Midnight Hunter

“I do love you now. That is why you have to go without me. I can face whatever happens to me here as long as I know you are safe over there. If I am taken prisoner and die not knowing for certain that you are safe I will die tormented. Do you understand why?”

He’s imagining being trapped in prison and not knowing my fate. Being taunted with it by those holding him. “Of course I understand, but that doesn’t make it any easier for me to leave you behind. Am I supposed to just live the rest of my life without you?”

He holds me closer and presses his forehead against mine. “You are young. You will recover. Remember that you are stronger than I am, my Valkyrie. It took me a long time to learn to think for myself but you have never lacked a will of your own. You’ll make your own way in the world. I am a selfish man and I want to think of you out there, free, not in prison. Let me have this one comfort, at the end.”

At the end. He can’t die. He can’t. I thought I would be able to leave him when the time came but I see now that I was fooling myself. “And if I won’t? What if I refuse to go?”

I see the muscle in his cheek flex as his jaw tightens. I know that expression. It means I’ll do whatever it takes. I thump my fist against his chest and curse, tears running down my cheeks. I cry onto his uniform jacket, the one I’ve always hated. I’ve fallen in love with him and I can’t help but wonder what we might have been without the regimes, without the Wall, without firing squads and watchtowers. We might have been nothing, because the Fates may not ever have put us in each other’s path as they did on that freezing January night. But in another place, another time, we might have had everything.

“I don’t want to be anywhere if it means being without you,” I whisper thickly through my tears. “I don’t understand why you would choose the certainty of death in this country over the possibility of a life with me over there.”

He strokes my face, his expression pained. “The West is a foreign land to me, in every sense.”

“It’s still Germany. You always said you loved Germany, divided or united. That means loving West Germany, too.”

He doesn’t say anything, and I think hard, trying to come up with a way to convince him. For weeks all I wanted was to get away from him, and then for weeks I just wanted to find my father and make it to West Berlin. Now he’s offering me everything and my heart is breaking.

“Please, Reinhardt. Please, can’t we just try?”

He sighs, but he doesn’t say anything. Sensing that I’m beginning to wear him down, I say, “There must be some way of ensuring you’ll be safe. Even if we have to lie. Can’t we change your identity? Can’t we hide somewhere until we get Frau Schäfer to vouch for you?”

“You’ll never give up, will you?”

I’m a fighter. He knows that. “Never. I won’t give up until I’ve convinced you to c

ome with me.”

Sounding resigned, he says, “All right, Liebling.”

I look up at him, hope flaring in my chest. He looks unenthusiastic about it but I don’t care. Reluctant is better than dead. “Really? You’ll come with me?”

He wipes the tears from my cheeks as if he can’t bear to see them. “Do you really want me to?”

I throw my arms around his neck, happiness singing through me. “Yes, yes of course I do.” He’s wrong about the authorities in the West. They’ll welcome him and all the intelligence he can bring them about East Germany and he’ll tell them even if he finds it distasteful because it will mean we can be together. “We’ll convince them you’re not a spy. We’ll do whatever it takes.”

He looks down at me for a long time, his fingers stroking through my hair. Then he kisses me softly. “Go and get ready. Put on warm clothes. Pack a small bag of things you need to take with you and I’ll go and change out of this uniform. We’ll have to hide somewhere until it gets dark.”

I run to my room and open my handbag, eager now that we have a plan to stay together. I look around and there’s not really anything that I need to take with me. It would be foolish to take a lot of luggage in case we’re stopped so I’ll have to leave my clothes behind. I change into a sturdy pair of boots and put a warm sweater on over my blouse, and as I’m sorting through the contents of my handbag the door opens and Reinhardt comes in behind me. My eyes meet his in the vanity mirror and I see he’s still wearing his Stasi uniform. There’s something funny about the expression on his face.

“Reinhardt, I thought you said you were going to—”

He reaches around and clamps a pad of cotton wool over my mouth and nose. When I rear back against him he presses more tightly and I struggle to push him away but his arms are holding me like a vice. I stare into the mirror at him, not understanding what is happening. Something sharp and astringent fills my nose and I feel light-headed.

Oh no. No no no. He’s tricked me. He never had any intention of going to the West with me, he just wanted me out of the room long enough to get chloroform and cotton wool. I hold my breath, squirming in his arms. I have to stay conscious. If I pass out I’ll never see him again. I make angry noises in my throat, like a bee buzzing against glass. My lungs start to burn and I can’t help it—I breathe in, and the sharp, cold anesthetic floods my lungs and a wave of dizziness rolls through me. Through blurred eyes I watch Reinhardt’s face in the mirror. He angles his face away from mine so he isn’t overcome himself by the fumes. But I can still see his eyes. They’re bleak with pain, as if he hates having to do this but is determined to see it through, my ruthless man who told me again and again that he’ll do whatever it takes to achieve his goals. Why didn’t I listen to him? As we stood in the living room just now and he stroked my hair he wasn’t showing me that he loved me. He was saying goodbye.

My body grows heavy in his arms. I still struggle, but my movements are becoming weaker and weaker. As unconsciousness begins to overtake me he sinks down onto the bed with me cradled in his arms. His voice seems to come from a long way off. “I had to lie. You nearly convinced, me but it wouldn’t have been right. I have to know that you’re safe and if I go with you, you won’t be.”

I feel his lips on my forehead, his soft kiss, the murmur of his last words. “Es tut mir lied, meine Liebe.”

I’m sorry, my love.

This is our farewell, me struggling to remain conscious as the chloroform overcomes me while he holds me in his arms. I’m drifting on vaporous waves, bobbing in currents that I can’t control. The drug works its way into my brain, whispering that everything will be all right, that I should just give in, stop resisting.

But as I slip into darkness I know that’s a lie, too. Nothing will be all right ever again.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Evony