The man in the grey suit paused by the vending machine, fumbling for change. He seemed not to have the right coins, but a passing customer helped him out.
"Here, I have the one you need" said the man in German.
"It's good that you have the one I need, thank you." replied the grey man in German.
A coin passed between them and the grey man got a drink out of the machine and walked away. Nobody noticed his palming of the coin given by the other man. He walked away and lost himself in the crowd in the East berlin train station. The grey man walked a bit and tossed the drink he really did not want in a trash bin. Making his way to a mens room, he closed himself in a stall and examined the coin the man had given him. The contact had been made and it was time to shift it to another place.
Sitting on the toilet he examined the coin carefully, and finding the hairline seam he took out the small pocket knife. The little brown handle Case peanut had been with him since 1937, and now 15 years later it was still a daily carried item. It was small enough that nobody gave it a second glance. He took out the small pen blade and carefully worked the two halves of the hollowed out coin apart. Inside he found the small square of microfilm, and he unscrewed his pen and slide it up inside the pen body. It was thin enough that he could screw his pen back together with no problem. He clipped the pen back in his pocket and put the little knife back in his pocket and dropped the trick coin in the toilet. Then he stepped out of the stall just as a tall blond man in a black overcoat came into the bathroom. The man stood in front of the door, blocking the man in the grey suit. He took out a black leather I.D. holder and showed it to the grey suited man.
"State security. You will give me your passport and come with me now!" he said in a commanding voice.
"W,wwhats the problem?" the grey suited man asked, feigning fear. "I h-h-havent done anything wrong. I'm just a buisness...
The tall state security man never had time to react to the kick in the groin that doubled him over, retching and breathless. He had underestimated the small man in front of him. He was helpless to stop the small grey suited man from slamming his head against the sink, knocking him unconcious.
Knowing he had only a handfull of heartbeats before someone came in, the small man grabbed the unconcious security man under the arms and dragged him into a stall, sitting him on the toilet and closing the door behind them. Just as the stall door closed someone came into the bathroom. After a while a urinal flushed and there was the sound of running water, then the person left. The security man moaned, and his eyes flickered open. The grey man thought of his wife and kids back in the states and did what he had to. Just as the state security man was comming to, the grey man grabbed him by the face and an ear and slammed his head back against the rough concrete wall. The security man went very still.
The grey suited man made sure his clothes were strait, and left the bathroom, wedging the door of the stall shut with a small wad of toilet paper. He left the train station and made his way to the checkpoint to the west. At any time someone was going to discover the dead security man, and he had to get back over the border. He stood in line at the checkpoint with a pounding heart, and he calmly handed his papers to the guard. Then it was his turn.
They examined his papers, and the forged Irish passport. He answered the questions about the non existant electonics company in Belfast, and they had him empty his pockets on the table to see if he was carrying anything out of the ordinary. The change, wallet, pen and pocket knife were glanced at, and then they stamped his passport and yelled for the next in line. He walked away to the west as he heard the undulating sirens comming closer.
Weeks later he went fishing with his son. They had just in recent years made some sort of bonding. He had been absent for both of his childrens births, and they did not know him when he came home several years later after the war was over. His duties in the intellegence agency he worked for kept him in Europe for a couple of years after the war had ended. The son had been extremly resentfull of the strange man who had taken him away from all he knew on the eastern shore of Maryland, and it had taken a long time to begin to have a relationship with him, given the added problem of his being gone for periods of time on his job.
This sunny afternoon they sat on the banks of the Potomac river above Washinton, and were working on getting to know one another. they were fishing for catfish and the man was trimming a piece of chicken liver for his hook. He cut a piece of the liver with his brown bone handled Case.
"Dad, why do you carry a little knife like that?" his son asked him. "Grandad likes a three bladed stockman for a pocket knife, and so does Uncle Mike."
"Well, grandad and Uncle Mike are hard working watermen. They need something like they carry. I'm just a government office clerk. This little peanut does what I need. Mostly I just use it to open new boxes of file folders."
the man told his son.
The boy nodded thoughtfully.
"Why do you always have to go away on all those trips? The other kids dads in the scout troop are on alot of our campouts.
"Well," the man said, "sometimes they get the files really screwed up over there, and they need somebody from home to straiten things out for them."
"Hey, how about some of those sandwiches mom made us?" asked the man, changing the subject.
The boy said yes, and the man got out a couple of the sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper. They ate in a companiable silence watching the bobbers on the lines. As the man watched his son, he knew it was time to take the office job they had been pushing him for. Section chief. He did'nt like the sound of it, as it sounded like something that would keep him cooped up in an office. But as he wiped off the little bone handle pocket knife and looked at his son, he knew he wanted to settle down and watch his children grow up. He'd been gone too long, maybe he could make up for a little of it.
"Dad, can I see your knife?" the son asked.
He watched as the boy looked over the knife carefully, opening the blade and gently feeling the edge. The boy handed the knife back to his father.
"Its kind of small, but it's a real nice knife." the boy said.
The man had the thought that he'd start taking very good care of the peanut, so that maybe some day his son would have it.
"Here, I have the one you need" said the man in German.
"It's good that you have the one I need, thank you." replied the grey man in German.
A coin passed between them and the grey man got a drink out of the machine and walked away. Nobody noticed his palming of the coin given by the other man. He walked away and lost himself in the crowd in the East berlin train station. The grey man walked a bit and tossed the drink he really did not want in a trash bin. Making his way to a mens room, he closed himself in a stall and examined the coin the man had given him. The contact had been made and it was time to shift it to another place.
Sitting on the toilet he examined the coin carefully, and finding the hairline seam he took out the small pocket knife. The little brown handle Case peanut had been with him since 1937, and now 15 years later it was still a daily carried item. It was small enough that nobody gave it a second glance. He took out the small pen blade and carefully worked the two halves of the hollowed out coin apart. Inside he found the small square of microfilm, and he unscrewed his pen and slide it up inside the pen body. It was thin enough that he could screw his pen back together with no problem. He clipped the pen back in his pocket and put the little knife back in his pocket and dropped the trick coin in the toilet. Then he stepped out of the stall just as a tall blond man in a black overcoat came into the bathroom. The man stood in front of the door, blocking the man in the grey suit. He took out a black leather I.D. holder and showed it to the grey suited man.
"State security. You will give me your passport and come with me now!" he said in a commanding voice.
"W,wwhats the problem?" the grey suited man asked, feigning fear. "I h-h-havent done anything wrong. I'm just a buisness...
The tall state security man never had time to react to the kick in the groin that doubled him over, retching and breathless. He had underestimated the small man in front of him. He was helpless to stop the small grey suited man from slamming his head against the sink, knocking him unconcious.
Knowing he had only a handfull of heartbeats before someone came in, the small man grabbed the unconcious security man under the arms and dragged him into a stall, sitting him on the toilet and closing the door behind them. Just as the stall door closed someone came into the bathroom. After a while a urinal flushed and there was the sound of running water, then the person left. The security man moaned, and his eyes flickered open. The grey man thought of his wife and kids back in the states and did what he had to. Just as the state security man was comming to, the grey man grabbed him by the face and an ear and slammed his head back against the rough concrete wall. The security man went very still.
The grey suited man made sure his clothes were strait, and left the bathroom, wedging the door of the stall shut with a small wad of toilet paper. He left the train station and made his way to the checkpoint to the west. At any time someone was going to discover the dead security man, and he had to get back over the border. He stood in line at the checkpoint with a pounding heart, and he calmly handed his papers to the guard. Then it was his turn.
They examined his papers, and the forged Irish passport. He answered the questions about the non existant electonics company in Belfast, and they had him empty his pockets on the table to see if he was carrying anything out of the ordinary. The change, wallet, pen and pocket knife were glanced at, and then they stamped his passport and yelled for the next in line. He walked away to the west as he heard the undulating sirens comming closer.
Weeks later he went fishing with his son. They had just in recent years made some sort of bonding. He had been absent for both of his childrens births, and they did not know him when he came home several years later after the war was over. His duties in the intellegence agency he worked for kept him in Europe for a couple of years after the war had ended. The son had been extremly resentfull of the strange man who had taken him away from all he knew on the eastern shore of Maryland, and it had taken a long time to begin to have a relationship with him, given the added problem of his being gone for periods of time on his job.
This sunny afternoon they sat on the banks of the Potomac river above Washinton, and were working on getting to know one another. they were fishing for catfish and the man was trimming a piece of chicken liver for his hook. He cut a piece of the liver with his brown bone handled Case.
"Dad, why do you carry a little knife like that?" his son asked him. "Grandad likes a three bladed stockman for a pocket knife, and so does Uncle Mike."
"Well, grandad and Uncle Mike are hard working watermen. They need something like they carry. I'm just a government office clerk. This little peanut does what I need. Mostly I just use it to open new boxes of file folders."
the man told his son.
The boy nodded thoughtfully.
"Why do you always have to go away on all those trips? The other kids dads in the scout troop are on alot of our campouts.
"Well," the man said, "sometimes they get the files really screwed up over there, and they need somebody from home to straiten things out for them."
"Hey, how about some of those sandwiches mom made us?" asked the man, changing the subject.
The boy said yes, and the man got out a couple of the sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper. They ate in a companiable silence watching the bobbers on the lines. As the man watched his son, he knew it was time to take the office job they had been pushing him for. Section chief. He did'nt like the sound of it, as it sounded like something that would keep him cooped up in an office. But as he wiped off the little bone handle pocket knife and looked at his son, he knew he wanted to settle down and watch his children grow up. He'd been gone too long, maybe he could make up for a little of it.
"Dad, can I see your knife?" the son asked.
He watched as the boy looked over the knife carefully, opening the blade and gently feeling the edge. The boy handed the knife back to his father.
"Its kind of small, but it's a real nice knife." the boy said.
The man had the thought that he'd start taking very good care of the peanut, so that maybe some day his son would have it.
