Yet still, her undecided future might well be decided here and now. So, she resolved to say whatever she had to say to finally get out of this terrible place. She would play the changed young person. She would see the wickedness of her former ways and be a good little puppet. She would love the GDR and all that it represented. She would spout the axioms, tout the policies, tow the party line and toot the horn of the Politburo in all its newfound majesty. Hell, she’d even praise the damn Wall if she had to.
“So now we arrive at you, young Lena.” Grandfather spoke as if sensing her disquiet, “What are we to do with you?”
“Grandfather… I… I…”
“Oh don’t even think that I’m sending you back to those wretched black cells,” he spat. “There isn’t even a reason to keep you here. This place is for terrorists and seditionists… maybe criminals, if somehow the jails magically fill up. But only actual criminals. As far as I’m concerned, you should have just been given a good yelling-at and sent on your way without your supper.” Laughing a little to himself in some profound amusement, he added, “Starting a punk band and speaking out against the GDR… what with the Secret Police running around… really, what were you and those morons you play with thinking?”
Lena honestly didn’t know anymore.
“Ah, to be young and stupid! It really is a beautiful thing, if not irritating.” he mused, “I was not so unlike you in my youth—just not so gloriously open about it all. Still, it is rather frustrating the nonsense we have to contend with in these walls. The Secret Police are just incapable of knowing a real asset when they see it. ”
“But Grandfather,” Lena began, “Aren’t you a Secret Policeman?”
“God’s no! You honestly think I’d waste my advanced age on shooting pepper balls at young girls and making them hold my cigarettes? Look at me, Lena. Do I look like I have enough life left in me for that?!”
“You look…” Lena attempted to answer honestly. Then she realized she might be rude to do so.
“I’m old, Lena. I have better things to occupy my time with. Namely, foreign intelligence with the HVA.”
“The HVA?” she asked, surprised.
“Oh, it’s just another mindless acronym to make it all sound more important than it is. Cameras, pencil guns, bureaucracy—that sort of thing—and honestly, after a while it all gets bloody boring. That’s why I love meeting bright young people like you, so that you can do all my work for me, and I can finally get down to the business of being an old man: waking up to my own farts, dying in my sleep and blaming it all on the youth.”
Lena laughed.
“In any case…” he said, giving Lena a serious look, “There really is no reason to keep you here anymore. That is… provided you’ve learned your lesson?” He said this with a raised eyebrow and knowing glower that suggested she say precisely what needed to be said. This was obviously not the time for her to lip off.
“Yes, Grandfather. I promise! Absolutely I’ve changed… cross my heart and…”
“Oh, knock it off,” he said sarcastically. “I know you’re a raving little shit. That’s what I liked about you in the first place! You should know by now, I don’t care what you think; I care what you do. And it’s doing that’s going to get you out of this place. If you are willing to do something for me, that is, then I see no reason you should spend another night here.”
“What is it?” Lena asked.
“Well, normally my colleagues here would relegate you to a minor role… something anyone could do, really. You know, keep an eye out for dissidents; spy on your neighbors; tattle on your friends; all sorts of unsavory activities that I know you wouldn’t like and probably wouldn’t do. Unskilled labor, really. But quite honestly, I think you’re smarter than that. I think you have potential—a rare mind, and keen ability to think on your feet. Personally, I think you have the ability to go far. If not in our organization, then certainly in the GDR. And if our little meetings have proven correct, I think I have something in mind that you are uniquely prepared for.”
Sweet freedom was so very, very close, she could almost taste it. After months of eating the life-equivalent of saw-dust-packed hard-tack, she was now mere sniffing-distance from a ripe young peach bursting with sugar and nectar. She was so ready to gobble up the sweet peach of freedom that she began salivating. She would do absolutely anything he asked, she realized, even inform, if she had to. Yet what he said, she was definitely not uniquely prepared for.
“Young lady,” he said with an ornery gleam in his eye and a mischievous grin, “I want you to start a band.”
Vorgetäuscher Held
“He meets with a tall man every Wednesday,” Lena whispered. “I don’t know his name. He looks to be about thirty, though; and he dresses very smartly—like he belongs in a magazine.”
“And what do they talk about?” the Stasi officer asked.
The cafe was small, but filled with people. It was evening and folks were out relaxing after a long day’s work—a beer here, the odd coffee there—and clouds of cigarette smoke wafted throughout the room, gently carried along by the jazz music and clapping of the patrons. This was the perfect meeting place for Lena and the young officer. It was out in the open to not arouse the suspicions that lone alleyways often did. Yet, despite her worries that nosy passersby would overhear, the officer assured her that no one cared. She wasn’t so sure at first, but she got used to it.
The two of them were a young dating couple out on the town for a coffee. They weren’t, obviously. It was just a cover. Nevertheless, she was dressed like she meant it, with the lowest-cut blouse she could safely filch, and the closest thing to a skirt she owned. He, on the other hand, was dressed plainly in gray and brown—blasé, just like everyone else. Even though the two weren’t actually dating, this miffed her slightly. Despite his indifferent dress and the fact that he wasn’t much older than her, he was quite pretty. Maybe not Hans-pretty, but he had a sort of slender beauty to him, like a dancer or footballer and his smile was quite charming in an obnoxious sort of way.
“I can only make out small parts. He mentions Herr a lot and the albums that he buys. Lately, he’s been talking about Jonathan and Janet, though. He mentioned something about parties that they go to on the weekend.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I do, yes. Although I feel that he’s holding back key elements. It’s not that what he’s saying is untrue—just that it’s not the entire truth.”
“And why do you feel he would do that?”
“Because Mr. Müller does not like the Stasi.” she replied, gesturing with her hands, “but he also retains loyalty to our rooftop gatherings; he feels that we…”
“Don’t move so much,” the officer interrupted her. “Eyes are drawn to cheer and exuberance and you’re attracting too much attention. When we are talking, you must appear uninteresting.”
“Yes, Sir,” Lena replied before continuing, “He feels that we deserve a…”
“Don’t call me ‘sir’,” the young officer interrupted her again. “Remember, we are supposed to be dating and this is a casual place. We must be appropriately casual. Ears cue up on titles.”
“Yes… errr… honey?”
“We are not that far along in our courtship,” the young officer laughed, “You may call me by my name.”
“Alright, Patrick. Well…”
Lena had been informing for the Stasi for nearly three months now. She met with this young officer every Tuesday and Thursday evening, spilling the beans about many aspects of her ‘secret’ life. She told him about her latest band, about the bands she played with, about her continued rooftop gatherings, about… well, most aspects of the lives of others. When needed, she would follow various people and learn everything she could about them.