“You’re getting awfully generous, Maas. The last time I talked to you, it was all cash and carry.”
“Things have changed since then, good friend. I have learned that my popularity here in the East Sector—which is really my home, by the way—has diminished. In fact, you may say that I, too, am the subject of a search, though not as intensive as the one that is being conducted for you.”
“How much are they offering for us?” Padillo asked. “Not the public offer—the private one.”
“It is a considerable sum, Herr Padillo. One hundred thousand East German Marks. That’s about twenty-five thousand DM or seven thousand, five hundred of your dollars. You see I am not being overly greedy.”
I took a sip of my vodka and then demanded: “How do we know you won’t cross us, Maas? How do we know that we won’t waltz straight into the arms of Captain Boehmler and sixteen of his finest?”
Maas nodded rapidly in apparent agreement and approval. “I not only do not blame you for your caution, Herr McCorkle, but I admire it. There are two ways that I will demonstrate my good faith. First of all, I must get out of East Berlin, and it is not easy right now—especially right now. So I plan to go with you. Thus, I gain free egress from the East and, at the same time, I will be able to keep a close eye on my investment.
“Now my second method of showing good faith must be unpleasant news for you, but I am sure that you will bear it with your usual fortitude.”
“Go ahead,” I said.
“It is with deep regret,” Maas said in his formal, almost pontifical manner, “that I must inform you that your friend Mr. Cook Baker is not to be trusted.”
Padillo played it straight. He even let his mouth drop open slightly and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I don’t understand,” he said,
Maas shook his head sadly. “I must confess that it is partly of my doing. If you recall, Herr McCorkle, you were good enough to allow me to sleep on your couch until my appointment the following day in Bonn. My appointment was with Herr Baker. It’s true. I must tell it all. After I failed to make a proper connection with Herr Padillo here, I acted like the businessman I am. I sold my information to Herr Baker.”
“How much?” Padillo asked.
“Three thousand dollars, Herr Padillo.”
“I was in a good mood that day. I might have paid five for it.”
“It was cheap, but the market was limited. Herr Baker was the only other customer.”
“Why would he buy?” clever McCorkle asked.
“He was told to. You see, gentlemen, Herr Baker is an agent for your opposition.” He let that sink in. “Of course, he has not been active until recently. Apparently he committed some indiscretion of a particularly unsavory nature some few years back. Pictures were taken. The pictures fell into certain hands. Herr Baker has his firm in New York, his financial interests to consider. So when friends obtained his current job for him in Bonn the KGB approached him quietly. He is acting not out of conviction but out of fear. Blackmail, its attendant embarrassment and disgrace—a man of Herr Baker’s temperament could not stand it.”
Maas sighed. “I may as well tell the entire story. It was Herr Baker’s idea for me to approach Herr McCorkle and to devise a story that would necessitate my friend to summon Herr Baker to Berlin. Fortunately, I thought of the tunnel, and since I am a businessman I made a legitimate proposition. The five-thousand-dollar price was worked out by me with Herr Baker. He thought the tunnel was a myth. I saw no reason to enlighten him. But now he poses a problem.”
“We’ll worry about that,” Padillo said. “Just when is your tunnel available?”
Maas looked at his watch. “It is twelve forty-five now. I can make arrangements for five o'clock this morning. Is that satisfactory?”
Padillo looked at me. I shrugged. “As soon as possible.”
“I have to make certain arrangements with the captain.”
“You mean pay him,” Padillo said.
“To be sure. Then I must arrange for a car. It would be better if I picked you up. It is too far to walk, especially at that hour of the morning. You must give me your address.”
Padillo took out a piece of paper and wrote the address of Langeman’s garage and handed it to Maas. “The back door, in the alley.”
Maas tucked it away. “I will be there at four forty-five this morning. In the meantime, Herr Padillo, although I realize you are a man of considerable experience in these affairs, I must urge you to make some arrangements about Herr Baker. He is a danger to us all, and he is also very accurate with a pistol.”
Padillo stood up. “He’s not any more, Herr Maas.”
“He’s dead. I shot him this afternoon.”
CHAPTER 16
Our luck ran out on the way back to Langeman’s garage. They stepped out of a dark doorway, the pair of them, and shined a flashlight into Padillo’s face. One of them said, “May we see your papers, please?” His voice sounded young and it almost cracked on the last word. Padillo said, “Of course,” and flicked his cigarette into the face of the one with the flashlight. When the Vopo’s hands went up to his face, Padillo hit him hard in the stomach. That left me with the other one. He was as tall as I and seemed broader, but I couldn’t be sure in the dark, so I kicked him in the crotch, and when he yelled and doubled over to grab himself I lifted my right knee into his face. Something seemed to break and his teeth bit into my leg. He fell to the pavement and groaned and twitched, so I kicked him twice in the head. He stopped twitching. The Vopo who had asked for the papers lay sprawled on the pavement. His flashlight still burned. Padillo leaned over, picked it up, switched it off, and stuck it in
