Section 9 & 10

Section 9

Wiggins and Seb arrived at Heathrow at four thirty in the morning. As they drove to the airport they had received a call to notify them that three men had been apprehended at Bland's home the previous night. Because of the promptness of the action of the police the men were unlikely to be charged with any greater offence than “going equipped.” Their details would be run through the service's databases to determine what, if any, security issues their activities presented.
Wiggins was able to alert the Major to Bland's decision to take a short holiday. He asked about the accessibility of this information and any information about the arrests made at the house to staff of the service he was assured that the information would remain strictly within the purview of the Major's office at least until any security risk of wider application was identified.
The two men checked in for their flight and went swiftly through security.

Harry Polesden was woken by the telephone at three in the morning.
“They got nicked,” the caller told him.
“Pardon?” Polesden battled with sleepiness and did not immediately understand the message.
The caller repeated it.
Polesden understood now. “The operational team, you mean?”
“The lads that was doing the job. Three of them.”
“Nobody else?”
“Just them. They'll take what comes. They know the risks and they get paid for them.”
“Did they get in?”
“Don't think so. The police are talking “going equipped” so it doesn't sound likely.”
“And they won't talk.”
“No. Anyway, do you want another crack at it?”
“Sounds dodgy.”
“Yes, it is.” The caller chuckled. “Course that would be reflected in the price.”
“Of course. No. Don't do anything more just now. I'll be in touch."
“Right.”
“And keep me up to speed on developments with these three, won't you.”
“OK.”
Polesden groaned and got out of bed. He switched on his computer and logged in to his preferred travel site. He needed a plane to Germany, and soon. He found one. He would need to be at Heathrow in an hour.

Wiggins ducked behind the newspaper he was pretending to red as he watched the entrance to the departure lounge.
“Seb,” he murmured, "pretend we're not travelling together. I'll explain when we board."
Seb nodded from behind his newspaper and then stared round the lounge in an attempt to see what had caught Wiggins's attention. He soon gave up.
The attendant made ready to announce that the plane was boarding. Wiggins jumped to his feet, hunched himself into his jacket and was among the first passengers at the desk. Seb trailed along and joined the queue. When he reached his seat, next to Wiggins, at the rear of the plane Wiggins was hunched down buried in his newspaper. Seb raised an interrogatory eyebrow.
“Polesden,” Wiggins murmured. “He came into the lounge. I wondered if he was looking for me at first but he has a boarding card so I suppose he's on this flight. We should have tried to check the passenger lists before we booked. I hope he's not too wide awake and didn't notice me.”
“I don't think we can check the passenger lists.”
“I thought the airlines had to exchange details now.”
“Only with the US. We're flying inside the EU.”
“Well perhaps we should have checked to see what other flights the service has booked to Berlin for today.”
“If this was planned then I'd have expected the Major to know. In which case he would have warned us. My guess id that this is a last minute thing.”
“Perhaps; by the way, does Polesden know you?”
“I don't believe so. I never met him. The Major only met him face to face the day before yesterday.”
“That's good. We have to guess that he may have seen you around or seen your picture but he won't be expecting you and if he does spot you he can let it go as coincidence.”
“But we can't be seen to be together or we'll compromise the operation.”
“Exactly. We'll need to get another car I suppose.”
“Isn't that taking it a bit too far?”
“Not really. If you are going to shadow him then you'll need a car if he's getting one.”
“Follow him?”
“I think so. If you're right and this is unplanned then we need to find out what's happened and where he's going.”
“If you say so. How will I know him.”
Wiggins rose out of his seat, slowly, keeping his head turned towards the rear of the plane. Crouching, with his eyes just above the level of the seat backs he scanned the rows in front of them then rose a little higher.
“Up forwards of us; aisle seat; looks like E or F3; balding chap in a grey wind-breaker.”
Seb stood up and and put his briefcase into the overhead locker.
“Got him,” he said when he sat down.

Bland received a call from Major Crane's office as he and Rose were finishing breakfast. He took the news of the attempted break-in with equanimity and readily agreed that the Major's office should represent his interests with the police.
“Who was that?” Rose asked as he slid the mobile phone back into his pocket.
“Just something to do with John,” he explained. “Some loose ends at the office and they can't find him.”

Changing planes in Amsterdam called for some subtle footwork on the part of both Wiggins and Seb but they managed to disembark and board the new plane without being detected.
When their plane landed at Schőnefeld Seb made himself unpopular with his fellow passengers, pushing his way along the aisle to be one of the first off.
Wiggins listened in amusement to the chuntering of the other passengers about the manners of the eager pack of under thirties, smooth suits and sharp ties, into which Seb melted. Wiggins sat back in his seat, making sure that Polesden had left his seat before he stood to join the queue along the aisle.
As he strolled up the jet-way he saw no sign of either Polesden or Seb. He made his way to car rentals and collected the key to silver grey VW Golf.
As he left the counter to collect his car he saw that Seb was just ahead of Polesden in the line at a neighbouring counter.

It is 150 miles from Schőnefeld to Leipzig. Wiggins was glad to reach the autobahn where he could speed up then slow to try to spot any vehicle that might be tailing him. He saw none.
His phone shrilled.
"We're on the A9 for Leipzig," Seb told him.
"Following me. Keep me posted," he said.
After the exit for Leipzig he pulled to the side of the road for five minutes checking every car that pulled off in case its driver or a passenger might be showing an interest in him. None was. At last he set off again.
He was to rendezvous with Gottleib at the Freidenspark. Shortly before he reached it there was another call from Seb.
"Were coming into Leipzig. We just turned off the autobahn."
"Let me know where you”re headed next."
When he reached the park he drove twice round the perimeter in a clockwise direction. He then pulled into a car park and drove straight back out again so he could circle the park counter clockwise.
Satisfied he had no tail he parked the car and began to walk through the park.
As arranged, he met the Pastor near the café. Both men affected surprise.
"You must come and have a coffee with me," the pastor told Wiggins.
"Gladly," he replied. "But I cannot stay long."
They took seats at a table in the depths of the café and chatted inconsequentially until Wiggins rose. Gottleib stood too and the two men began to stroll round the park, continuing their conversation.
"You had a phone call, you said."
"That's right. Threatening."
"In what way?"
"The caller spoke of the event at the Matthiaskirche. He asked if I remembered it."
Wiggins nodded. "So you think —"
"Stasi. One of those who planned it. Perhaps one who was there."
"You have no idea who they were?"
"None. Do you not have the information?"
Wiggins gave a curt laugh. "One of the biggest problems my department has had for all these years is the wanton destruction of the Stasi's records in the name of freedom."
"I am sorry. We were so glad to be rid of them that we wanted the evidence erased. We hoped for a new start."
"The problem is that those of your persuasion were not the only ones that wanted the evidence erased and a new start. We suspect that in many cases the leaders of the acts of destruction were former Stasi trying to cover up their past. Also we don't have the least idea how many records were destroyed and how many just disappeared. And if any did disappear then we don't know where. But you know about this. We talked about this before, after the wall fell."
"I told you what I could. I think some of my information was of value."
"Certainly. What has been missing and what would have been of great value has been official corroboration."
Gottleib shrugged.
"They wanted to know what you knew of my whereabouts?"
"They seemed to think you were in Germany, in Halle, perhaps even in my house."
"Why would they think that?"
"They know we worked together all those years ago. My guess is they have never forgiven me for that."
"What made you get in contact? You must have thought it would be dangerous."
Gottleib stopped walking and stared down at his feet. He kicked up a small heap of dust with the toe of his shoe.
"I never liked having to work with the British. They were the least worse alternative given that we were not going to achieve freedom alone. I think you understood that. Our work was not a crusade for you as it was for some of your colleagues I met. I liked that relationship. It helped me to trust you. I don't like what this country has become since the wall fell. I think we have lost as much as we have gained. I'm not talking about communism but I am talking about community. It seemed the right thing, to warn you. Since I could."
"What if the systems had been shut down with no fall back?"
"Who knows?"
"I have something else to ask you about. Do you know anything of a man named Mahmud?"
His face went pale. When he began to answer it was through a dry mouth.
"You asked about this before. Mahmud was something else. That was not part of the struggle for freedom."
"So you never told me?"
"You didn't need to know."
"I need to know now."
"No."
"Perhaps I should be the judge of that. Mahmud is the reason that I am in Germany today. And Mahmud is the reason for the telephone call to you. Mahmud worked with the Stasi and now he is working with those in Germany who who want to turn from the west."
"By the west you mean of course the Americans."
"Not exclusively, no."
"What other answer could you have given. Very well, I will tell you what I know of Mahmud."

Wiggins's telephone rang. It was Seb.
"Polesden just pulled into a car park on the north east edge of the park where you were going to to meet Sonntag."
"Is he coming into the park?"
"Not just yet. He's sitting in his car. My guess is he's waiting for someone."
"Keep an eye and alert me know as soon as he gets out of his car or anyone gets into the car with him."

Section 10

Gottleib led Wiggins to a bench and they sat, side by side.
"Mahmud is from Palestine. The Israelis took his family's land and drove them out. He was raised in the refugee camps. He came to Germany to make us aware of the plight of the Palestinians."
"I presume his presence was facilitated by the Stasi."
"I could not say. It must have been tolerated, I agree. We were of course allies of the Palestinians and of the other oppressed Arabs. There were many Arabs living in east Germany before the wall fell."
"And some stayed after."
"Probably. Anyway, Mahmud visited the churches and told us how intolerant of the Muslims were the Israeli government and the governments of some Arab states. He helped to foster the spirit of resistance to the state that the churches were already tending."
Wiggins could see the road that circled the park. He watched the cars passing as the Pastor spoke. He should have asked Seb what car he was driving, what car Polesden was driving. He wondered if he should call Seb then thought better of it; Seb might be unable to reply. He was watching a subject; that was his priority for the moment.
He listened to Pastor Martin explaining how, although his congregation abhorred the idea of drug taking they understood that the Arabs that Mahmud represented had no choice but to deal in the produce that was so abundant in Afghanistan, heroin.
"These people have been pushed to the edge, you understand. Their land has been taken. The west will not take their crops at a fair price, or at any price. What choices have they if they are to earn enough to sustain themselves and their families," Martin explained.
"We knew that argument. And he said that they thirst for freedom, and we knew that argument," he went on. "They were like ourselves and must use what is to hand to better their lot."
"The end justifies the means; it was acceptable to poison the west with drugs?" Asked Wiggins.
"The lesser evil. I have told you, we loved freedom. That does not mean we loved the west. Why would we. What did it do for us for all those years?"
"What about the Berlin airlift? What about the balance of power, mutual assured destruction?" Wiggins asked with a grin.
Martin shrugged his shoulders. "We were pawns in your game. At last we learned that no one gives you freedom, you must take it."
"And then you have to hold on to it hard."
"We have learned that too already."
"Well Mahmud is still in business. Now he sells to entrepreneurs, not to the Stasi and the KGB. And I guess he uses his profits to buy the wherewithal for al Caeda to put the west in its place. What do you think of that?" Wiggins asked.
"It has nothing to do with Germany."
"I wouldn't be so sure."

Wiggins's phone rang.
"Seb; Polesden's contact is here."
"Details."
"A blue BMW. The driver is dark skinned; Arab I would guess."
"Mahmud, I'll bet," Wiggins breathed. "Got a registration on the BMW?"
Seb told him.
"Hold on. Let me check that. I have a note of the registration of the BMW that was seen in Halle when we delivered to Gottleib." He found the information; the registration was the same.
"That's the one. Good work, Seb. What are they doing."
"They're both just sitting in their cars but I caught a discreet wave between the two when the Beemer turned up. That's why I called."
"Do you think they suspect you're watching."
"I don't think so. There's no indications."
"Perhaps they're waiting for a third person." Wiggins mused.
"I'll let you know."
Wiggins ended the call then turned to the Pastor.
"I suppose that you've told me all I needed to know. Thank you."
"I can go?"
"I don't see why not. Where are you parked?"
"By Linnestrasse, towards the city."
"I'll walk with you."
Gottleib set off. Wiggins hung back, looking about him to see if they were being watched. He saw no one. They came out from the trees and he saw there were very few people in the park; a couple of dog walkers and a youth flying a remote controlled plane were all that were in sight.
Wiggins opened his phone and called Seb.
"We're all done here. Gottleib is on his way to collect his car. He's on Linnestrasse ant the north east end of the park. Is that near where you are?"
"It may be. What does he drive?"
"I don't know. I'll ask him."
"Martin," he called, but his voice was drowned in the buzz of the engine of the remote controlled plane. He looked up. It was a small helicopter. It moved away.
"Martin," he called. The pastor turned to him. Again he heard the buzz of the helicopter's engine as it rose and fell nearby. "What are you driving?"
"Opel."
"Model?"
"Corsa."
"Opel Corsa," Wiggins announced into the phone.
"There's one here next to the BMW. What's has registration?"
Wiggins asked and then repeated the information to Seb.
"That's it. Tell him to stay away."
Martin had walked on. Wiggins shouted to him to wait. The noise of the helicopter grew louder.
"Wait, Martin," Wiggins called.
He could see the shapes of cars beyond the trees that fringed the park and separated it from the surrounding streets. He could see the glint of blue, the colour of the BMW he had seen in the photographs taken outside Martin's house. Martin must be visible from the car park. He saw the pastor half turn. The noisy buzz of the helicopter was magnified by its echo bouncing back from the trees. He watched, disbelieving as it fell towards Martin. Then he realised.
"Run," he screamed and turned to run away himself.
He heard the explosion, he felt the searing blast at his back and it knocked him to the ground. He picked himself up and ran into the tree belt, dodging from trunk to trunk to be out of view of the dog walkers, the youth with the helicopter, the car drivers on Linnestrasse. He did not look back to he smoking, bloodied, heap that lay between the trees behind him.
When he reached the silver VW he called Seb.
"Gottleib's dead," he told him. "You'll have heard the explosion."
"What was it?"
"Remote control helicopter. I don't know if it was intended for me or for him. My guess is that it was for him so that I could be discredited. But it could just as well have been meant to take me out."
"But you got away, obviously. Where are you."
"On the other side of the park, in my car. I should move it off before the police get here. Where are you?"
"As soon as the explosion occurred the BMW took off. I was in two minds about following him but I decided to stay with Polesden."
"What did he do?"
"He waited a short while. I think he probably made a couple of phone calls. Then he set off. I'm on his tail. Were heading to the North of the city."
Wiggins thought about this then he said, "I wonder if you're going to Halle?"
"That's on all the road signs. Why would we be gong there?"
"I don't know. Maybe it's where Polesden and I know best. I'll move the car while I still can. Keep me posted."
He ended the call and drove to a street near the A14 where he parked and waited to hear from Seb.

After nearly three quarters of an hour his phone rang.
"Seb?"
"I'm outside Gottleib's house. Polesden is inside. I presume it was the lady of the house let him in."
"Any sign of Mahmud?"
"Not yet. Do you think he'll come here?"
"He may do if Polesden is there,"
"Do you want to alert the Germans?"
"To do what?"
"To arrest Polesden."
"For what."
"I'm sure we can get him for something. I have photos on my mobile that clearly show him in conversation with the BMW's driver. I don't know if he's Mahmud but I'll bet the Germans have got Mahmud's face in a book somewhere and will be glad to tie him in with a dodgy agent."
"You mean that Polesden and Mahmud talked in the park?"
"That's right. After I told you about the BMW arriving Polesden got out of his car and went to talk to the BMW's driver."
"Pity we don't know what they said."
"Well. My German lip reading isn't that good but I think they were talking about a bomb and about Osnabruck. I think the polizei need to be looking for the blue BMW heading north east. I'm guessing they may be surprised at what is inside that motor."
"You're sure?"
"Ninety, maybe even ninety-five percent sure. And it was Polesden was doing the talking and who I could see clearly. The Arab stayed in his car."
"Hmm."
"Sir. I know you need to evaluate this and I know we don't want to go off half cocked but I have friends and companions in arms in Osnabruck and if they get hurt because this isn't handled right then I am going to be one unhappy intelligence officer. Can you come to a conclusion quickly?"
"I'll call Major Crane right now. Sit tight but let me know if Polesden comes back out of that house."

Twenty minutes later Wiggins telephoned Seb again.
"You're stood down," he told him.
"But —"
"No buts. We're off to Berlin. Any moment now the German police will be arriving there and we don't need to have you sitting in the close waiting to be asked to account for your movements, Is that their sirens I can hear now?"
"I've got them. I'm on my way."
There was a pause. Wiggins could hear an engine starting. The noise of sirens grew louder; they must be passing Seb's car.
Then in the quiet after they passed Seb asked, "And what about the Arab?
"They'll put up patrols on all the roads into Osnabruck and turn out extra surveillance in the town. The RMP will be called out to assist. If he gets to Osnabruck then he won't get near the town itself, don't you worry."
"And we are to go back to Berlin?"
"That's our orders. We're to stand by at the Hilton Hotel and report to the Embassy tomorrow morning. We'll be needed to observe the interrogations, assist the Germans in tracing the rest of this conspiracy or whatever it is. And someone has to take over operations in the sector of Germany formally known as the GDR."
"The East German office, you mean?"
"I think they'll call it something like the Eastern division of the German section. It's about time they acknowledged that the wall has gone. And I'll be needing a deputy; do you think that Major Crane can spare you?"
He hung up before Seb could answer.