“That will be quite enough, Lieutenant.” an older male voice spoke from the back of the room.
Lena turned to see who the new voice belonged to. She was surprised to see an older man, perhaps in his late fifties to early sixties, rumpled and balding with gray hair. He immediately struck Lena as a man who slept long and soundly at night and awoke as early as he wished with a minimum of fuss. He wasn’t dressed like the other guards. He wore a slightly wrinkled suit with a slightly wrinkled tie. Everything about the man seemed… relaxed.
“She knows, Sir!” her interrogator practically whined.
“I’m sure she does, Lieutenant,” the man said reassuringly, “and we’ll get the information from her eventually. But for now, I think our young charge would do well with a good rest.”
“Yes, Sir.” the Lieutenant responded grudgingly—no doubt he was upset at having his plaything removed from him in such a matter. “So, now what?” he asked insolently. “We just stop interrogating her? She’s a criminal!”
“Of course she’s a criminal, Lieutenant. As I recall, she has already confessed and has showed contrition. No doubt she feels terrible about her crimes against the State. But she is also a child and couldn’t possibly have known the far-reaching extent of her actions.”
“She knew what she was doing, Sir!”
“I disagree, Lieutenant. As you’ve no doubt noticed over the last few weeks, young Lena is only a child. You’ve skillfully established and informed her of this fact, as well as made her come to see that she and her peers are both impressionable and ignorant. How could these youngsters possibly grasp the sheer scope and breadth of their actions?”
“But Sir!”
“No,” the old man said while folding a handkerchief, “she is merely a young person in need of education. Perhaps this is something I can help her with.”
“But Sir…” he protested again.
“No ‘buts’ about it, Lieutenant.” the older man interrupted him, “You’ve done an exemplary job and now you are relieved. Perhaps you can find some other prisoner to interrogate.”
Her previous interrogator thought about this for a few minutes with a look of consternation on his face. After much thought, however, he seemed give in, offering only a disgruntled “Yes, Sir.” followed by a pronounced stomping out of the room. This was followed with an even more pronounced slamming of the door.
“Ah, the joy of the Lieutenant.” the old man began, breaking the ice. Lena didn’t have a response—she simply cowered on the floor, awaiting some sort of beating, kicking, or otherwise.
“You needn’t fear me, young Lena.” the older man began again, “I have no interest in brutalizing you. I’ve often found that the carrot works far better than the stick in most cases. With you, I aim to prove that. Especially since the stick seems to have been liberally applied already.”
“S-sir… pl-pl-lease… please… I, S-sir, I only…” Lena began, “that i-is… S-s-sir… I-I…”
No matter how hard Lena tried to say something, no proper words found their way to the surface. All Lena knew was that she should always say ‘Sir’ no matter what—it seemed the best way to ensure her survival. And yet, something about the man made her want to trust him. He had already stuck up for her against the vile Lieutenant, perhaps he meant what he said.
“There’s no need to worry, young Lena.” he reassured her again, “You will be perfectly safe with me. As long as you tell the truth and be honest with me, there’s no need to fear anything. You have my word.”
“S-sir… th-th-thank y-you… S-sir… I…”
The man considered her for a moment, nodding his head as if coming to an understanding. He smiled wryly for a brief second, then, leaned over and gently helped Lena to her feet, supporting her all the way.
“Lena, I’m going to give you a gift,” the man said with an impish smirk. “Anytime you and I are together in this room, you needn’t call me ‘Sir’. You may instead call me ‘Grandfather’. When I’ve earned your trust, you may feel free to even think of me in such a manner, should you wish.” Then, with a wink he added, “This shall be our little secret!”
“Y-yes… S-sir… I mean, Gra-grandfather… S-sir…”
“Just Grandfather, Lena!” the old man laughed, “I think this shall be appropriate for the both of us.” Before continuing, the older man leaned in closer and whispered in her ear with an expression so impish that it bordered on prankster, “Especially since it will very much upset the Lieutenant!”
“Bang bang bang!”
The sound of a fist beating on her new cell’s door was still jarring; but much less so. These new accommodations were significantly larger than the black cell, sitting at around ten by seven feet. It was painted a sort of pinkish white, had an actual cot, contained a blanket that didn’t smell like piss and fear, and even had a window—yes, a window!—that offered her a small view of the city. It was a view she relished. This wonderful window was more entertainment than she had received in who-knows-how-long and was probably a better view than the average hotel (iron bars notwithstanding).
The other half of her entertainment included a few scant books. Most of them were propaganda books about ‘Commonwealth Advocacy’ (whatever that meant), news clippings about the GDR’s latest successes in advising the American space program, and brochures for joining one of the GDR’s world-renowned sports teams. None of these interested Lena in the slightest. However, a few of the provided reading materials were music magazines. Her new interrogator had made a few efforts to get to know her and win her loyalty appropriately. He had even managed to smuggle in a rock rag from West Berlin! It was a conservative magazine, sure, but it was still filled with images of skinny-clad warriors with their long hair and crazy-looking guitars. She treasured this above all the other comforts she had been allowed.
“Are you decent?” a heavy female voice said on the other side of the door.
These were the two best aspects about her fine new accommodations, all things considered—all female guards and the complete lack of punishment positions. Gone were the days of motivational pepper-balls, punishment loaf, choking gas, and that damn fire hose. She didn’t even have to complete ‘cheer fitness’ and these days she was actually allowed to spend a few hours walking around outside. She didn’t ever get to talk to anyone, of course, but at least she was able to breathe fresh air and feel the damp cool of winter on her cheeks.
“Yes, ma’am!” Lena responded loudly, yet politely.
“Please stand up and face the wall.” the voice ordered impatiently.
Lena complied quickly. It was best not to take her serendipitous circumstances for granted—especially since she knew what was coming. Two female guards entered and she was handcuffed and promptly led out of her cell (with no bag over her head!!!). She knew where they were taking her—her daily interrogation. But honestly, they didn’t feel like interrogations anymore. Certainly not in light of her former interrogator and his torments. In her new interrogation sessions, she was able to smoke and listen to music. She was able to talk about her friends, her family, and her old band-mates. She was even able to talk about punk rock and what the scene meant for her. She tried her best not to give away names or crucial details when she could help it. When ‘Grandfather’ felt she was holding back, he merely said, “When you’re ready to trust me, we’ll talk.” and then moved on to a new subject.