Pierre Frei - Berlin - A Novel

'Storch,' the man introduced himself. 'Secretary of the Communist Party, Kopenick district, back in my homeland with the victorious Red Army.'

'How nice for you, Herr Storch. Now we'd like to drive on.'

Storch spoke to the lieutenant in Russian. 'Your pass.' he asked her. She did not want to aggravate matters, and handed him the ID indicating that she was an employee of the Americans.

'What's going on?' Ashburner asked impatiently.

The interpreter spoke to the Russian. 'The American can drive on. The German woman comes with us for questioning.' He kept her pass.

'John, they want to take me with them.'

Instinctively, Ashburner reached for the Magnum at his side, but luckily he had left it in the office. 'My companion does not leave this jeep, is that understood?'

Jutta translated it into German, and the interpreter translated it into Russian. The lieutenant shouted an order. The soldiers loaded their Kalashnikovs.

'This doesn't look good,' muttered Ashburner, reaching for the field telephone. 'Let's hear what HQ has to say.'

The lieutenant drew his pistol from its holster, shouting, 'Ne svonyit'!'

'Very well, my friend and ally, I get the idea,' Ashburner mollified him, switching the device to Off. He unfolded the latest number of Stars and Stripes and leaned back. 'He'll get tired of this after a while,' he soothed his girlfriend.

'They have radios too.'

'Yes, darling?'

'Your Russian friend. The one with the white sports car. Do you think he could help us?'

'Maxim Petrovich? My clever angel, that's the idea of the century. Tell that German Bolshie to get his Red liberator to phone General Bersarin's office and ask for Major Berkov. And tell him he'll be in deep trouble if he doesn't.'

Jutta beckoned to the district secretary. 'Oh, please, Herr Storch, we need your help.' She explained. 'Major Berkov will take responsibility, and then your lieutenant will be in the clear.'

Storch spoke to the Russian. He took off his cap and scratched his stubbly head. 'Da,' he decided. He took paper and pencil out of a card case dangling from a long strap and handed both to the interpreter.

'I'm to write down the American's name and rank in Cyrillic script,' he told Jutta. She spelled out the information he wanted.

The lieutenant returned to his vehicle. He spoke into the microphone, gesticulated, and kept pointing to the jeep. 'Seems like he has a lot to report,' commented Ashburner calmly.

Twenty minutes later the white BMW drew up beside their jeep. Major Berkov got out. 'John, how are you?'

'Thanks, very well. Apart from a little trouble with your excitable colleague here.'

'We'll soon deal with that. Won't you introduce me to your fair companion first?'

'Major Maxim Petrovich Berkov — Jutta Weber,' said John Ashburner, relieved.

Jutta shook hands with the major. 'We've seen each other before:

'I remember it with pleasure.' Berkov did not conceal his interest. 'John, what seems to be the problem?' Ashburner explained. 'Leave it to me.' The major went over to the lieutenant, and after a brief exchange of words returned. 'He has orders to check all military vehicles passing this way — but only our own, of course. You must forgive his excess of zeal. Here you are. madame.' He gave Jutta her pass back. 'What brings you to our part of the city?'

'We're visiting my parents in Kopenick. They run the Red Eagle bar and cafe.'

'Well, I wish you a pleasant afternoon.' A long, appreciative look. A pity we won't be meeting again. I've been recalled to Moscow.' The major got into his sports car. 'Goodbye, John.'

'Thanks, Maxim Petrovich. You were a great help. It's been nice to know you.'

Berkov replied with a casual little wave of his hand. The BMW raced away. As he started the jeep, Ashburner made the four wheels spin, and left five coughing figures in a cloud of dust behind them. Fifteen minutes later, they had reached their destination.

The emblematic bird of Brandenburg itself was the sign above the door of the Red Eagle. A few hungry children surrounded the jeep. Jutta distributed chocolate bars that she had taken out of John's carton. A man in his sixties came out of the house. Jutta hugged him. Vati, this is John Ashburner. John, this is my father Ludwig Reimann.'

In honour of the day, Herr Reimann was wearing his dark-blue suit with a silver-grey tie, and in his buttonhole the little black and white ribbon of the Iron Cross, First Class, from the Great War. He shook hands with Ashburner. 'Pleased to meet you, captain.'

'Just John, sir, please.'

'Come in and let me introduce you to Mother.' He led the guest inside, through the empty bar and straight to the kitchen. Her hair freshly arranged, Frau Reimann stood by the stove lowering large dumplings into simmering water with a perforated spoon. 'Mother, this is John Ashburner. And this is my wife Else.'

Else Reimann wiped her right hand on her apron before offering it to the visitor. 'Do you like braised beef with potato dumplings? And for a starter we have zander fillets from the Muggelsee with shrimp, and a beef bouillon in between. Thank goodness for our old coal-burning stove. The gas connection is wrecked, and you can't get a proper meal cooked on the electric plate. Even if the power's on. My husband has put some Mosel to chill for the fish, and we have burgundy for the braised beef, and then chocolate pudding with vanilla sauce.'

She's excited and rather confused, thought Jutta as she interpreted. Suddenly she realized what unattainable delicacies her mother had been itemizing.

Her father said, in his rudimentary English, 'The bar is closed today. So we're on our own. A glass of sparkling wine, captain — I mean John.' Reimann opened the bottle, with a loud pop. It was not any old sparkling wine, but a 1940 champagne from Duval-Leroy. Where had her parents found all these marvels?

'You're late.' Ludwig Reimann reached for the watch in his waistcoat pocket. But only its pendant was hanging from the gold chain. 'Oh, I forgot, it's being repaired,' he murmured, embarrassed. Then Jutta realized: her father had sacrificed his gold watch to give his guest a proper welcome.

John Ashburner looked round the bar. The worn, wooden tables with clean, shiny ashtrays on them were meticulously arranged. The tablecloths at the back of the room were starched and well ironed. Everything here was simple and clean. Only the window frames didn't fit the picture. They looked as if woodworm had been at them. However, the marks were the pricks of countless drawing pins, a memento of the evening blackouts during the war years, when black paper had to keep any ray of light indoors. Reimann explained it to his guest, concluding gloomily, 'It cost our neighbour his head, because he was acused of giving light signals to enemy bombers. The poor fellow just forgot to black out his toilet window one evening. And that night of all nights he had the trots and kept running to the lavatory.'

'Why are you doing all this?' Jutta asked her mother in the kitchen. 'John and I didn't come to stuff ourselves with food.'

'We have our pride too.' Her mother tasted the broth. 'Jochen brought me flowers when he was courting you. "Jutta and I are for life," he said.' Else Reimann's eyes filled with tears. And now you're being unfaithful to him.'

'I suppose you'd rather I committed suttee.' At the same moment she realized that her irony was beyond her mother's grasp. In a more conciliatory tone, she added, 'Of course I can't forget Jochen just like that. John knows and understands.'

Her mother pursed her lips. And does he know what those brutes did to you?'

'I've told him I was raped twice, and almost raped a third time, and I said I'd no intention of letting that ruin my love life.'

'He isn't even divorced yet.'