Czytaj książkę: «An asymmetrical War»

FIRST ACT: HALF DEAD
Scene 1: The Wannsee-conference

When Bob woke up, his head was empty and hurt quite a lot. It was as if a rock of the size of a sky-scraper was lying on the right side of his head. He could not open the eye and with the left eye he could only perceive that it was a new day already. The room was giving the pompous charm of a Marriott hotel. But where was he and where was his wife Jela? His right arm was touching the bed next to him. No Jela! It was cold and so he pulled the cover from her side over towards himself. The american banker with an English father and a German mother was rather proud that he managed to do this. He imagined that it smelled a bit like her hair and with this positive feeling he fell asleep again.

Again he was cold and he woke up. The tall man remembered that he had gone to have dinner with Abbey at midnight. He had the picture of this friend of his wife, an exciting Amercan with short blond curls, before his eyes. She had wished him a long and refreshing sleep afterwards. Otherwise he didn’t remember much. On the way to the bathroom he felt unusually weak but had the reflex to see whether the door to the floor was locked which was the case. He must have been in a terrible condition!

He was in underwear and the rest of his clothes were neatly put into the cupboard. Had Abbey undressed him? He even found his telephon under one of the cushions in the bed. His head seemed to fall apart even though he had not drunk a lot. And it could not be age, at not even fourty. It was strange! He took a long shower and started to feel better.

The sky-scraper on his head had shrunk to the size of a normal five story townhouse. He sat down and thought of his family. His daughter Marlene, called by everyone ‚Lena‘ was jumping up at him to embrace him, yelling „mon Daddy Chéri”and he felt much better.

In his jacket he found a piece of paper. Abbey wished the ‚young man‘ a very nice day and a long life. What a strange message? Why should this day be nicer than any other day? Then a lightning struck him in the head. He should actually be at the conference at the Big Wannsee Lake to discuss his relations with the government of the Ukraine. He looked at his wrist watch: they were waiting there for him since at least two hours. He opened his phone which was full of messages. It seemed as if half the world had called or sent SMS.

Like he had learned it from his wife he cursed and listened to the messages:

“Where the hell are you, Werner?”, at 8:45 Uhr.

“Call me, it’s urgent., Natascha”, at 9:00.

“Without you we don’t get anywhere, Walter”, at 9:25.

The SMS of Abbey^*said: “9:45: Turn on the TV news. I almost love you!”

Bob threw himself on the bed and turned the TV on. The local station ony gave some news in German which he didn`t understand; he interpreted the undertitles as ‘Gas-explosion in Wannsee-Villa. Many deaths feared.’ Another lightning hit his brain, his blood pressure went up like a rocket. Bob ran into the bathroom and took his usual cocktail of pressure-reducing pills plus two extra aspirins. He had had already enough experience with his bloodpressure problems

The next things he did was to call all friends who had left mesages. He didn’t get any response and he didn’t want to call Abbey. He had to clean up his head not to make any mistake. She had the potential to be a mistake.

She had picked him up the evening before the big meeting at the old shabby airport of the ex-RDA and brought him to the hotel which was close to her studio at the Potsdamer Platz.

Later they met in the restaurant which was just downstairs in her apartment building. They had lots of things to discuss about the Ukraine. She had not even touched him but with all the wine she took she became personal:

“Bob, you should know that you are the first man in my life who screws up my priorities. I love your wife who doesn`t respond to my calls any more and feel attracted to her husband. You can laugh at me and I have earned it. Non-the-less I would like to sleep with you tonight.“

And the power woman put her hand on his thigh. Looking into her blue eyes which were a super fit for the blond curls, he could understand that his wife was attracted by this extraordinary journalist. She was really tough without being rough. They drank a bit more and finally Bob confessed:

“You are a strange bird and you fascinate me without any doubt. I wish to tell you something which has to stay just between the two of us.”

Not to hurt her he was very indirect with what his friend, the CIA-general had confessed to him. He had told him that Abbey was short before getting arrested because of her work for the Russian TV ‘Russia Today and Tomorrow’ because of high treason.

She only laughed about this as she knew about it since quite some time: „Let’s go up to my place.”As it had been the last time when Jela was with them, they made love in this special way as Abbey liked it. Slowly her style changed from simple sex into tenderness and around two she melted: “I hate you, Bob, as I begin to really love you.”

Then she had one of her strange ideas and needed something to eat. She managed to get Bob in a tourist restaurant in the Sony-center where she ordered a full meal, whereas he only ordered some desert. He grumled a bit while she enjoyed every bite and the wine. As he had finished before her, he went to the bathroom and then they finished their glases. They went back to her place and he refused a second round as all of a sudden he felt dead tired.

Now he asked himself whether she had put something in his wine.

After Bob treated his head once again with cold water he called the general who had not heard anything yet. He gave Bob the order not to leave his room and not to call anybody.

“In case this attack was meant for your Ukrainian fund you better play the dead man.”

He found that to be funny while Bob was thinking about Abbey with his humming head. Did the tall woman with her assertive behavior and the short curls had saved his life? When he finally wanted to call her, the general was faster but was not joking any more:

„Bob Horner, it seems that you are officially dead. Listen very well and do not call anybody!”

“My contacts in Berlin tell me, that a strange meeting of investors from the West and financial experts from the Ukraine in a villa on Lake Wannsee was blown up. The police has no idea about the number of people killed and whether Government members of the Ukraine are among them.“

“To keep the story out oft he political playing field, there are no names or functions made public as long as possible. But sooner or later it will hit the broad public anyhow.”

Bob imagined the general with his glasses on and his crew cut when he continued: “Most probably they will stay with the story of a gas explosion. I will work out an approach of what you should do or not and call you tonight. It is simple what you need to do now. Take some paper and write it down:

“You go and buy a new phone with a prepaid volume. Your old phone is taboo! You call your wife with the old phone and tell her about the nice life in Berlin. Tell her that you will give her a new number later today.

On the way back to your hotel you buy something to eat. You book the next flight to Geneva with a stop-over in Bruxels or so.

You put a list of people together who absolutely need to know that you are alife but don’t call them before we have talked tonight. Most of them should have your new number only if it is absolutely necessary.

Last advice: the old phone is taboo; you leave it somewhere in the Metro, in a taxi or somewhere that it will create the impression that you are moving around in Berlin.”

Finally the message hit Bob: Were all his friends and Pjotre of the finance ministry really dead? Who else got killed and who had done it? With trembling hands he packed his suitcase and went to buy a new phone. His head was slowly doing better but what was he doing in a world where they just killed his friends?

With all the shops in the two shopping centers at the Potsdamer Platz he was quickly successful with the phone. He even followed the advice to buy something to eat and called the general under the new number. He got some news right away: Among the death there are two women. One of them is from the catering service.” Was this confirming the death of Natascha? For a long time he was thinking of the charismatic woman with whom he had an almost telphatic understanding and who made him lose his willpower only by looking at him or touching him.

With all the confusion in the head he was sad but all his ideas were mixed up with questions regarding Werner und Walter. Not to fall into muddy uncertainty he took the list oft he ‚orders‘ of the general. Knowing that Jela was in her lunch break he told her about the lost phone and gave her the new number with the request to hand it over to Sandrine, too and Laura, his ex-chef.

In her typical ironic style she asked him whether he had had a good night with Abby as if she knew. But he did as if he had to go back into the meeting. To stay busy, he booked a flight via Amsterdam in the evening and took a taxi to the Tegel airport. As quickly as possible he wished to get out of the hotel even if he had to wait for several hours in the airport.

After having hidden his old phone between the cushions of the taxi he started the list of people who he had probably lost in the explosion. The big number had a strange effect on him. Somehow he couldn’t concentrate his sadness on one person. However it felt as if his well-defined world had come to a shrieking halt.

In the lounge at the airport, he had just finished his list, as he received his first call on his new phone. It was the general, who gave him the name of a person who would call him with a password. He also controlled whether Bob had done his homework. Then he had new insructions for him:

“Please, call Jela not to pick you up at the Geneva airport. You rent a car on the french side of the airport and you go to Divonne for one night.”

He made sure that Bob could follow. “Tomorrow morning, you do as if you are going to work but take the country road back and we talk to each other then, ok, young man? You noted everything?” In goog old military tradition he asked Bob to repeat everything.

Bob‘s head was clear now and he noticed that the pills were helping him. Despite the enormous accelleration that things were getting, he felt calm and controlled. So he called Gregor in the bank in Kiev and also Elena ’only to say hallo‘. Later his friends in the Ukraine would remember that he called them after the attack of which they would hear soon.

He did the same with Sybil in Frankfurt who was unusually nervous and asked him several times regarding her husband.

It was rather difficult for Bob to lie but he had no other option because he was not even sure whether Walter was dead. He saw her in front of his eyes with her white skin, the blond hair brushed to the side, the eyes with their changing colors and her face expressionless when she managed her billions.

He also saw how her face changed when she looked at him as ex-lover. How should he explain to her with her baby in the arm that her husband had died doing business for her in the Ukraine?

Half an hour before take-off his new contact identified himself on the phone with the password in a typical Berlin accent:

„My name is Fred, and I replace Werner as your leading officer.”

This call made it clear: it was the Bundesnachrichtendienst, BND, who was leading him now, and that Werner was also dead. However, Bob could not explain the american accent of Fred and stayed prudent. When he followed up on his impression the young man on the other end laughed and promised to explain later.

“For the moment we got more important things to do; both services see the best option for you to get the attack out of the public consciousness in all four countries involved in this affair.“ One could hear how he grinned when he continued.

“To be dead is your best chance not to be really dead. So you have a minimal chance to protect yourself and your family.“

The dry style of the young man showed that he didn’t know what he was saying. He could not know what it meant to be dead or to have a family. However, his logic was brutal but clear. While Bob was digesting the message, the BND-cowboy continued:

„Tomorrow morning you do what the CIA-general has ordered you to do and move in the appartment which he has reserved for you. It is in the fancy buildung next to the casino in Divonne. You will have a beautiful view across a little lake over to the Alps and you move in the … ” and he gave him the address and the code-number for the garage and the appartment.

“The really complicated thing will be how you deal with your family and the other people close to you. Be clear in your mind: if more than four or five people are informed your cover is not worth anything in latest three weeks.“

While Bob was still thinking, he continued: „ And this should be people in which you have 100 percent confidence otherwise it will even go faster. Let them swear on the head of their beloved ones!”

With that it was obvious that Fred had a sense of difficulty to ask a family to demonstrate sadness while daddy was quite ok. Bob was surprised to get this sign of compassion from him.

In the plane Bob dreamt of his wife, the greek-italian beauty on which everything was long and elegant: the black hair, the legs and the hands, even the nose, With her 180 cm she was almost as tall as her husband and on the sport side she could keep up with many long-distance runner. In brutal contrast to her elegant appearance was her language shaped by many years of university lingo only buffered for small children. His heart was getting heavy when he knew that he had to live without her for some time.