Midnight Hunter

The firelight is flickering in Reinhardt’s eyes. “Does he know who you really are, or are you useful to him merely because you are close to me?” He studies my face, his eyes fixing on the faint scar on my lip that hasn’t quite healed. “Does he think that I hit you? Did you let him think that? Yes, you’re clever enough not to correct such a misapprehension if it worked in your favor.” He takes a deep, calming breath. “That is good, Evony. Good. You are just an opportunity to him. All is perhaps not lost.”

I watch him thinking out loud, not understanding anything he’s saying.

“So, he approached you at HQ after the car accident, and when I took you to bed you agreed.”

How does he know all this? It’s as if he’s reading my mind.

He crouches down in front of me again, his hands on my knees, his eyes probing my face. “Tell me, is your contact a man or a woman? Another secretary perhaps, who promised you passage to the West in exchange for spying on me? Are you worried for your little friend? Don’t be, Liebling. They’re well protected.”

Relief surges through me—he doesn’t know about Peter. But then who was the “he” he was referring to, and how can Reinhardt not have the power to root out a traitor at Stasi HQ?

He’s silent for a moment, watching me closely. “Did you tell them that I got Frau Schäfer out of East Berlin? No, you didn’t, otherwise I would already have been arrested. You know the truth but you have kept it to yourself.” A smile warms his face and he reaches out to touch my cheek, but I pull away.

“I didn’t do it for you.” But that’s a lie. I didn’t want the price of my freedom to be his imprisonment, even after everything he’s done to me.

His hand drops back to his side. “I see you’re confused, Liebling. Let me explain to you what has happened. I have an enemy at HQ and he has been using you to get to me. No, don’t shake your head. It might be disappointing, but it’s true. This friend of yours has been lying to you.”

He lets that sink in a moment, and then continues. “There’s something I need to know.”

“I won’t tell you anything.”

“Your loyalty is admirable, if misplaced. But put it aside for a moment as I need you to tell me this. Does this person know who you are? Did you give them your real name, or could they have discovered your true identity?”

I search his face for cold cunning but see only concern. For me? Or for himself? “Why does that matter?”

He brushes the backs of his fingers over my cheek, his voice gentle. “Please trust me. Who do they think you are? Did you tell them you were caught in the bakery raid? Did you give them your real name?”

Tears fill my eyes, because when he talks like this I want so dearly to confide in him. I want Reinhardt, even as I hate and fear Oberstleutnant Volker. Voice cracking, I say, “I can’t tell you anything. You’re my enemy and you always will be, no matter how I feel about you.” I feel as bereft as when Ulrich turned on me, only worse this time because this was my last chance to escape and it’s my own fault I let it slip through my fingers.

“Evony, I am not asking as a Stasi officer. I am asking as Reinhardt. I need to know what steps to take to protect you from him. Does your contact know who you really are?”

Protect me? From what? I don’t understand any of what he’s saying.

Reinhardt sees my confusion. “I will explain in a moment. Just answer me, please.”

I turn the question over in my mind. Does Peter know who I am? I thought I was clever giving him Dad’s name but calling him “my friend”. A resistance group would be unlikely to connect Heinrich Daumler, lowly mechanic, with Evony Dittmar, Volker’s cosseted Stasi secretary.

I moisten my lips, giving myself time to think. “What will you do if my friend does know who I am?”

His eyes darken with anger. I know that look. It’s the expression I saw in his eyes as he tore Ulrich off me. I shake his arm, making him focus on me. “Reinhardt, I don’t understand. Who is this enemy of yours and why does he hate you so much?”

Reinhardt gets up and goes to sit on the sofa opposite me. “I should have told you about him so you would be on your guard. The night you all tried to escape through the bakery tunnel I should have been there to stop you, but another Stasi officer ran the raid himself, and botched it. His name is Hauptmann Heydrich.”

Heydrich. I remember his cold, assessing eyes as he sat on the edge of my desk in HQ. His false smile. His sharp interest that made me so uncomfortable. I thought it was the instincts of a Stasi officer that made him examine me so closely, but if Reinhardt is telling the truth he was assessing me for my usefulness.

And—oh god. Peter is working for him? Is that what Reinhardt is saying? Peter approached me not long after Heydrich. Why did that never strike me as suspicious? A resistance member working within Stasi HQ that just found me and told me he could get me out? It was too good to be true because it was.

Reinhardt is looking at me with sympathy. “Liebling, I’m sorry.”

I realize I’m crying again and wipe the tears away. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because it is painful to be betrayed.”

“As I have betrayed you?”

He merely smiles, a small, regretful smile. I wonder if h

e’s deciding what to do with me. I don’t believe him when he says he’s going to protect me. I know how he feels about traitors.