Most of Warschauer Platz is behind the boundary wall of the Narva lightbulb works. The little that remains open to the public lies between canyons of factory buildings and the derelict U-Bahn station. From down here I could see neither the capped brickwork of the nearby Oberbaum bridge nor Berlin’s first high-rise building, the Narva Tower, just a few metres away. In fact, from down here I could see only sooty walls and the solitary figure of Steinlein halfway down the Platz. Instead of a greeting he pressed an envelope into my hand.
“Here’s the money. Whatever information the source gives you, bring it straight back. Hide it well, be careful it’s not found at the border.”
“Hello to you, too.”
“This is not the time for jokes, Martin.” Steinlein was looking around the whole time, keeping an eye on any passers-by. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but walking out while we’re in the middle of a conversation isn’t something I take kindly to.”
“Look, I’m sorry about last night-”
“When you get to your rendezvous wait for the source to come to you. Relax, don’t pay too much attention to your surroundings. Let the source play it the way he wants to. If you get a chance to speak to him then tell him we need more information, that we can pay. We need anything he has on Kaminsky, anything at all. Got that?”
“He?”
“What?”
“You said he. Is the informant male?”
“Figure of speech, we don’t know. Now get going. I’ll be at the Stralau office from three o’clock, I’ll wait for you there.”
***
Under normal circumstances I would have been at the Prinzenstrasse baths in plenty of time, but as soon as I reached the border crossing at Oberbaum bridge I could tell that these weren’t normal circumstances.
“You’ll have a bit of a wait at the other end,” the young border policeman told me as I passed his post at the Eastern end of the bridge.
“What’s going on?” A queue snaked back towards us, there seemed to be some hold up at the gate in the Wall at the far end.
“West Berlin police are checking everybody’s documents, they’ve taken some people away for questioning.”
“Why? Who are they questioning?”
The guard shrugged, he didn’t know and he didn’t really care.
I remembered the police officers on the S-Bahn yesterday, the way one of them had been suspicious of my temporary Ausweis. Perhaps this wasn’t the best day to head into West Berlin, but I didn’t have any choice if I wanted to meet the source.
I joined the end of the queue, just a dozen or so people in front of me, so hopefully this wouldn’t take too long.
But ten minutes later we were still no further. We stood under the midday sun, and I looked over the parapet at the river below, thinking about the swimming trunks in my shoulder bag. The grey water flowed past, ochre foam collecting by the banks.
“Did you come for the view or are you in the queue?” A Berlin voice behind me demanded.
I looked up, the line in front of me was moving again. Now there was just a couple of people between me and the Wall. We shuffled forwards, and finally I was through the gate and over the white line that marked the border. But we weren’t finished with queueing, we were hemmed in by crowd control fences which led us round to the left where a couple of policemen stood. Behind them was a hut, I’d never noticed it before, but the grey paint that peeled from its wooden sides told me it had always been there.
The West Berlin police officers were carefully checking everyone’s papers, just as they had done on the train. I held out my temporary Ausweis, it was taken off me and each page was carefully examined.
“Holger?” The policeman held my Ausweis up for his colleague to check, but Holger nodded.
“Bitte sehr. Der nächste!”
And that was it. I was through.
I hurried along the road towards the U-Bahn station, climbing the steps to the platform and jumping on the train just as the bell rang.
I looked at my watch, I was already late for my meeting.