ON THE AFTERNOON of May 28, Rawls flew to Schönefeld airport in Berlin. There he changed onto an Interflug service, and he arrived at Erfurt shortly afterwards. He was travelling as Thompson Clarke, an American businessman specializing in the buying and selling of flowers.
Rawls had chosen his cover well: the Internationale Gartenbauausstellung, Erfurt’s horticultural show, spans 250 acres and is open all the year round. It attracts specialists and dealers from all over the world, and provides an excellent cover for the traveller who is clearly no tourist.
A taxi took Rawls to the vast new Interhotel Kosmos on the Krämpferstrasse. The Kosmos is a luxurious four-star megalith in the very heart of Erfurt, and it suited Rawls’ needs admirably. He was shown to a room on the twelfth floor, and after a quick shower and shave he persuaded the restaurant staff to give him an early meal. The evening menu had not yet been prepared, so Rawls had to content himself with a cold plate of Thüringer Kesselfleisch, one of the local sausage dishes.
Having finished his meal, Rawls left the hotel and went for an early evening stroll. He walked through the Anger Boulevard, Erfurt’s main shopping street, and passed by the heavy grey-brown Kaufmann church, where Luther said mass in 1522. He then turned into Hermann-Jahn Strasse and crossed over the river Gera.
Had he bothered to look over to the right, Rawls would have seen the brightly coloured Krämerbrücke or Grocer’s Bridge, one of Erfurt’s main tourist attractions. The bridge dates back to 1325 and consists of a row of three-storey houses painted red, yellow and white stretching right across the river, held above the water by wooden rafters and brick columns. But Rawls did not bother to look to the right, and he would have ignored the bridge even if he had seen it.
Once he was over the river, Rawls walked down to the end of Hermann-Jahn Strasse, and turned left into a maze of narrow side-streets. He consulted his pocket-map and walked around until he found a small bar called Der Satz. He entered it and saw that there were no customers.
A plump little barman with no hair and the complexion of a dead fish was drying some beer glasses behind the bar.
“I’m afraid we’re closed,” the barman said.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Rawls said. “I’d like a beer, please.”
The barman’s expression did not change. His little blue eyes gazed calmly at Rawls as he continued to dry the glasses.
“What beer would you like?” he asked.
“Do you serve American beers? Pabst, Michelob, anything like that?”
“You come to Germany and ask for American beer? That’s a little strange, isn’t it?”
“I get homesick, Herr Schlick.”
The barman went over to the door and locked it. He then drew the blinds down over the entrance and returned to the bar, where he pulled out two bottles and opened them.
“You can’t get American beer in this country,” he said. “Welcome to Erfurt, Mr Rawls.”
“Thank you,” Rawls said. He took a large mouthful of the cold amber lager and sat down on a stool.
“What can I do for you?” Herr Schlick said.
“Didn’t they tell you?”
“Tell me again.”
“Still not convinced?” Rawls grinned.
“Certain convictions can be very costly in the DDR, Mr Rawls.”
“Okay. I want to find out about Neumann, and, if possible, to meet him. Can that be arranged?”
“Perhaps, but it won’t be easy. Nobody knows anything about Neumann, and his present condition is anybody’s guess.”
“You mean he could be dead?”
“It’s possible. All we know for certain is that if he’s alive, he’s definitely in the hospital.”
“Can I get in there?”
“Very difficult,” said Schlick. He wiped a finger across his chin to remove a small dribble of lager. He licked the finger pensively and gazed down at his glass. “You can imagine what kind of a place it is. Heavily guarded.”
“So what do I do?”
Schlick smiled thinly.
“If I were you, I’d go home,” he said. “I don’t know what you’re after, but it can’t be worth this sort of trouble.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Judge, jury and executioner,” Schlick observed. “Very well. We once managed to get somebody in there. His motives were no doubt less worthy than yours: he wanted to steal some drugs. But the basic difficulty was the same.”
“What did you do?”
“One of the doctors at the hospital is having an affair with a local girl. He usually calls round at her place for a quickie while he’s supposed to be on the early evening shift. His movements are easy to time because she doesn’t get home from work until quarter to six, and he can only be absent from work between half-five and seven. Before then the afternoon staff would notice his absence, and the night staff are all there by seven o’clock. So, allowing for driving time, we can usually count on him turning up at about six o’clock and leaving half an hour later.”
“That’s definitely a quickie. What does this do for me?”
“The doctor drives a clapped-out old Trabant. I’ll give you the registration number. When nobody’s looking, it’s very easy to open the boot and climb in— you know how to do such things?”
“Yes,” Rawls said.
“Good. The Trabant boot is easier to open than most. If you can manage that, the rest should be quite straightforward. Just wait until the good doctor has finished his lovemaking, and he will drive you right into the hospital.”
“How about getting out of the place?”
“The doctor finishes his shift at about eight-thirty. If you haven’t got what you want by then, you will have to hide until the morning and repeat the performance with one of the night-workers’ cars. Remember, the whole building is heavily patrolled. Don’t even contemplate breaking out of it—that would be far too dangerous.”
Schlick pulled out a small notepad and wrote some details on it. He then tore the page out and handed it to Rawls.
“This is the girl’s address. You have a map? Good. The number below it is the registration number of the doctor’s car. Be there between five to six and half past. If he doesn’t turn up, try again the next evening.”
“Thanks,” Rawls said, pocketing the note. “Tell me, what exactly is this place? Is it really a hospital?”
“Oh yes,” Schlick said. “It contains genuine, old-fashioned lunatics. They also throw in the occasional political criminal, but it’s principally a madhouse. The man you want: he’s a political offender, I suppose?”
“Something like that,” Rawls said.
“He must be very important to you to merit all this trouble.”
“He is. I think he knows something vital.”
“Really?” Schlick sounded almost impressed.
“Listen,” Rawls said. “Has there been any police or military activity around here lately? Unusual activity, I mean?”
“Not that I know of,” Schlick said. “In fact it’s been very quiet.”
“What about Grünbaum? Why was he arrested?”
“Who knows?” Schlick said, but his eyes twinkled. “I had nothing to do with Grünbaum. He was a criminal. Dangerous company.”
“He never did any work for us?”
“America? No. There was some talk of him working for the West, but it was probably just rumour.”
“These rumours, where did they come from?”
“People,” Schlick smiled. “Just people. You must understand, there were many stories told about Grünbaum. He was a gangster. People like to invent stories about such people. Myths.”
“I see,” Rawls said, but he was not convinced. “Do you know anyone who knew him? Someone I could talk to.”
“Let me see…” Schlick tilted back his head and thought about it for a moment. “There was someone. A man called Carnap. I have occasional dealings with him. He may be able to help.”
“Can I see him?”
“Perhaps. I will try to arrange it if you like. Come back and see me when you have finished your business at the hospital. If you finish it.”
Rawls drained his glass of beer and produced a thick manila envelope from his jacket.
“I think you’ll find it’s all here,” he said.
“Excellent,” Schlick said. “You’d never imagine how useful Western currency is in these parts.”
“I’ve got a pretty good imagination,” Rawls said. “It goes with the job. See you in a couple of days.”
He left the bar and returned to the hotel.