“I’m fully capable of coming to my own conclusions.” he said, acidly. “Now you’ve already earned my ire by spying on our own agents. So, consider us even. Now… off with you!”
“But… I only spied on him because I suspected…”
“Now!” Grandfather bellowed, “Or I’ll throw a book at you too!”
Quickly, she launched herself out the front door and disappeared into the morning light. Grandfather had been up all night long talking with Lena. Having procured her a ride home, he was still up. Grandfather was not a man for staying up late and could be notoriously cranky when forced to be. But now, having to deal with even more problems—problems his own agents had caused—cranky didn’t really describe it. He only threw books when he was really mad.
For several minutes, Patrick sat on the floor clutching his wounded face, watching Grandfather pace about the room. He seemed… unnerved. Patrick had thought up many brilliant things to say to get himself out of this situation, but he thought better of them every time he felt his face begin to ache anew. After a few minutes, however, his Grandfather began speaking in a measured tone.
“What did you say to him?”
“I gave him a copy of some out-of-date Stasi manuals.” Patrick answered honestly. “The manuals didn’t contain any classified information of any import, and they were only given to earn his trust.” Now was not the time for lies. It wasn’t the time for full-truths, of course, but that was beside the point. Unfortunately, Grandfather smelled the half-truth easily.
“That’s not what I asked,” Grandfather said plainly. “Deceive me again, and I’ll pick a legal book.”
“I…” Patrick stuttered, and for once, he didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t really planned on having to have this discussion.
“Look,” Grandfather said as he walked over to a bookshelf and began rifling through a few legal books on a bookshelf. Patrick gulped at this. Those were always the thickest, heaviest books. “You know as well as I do that the Americans don’t take walk-ins. The HVA doesn’t even do that. If Matt York agreed to talk with you, there’s a reason. You had some information that he genuinely wanted. I want to know what that is, and if you don’t tell me, we’ll start with Commonlaw Marriage and work our way up to Military Law.”
“Grandfather, please!” Patrick wailed, “I’m…”
The book hit him in the chest so hard, he thought a rib cracked. It amazed him how hard the old man could throw. He couldn’t figure out which hurt worse: the book or his Grandfather’s ire. And he was about to find out for sure if he didn’t think of something quick.
“Fine, you old bastard! It was Hans!” Patrick held his hands in front of his face, “They wanted to make a deal for him! I was only trying to help you! I figured…”
“Wait.” Grandfather held up his hand, “Wait just a second… this is about that stupid boy, again?!”
“Again?!” Patrick responded.
“My goodness,” he murmured as if to himself, “I am never going to be rid of this stupid boy and the problems he’s causing, will I?!”
“I don’t understand.”
“It doesn’t matter if you understand or not, Patrick. I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t believe what?!”
“I don’t believe for one single second that you were trying to facilitate anything on my behalf. Because there’s nothing you could possibly facilitate on your own that I would approve of. Especially without my consent. You were talking to that dimwit across the Wall, and you were talking to him because you wanted something. What was it, Patrick? What was it that was so valuable that you would risk your unit and your neck over?”
“I didn’t… it’s not that…”
“Patrick, tell me what you did wrong.”
“It’s…”
“Patrick. Tell me what you did wrong, and we can move on.”
“You just don’t…”
“Patrick. We either move on, or we have to take this in a different direction. Tell me what you did wrong, so that we can just move on.”
This was it: the moment he hadn’t known was coming. He hadn’t prepared for this. He had never allowed for the possibility that he would be found out. He had simply chosen to accept the horrible consequences of failure and decided to not fail. But now here he was, staring down the barrel of that poor decision, about to be shot full of lead consequences. He was very quickly realizing he really wasn’t prepared to accept those consequences. Now he wanted nothing but to escape.
“Grandson?” Grandfather said sternly.
“Yes?”
“This is the time for you to come clean.”
“I went to Matt York because I felt he would be able to get me out of here quicker, and give me a new life. I believed that the Americans could make it all happen quickly.”
“And why didn’t that work?” Grandfather asked, knowingly.
“Because the Americans are just as backstabbing and double-talking as we are.”
“Maybe not quite, but certainly almost.” Grandfather said. “So, you thought that letting me, a man you trust, spin you around blindfolded with an assured positive ending was somehow less attractive than letting the god-damned Americans spin you around blindfolded, with absolutely nothing certain at the end of it but dust and sand?”
“That’s not…”
“You know damn well they wouldn’t take a defecting HVA agent at your level and give him work! You have skills, but you don’t have the access! They knew that the very moment you started giving them copies of out-of-date Stasi manuals that I had given to them years ago! They already have skilled agents with your exact same skills, and assets inside the GDR with more access than you have! Why would they need you when you also bring a complete lack of loyalty?!”
Patrick really had nothing to say to this. He simply hadn’t thought of himself and his possible value to the Americans in this light. Grandfather stood across the room, looking at him angrily. His face was covered in a mix of emotions. Patrick knew he had done the right thing by coming clean, and now he felt horrible about everything. It was something about the sadness in the old man’s eyes, though. However, his gaze was filled with far more annoyance than anything else as he finally measured out his words and spoke.
“Patrick? Hit yourself.”
“Excuse me?”
“When I was your age, the case officer who trained me always told me, ‘never abuse your agents. Never insult them, and never put a hand on them.’ So, I’m honoring him, and making you hit yourself.”
“Are you… serious?”
“Yes, Patrick. I’m serious.”
“B-but… you threw books at me.”
“The books hit you, not me. And I think both of us can agree that books and fists don’t mean the same thing.”
“Well, but…”
“Patrick, hit yourself. And it had better be good, because if it isn’t, I’ll make you do it again.”
Surprisingly, Patrick’s first thought was about how in the world his Grandfather wielded such power to make people do such stupid things. As he began swinging at his own face, Patrick thought, “Why am I doing this, exactly?” to be immediately followed by, “God-damnit that fucking hurt!” Indeed, by the time he had fully recovered from the initial shock of the blow his vision still had yet to recombobulate.
“Are we good?” Grandfather asked.
“We’re good, Grandfather.”
“Good. Now tell me: what did you two discuss?”
“I already told you. It was about Hans, and I gave them some outdated documents.”