Jonas felt the dull aching in his spine as he craned his neck upward.

 

Amid the clacking and clanging of tools around him, the clock read almost like a foreign language — a set of ancient symbols whose meaning dissipated with the erosion of civilizations long since gone. He’d heard the stories from other factories, how workers steadily vanished in the hours after lunch, abandoning their stations to play cards at the tavern or aimlessly wander the dull, gray streets. Across the country, time had become little more than a suggestion for a working class worn down by their bosses’ unkept promises and for bosses irritated with the Party’s impossible demands. Jonas, though, didn’t have the luxury of indifference. Two years earlier, unsatisfied with the factory’s performance, the Party had appointed a new manager. Somewhere down the line, Jonas had heard that the man’s name was Hans, but in an official capacity, he only knew of him as Herr Flick. God knows what he’d do if Jonas ever called him Hans.

 

Jonas squinted, pushing his spectacles further up his nose. “Four…twenty…seven?”

 

“You’re not rid of me yet.” Flick appeared over Jonas’ shoulder, as if summoned by the very thought of his stony jaw and gargantuan frame. He flashed an unnatural, almost menacing grin. “Work is our business…”

 

“Its success is the people’s.” Jonas finished the proverb as if he’d heard it a thousand times before. Since assuming control of the factory, Flick had taken on an almost dictatorial role among his workers, demanding full days, constant labor and, above all, results. Most of the workers only hated him for it, exhausted by the grueling eight-and-a-half hour shifts and annoying, meaningless slogans plastered all over the walls. Jonas was no exception, but in a way, he understood Flick’s position. He’d seen the cars that companies built in the West, with their sleek designs, peppy engines and razor-sharp handling. In its current state, Wartburg could never hope to keep up with the innovation coming from the likes of Volkswagen and Mercedes-Benz.

 

Flick had become somewhat of a celebrity within the Party during the 1970s, when he was credited for tripling the output at a Dresden steel plant, turning a factory that had previously been the laughingstock of the region into a globally competitive force. The Party felt that, if anyone could turn things around at Wartburg, it was Flick, and so he was under a tremendous amount of pressure to do so. To make matters worse, Flick was on a tight timeline, as Volkswagen had offered to engage in a joint venture to help straighten out Wartburg’s archaic production processes. A decade earlier, the Party would have viewed such a practice as an affront to socialist values, an insulting attack by the West on the dedication of the working class. Now, though, with the gap between the two blocs growing wider by the day, some in the bureaucracy started to wonder if it was time to consider industrial reforms.

​

Flick glanced down the line, admiring the output of Jonas and his team. “Your work over the last few weeks has been exemplary,” he said, dryly. “Keep this up, and soon we will have more fenders than we have cars to put them on.”

 

“Thank you, Herr Flick,” Jonas responded. “We have a great group of men here. I think they’ve really enjoyed being able to work together for so long.”

 

“Excellent. The will is the soul of the work. Surely, your commendable leadership has contributed to your men’s success.”

 

“Damn right!” A shout came down the line from Finn, the youngest worker on Jonas’ line. He approached Flick with a swagger few ever exhibited at the factory.

 

“Jonas here is the only reason I come into work every day. This man is changing this factory — and saving this company.”

 

“We can always do better,” Flick replied, turning to Jonas. “You must be very proud. Keep pushing your men.”

 

“Yes sir,” Jonas responded.

 

As Flick turned around, Finn grinned and put his finger under his nose, mimicking a Hitler mustache. Jonas chuckled and shook his head.

 

“Back to work.”

 

vvv

​

“I can’t see why we don’t just shoot the fucker.”

 

Finn picked up his half-full pint of beer and downed it in one gulp. Friday evenings at Niko’s Tavern had been a tradition among the assembly line workers since before even Jonas started at the factory. For everyone on the line, it was practically mandatory to make the trip down after Feierabend — “quitting time” — on Friday. Even the bosses made an appearance once in a while; they wanted to feel like one of the guys, and the Party encouraged it as an act of working-class camaraderie. The workers, for their part, preferred when the bosses stayed away — Fridays at Niko’s offered a rare chance to air their grievances without feeling the need to look over their shoulders.

 

Conversation on this Friday turned, as it often did, toward Flick.

 

“I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this guy,” Finn mused. He pushed a lock of his curly hair off his forehead as he lit a cigarette. “‘The will is the soul of the work.’ The fuck is that shit?”

           

“Calm down, Finn,” Jonas said calmly. “He’s just trying to do what he can. I’m sure he’s under a lot of stress — I mean, he’s in charge of the biggest factory in town, for Christ’s sake.”

           

“Fucking Nazi is what he is.” Finn offered Jonas a smoke, to which Jonas politely waved his hand.

           

Jonas chuckled as Finn took a long pull on his cigarette. The others at the factory tended to view Finn as annoying, but Jonas always found his strange antics a bit charming. He’d arrived at the factory two summers prior as a 20-year-old who looked about half that. His coworkers figured he’d abandon his childlike buoyancy after a few months of being beaten down by the job, but that day never arrived. He was a national anomaly.

           

Finishing his beer, Jonas turned to Albert, a 15-year factory veteran who typically stayed quiet during these gatherings. “Kids still doing alright, Al?” Jonas asked.

           

Albert nodded, his tired brown eyes gazing down through the table. “Yeah, they’re OK,” he said. “Oldest is 16 now — wants to be an engineer.”

           

“You don’t sound too thrilled with that.”

           

Albert shrugged. “Money sounds good, but his teacher tells me he needs to be top three in his class to get into the university.” He gestured to Finn for a cigarette, then lit it and rubbed his forehead. “Kid’s smart, but he ain’t that.”

           

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Jonas said.

           

“Yeah.”

 

Albert looked down through the table again as a group of workers to his right raced to finish their beers. Jonas got the sense that Albert never really liked the Friday evenings at the tavern. He was quite a bit older than most of the other workers and always looked a little out of place. Still, Jonas thought, the routine of it all was good for him. Most of the guys at the factory saw Albert as a loner; his wife had died when their kids were young, and he never remarried — or really interacted with anyone outside his work or family at all.

 

“Your wife still working for the Party?” Albert asked Jonas, seemingly anxious to turn the subject from his own family.

​

“If you even want to call it that,” Jonas replied. “Answering phones and stuff at headquarters. Doesn’t like it much, we gotta save if she wants a kid, y’know?”

​

Albert nodded. There was a certain seriousness to his demeanor — a hint of sadness cloaked by an appreciation for his daily routine. 

​

Jonas never quite understood how Albert and Finn got along the way they did; Albert was nearly twice Finn’s age, and the pair’s personalities couldn’t be any more different. Maybe Albert saw his younger self in Finn, from before his wife’s death aged him even beyond his years. Maybe he didn’t really like Finn that much and was just too tired to care.

​

Finn turned the conversation back to Flick, still visibly frustrated with the day at the factory. “I mean, why should I bust my ass all day so Flick makes an extra dime?” he complained. “What the fuck do I gain?”

​

“It’s not about that, Finn,” Jonas explained calmly. “You saw what he did over in Dresden. If he can’t do that over here, the Party will just dump him for someone who can.”

​

“The Party can’t dump him,” Finn snapped back. “You seen the car he’s driving? He’s got too many connections. Heard he’s pals with ol’ Ulbricht himself.”

​

“He’s the owner of an auto factory — of course he’s gonna have a nice car.”

 

“I work at an auto factory, and I’m riding a fucking bike!”

 

Jonas kept trying to calm Finn down. “Finn, you know it’s not like that. The shortage–”

 

“Fuck the shortage.” Finn leaned in as he spoke. “We make hundreds of cars a day, and none of us workers ever see a single one. That just ain’t right.”

 

“Finn, shut up,” Albert joined in. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“I’m just saying. Ain’t nobody out there looking out for us.”

 

Albert stood up suddenly, grunted, and marched out of the tavern. Jonas called after him, but he was already out the door. He turned to Finn, who shrugged, wiped his hair back, and lit another cigarette. 

​

vvv

​

Even before he picked up the paper, Jonas had his suspicions about what had happened. 

​

Goofy as he was, Finn had never been a person to miss work. He couldn’t afford to — he had no family and had come into the factory with close to nothing. Since the Friday at the tavern, though, he had missed three straight days without so much as a call. Jonas sensed that the others on the line knew, too, but nobody dared speak of it. 

​

As soon as he saw the front page, his hunch was confirmed:

​

                                                                                                                                        

                                                                                                                                        

​

NEUES DEUTSCHLAND

ZENTRALORGAN DER SOZIALISTISCHEN EINHEITSPARTEI DEUTSCHLANDS

​

FACTORY WORKER ARRESTED ON SUSPICION OF ANTI-COMMUNIST ACTIVITY

7 June 1983

​

EISENACH — Wartburg factory worker Finn Werner was arrested Monday following an investigation into his alleged anti-communist activities, according to local Stasi official Herbert Redko. 

​

Though Werner, 22, denied any involvement with anti-state agitation groups, a search of his apartment in Eisenach unearthed a collection of capitalist literature, as well as evidence of efforts to spread recorded Western propaganda. 

​

“We are grateful for the work of our investigators,” Redko told Neues Deutschland. “This arrest shows that Western forces will stop at nothing to undermine the healthy function of our society. That they would go after our most beloved working class — the very lifeblood of our economy — reveals just how desperate the West has become.”

​

Factory owner Hans Flick, who took over Wartburg’s Eisenach plant two years ago after amassing an impeccable record at Dresden Steel, assured Neues Deutschland that Werner acted alone in his anti-communist activities. 

​

“This kind of thinking is unacceptable at Wartburg,” Flick said. “Our factory remains Der Stolz Ostdeustchlands” — the pride of East Germany — “and though we are certain our workers do not subscribe to such dangerous ideologies, we will carry out a full investigation into Werner’s behavior to ensure our security in the face of Western forces.”

​

To lead the inquiry, Redko has enlisted the help of Franz Meyer, a young investigator praised for his work rooting out low-level corruption at the Party’s Leipzig headquarters last year. Meyer is expected to begin his probe into the company as early as this week.

​

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

​

Annelise appeared over Jonas’ shoulder, reading the headline as he sipped his coffee. 

​

“Did you know him well?”

​

Jonas sighed.

​

“Not really.”

​

vvv

​

​

“We are only here to help you, Jonas.”

 

Jonas shifted in his small steel chair. The windowless gray room reminded him somewhat of Flick’s office — dull and imposing, while somehow being too bright and too dark at the same time. The first man sitting across the table he recognized as Herbert Redko — he’d seen his rotund cheeks and balding head in the newspaper countless times. The second man he couldn’t quite make out. Perhaps he’d met him on the street or in the factory before; his symmetrical face and tightly combed brown hair looked like it could belong to anybody.

 

“Jonas, help us help you,” the second man said calmly.

 

“Help me what?” Jonas responded. Flick had pulled him off the line early that morning and told him to go with the two men, who drove him in a windowless sedan to…wherever he was now. As he spoke, he could hear a slight echo in the tiny room. He got the sense that the entire world had shrunken down into that room — that everything no longer existed outside of him and the two men sitting across from him.

 

“We’ll get right down to it,” Redko said. “I’m sure you’ve heard about your friend, Finn Werner. We don’t believe he acted alone. We believe someone on your line worked with him.”

 

“Worked with him on what?” Jonas asked. “The paper said you found propaganda in his house. Pamphlets and stuff, I guess. What’s that got to do with me, or anyone else at the factory?”

 

“Jonas, be reasonable,” Redko replied. “We know you talk outside of work. That is good — camaraderie is important to a healthy workplace. But we also need to know we can trust you.”

 

“Trust me how? I don’t know anything about this.”

 

“Jonas, Herr Flick has recommended you for assembly manager,” the second man said. “You would be overseeing hundreds of workers, all across the line.”

 

Jonas paused, the steel chair bringing out the aches in his back. A promotion like that could mean a better life for him and his family — they could get a bigger apartment, nicer clothes, maybe even a car. Annelise, too, would be happy to see him off the line and at a desk, and maybe he could even play football with his mates without needing a break every few minutes.

 

“What do you need from me?” Jonas asked.

 

“Very simple,” Redko said. “We need you to find out if Werner corrupted anyone else on the line with his lies. It is important that we know who to trust.”

 

“Find out how?” Jonas asked. “I can’t exactly walk along the line and ask, ‘Hey, by the way, any of you guys happen to be capitalist swine?’”

 

“Be creative,” Redko replied. “It is my understanding that you go to the tavern after Feierabend on Fridays. People may speak more freely there.”

 

The second man extended a cigarette to Jonas, who hesitated slightly before accepting it. He could feel a headache coming on from the flickering light above him.

 

Jonas closed his eyes. “Okay, I’ll help you. But I’m not sure I’ll be able to find anything.”

 

“All we ask is that you try,” Redko assured him. He gestured to the second man. “My lead investigator will answer any questions you have. You will meet with him in a week to discuss what you have found. You can trust him. He is a friend.”

 

The second man extended his hand.

 

“Franz Meyer. Pleased to meet you.”

​

vvv

​

Jonas looked down at the slip of paper in his hand. This was definitely the right place.

​

It wasn’t at all what he expected. He’d been in coffee houses before, of course, but never one like this. Somewhat alarmingly, the other men in the room wore suits and carried themselves with a certain sense of importance.

 

He felt conspicuous in his flannel and work pants, the stares hitting his back like daggers despite everyone’s effort not to look him in the eyes.

 

Jonas approached the counter and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. The man at the counter offered him a light.

 

“You the man looking for Franz?”

 

Jonas nodded, and the man pointed him to a table along the wall. Just as Jonas sat down, Franz walked in and strode to the chair across the table. He gestured to the man at the counter, who promptly brought over coffees and biscuits for them both.

 

“Are you sure this is a good place for us to talk?” Jonas’ leg shook under the table as he spoke.

 

“We are safe here,” Franz said calmly. “The people here — they are friends.”

 

“But what if they hear?”

 

“They do not hear. They have their business, and we have ours.”

 

Franz took a bite of his biscuit, and Jonas did the same. Jonas couldn’t quite make out what was so unsettling about Franz. Even beyond the circumstances of their meeting, something just felt a little off to Jonas. He’d done exactly what Franz and Redko had asked, but he still got the sense that more would come.

 

“So,” Franz started. “Your coworkers.”

 

“My coworkers.” Jonas put out his cigarette, reaching for another but then deciding against it. “As far as I can tell, they’re not involved in anything suspicious.”

 

“You spoke to them at the bar?”

 

“Yes. I asked how they felt about Finn. They all just sort of shrugged it off.”

 

“How else have they reacted to Finn’s departure?”

 

“They haven’t.” Jonas picked up his coffee, downing half of it in one go. He realized just how little he’d been sleeping lately. “Being honest with you, sir, I think they actively try to avoid talking about it.”

 

“Please, call me Franz.” Franz flashed a smile that reminded Jonas of Flick. “Your boss is sir. Herr Redko is sir. I am a friend.”

 

“Fair enough.” Jonas glanced down at his watch uneasily. Quarter past five — Annelise would be expecting him home soon. “The rest of the line had nothing to do with whatever Finn was involved in.”

 

“Very good.” Franz looked at his own watch. “How is your wife?”

 

Jonas looked back at him, puzzled. “My wife?”

​

“Friends ask about each other’s families, Jonas. We know how highly you think of her, how you love to talk about her at work.”

 

Jonas remained bewildered. “I…she’s fine, I guess. Are you trying to imply…” 

 

Franz sighed. “I asked them not to do this.”

 

As he processed what Franz was telling him, Jonas’ bewilderment turned to a slight anger. “She would never…how could you even…she works for the Party!”

 

“That’s exactly why they’re asking. I’m sure you’ve noticed, she’s been working there a long time, and they want her to do more than just answer phones.”

 

“Good, then. Have her do more.”

 

“You know it’s never that simple.” Franz took a breath, lighting a cigar between sentences. Jonas lit a cigarette of his own before Franz continued. “With the way things have been, you can never be too cautious.”

 

Jonas only grew more frustrated. “There’s absolutely nothing to worry about with her. She’s a hard worker. I get home before her — she’d be out late if something was wrong. Every day, she works until six and then comes straight home.”

 

Franz looked up at Jonas. “She gets home at six?”

 

“Every day.”

 

“Her workday ends at four, Jonas.” Franz took one more pull on his cigar and stood up. “I’ll see you again next week.”

 

vvv

 

Jonas looked up at the clock in his kitchen. This time, he had no trouble reading it. 
 

Five fifty-seven, he read to himself. She’ll be home soon. 

​

Despite hardly sleeping at all, Jonas had been more alert than ever the past few days. Something about what Franz had said in that coffee shop wasn’t quite sitting right, and he wanted more than anything to get to the bottom of it — to be done with the thoughts, the exhaustion of not knowing who to trust. 

 

Jonas’ mind turned with the sizzling sausages on the skillet in front of him. He’s trying to get inside your head, he thought to himself. He has to be lying. The more he tried to convince himself, the less he believed. 

 

At 6:05, the door swung open. “Should I be worried?” Annelise walked in with a smile. “Only time you ever cook is when you think I’ll be mad about something.”

 

Jonas relaxed. Seeing his wife smile like that always put his mind at ease. “You should always be worried if I’m cooking.”

 

 

Jonas handed Annelise a plate, and they both sat down at the small wooden table next to the stove. It wasn’t much, but Jonas always liked the layout of their little flat. There was something charming about that tiny nook that they called a kitchen; it had the feel of a hole in the wall of their living room. 

 

Just as quickly as he’d relaxed, though, Jonas began to dwell again on what Franz had told him three days earlier. Still, he did his best to hide it, trying to keep their dinnertime conversations as normal as possible. It didn’t work. 

 

“Is there something you need to tell me?” Annelise suddenly asked.

 

Jonas froze. “Like…what?”

 

“I don’t know — you just seem to be acting a little different.”

 

Jonas scrambled to come up with an answer as the worst possible scenarios poured through his head. She’s definitely going to find me out, he thought. I should tell her now and get it over with. Maybe we can come up with a solution together. But what about Franz? I don’t know a thing about him. Who knows what he’d do if he found out I told. And that creep Redko? He’s sure to find out somehow. And with what happened to Finn, and Timo before him…

​

Annelise cut off his thoughts. “C’mon, don’t act like I’m dumb. I already heard at work.” 

 

Jonas looked up. “You…heard?”

 

“Well, yeah. You know how chatty they are over in Employment. I must have been the fifth person they called when they approved your promotion!”

 

Jonas paused, processing that last sentence, then relaxed again. He was so caught up in his conversation with Franz yesterday that he’d hardly paid attention during his meeting with Flick. He’d gotten the job he’d spent four years gunning for, and he hadn’t even told anyone yet. 

 

“Promotion — right. I was going to tell you later, I just–”

 

“Wasn’t sure if you were gonna take it yet?” Annelise smiled and grabbed her husband’s hand. “I know you love being with the other guys on the line, but this would be really good for us! And not just the money, either — there’s also your back, and your knees, and–”

 

Jonas cut her off and flashed a smile. “I know. It was just a thought. I think I want to take it.”

 

“Good.” She smiled back. “Because I was thinking — one of the men at work, his wife is pregnant, and they’re moving to a bigger flat at the end of next month. He said if we wanted to, we could move into his current place.”

 

Jonas looked around the apartment. “What’s wrong with our place?”

 

“Nothing’s wrong with it.” She sighed. “It’s just — his place is a little bigger, a little nicer, and we’d be closer to my work. I’d love to be able to take a shorter train home, or even walk when it’s nice outside.”

 

Jonas paused again, then smiled. “Okay. We can think about it.”

 

Jonas finished his dinner, then took both their plates up to the sink to wash them. What are they worried about? he thought to himself. She’s the same as she’s always been.

 

Annelise grabbed a towel and started drying the dishes that her husband set aside. “Thanks for cooking dinner tonight — you might be doing that a little more over the next couple months.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Annelise sighed. “You know how things have been at my work. It’s a big year for the Party, and they asked me to stick around for a little while longer at the end of the day.”

 

That brief moment of relief quickly disappeared for Jonas. “Stick around?”

 

“You know, help them out with some more clerical stuff — a little paperwork here, maybe a phone call there.”

 

“How much later would you be gone?”

 

“Probably only an hour or so. Nothing too extreme.”

 

“Are they gonna pay you more?”

 

“I would assume so, yes.”

 

“How much?”

 

Annelise began to grow frustrated. “I don’t know. Why are you interrogating me?”

 

“Why are you acting defensive?”

 

“This would be good for both of us, Jonas!” She turned around and put her hands on her forehead. “I don’t see why this is an issue.”

 

“You just don’t understand.” 

 

Jonas stormed out of the apartment and walked down the stairs to the front of the building. He knew Franz would want him to ask more, but he couldn’t stand talking to his wife like this. He hated fighting, and he hated that Franz’s demands had made him act this way. More than anything, he hated that Franz had shaken his trust in Annelise. 

​

An hour longer, he thought to himself. I’m already up at night thinking about two hours, and now she adds another one on top?

​

He wondered what started this whole ordeal in the first place. Was it Finn’s loud mouth at the tavern, or have they had their eyes on me since Timo? Are they really worried about Annelise, or is this all just an elaborate test to see if they can break me?

​

Does it ever end?

 

Jonas glanced at the sky. Storm’s coming in. He lit a cigarette and took a long pull before walking back inside. 

​

vvv

​

“This is unexpected, to say the least.”

​

Back at the coffee house, Jonas and Franz sat in the same table along the wall as they had a week earlier. This time, Jonas brought a coat and tie to blend in a little better, but even so, he could tell that he still stood out next to the bureaucrats and managers all around him. He lit a cigarette as he felt the stares cut like daggers into his back. 

 

Jonas didn’t want to tell Franz about Annelise’s changing work schedule, but by this point, he got the feeling that Franz somehow knew anyway. Since his first meeting with Franz and Redko, Jonas noticed that people seemed to act differently around him. At work, people rarely looked him in the eye, and on the street, people kept a certain distance away — not so far that he wouldn’t notice, but far enough that he wondered if they were trying not to be noticed. You’re imagining things, he thought to himself. You haven’t been sleeping, and it’s making you paranoid. How would anyone even know what you’ve been doing?

 

Franz pushed him for more information. “So, your wife is working later now. Did she say why?”

 

“She says it’s an important time for the Party, and they need her to do extra work.”

 

“Well, she’s right about one thing — it is an important time for the Party.” Franz wiped his forehead on his sleeve. It was the first time Jonas saw him show any kind of anxiety in their meetings. 

 

“Then wouldn’t it make sense for her to be working late already?” Jonas responded. “I mean, what makes you think she’s up to anything when she could really just be doing extra work at the end of every day?”

 

“We can’t take that chance,” Franz said. “Again, I didn’t want to have to do this, but we need more from you.”

 

“You need more?” Jonas knew it was a bad idea to push back against Franz, but he was so worn down by anxiety that he hardly realized what he was doing. “First you ask me to spy on my coworkers — guys that would probably kill me if they found out! Then you ask me to interrogate my wife, and that’s still not enough for you?”

 

Franz sighed. Whatever nervousness there was before disappeared from his face. “Neither of us has a choice.” 

 

“No,” Jonas shot back. “I’ve done everything I can for you people. I do have a choice, and I’m walking away — today.”

 

“No, you don’t.” Franz pulled a manila folder out of his briefcase. On it was written Annelise’s name. “We’ve been tracking your wife for months, Jonas. We know she’s been working with Western groups to undermine the State.”

 

A look of disbelief crossed Jonas’ face. “Annelise? I…she–”

 

“It’s all in here.” Franz slid the envelope across the table. Inside, Jonas found a stack of paper — reports, photos, and interviews, all corroborating what Franz had said. 

 

Jonas sat motionless, dumbfounded by what he saw. It was one thing to have Franz telling him that Annelise was a suspect, but to have the evidence to prove it? He couldn’t believe it, but at the same time, he also couldn’t deny what he’d seen. 

 

Jonas couldn’t stop staring at one photo in particular. Clear as day, it showed Annelise walking into the American embassy in Berlin — the most damning evidence possible. 

 

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Franz said. “But we can help you — and your wife.”

 

“How…how can you help her?” Jonas stammered. He struggled to put the words together. “If she’s caught, then she’s caught, right? Don’t they usually, y’know, punish people who do things like that?” 

 

“Normally, yes,” Franz replied. “I’m going to be honest with you — it doesn’t look good for your wife right now. Most people in my department want her in prison. But the truth is, whether or not they want to admit it, we need her.”

 

Jonas looked up, confused. “Need her?”

​

“Yes. We have reason to believe that agitation groups in the city are working on a mass-defection scheme. They’ve brainwashed the minds of dozens of our best people — doctors, workers, and farmers — and have convinced them to move to the West.”

 

Jonas remained overwhelmed by it all. “What do I have to do with any of this?”

 

“We need someone on the inside,” Franz explained. “Your wife trusts you. I need you to find out when they’re moving and how they’re planning on getting over. Get word to us as soon as you know.”

 

Jonas nodded. 

 

“Then, I need you to be there on the day it happens. If they try and change up, convince them to stick to the plan. At the border, we’ll arrest everyone in charge of the plan but let you and your wife go.”

 

In that chair in the coffee house, Jonas sat still for a moment. To protect Annelise, I have to betray her? he thought. He couldn’t do it. The lying was already too much to handle, and this took that to a whole new level. 

 

But then he looked back down at the stack of paper in front of him. He realized he had no choice. 

 

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

 

vvv

​

He’d been through the conversation in his head a million times. 

 

Jonas sat in the living room, waiting for his wife to return home from…wherever she was. He didn’t know how Annelise would feel about his decision. He had decided not to wait until later in the night to talk with her — he wanted to get it over with so he could breathe a little easier the rest of the night. Will she understand? he thought. He felt guilty about all the lying, even though she’d been doing the same to him. She has to have a reason. She wouldn’t keep things from me for nothing. 

 

While Jonas tried to collect his thoughts, he heard the lock click, and his wife walked in through the front door. 

 

“Annelise.” Jonas’ voice shook as he spoke. “I–” 

 

“I have something to tell you, Jonas,” she interrupted. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna say it: I’ve been helping people prepare to defect for the past few weeks.”

 

Jonas tried to respond. “I…you…”

 

“I know it’s a lot to digest so suddenly. I just…my friend brought me some tapes from the West a while ago, and I couldn’t believe what I saw — how they lived.” Tears began to trickle out of her eyes. “There were no lines for food, the apartments were bigger, they had such nice clothes. You’ve seen how the families live here, how much they have to struggle. They don’t have that over there. I never wanted to lie to you, I just couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”

 

Jonas sat still, processing everything Annelise had just said. “What made you want to tell me now?”

 

Annelise sighed and tried to collect herself. “I didn’t want you to find out in the newspaper like you did with Finn. We’re taking 27 people over the border near Bebra tomorrow. It’s our largest group yet, and I just — I have a bad feeling about it.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “If something happened…you deserve to know the truth.”

 

Jonas sighed. “I already knew.” 

 

He told her everything — how he’d met with Redko and Franz after Finn’s arrest and informed on his coworkers, how Franz had told him about her workdays ending at 4:00, how he saw the photos of her at the embassy, and how he made a deal to secure her freedom in exchange for the others involved in the escape plan. With every detail, Jonas’ heart turned a little more, and yet a small burden lifted off his shoulders. 

 

Both of them sat in silence. For weeks, they’d been trapped in opposite sides of the same lie. Now, there seemed to be no way out of it. After what felt like hours, Jonas finally broke the silence. 

 

“Let’s leave.”

 

Annelise looked up. “Leave?”

 

Jonas nodded. “Franz and them, they have no idea that the escape is set for tomorrow. They only expect that I’ll leave them a dead drop with the day and location of the crossing sometime this week. By the time they realize it’s not coming, we’ll already be in West Germany.”

 

“But…our life here. Your job…”

 

“Fuck the job,” Jonas said with a grin. “You said yourself how nice everything is over there. We have the opportunity right now to build a better life for ourselves over there. I say we take it and leave our problems behind.”

 

Annelise froze for a moment, then let out a nervous laugh. “Fuck it, it’s not like we have anything to pack anyway. Let’s do it.”

 

After a long embrace, Annelise went into the kitchen to begin working on dinner — “Our last in this shoebox of an apartment,” she said. Jonas, meanwhile, got to work writing down an itinerary for the day to come. When he’d finished, he neatly folded the paper and dropped it out the open window to Franz waiting silently below.

 

I’m sorry, Annelise, Jonas thought to himself. We can’t win. 

 

vvv

​

For the first time in months, Jonas awoke before the sunrise to the sound of his alarm.

 

He and Annelise had a long day ahead of them. Before dawn, they met with a group of university students helping to organize the escape plan, each of whom thanked the couple for their work accompanying the escapees on the ground. One of them, an especially young-looking man named Francis, gave them the keys to a van parked inconspicuously a few blocks away. Reminds me of Finn, Jonas thought to himself. 

 

Most of the rest of their day would be spent picking up escapees from different areas across the countryside. Although two other vans were also working the escape that day, each was asked to cover a large amount of ground to avoid staying in one area too long. 

 

Jonas turned the key in the ignition and chuckled. It had been years since he last drove a car. 

 

“Maybe we’ll be able to afford one in the West,” Annelise said, sensing his thoughts.

 

“Yeah. Maybe.”

 

Jonas drove the van toward the first meeting point, a tavern on the other side of Eisenach. He carefully followed the designated route — Annelise said they had mapped it around the Stasi’s known patrols, and he didn’t want to run into any problems that might arouse suspicion. At the tavern, Annelise went down into a cellar and returned less than a minute later with an older couple, each carrying a small bag of fresh clothes. “Our son escaped three years ago,” they explained. “Today, we finally meet our granddaughter.”

 

At the next stop — a modest farmhouse about two hours north in the countryside — two young men and two young women climbed aboard. The men sported faded coats and ties, while the women wore beautiful, long, green dresses. “We want to look good for our first night in the West,” one woman said. 

 

Inside the van, the inhabitants maintained a restrained excitement — optimism for their future mixed with the ever-present fear that something could still go wrong. The younger couples spoke of their plans to visit every football stadium in the West, then settle in Munich and get married. The older couple, meanwhile, told the story of how they first met, hiding from the Soviets in the same farmhouse at the end of the War. The older man recalled how the Soviets murdered his father and torched his family farm before he and his siblings escaped. “They called him a Nazi,” he said, clutching the Star of David dangling from his neck. “You ever met a Jewish Nazi?”

 

As Jonas heard the older man’s story, he couldn’t help but think back on his own father. He recalled the way he used to shrink in shame when the War was brought up. “I didn’t know,” he would tell Jonas. “I had no choice but to enlist.” He remembered the way he felt relieved when his father died in the 70s. He had never believed him. 

 

At the next stop — another farmhouse somewhere in the countryside — Jonas got out with Annelise to help with the newest pickup. This time, it was just a pregnant woman with a small bag. She told them her husband was waiting for her in the West. While Jonas took the woman’s bag to the van, Annelise called the other organizers on the house phone. “One more bird, and the nest will be full,” she said — only one pickup left. 

 

While the escapees in the van dreamed about their new lives, Jonas tried to focus on the road. They’d understand, he told himself. Either way, the State would find out. If they knew what I know, they’d understand. 

 

Finally, they reached their last stop before the border — an old warehouse on the outskirts of a village. As they exited the van, Jonas noticed a man in a suit around the corner of the building. Suddenly, his heart raced. Was that Redko? he thought in a panic. He had thought they would meet at the border. He wasn’t ready yet. 

 

Annelise knocked rhythmically on the cellar door. No answer. She knocked again. Jonas braced for the moment when officers would storm out the door and arrest everyone in the van. In his head, he ran through how he would explain everything to Annelise. I’m still doing right by her, he thought. It might take time, but she’ll understand eventually. She will forgive me.

 

The knocks continued, but the door never opened. “Must’ve got cold feet,” Annelise remarked. Out of the corner of his eye, Jonas saw the man in the suit emerge from behind the building. Jonas closed his eyes and turned to face him. I’m ready. 

 

The man tipped his cap and walked by. It was not Redko. Jonas let out a sigh and followed Annelise past the van to a nearby phone booth. In that moment of panic, he’d had an epiphany. 

 

“Wait,” he told Annelise as she picked up the phone. “This won’t work.”

 

She flashed him a confused smile. “What do you mean? We have everyone–”

 

“They know,” he said. “The Stasi. They know about the plan. I told them everything.”

 

“How–”

 

“Last night, while you were cooking dinner, I made a dead drop. They’re waiting at the border.”

 

The shock crawled across Annelise’s face. “Why…how could you…these people!”

​

“I did it for you.” Jonas’ voice started to break. “They said they’d let you go if I helped them stop the escape. Please, you have to understand. They were everywhere — I didn’t think I had a choice.”

 

“You always have a choice,” Annelise said, holding back tears. 

 

“I realize that now,” Jonas pleaded. “That’s why I’m telling you now, so we can find some other way. Maybe we can’t escape today, but maybe we can hide out for a few days. It’s a big countryside.”

 

Annelise stood looking down for a moment, then shook her head. “There’s too many of us, and they’ll be looking for you and me. We can’t hide.”

 

“There has to be something!”

 

Again, Annelise paused before responding. “There’s a second tunnel a ways to the north. It’s not finished, but they told me it has openings on both sides. They’re just not sure it’s safe yet.” 

 

“It can’t be any more dangerous than staying here,” Jonas replied.

 

Annelise nodded in agreement. “I’ll call my people. You go back to the van and let them know we’re changing up.” She sighed. “We’re going to make it.”

 

Jonas nodded and hugged his wife. “We’ll be okay,” he said before rejoining the group in the van. 

​

vvv

​

Standing in a musty, cramped cellar, Jonas looked down into the tunnel. 

 

It looked smaller than he expected. In the cellar floor, there was a well-like hole about two meters across, with a ladder down to the tunnel heading west. The two men who’d led them down there — a college student named Frank and his partner, Marc, who had spent the better part of two years digging it — said they quickly found that anything taller than a meter-and-a-half would just be too overwhelming to complete. 

 

“Is it safe, at least?” Jonas asked. 

 

“Hard to say, really,” Marc replied unconfidently. “Obviously, we’ve had to go in to keep digging, and we’ve been back and forth a few times, but to tell you the truth, I think things might be shifting a bit in there.”

 

“Shifting?”

 

“I was down there for a couple hours yesterday,” Frank said. “There were some puddles forming in a few areas down the line. Those weren’t there a month ago.”

 

“So you’re saying…”

 

“Yep. We got a leak somewhere.” Frank lit a cigarette and offered one to Jonas, who declined. “It’s not an ideal situation, but from the sound of things, you guys don’t have much of a choice anyway. When you get down there, just move quickly and don’t stop for nothing. Seriously.”

 

The group nodded. Jonas looked up out of the cellar and caught a small glimpse of the sky. Sundown, he thought. “We ready to go in?”

 

“Gotta space it out,” Marc said. “Everyone goes in at once, it could collapse. Send the old folks first. They’ll also need someone to accompany them, make sure they get through alright.”

 

“I’ll do it,” Annelise responded instantly. She grabbed Jonas and held him in a tight embrace. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

 

“You too.”

 

Annelise and the older couple descended the ladder and disappeared into the tunnel, followed a few minutes later by one of the younger couples, then the other, joined by the pregnant woman. Jonas hung back with Marc and Frank — if something happened, he wanted to be able to help people climb out quickly. For a few minutes after the last group left, they sat in silence, until Marc spoke up to ease Jonas’ nerves. 

 

“Your wife,” he started. “We’ve heard a lot about her. Word is she’s helped over 50 people escape.”

 

Jonas shrugged. “I only found out yesterday. If you asked me a couple weeks ago, I would’ve had no idea.”

 

Frank chuckled quietly. “The life that people like us choose.”

 

“Yeah,” Jonas replied. “People like us.”

 

The three of them heard footsteps from the room overhead. “You should get moving,” Marc said.

 

Jonas nodded and thanked the two men as they handed him a lantern and he descended down into the tunnel. Right away, he was struck by just how massive and silent the tunnel was. Even uncomfortably bent down with his head brushing against the tunnel’s clay ceiling, he couldn’t help but marvel at the vast emptiness ahead of him. The absolute stillness was interrupted only by occasional sounds from above — a car here, some footsteps there. 

 

At one point, he realized he never asked just how long the tunnel was. It could be anywhere from a few hundred meters to several kilometers — he had no idea. After about 15 minutes of walking, his back started to ache. Five more minutes later, it was his knees. I have to be getting close, he thought. Shortly thereafter, he heard voices and the unmistakable clanking of combat boots above. Border guards. Almost there. 

 

After a time, the boots and voices faded, and Jonas was again left only with the sound of his own breathing. As the tunnel exit undoubtedly grew closer, he considered just what kind of life he’d lead in the West. He and Annelise had left in such a hurry, they never discussed what they would do — or even where they would live. Maybe they’d get a nicer apartment, or better yet, a house. Maybe they’d have kids — kids who would grow up, go to college, and become doctors or scientists. Every ache in his back, every crack in his knee would finally become worth it. 

 

He saw the light at the end. He could picture his first glimpse of the West. Everyone would cheer, relieved that they’d all made it through okay. He’d hug his wife, and they’d have a drink and go off to start their new life together. 

 

He reached the end of the tunnel and climbed up the ladder. As he emerged from the ground, his wife stood waiting for him. He held her in a long embrace. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Annelise said. “They told me they would protect you. I had no choice.”

 

Jonas pulled back, confused. He heard a voice from behind. 

 

“Hello, Jonas.” 

 

Jonas turned. The others had gone; only Franz and Redko stood there. 

 

Redko flashed a grin. “Won’t you come with me?”