Sidney Chambers and the Perils of the Night (38 page)

‘It is just a camera,’ Sidney replied.

‘I have never seen a tourist with a camera like this.’

‘I agree it might seem unusual. I had not seen one before.’

‘How did you get it?’

‘A friend gave it to me.’

Sidney was not sure that Daniel Morden was a friend; nor did he want to disclose the context in which the camera had been given to him.

‘And did your friend ask you to take photographs on his behalf?’

‘Not at all.’

‘How many photographs have you taken since you have been in the DDR?’

‘One. I took some in West Berlin.’

‘You know that it is illegal to photograph government buildings, industrial complexes, trains, transport facilities and army barracks?’

‘I think so.’

‘And you have not photographed any of these things?’

‘Not as far as I am aware.’ Sidney did not think a distant water tower could possibly count.

‘You could have been unaware? Perhaps you need to be more aware.’ The officer stressed the word in German.
Gewahr.

‘I don’t think I have done anything wrong.’

‘You know that this camera is famous for photographing documents.’

‘I have not photographed any documents.’

‘It is used by spies.’

‘I am not a spy.’

‘We will have to look at the film. If there is nothing wrong then we will return it. We know where you are staying in Leipzig.’

Sidney realised that these men were going to confiscate his camera and that there was nothing he could do. There was a shout from a nearby carriage and the sound of banging. He heard a man call out the name ‘Emmerich’. The officer interviewing Sidney turned away, taking the camera with him, and signalled that the guard should follow. There were more shouts and Sidney could hear gunfire followed by a man telling someone else to stop. He looked to see where the sound was coming from and then, out of the carriage window, he saw Rory Montague running across the fields and into the distance.

Montague ran in a zigzag as further shots were fired and then, just before he reached a distant ditch, he was hit. Two soldiers ran out across the fields, waving at their contemporaries to join them. Rory Montague’s companion Hans Färber was amongst them. They gathered round the fallen body.

Färber turned and looked back at the train. He was trying to pick out a particular carriage. He put his left hand above his eyes, shielding his vision against the low sun. Then he seemed to find what he was looking for. He stretched out his arm.

He was pointing directly at Sidney.

Two hours later he was in a police van heading towards the outskirts of Leipzig. It stopped on a hot urban street as an elderly drunk was being taken down to the cells.

‘You will stay here overnight,’ he was told. ‘In the morning we will question you. We will confiscate your possessions.’

Sidney was stripped, put into prison fatigues and led through a maze of corridors with internal traffic lights at the corners. When the light turned red, Sidney was pushed into a recessed niche facing in towards the brickwork. Tired and bemused, he tried to think of distracting, comforting thoughts, but they did not come. The door to his isolation cell was unlocked. Inside there was a bed and a latrine that stank. A high frosted-glass window showed a little of the lamplight from outside but Sidney could tell that he would be unable to reach it.

Sidney was in Runde Ecke, the Stasi headquarters in Leipzig. He lay down on the thin hard bed and wondered whether Hildegard would ever know that he was there.

After a hot, disturbed night, in which he had little sleep, he was taken out of his cell and allowed a cold shower. Unshaved, and with only a rinse of the mouth rather than a clean of the teeth, he was taken up to the second floor to see one of the Stasi’s chief officials, Lothar Fechner, a man with a thin neat suit, oiled hair and fingernails that were so clean and precise that Sidney suspected him of depravity.

Fechner sat at an angle to the corner window. His desk was conspicuously ordered with an ashtray and telephone to the left, a blotter, paper and envelopes in front of him, and a lamp to the right. He smelt of cheap cologne, so much so that Sidney wondered if it was used to screen out the smell of alcohol. He guessed that there would be a vodka bottle and possibly a revolver in the desk drawers. From the positioning of the pen Sidney could tell that his interrogator was left-handed. He could hear music from a band playing outside: ‘
Auferstanden aus Ruinen
’.

‘Cigarette?’ Lothar Fechner began. He pronounced the word in such a way that Sidney was not sure if the questioning was going to be conducted in English or German.

He replied in German. He hoped it would help. ‘I don’t smoke.’

‘Neither do I.’

There was a long pause. It was clear that Fechner was in no hurry and he looked at the papers on his desk as if he were a doctor about to reveal a fatal diagnosis. ‘Did you want to see if my hands were trembling?’ Sidney asked.

Lothar Fechner did not appear to be listening. ‘How did you know Dieter Hirsch?’ he asked.

‘I didn’t.’

‘Not a good start, Canon Chambers.’ The interrogator’s diction was quick and precise. ‘You were seen talking to the man. He gave you an envelope. The little girl with the pigtails saw you.’ Fechner picked up a pencil and tapped it on the desk as if waiting for an answer.

‘I do not know that man as Dieter Hirsch.’

‘You thought he was someone else?’

‘I did.’

‘Someone English?’

Sidney had to decide how much truth to tell. ‘I thought he was a colleague of mine.’

‘A priest?’

‘No, from my college at Cambridge. I am a member of the university. You have heard of it?’

Fechner paused before answering. Sidney wondered if he was deciding to sound insulted or not. ‘Surely you do not think that mentioning your university is going to help?’

‘I thought it might be of interest.’

‘Cambridge is where the children of the privileged make their contacts and then find jobs in companies run by the fathers of their friends.’

‘The idea is one of merit; it is only elitist in terms of its standards.’

‘That is not how I would define elitism.’

‘The opportunity is open to everyone.’

‘Everyone who has been given all the advantages of their upbringing.’

‘It is true that some people are given a head start.’

‘Like Dieter Hirsch?’

‘I imagine so.’

Fechner turned and looked out of the window. There seemed no reason for doing this. A clock struck ten. After a couple of minutes had passed he asked his next question. ‘Why did he give you the envelope?’

‘I don’t know. I imagine he wanted to be rid of it.’

‘Then why didn’t he throw it away?’

‘I don’t know.’

Now Fechner changed tactic and asked his questions incredibly quickly, one on top of the other. ‘What do you think he expected you to do with it?’

‘Take it back to Cambridge, I suppose.’

‘Did you know what was inside?’

‘I don’t know anything about that.’

‘And why were you on the train?’

‘As I explained, I was going to see a friend in Leipzig.’

‘Which friend?’

‘Mrs Hildegard Staunton.’

‘She is English?’

‘Her maiden name is Leber. Hildegard Leber. Her father fought in Leipzig for the Resistance against fascism.’

‘He was a communist?’

‘Hans Leber. He was shot outside the Rathaus.’

‘She is his daughter?’

Sidney was becoming weary. ‘I think so.’

‘You know he is a hero in Leipzig?’

‘I did not know.’

‘We will summon his daughter and see if she is the friend you say she is.’

‘She may find it difficult to come. Her mother has been very ill.’

Lothar Fechner smiled. ‘Canon Chambers, you must not worry. If we ask her to come to see us then she will come. And while we wait you can talk to us.’

‘I am not sure if I have anything to talk about.’

‘Oh, I think we will take an interest in anything you have to say. Tell me, for example, about your knowledge of chemistry.’

‘I don’t have any.’

‘Have you ever been to Pieseritz?’

‘I have never heard of the place.’

‘You are sure?’

‘Quite sure.’

‘Then perhaps you could explain why there was a photograph of the chemical factory at Pieseritz in your briefcase.’

‘Was there?’

‘In an envelope. Were you told about the plot to destroy this factory?’

‘I don’t know anything about that.’

‘Dieter Hirsch did.’

Lothar Fechner paused once more. He looked bored and let the silence hold. At last Sidney continued, ‘What has happened to him?’

‘For someone who is not your friend, you seem unduly worried.’

‘Is he dead?’

‘Of course.’ Fechner stood up, looked out of the window, walked around his desk and sat down. Then he smiled.

Sidney could not think what the man wanted. ‘What was he doing in East Germany?’

‘You are asking me, Canon Chambers? I thought that you would have the answer yourself.’

‘I do not know anything about him.’

‘Then let me help you.’ Fechner laid out a map on his desk. ‘We have intercepted some intelligence, some traffic, a simple matter. It is coded but it was easy to read. Perhaps too easy. It indicated a date and a time for a controlled explosion. Do you know when that could be?’

‘Of course not.’

‘You say “of course not” and “of course”. I do not believe you. It was for tonight. At 11 p.m. That is why Mr Hirsch was travelling on the same train.’

‘You think he was planning to blow something up?’

‘I do not think. I know.’

‘And what would that be?’

‘Can’t you guess?’

Sidney had become even more irritated. ‘Of course I can’t.’

‘It is the chemical factory in Pieseritz. You had a photograph of it in your briefcase.’

‘I didn’t know that at the time.’

‘You do now.’

‘So what will happen?’

‘The army are there. They are searching. We are waiting. If they find nothing then perhaps, if you are fortunate, and Frau Staunton comes to your rescue, then we might be able to send you back to Britain. It will take a long time, of course. I assume you are comfortable here?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘If you do not like it then we can find somewhere else. Although that, of course, may be less congenial.’

‘How will we know?’

‘We will wait to see what the army discover at Pieseritz. If they do find something then it will be difficult for you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t think you would like me to explain. In the meantime, you must wait. Do not worry. I have planned a little entertainment. A few mental exercises. You are from Cambridge so I think you might appreciate the challenge.’

‘What challenge?’

‘I would like to research the intelligence of people from Cambridge.’

‘And how will you do that?’

‘An examination, of course,’ Fechner replied. ‘For a man of your ability I am sure you will not find it difficult. And it will pass the time wonderfully. In fact I am sure that you will have a wonderful time. Everything,’ Sidney’s interrogator smiled, ‘will be wonderful.’

He was escorted back to his cell and given a pencil and a pad of paper. A guard remained with him at all times, even when he tried to rest and sleep. A bare lightbulb was constantly illuminated.

‘We have two exams for you,’ Lothar Fechner announced later that afternoon. ‘You must answer as best you can. If you are awarded full marks then you will be given food that you can eat. But if you fail, and if you fail badly, then I am afraid we will only give you the minimum we can to ensure your physical survival. We do not worry too much about your mental fitness. After all, if you cannot pass an exam then what is the point of us looking after you?’

‘Human decency?’ Sidney asked.

‘I am afraid we do not concern ourselves too much with English manners. But we will allow you to complete your tasks in your own language. The first test is a chemistry exam.’

‘But I know nothing about the subject.’

‘That is unfortunate; and unfortunately,’ Fechner gave a little laugh at his repetition, ‘we do not believe you.’

‘You do not believe I am a priest?’

‘That will be your second test. Since what we found on your person was a cross, a prayer book and some chemical plans then the only way we can find out if you are who you say you are is to see if you can answer a few questions.’

‘But I never said I was a chemist.’