Dieter Katz exited the church and stood in a line of parishioners greeting the minister. He waited his turn, glancing toward the cemetery where Kirstin and Dr. Werner talked quietly. They seemed suspicious, whispering and watching people as they passed, and he wondered what they discussed. But he decided if there was anyone in East Berlin he could trust, it would be them. They had already helped him once. They might do it again.
“Dieter, it’s good to see you again,” Steiner Beck said as he approached. He glanced at Katz’s forehead, still slightly bruised from the rifle butt. “No permanent scars, I hope.”
“No, I’m well,” Dieter said, trying not to sound bitter. He knew he had to be careful. He couldn’t say or do anything that aroused suspicion.
“I didn’t see your girlfriend, Eileen, at s
