Steinlein’s tall frame filled the doorway, his stick slanted away from his body, pointing the way towards his desk.
He stood for a few moments, looking not towards me or the papers I’d found in the Stasi archives, but out of the window, at the park on the other side of the river.
I placed the minutes on Steinlein’s desk and thought about what I’d read. We would have to check the material’s provenance—if the papers were authentic then they’d corroborate Steinlein’s theory that the Party was plotting to get rid of Kaminsky. That seemed barely believable, but verifying the intelligence would be a first step towards preventing an assassination. My thoughts were interrupted by Steinlein clearing his throat.
“Any trouble over there?” he asked as he stepped towards his desk.
“West German cops were doing ID checks. They didn’t like my temporary Ausweis.”
“And?”
“No problems. But there’s no way I’m going over there again.”
Steinlein didn’t seem concerned, he was too busy following his own thoughts. “Did you see the source? Did you recognise him?”
I shook my head.
“Shame,” said Steinlein, but he’d already started reading.
“Those minutes seem to support your theory.”
Instead of answering, Steinlein just gave a grunt. He was holding a sheet of paper up to the light. “Did you see this?” He put the paper back on the desk, his finger poised over an area of text.
I moved in to see what he was pointing at, and as I did so his finger moved closer to the paper. He was indicating nothing but the gap between two lines. I couldn’t see anything unusual, the lines were regularly spaced, except the alignment of the letter e was slightly out of sync with other characters, edging up into the white space that so interested Steinlein.
“Hold it to the light,” he said.
I took the sheet and held it up. And there, just where Steinlein had indicated, were faint pencil markings.
Tacheles 0905. 2 nd window main staircase. Poster.
“Looks like you’ll be collecting some post in the morning.”
***
“Why are you doing this?” I asked him.
He looked up, not understanding.
“Why are you handling the case in this way? Unofficially, from here?”
“I’ve told you, I’m concerned about potential police involvement in the plot against Kaminsky.”
“But it could still be handled internally. You could talk to your superior. Who do you report to anyway, is it Captain Neumann?”
“I don’t know who’s involved, it could be anyone-”
“What’s in it for you? Do you actually care what happens to Kaminsky or is this just about preventing a crime?”
Steinlein didn’t respond for a moment or two, considering how to answer. “What he says makes a lot of sense.”
He had stopped reading, he was waiting for my reaction.
“You support him?” I hadn’t even considered that Steinlein might find Kaminsky and his policies acceptable.
“I’m a policeman, not a politician—my job is to protect the people of the GDR. I don’t get involved in politics.”
How could any even half-way intelligent person support Kaminsky? Wasn’t it obvious that he was just on a power trip, that he didn’t really have the best interests of the country at heart?
“You have to admit this country’s an absolute mess. Kaminsky’s right when he says we need strong leadership, we’re never going to get anywhere with the Round Tables interfering all the time. Any influence from outside the government and the Volkskammer is undemocratic.”
“Do you seriously believe that Kaminsky will be good for the GDR?” I asked him.
“He has the support of the people, who am I to question that?”
Kaminsky wanted to roll back everything we had achieved since 1989, and Steinlein was basically telling me he agreed with that. I was shocked by the realisation that the policeman and I wanted such different things for our country.
I physically took a step back from him, then turned and left the building.