The Berlin File
1517 Words
Cole stood at the window of the safe house. Berlin stretched below him. Gray buildings. Gray sky. Gray streets. The city had a weight to it. History. Secrets. Bodies buried in the dark.
Hans Richter lived in a penthouse overlooking the Spree River. Former Stasi. Now a consultant for private security firms. The files from Arthur Vance showed payments totaling three million euros over ten years. Richter had been the Consortium's fixer in Eastern Europe. He made problems disappear.
Kane walked in with coffee. “Sergei's team is in position. They're watching Richter's building.”
“What's his routine?”
“Up at 6 AM. Breakfast at a café around the corner. Back home by 8. He doesn't leave again until evening. Dinner at a different restaurant every night.”
“Security?”
“Two bodyguards. Former East German police. They stay outside his door at night, follow him during the day.”
Cole took the coffee. Drank. “We take him at the café. Fewer people. Less security.”
“That's tomorrow morning. Today, we watch.”
---
The café was called Zum Goldenen Löwen. Old. Wooden tables. The smell of fresh bread.
Cole sat across the street. A book in his hands. His eyes on the door.
At 7:15, Richter walked out. He was in his seventies. Thin. Gray hair. A cane in his hand. His bodyguards flanked him.
They walked to the café. Went inside.
Cole waited. Ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty.
Richter came out. He was alone. The bodyguards stayed inside, drinking coffee.
Cole stood. Crossed the street.
“Mr. Richter.”
The old man turned. His eyes were sharp. “Who are you?”
“Someone who wants to talk.”
“I don't talk to strangers.”
“I'm not a stranger. I'm Cole Mathers. Charles Mathers's son.”
Richter's face went pale. “You're dead.”
“Very much alive.”
“Your father said you were dead.”
“My father lied about many things.”
Richter looked at the café. His bodyguards were inside. Not watching.
“What do you want?”
“Information. About the Consortium. About the people you worked for.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I leave you here. And I tell your enemies where to find you.”
Richter's hand shook on his cane. “You're just like your father.”
“I'm nothing like my father.”
“You threaten old men. You use fear. That's exactly like him.”
Cole stepped closer. “My father killed people. He destroyed families. I'm trying to stop that.”
“By becoming him?”
Cole was quiet. The wind blew.
“I'm not here to threaten you. I'm here to offer you a choice. Help me, and I'll protect you. Refuse, and you're on your own.”
Richter looked at the sky. The clouds were moving.
“There's a file. In my apartment. Everything I know. Every name. Every payment. Every crime.”
“Why would you keep such a file?”
“Because I knew someday someone would come for me. The file is my insurance.”
“Give it to me.”
Richter nodded. “Tonight. After dark. Come to my apartment. I'll have it ready.”
Cole stepped back. “If you betray me—”
“I won't. I'm old. I'm tired. I want to die in my bed, not in a ditch.”
Cole walked away. Crossed the street. Sat back on the bench.
His phone buzzed. A text from Kane.
“What did he say?”
“He has a file. We get it tonight.”
“It's a trap.”
“Probably. But we go anyway.”
---
The night was cold. The streets were empty.
Cole walked to Richter's building. The lobby was dark. The guard was asleep at his desk.
Cole took the stairs. Fifth floor. The hallway was silent.
He knocked on Richter's door.
It opened. Richter stood there. Alone.
“Come in.”
Cole stepped inside. The apartment was large. Modern. Art on the walls.
“Where are your bodyguards?”
“I sent them home. I didn't want witnesses.”
“Witnesses to what?”
Richter walked to a bookshelf. Pulled a book. The wall slid open. A safe behind it.
He spun the dial. The door opened.
Inside: stacks of cash. A pistol. A leather folder.
Richter handed Cole the folder. “Everything is here.”
Cole opened it. Photographs. Documents. Names.
“Why are you giving me this?”
“Because I'm dying. Cancer. Six months, maybe less. I want to die with a clear conscience.”
“You worked for murderers.”
“I was a soldier. I followed orders. That doesn't make it right. But it's the truth.”
Cole closed the folder. “Thank you.”
“Don't thank me. Just make sure they pay.”
Cole walked to the door. Then he stopped.
“Your bodyguards. Where did they really go?”
Richter smiled. It was thin. Bitter.
“They went to get reinforcements. I called them after you left this morning.”
The door burst open. Two men. Guns raised.
Cole dove behind the couch. Bullets hit the wall.
He pulled his pistol. Fired. One man fell.
The other man fired back. Cole rolled. Fired again. The second man fell.
Richter was standing by the safe. His hands were raised.
“I'm sorry. I had no choice.”
Cole stood. His heart was pounding. “There's always a choice.”
He walked to the door. The folder under his arm.
Behind him, Richter called out. “They'll kill you. All of them. You can't win.”
Cole didn't look back. “Watch me.”
---
The street was dark. Kane was waiting in the car.
“I heard shots.”
“Richter betrayed us. His men are dead.”
“Richter?”
“Still alive. Not worth the bullet.”
Kane drove. The city blurred.
Cole opened the folder. Read by the light of the streetlamps.
The names were there. Dozens of them. Some he knew. Some he didn't.
But one name made him stop.
Evelyn Mathers.
His mother's name. In Richter's file.
“What is it?” Kane asked.
“My mother. Her name is in here.”
“What does it say?”
Cole read. His blood ran cold.
“Evelyn Mathers was a paid informant for the Stasi. 1985-1989. Codename: LARK.”
“That's impossible.”
“Is it?”
Cole looked at Kane. “My mother was poisoned by my father. She was a prisoner for eight years.”
“People can be many things. Victims. Survivors. Informants.”
Cole closed the folder. His hands were shaking.
“We need to go home.”
---
The plane landed at dawn. Clark was waiting.
“What happened?”
“Richter betrayed us. His men are dead.”
“Are you okay?”
“I'm fine.”
Clark looked at his face. “You're not fine. What's wrong?”
Cole held up the folder. “My mother's name is in here. She worked for the Stasi.”
Clark's face went pale. “That's not possible.”
“That's what I said.”
They drove to the farmhouse. Evelyn was in the kitchen. Making breakfast.
She looked up when they walked in. Saw their faces.
“What's wrong?”
Cole sat at the table. Put the folder in front of her.
“Your name is in here. In a Stasi file. You were an informant.”
Evelyn sat down. Her hands were shaking.
“I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
She was quiet for a long moment. The clock ticked.
“Your father recruited me. When we were first married. He said it was for the government. To help stop the bad guys.”
“The Stasi were the bad guys.”
“I didn't know that. Not at first. By the time I found out, it was too late. They had photographs. Documents. They would have killed me if I stopped.”
“So you kept working for them.”
“I fed them false information. Useless information. I tried to minimize the damage.”
“Did my father know?”
“He found out. Years later. That's when he started poisoning me. That's when he locked me away.”
Cole looked at his mother. The woman who had raised him. Who had sacrificed everything.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I was ashamed. Because I thought you would hate me.”
Cole stood. Walked to the window.
“I don't hate you. I'm disappointed. But I don't hate you.”
Evelyn started to cry. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
Cole walked back to the table. Sat beside her.
“We all have secrets. We all have pasts. What matters is what we do now.”
“What do we do now?”
Cole looked at the folder. At the names inside.
“We finish what we started. We bring them all down.”
- Writer
