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“And they understand that. They’re professionals. They’ll do what they’re supposed to do,” replied Herman.
“But when it’s over,” offered Harvath, “I don’t care what they do with the guy.”
“I thought you might feel that way. Let’s make a move for the platform. That train’s not going to sit there for long.”
The buzzer, which signaled that the doors were about to close, was already sounding when the pair hit the bottom of the escalator and ran for the first car. They passed a large mirror mounted at the end of the platform that allowed the train’s engineer to look back down the entire length of his train and make sure everyone was onboard before pulling out of the station. As they jumped aboard the train, something in the mirror caught Harvath’s eye.
“He got off!” yelled Scot as he turned and lunged for the closing doors.
Startled passengers watched as the two men pried the doors open and squeezed out of the train.
“You’d better be sure about this,” said Herman as he looked up and down the platform as the train began to pull away, “because I don’t see him.”
“Give me the scope,” said Harvath.
Herman handed it to him and then casually walked along the edge of the platform covertly studying the faces in each of the bright yellow U-Bahn cars as the train picked up speed and pulled out of the station.
Harvath didn’t bother examining the faces of the U-Bahn passengers. He knew Überhof had gotten off. It had just been a flash in the mirror, but Harvath was confident about what he had seen. He was also pretty sure he knew where the man had gone.
It took the Specter scope less than ten seconds to power all the way up. At the far end of the platform, Harvath held it up to his eye and peered into the heavy blackness of the faintly illuminated train tu
“Unless he was lying down on the floor,” said Herman as he rejoined Harvath, “he wasn’t on that train.”
“I know,” replied Scot as he adjusted the Specter.
“So where is he?”
Harvath handed Herman the scope and said, “About fifty meters down along the wall on the right hand side. Take a look for yourself.”
After watching Überhof pick his way down the tu
“I don’t know,” answered Harvath, pulling out his H amp;K and screwing on the silencer, “but I think we ought to go find out.”
Chapter 25
They followed Überhof for over fifteen minutes until he came to a short metal service door and disappeared through it. When they passed through the door, they found that it led to a long, low ceilinged tu
“What is this place?” asked Harvath as he shined his SureFire flashlight around the abandoned, cobweb-covered U-Bahn station.
“Geisterbahnhöfe,” replied Herman. “Ghost station. I didn’t think any of these existed anymore.”
“What the hell is aghost station?” demanded Harvath as he painfully pulled himself up onto the filthy platform.
With its dreary green tiles, old-fashioned signs and the Communist era propaganda posters hanging above the benches, the station looked like it had been frozen in time-a true relic of the Cold War. Harvath could see an old newspaper kiosk that must have once sold cigarettes and magazines, but which had been retrofitted into a machine gun nest, as well as Communist era propaganda posters hanging above the benches.
“When the Soviets built the wall, they split off the subway system in East Berlin into its own network. Because of a quirk in geography, two of the West Berlin lines needed to pass briefly through East Berlin before circling back around to the West. It was very strange. You could ride through East Berlin and see stations like this completely abandoned except for the stern-faced soldiers standing on the platforms with machineguns.”
“And those abandoned stations were what you calledGeisterbahnhöfe?”
“Yes, but after the reunification, all of the stations were supposedly reopened.”
“This one must not have gotten the memo,” replied Harvath, as he ran his finger along the dirty tile.
“You know, it’s strange,” said Herman. “I don’t even know what line this is on. I am trying to figure out what might be above us.”
“What about this?” said Harvath as lifted an old metal directional sign from the floor, blew the dust off of it and showed it to Herman. “Russische Botschaft? I knowRussische is German for Russian, but what isBotschaft?”
“Embassy,” replied Herman solemnly. “Russian Embassy. Jesus.”
Harvath studied the serious look on Herman’s face and said, “What is it?”
“Something very bad. The ground beneath Berlin is riddled with bunkers and networks of tu
“After the war, many Gestapo agents were absorbed by the Russians and placed into theMinisterium für Statessicherheit -”
“You mean the Stasi?” asked Harvath. “The East German secret police?”
“Yes. The old Gestapo agents trained many of the Stasi. I heard terrible stories when I was with the GSG9 of what went on down in these tu
Harvath felt a chill run down his spine as he resigned himself to the only logical reason Überhof could have for keeping Gary Lawlor in this horrific sort of underworld. Pulling back the slide on his H amp;K, he verified that he had a round chambered and then activated the LaserLyte attached to the rail system beneath the barrel.
No words needed to be spoken between the two men. Harvath simply nodded his head and their search of the ghost station began in earnest.
Harvath held his pistol out in front with both hands while he and Herman cleared the station. So far, it was empty. Harvath was about ready to suggest that they go back down to the platform and search farther up the unknown line, when he saw something out of place across the lobby.
It was a vintage Soviet era cigarette machine, complete with a picture of Comrade Lenin puffing away on his favorite brand. Harvath walked over and began examining it from all angles.
“What are you doing?” said Herman as he joined him, careful to keep his voice down. “I thought you didn’t smoke.”
“I don’t, but doesn’t it seem odd to you that there was a kiosk on the platform that would have sold cigarettes and there’s also a cigarette machine here?”
“No, not really. Germans back then liked to smoke. In fact, we still like to.”
“And the fact that there are no other vending machines, no ticket machines or anything else still in this station doesn’t bother you?”
“Now that you mention it,” replied Herman, “a cigarette machine, especially back then, would have been worth a lot of money. If nothing else, you’d think some soldiers would have taken it at some point and sold it on the black market.”
“Exactly,” responded Harvath, who threw his shoulder up against the machine. “The way it’s wedged into this alcove, I can’t get it to budge. I think it must be bolted to the wall.”
“Move over,” said Herman. “Let me give it a try.”
Harvath got out of the way, and the enormous German planted his feet and then wrapped his huge arms around the thing. He tried three times to move it without success.
“Now I know why no one ever stole it,” he said as he gave up and took in a deep breath. “Somethingis holding it to that wall. But you can’t get to the bolts. How would you service it?”
“Good question. It doesn’t make sense, unless-” said Harvath, trailing off as an idea struck him and he illuminated the pull knobs on the front of the machine with his flashlight.