Spy of Red and Blue

XVI

There wasn't much to do after the Sun went down except for bars and nightclubs, so they went back to their hotel, an old grand Baroque building with overhanging ledges and long, ornate doorways. In the ghostly neon glare of grocery stores and laundromats, it looked vaguely ominous. Sofia took his hand and held it tightly as they went up the elevator, surrounded by the smell and perfumes of belles going downstairs to dance in the ballroom. But their room was quiet, with almost nothing disturbing their conversation. Hans found it difficult yet also easy to talk about himself, as though he was trying to remember a past life after he had died. He supposed that in a way, he was lying to her and merely retelling the fabricated story he had memorized all those years ago. How he was from a poor family, grew up in Dresden, joined the resistance when the Nazis began clamping down on communists, etc.

Not that different from her's, actually.

She seemed invested, almost mesmerized by his stories.

After the war, he joined the SED and recruited into the K5 as part of the first wave of operatives, partially due to his extensive experience fighting Nazis in the war. Of course, he couldn't bear to purely tell her lies; most of the exploits he went into detail, like blowing up bridges or late nights spend intercepting radio transmissions or meeting contacts in seedy bars, were his own besides a few minor names changes and setting swaps. He paused before each story, pausing to think how much of the truth he can tell her without letting on his real identity. She gazed at him patiently and intently, carefully drinking in all of the information he was giving him.

"Wow," she said when he had finished. They were both too excited to sleep, having already stayed up for half the night. "I didn't know you had gone through so much."

They had little opportunity to talk about these things in the intervening years. He shrugged humbly.

"As you said, everyone ends up in the same place anyways."

She laughed, a quiet giggle that he had never heard before. "If we were normal people, we would have told each other this a long time ago."

"Too late is better than never."

He settled himself in the luxurious green felt armchair. The moon shone in the sky and watched demon them. Yet tonight, unlike the many nights before, he was no longer alone.

"Now, he looked at her perched on the bed, delicate like a bird.

"Why did you betray them then? Why did you stop believing?"

She paused for a long while, almost as though she was at loss for how to respond properly. Finally, she said, "I guess it was a sort of tendency to rebel against whatever your parents thought. I mean, it wasn't that they put me through a bad childhood. I am still grateful for them. It's just that when you reach a certain age, you no longer feel satisfied simply telling you what other people tell you to believe. It is rebellion, I suppose, although it is not quite as exciting as that."

She tilted her head again, as though she was letting out memories from her ears.

"It was just youth, I think. Like the fact that the real world never seemed quite as glamorous as the posters made it out to be. All simple observations, you understand, but as someone who came from a political household, it was a difficult adjustment. Disillusionment, perhaps."

She shook her head. "God, it sounds so stupid now, doesn't it? I'm not sure what caused it. I can't put my finger on it, just that I felt lost."

"But you were still a good student."

"Oh, I kept up appearances. Got good marks, went to the meetings, led a project to raise awareness about British atrocities during the war. Went to university in Munich. Somehow was spotted and approached to take a job in the state security apparatus. Made a good impression on the interviewer. Passed the test, was inducted into the force. I am still not sure how the Americans noticed me. Perhaps I noticed them first. I was approached by an officer at a reception one night, although he did not make it obvious. It was only after the event that I noticed that something had found its way into my pocket. An offer of sorts. Oh, the details aren't so important. People always find a way, don't they?"