Cold War

“What do you want from me?”

He shrugged, and with a flick of his fingers knocked the ash from his cigarette, letting it fall on the seat of the car. “A little gratitude wouldn’t be out of place. I could have sent you to a school for delinquent children instead of packing you off to your grandmother in Finland.”

Galyna knew that was true, but it didn’t make her feel grateful, just frightened. Even though she didn’t know exactly what her stepfather’s connections were, she knew that he was very dangerous. She said nothing.

“Or do you regret going to the capitalist West? Do you long to return to the Socialist Motherland?”

“No. I’m a British citizen and a member of the British armed forces. I demand to be returned to my unit.”

He laughed. “All in good time, Corporal. Smoke?” he offered her a cigarette from his box. She shook her head sharply. He laughed again, took another for himself and lit it from a lighter. He inhaled, blew the smoke towards the roof of the car, and then without looking at her, drawled, “No gratitude then. What about love for your father? Your mother tells me you appeared attached to him — God knows why.”

“My father was a good man! A man genuinely devoted to the ideals of Marxism-Leninism. He wanted to help the common man! To eliminate poverty and injustice! He was the truest and best Communist I have ever met.”

“He’s still alive, you know,” he turned to look at her as he spoke, his eyebrows lifted over half-closed eyes.

Galyna caught her breath and held it. Was he? Or was her stepfather merely trying to manipulate her?

“I admit, he’s not doing very well,” her stepfather continued in a pseudo-sympathetic tone. “The hard labour in bitter cold and penetrating damp — not to mention the inadequate and almost inedible food — have worn away at his health. I’m told he may have consumption. He coughs up a lot of blood. He won’t last much longer. Maybe another year. Maybe less.”

Galyna couldn’t breathe. He was lying to her. He was making this up to torture her.

“You could help him, Galyna Nicolaevna.”

“How can I possibly help him?” she gasped out, overwhelmed by her helplessness.

Her stepfather shrugged. “You work at Gatow for the capitalist pigs. You have access to their records. You hear what they say to one another. You see what is working and not working, and who likes whom and who sleeps with whom, and other things.”

Ice water flooded her veins. She felt as though her whole body was being frozen from the inside out.

“Start with little things. Innocuous things. Tell us what you see and hear and let us decide how important it is. You don’t have to steal from locked file cases, break codes or seduce the Station Commander — although I gather that would be quite a pleasure.” He snickered at his little joke.

God how she hated this man! Galyna gritted her teeth together.

“Come now, that’s not so difficult, is it? You meet up with your mother every now and again and have a nice little chat over tea. You gossip with her about your colleagues and superiors. Anything important — like information about facilities, personnel changes, crashes, or problems — you jot down on a piece of paper you that slip inside a napkin and leave on the table. Simple.”

“What if I say no?”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“I know. That doesn’t answer my question. What happens if I say no?”

He inhaled deeply on the cigarette and exhaled slowly and audibly. Then he turned and faced her squarely, although his eyelids remained lowered, turning his eyes into glistening slits of grey. “Then, when this ridiculous charade ends — as it must when winter comes — and we take control of West Berlin, you will have the pleasure of watching your father die because you will be with him in Siberia.”

Galyna nodded. Inwardly ice cold, she answered. “Thank you for being honest. And If I cooperate?”

“Then we will see about improving the conditions under which your father serves his sentence. And, of course, once Berlin is ours you will be given new duties in the service of the USSR.”

“It seems I have no choice,” Galyna concluded.

“No, not really. Not if you have any sense — or a fragment of affection for your father.”

Galyna nodded. “Very well then. Let’s settle the details and I’ll get to work.”