“We have to be careful,” Kirstin whispered. “The Stasi could be watching me.”
Marino sat across from her, drinking a glass of wine. “Is it wise for us to meet?”
She shrugged. “We have to communicate,” she said. “It’s a chance we have to take.”
“Have you noticed anyone following you?”
“No,” she replied firmly. “They watch in other ways – using family or friends. They make those you trust betray you.”
He studied those sitting nearby. “Maybe we shouldn’t meet in public.”
“It’s all right,” she told him. “I’m cautious.”
He was satisfied with her response. She knew East Berlin, and the suffocating loss of freedom, better than he ever could. He leaned closer. “What happened Saturday night?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” she replied. “There were seven of us, hiding among the tombstones. We wer
