the special list he kept in his top desk drawer. A very loud voice
inside his head was telling him it would be better to drop this matter
altogether-better for his marriage, much better for his career. But the
adrenaline pulsing through his body kept the phone in his hand.
'What?' growled a tired voice at last.
'Colonel Rose?' he said, concentrating on his English pronunciation.
'Yeah, Rose here. Who's this? Clary? Jesus, it'S tWO A.M.'
'Colonel, my name is Julius Schneider. You don't know me. I'm a
detective with the West Berlin Kriminalpolizei.'
'What?'
'Are you awake, Colonel? I have something very important to tell you.'
'Yeah, yeah, I'm awake. Go ahead.'
'This is a very sensitive matter. Perhaps we could meet somewhere.'
Rose was definitely awake now. His voice took on a hard edge of
suspicion. 'Who did you say this is?'
'Detective Julius Schneider, Colonel. Eighteen months ago you gave a
lecture on NATO intelligence-sharingNovember, U.S. Army headquarters in
Dahlem. I attended along with nine other Kripo detectives.'
'Uh-huh,' Rose grunted. 'Okay, let's say I'm mildly interested.
What's your problem?'
'As I said, Colonel, I don't feel comfortable going into it on the
telephone.'
'Outline the situation.'
'I'd prefer to meet you somewhere.'
'It's gonna take more than that to get me out into the cold alone, son.
Give me something.'
Schneider glanced through his office window at the sluggish activity of
the night duty officers. 'I think you've got a man over the Wall,' he
whispered quickly.
'A what?' Rose sounded incredulous. 'What do you mean? A defector?'
Schneider spoke still lower. 'No, Colonel, I think one of your officers
has been taken over the Wall against his will-'
'Don't say another word! ' Rose snapped. 'Where are you?'
'The Tiergarten Kripo station.'
Colonel Rose pulled a map of Berlin from his bedside table.
'Okay, Mr. Detective,' he said slowly, 'you know the Penta Hotel?
Should be two blocks from where you are now.'
'I know it.'
'Be standing in the front service doorway in fifteen minutes.
I'll cruise by with my door open-you jump in. Got it?'
'Ja.
'You in uniform?'
'Nein. Kripo don't wear uniforms.'
'When you move toward the car have both hands extended. Empty.
Wait a second ... what was your name? Full name?'
'Julius K. Schneider, Kripo Detective First Grade.'
'Right. Fifteen minutes.'
Schneider heard Rose disconnect. Looking at his watch, he decided to
wait fourteen minutes in his office, then sprint the two blocks to the
Penta. At two-twelve he donned his hat and overcoat, said good night to
the duty sergeant and strolled casually out of the station.
The wind hit his face like a shrew's slap. Schneider turned into the
blast and began running with surprising speed for a man of his bulk.
He glanced at his watch as he crossed to the next block.
Twothirteen.
Come on, Colonel ... A car moved up from his rear, slowed, passed.
Halfway up the second block, he ducked into the front service doorway of
the imposing Penta Hotel. His gasps filled the lighted alcove with
steam.
Two-fourteen, and still no colonel. Schneider pulled off his left boot
and smashed the fluorescent bulb over his head.
No sense in advertising, he thought, tugging the boot back on. As he
straightened up, a battered U.S. Army Ford came roaring up the
Nijrnberger Strasse. The passenger door swung open thirty meters from
the Penta's service door, but the car showed no signs of slowing.
Schneider judged the Ford's speed at sixty kilometers per hour.
Like a fullback he charged from the safety of his niche and sprinted
alongside the car with both hands extended. He could see the
bull-necked American colonel in the driver's seat, scrutinizing him over
the barrel of what looked like a .45 caliber pistol. Tiring quickly,
Schneider flailed his arms for Rose to stop. The Ford slowed to thirty
kilometers per hour. Schneider could hear Rose yelling for him to jump
in.
Almost out of wind, he managed to catch hold of the doorframe and dive
headlong across the front seat. When he tried to rise, he felt the cold
metal of a gun barrel pressed to his temple.
'That's a Colt .45 on your noggin, son,' Rose growled.
'Don't move until I say so. Understand?'
'Ja, ' Schneider grunted.
With a skillful swing of the steering wheel Rose simultaneously slammed
the passenger door and swung onto the six-lane Hohenzollemdamm, heading
west. 'Full name?' he barked.
'Julius K. Schneider.'
'Rank?'
'Detective, First Grade.'
'Length of service?'
'Seven-no, eight years.'
'Name of spouse?'
'What the hell does it matter? I'm the one-' Rose jammed the pistol
barrel into Schneider's ear.
'Name of spouse!'
'Aarrghh! Liese, damn you!'
Rose withdrew the gun. 'Okay, get up.'
Rattled and angry, Schneider thrust himself against the passenger door
and rubbed his cheek where the gun had scraped it. 'What the hell was
that for?'' he asked in German.
'You ought to have expected it,' Rose replied,in English.
'You call in the middle of the night to tell me one of my men has been
kidnapped, and you expect a cocktail party?'
