautiful in his youth, he has shamelessly banished from his life. Betrayed, for the cursed Mammon, who still brought nobody really luck."

“Sorry, Lech! Now you are cheating yourself! After all I know, you tolerate Joseph’s dirty deals for so many years!”

"Not that unholy money! God help him, Joseph had sold himself like a whore to the wretched heretics!" Undisguised anger swung in Bronslavs words when he spoke again. "I had been able to forgive him much, but not his partnership with the traitor. I begged Joseph, literally begged; you must cancel and forget this business with Leo."

"Leo?"

"Leopold Oblonsky! Don't tell me, I have never mentioned this pig? He brings shame over the community with his Russian whores and the dirty video library. Weapons, Snow, he supplies you with everything you want! Leo makes money from dirt and now he wanted to start with Joseph the so called big deal. The big deal! You should have seen how Joseph's eyes lit up, as he talked about it. That idiot, he never realized that Leo only used him for his unholy transactions!”

"Said Joseph anything about the nature of these transactions?"

"You ask this not seriously? It was you, that he finally sold his crap for an expensive price. No, my friend, I'm probably the last person on earth, that Joseph entrusted information."

With a shrill ringing the phone interrupted Lech Bronslav. Startled, he sat up and sighed overwhelmed. "Have mercy with my poor soul! Will nobody give a penny for my needs? I have said it more than a thousand times that the afternoon is sacred for me!"

Lech picked up the receiver from the phone and listened for a moment the distant voice. Two times he answered in vain, then his mouth moved menacingly down, and he cursed loudly into the mouthpiece. When the stranger on the other side not reacted to the angry Polish words, Lech slammed the receiver on the phone. Outraged, he stared with a heavy breathing on Michael.

"This cheeky cretin! He dares simply to call me a liar! Will he not simply believe that Joseph is dead now! And anyway, why knows that damn guy my number? I am not in the phone-book!"

"But in Joseph's black notebook ..."

"What are you trying to tell me? Joseph knew full well, that I canceled every contact with the skipper. They all have skeletons in their closets! Very dirty secrets!"

"How naive are you? Joseph has sold your address, sells her very expensive! That is the simple truth! "Michael Herold shook his head regretfully and walked to the massive cabinet. Slowly, he opened the lid of a wooden box, chose two figures, and held both fists against Bronslav. The old man tapped on the right hand, and Herold placed a white pawn on the chess table, that stands next to the bed. Then he divided the remaining chess pieces on the table and sat down across from Lech.

With difficulty, he tried to concentrate himself on the game, because Lech hated nothing more than a opponent, that was only fighting half-hearted. For him each move had the status of an almost religious act, and for this reason, Herold played the game with a lot of patience. During the rest of the afternoon, he bravely fought two draws and a narrow victory, and raised then his hands apologetically.

"Excuse me, but for a rematch, my time runs out. I have to be at least in 90 minutes in the citadel, and before that, a little rest is not wrong."

"Oh yeah! Do not play the innocent. I know that you cannot wait to drink with your colleagues! On that occasion, if it just happens, that you see the woman from the “Youth and Social Affairs”, please do me a big favor. Ask her, when will the community finally get the new club room? I have previously submitted three requests and still waiting for their gracious permission!"

"No problem, I drink in your name a little Chablis with Mrs. Mendel." Herold stretched his stiffened limbs and grabbed his jacket that hung over the arm of the chair. "If I do not contact you, we meet again at Joseph's Requiem next Monday."

Lech Bronslav nodded silently and wrapped himself into the protective cocoon of his camel-hair blanket. He looked toward an imaginary point on the wall and whispered full of resignation: "What are you waiting? Did you have it yet so hurry, to finally disappear!”

"Don’t worry; I'm practically on my way. Oh, and Lech, you try not to annoy me on purpose? Forget it, no later than next week I am back on your threshold, whether you like it or not."

Michael Herold knocked goodbye on the door frame and left without looking back, Bronslavs apartment. He rushed quickly the stairs down and cursed extensively his good nature. Once again, he had not brought it about his heart, Lech leave at the right time, and now it simply was not enough time for a return in his own four walls.

Angry with himself he started his car and turned after a short drive into the street, that leads to the Citadel. Old chestnut lined the moat of the fortress and behind him lurked the outlines of the Bastion-King in the darkness. Powerful and undefeated, guarded they for over four hundred years the commandant's house, and Michael smiled pleased, as he headed for the building. Actually, it was touching how the Head of the Art-Office always tried to give his problem child a festive atmosphere. Two additional headlights illuminated the Brandenburg coat of arms on the gable and in the middle of the passage fluttered a banner with the red eagle of Spandau.

Everything under the slogan: "It's still something special to be a citizen of Spandau". Amused, Michael Herold rolled across the wooden drawbridge, crossed the three-aisled hall to the courtyard, and drove to the red fairytale castle of the Palas. Before the front side of the medieval building stand a good number of cars, and Michael parked near the main entrance. Tired, but in a good mood, he opened the door of the so-called gothic hall, and immediately attacked him the opening bars of "Alexander's Ragtime Band". The distorted music blared merciless from the speakers of the beer bar, and Michael nodded fatalistic. As he had it expected, besieged the usual coterie of Spandau the bar counter and in the midst of the largest swarm waited Harald Seib.