Marino returned to the refugee center and again met with Johann, the college student who had escaped from East Berlin. After a few minutes of pleasantries in the main office lobby, an older man entered, a bit stooped, with gray hair and round spectacles.
“This is Otto,” Johann said.
Marino shook the man’s hand. “I’m Tony Marino.”
“He’s the American I told you about,” Johann said.
“Thanks for agreeing to see me,” Marino said.
“It’s my pleasure,” Otto replied. “Please, come with me.”
Johann walked toward the exit. “I’ll let you two discuss business,” he said with a wave.
“Thanks, Johann,” Marino called as Otto led him into a nearby office.
The room was functional, a desk with some metal filing cabinets, and a small oval table flanked by two leather chairs. Otto guided him to the tabl
