“There will be a trial, of course. You will have a lawyer and will be allowed to plead your case, but after wasting so many resources on you, I’m afraid they aren’t likely to be lenient. The absolute minimum sentence for any one of these infractions is…”
“B-but… but…” Lena stammered, the shock written plainly on her face.
“Unfortunately, there are no ‘buts’ to be had,” he interrupted. “Your crimes are too serious, and you’ve been too expensive. Your ‘Grandfather’ here moved you into a two-person cell; spent State money on better food and reading materials; wasted precious time that should have been spent on interrogations rather than consorting. Perhaps the blame is better placed at his feet for your recalcitrance, but the result must still remain the same.”
“Gra-grandfather!” Lena began, feeling terribly guilty, “I’m so sorry! I was listening the whole time! I am a changed person, I swear it!”
“The time for apologies is past,” the colonel spoke, unmoved. “He will be punished for his failure, and you will be processed into the system.”
“B-but… but… please!” was all that Lena could manage, as the tears began streaming down her face.
“He will be relieved of his duties and placed on house arrest. Lena, you will be remanded to your former cell,” the colonel continued, apathy written across his increasingly dour face. “Since there’s no hope in changing you, I see no reason for interrogations to continue with your former interrogator, but we simply can’t waste a two-person cell and good blankets on a lost case.” Looking up and motioning at the door, he added, “Guards, please see to her processing.” With this, two male guards entered the room and stood by the door—one with the dreaded bag in his hand.
“No! Please don’t! I’ll do anything, sir!” Lena begged, as she fell to her knees in the purest display of contrition she could manage. She didn’t know which could possibly be worse: the black cell or disappointing her precious Grandfather. “Anything, Sir! Anything… I will do anything! I swear it on my life!”
“I’ve seen enough. Guards, please remove her to the black cells.”
“God no!” Lena shouted, as she crawled on her knees to Grandfather. She wrapped her arms around his legs tightly and cried into his knees as she screamed, “No! Please… I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!”
“Lena, I…” he stuttered, “I’m so sorry, but…”
“Please!” Lena howled as the guards reached down to pry her arms off, “Please don’t let them take me! I’ll do anything! Anything!!!”
“Wait just a moment,” Grandfather said with authority, and the room paused.
“Colonel, I realize that this one seems like a lost cause, but perhaps we have use for her yet.”
“I’ve seen quite enough to the contrary,” he responded plainly.
“As have I, but I know this young woman. I know she is a changed woman, and I know she is willing to demonstrate that to us.”
“Anything!” Lena cried, “Oh please just believe me… please…”
“What did you have in mind?” the Colonel asked, with a still-apathetic tone.
“Well,” Grandfather began, “Let’s give her the opportunity.” Placing a hand on the top of her head, he spoke with an exceedingly caring tone, “Lena, I want to help, but I can’t do this on my own. I need you to give me something.”
Lena’s mind was swamped with terror. Her head was spinning, and her pulse was running so quick she thought she would pass out. She didn’t know what these men could possibly want to know, but she vowed to find something. She had to think of something. Her Grandfather was counting on her.
“We play shows in the churches.” Lena said. She listed off the names of her band-mates, of the bands she played with, their band-members, and all the regulars that attended frequently. She told them about her bedroom and about all the illicit paraphernalia she kept hidden inside. She told them about the record, about her zines and what was in them, she told them about the posters she had, and how she was able to gather them. She told them everything that she could think of.
“This we already know,” the Colonel said. “All of it. Useless. Is this the best information you have?”
“I… I…” Lena stuttered.
“Tell him something more important, Lena, please,” Grandfather said. “It’s ok. You can trust us.”
“We meet on the rooftops every night,” Lena started. She told them about the secret radio, and about the pirate radio station and how they built the antenna. She listed off the names of Mrs. Schroeder, Mr. Müller, Lorenzo, Mick and all the others. She felt terrible, even when she told them about annoying little Herr. But she gave them all the names; every single one.
“This is concerning,” the Colonel said.
“It’s not so big a deal,” her Grandfather spoke. “Many people in the GDR do the same thing. Besides, this Mr. Walter Müller is a known informant. He has already told us most of this and it was deemed not worth pursuing.”
“So then what else does this woman have that is worth my time?”
Lena’s shame at revealing the names of her extended family was somewhat abated by the mentioning of Mr. Müller. “He was spying on us?!” Lena screamed at herself, “Why… why didn’t he tell us?!” And then the reality of her situation, and the information she was giving away dawned on her, and she realized that she couldn’t be so mad at him.
“Lena,” Grandfather said in a sweet tone, “tell the colonel about this boy Hans.”
There it was: the bomb. The young man she had been falling for, Hans, with his perfect chin and long black hair. He had been spying on her, sure, but so had her bandmates, apparently. And he had put himself in great danger to try and get out… oh, how could she betray him like this? The images of the beating Hans had received was burned forever into her mind. He could be dead; he could be worse. Was it a trivial thing giving away this information? Or would it worsen his position?
Lena hesitated just for a minute; apparently, the colonel cued in on this. “You see?” he said, “Despite the boy being a spitzel, and despite our benevolence, this woman still holds more loyalty to him than she does to us!”
“Give her a chance, Colonel.” Grandfather said with a sweet, trusting tone, “Lena will do the right thing. I know she will. I believe in her.”
“Hans was spying on me.” Lena began, with much less hesitation than before.
She told them how Hans had started coming to her shows, about the budding romance the two of them had built. She told them about her smoking cigarettes after the show, and how Hans was always there to bring her jacket. She told them about the last show she had done before the Stasi raid, and how Hans had revealed to her that he was a spitzel. She told them how he had attempted to get her out of there before the Stasi came. She sensed a subtle shift in the room as soon as she mentioned the Stasi raid. She noticed Grandfather leaning in closer. And as her story continued further, she even noticed that the Colonel was leaning in. As she continued, sharing as much detail as she could remember, she noticed the demeanor of the Colonel shift from apathy to interest, interest to irritation and finally irritation to barely-contained rage as beads of sweat formed on a pulsing brow and grinding jaw.
“He told you he was a spitzel, did he?” her Grandfather asked her.
“Yes. Well… he never said he w-was a spitzel—but he said he was informing.”