The Helsinki Pact (34 page)

“You worry about the electoral
implications, I have to worry about the economic ones. We’re
talking two different languages." The governor motioned his
colleague to put on another slide. "Here’s the chart showing the
black market valuation of the Ost Mark. It’s gone from over twelve
to one to roughly eight, and that's purely on the basis of
political speculation on unity. The markets, being rational, aren’t
betting on anything higher than that.”

“Markets don’t vote. People do.
Markets don't govern. I do.”

“We’re making a historic
experiment here. We can’t get it wrong for short-term motivations.
History will judge how we’ve handled this. The future shape of
Germany depends on our choices today.”

“May I make a suggestion?”
Herren’s strong voice broke in. “I can see the reasons behind both
arguments. In an ideal scenario, we’d like to add 16 millions of
happy voters and consumers with a good level of spending power. On
the other hand, we want to ensure that the country’s productive
base remains competitive whilst it integrates in the West. The two
objectives are diametrically opposed, so there’s only one clear
solution.”

Kohl turned his great bulk
towards Herren and slapped his hand hard on the table in front of
him, smiling broadly as he did so. “That’s why I need external
experts like you to be here, Alfred. Some people simply pose
problems, you offer solutions.”

“We should look at applying two
different exchange rates." said Herren. "A lower one for
individuals, and a higher one for corporations. If we strike the
right balance we could ideally get the best of all
worlds.”

“And what would stop a massive
movement of funds from one sector to another?” the governor
replied. “When you create artificial differences you’re loading the
guns of speculators. A parallel market would flourish almost
immediately to try to reposition the cash to where the highest
value was.”

“There's no other way around it.
You could put a maximum limit on the amount of cash each private
individual could trade at preferential levels, with any excess
having to be traded at the industrial level. That would be a crude
but effective way to ensure that your approximate calculations turn
out to be broadly correct. And it would go in the direction of
social equality, which is something people on each side of the
border would understand and support.”

“My job isn’t that of pleasing
the electorate, it’s safeguarding our economy! May I remind you our
main objective at the Bundesbank is containment of inflation. What
you’re proposing to do will fuel inflation in Germany for at least
a decade.”

“We need to pay for this in one
way or another." Herren said. "Inflation can be an acceptable way
of funding growth and helping smooth out the differences, if it's
limited in time. Runaway inflation is clearly unacceptable but
controlled inflation in pursuit of improved output is acceptable
and can be managed.”

“Alfred, I appreciate your
input.” Kohl intervened, “But having two different exchange rates
seems overly complex in my view. The exchange rate needs to be set
somewhere close to parity. Maybe two to one could still be
acceptable, but nothing more.”

“Two to one? Two to one!" The
governor looked at Kohl in horror. "That number is simply
unreachable. Unless you plan to subsidize their economy forever,
their industries will fold in a matter of months. You’ll have
record unemployment levels in the East after just a few
years.”

“My belief is that jobs lost in
the East will roughly equate to jobs created in the West. Many
easterners are just waiting for a chance to move over to the West
anyway. We’re just accelerating that process. I’ve spoken to a
number of industry board members who are eager to create new plants
in the East. The workforce is quite numerate, if a little lazy from
what we hear.”

“So what you’re expecting is a
rapid colonisation by Western firms of the current production
base?” the chairman of Commerzbank butted in.

“I don’t like the term you used,
Herr Obermeier. I prefer to consider it the best way for the East
to wake up to reality. We all know the best way of taking a bandage
away is to pull it off quickly. Otherwise it will become an
excruciatingly long agony.”

Kohl gathered his papers together
and stood up.

"Thank you all for attending,
gentlemen. We'll finalise details next week. I'll tell you then
what I decide."

Chapter 27

Monday January 15
1990, afternoon

"THANK you, Fritz. I thought we
should introduce our visiting colleague, Miss List, to some fine
Dresden cuisine." said Spitze jovially as the proprietor of the
small restaurant made a point of coming out from his office and
showing them personally to their table. Roehrberg had excused
himelf from the lunch but insisted that Spitze take Bettina as
planned.

"We like it here." he added as
they settled themselves. "Fritz is discreet, the food and wine is
good and so Roehrberg, Henkel and I often eat," He made a wry face.
"ate, here, Modrow too on occasion. And it's where we usually bring
important visitors, at least for lunch."

He glanced at Bettina, checking
her response, but she had anticipated this and was looking closely
at the menu.

"Veal, I think - but perhaps
scallopini rather than schnitzel. Will they do that well here, do
you think?"

"You'll find it excellent, I'm
sure. I believe Fritz's mother was Italian and perhaps that's why
there's a few Italian dishes offered." He paused for a moment. "You
must have Dieter's full confidence to be entrusted with what's
really quite a perplexing and an important mission, Miss List. But
then no doubt you've been in the service for some time and earned
that trust."

"Oh, I think it was more a matter
of availability. Following the reorganisation it's all a bit
chaotic but I'd just finished another project so I was free." She
broke a bit of bread in half on her plate. "And, of course, with a
level of experience appropriate to, as you say, an important
mission."

"I'm sure you're being too
modest." he continued "I know Berlin keeps a tight rein on regional
activities so they'd have wanted to get to the bottom of this
promptly and efficiently. No doubt you had discussed it all in some
detail at a fairly high level?"

"Pillow talk!" she thought. "I
wonder what he'd say if gave that answer." She spread some butter
on her bread and took a bite before answering. "I really don't
know, I'm afraid, that's beyond my level. But I have worked closely
with Dieter for some time and, well," she looked down and played
with her bread for a moment "I think we get on well together and we
do discuss things, privately, and so ... " She looked away from
Spitze and then turned to look at him. "But tell me, what are your
thoughts about the matter. Do you suspect anyone
particularly?"

"It's very perplexing, very
perplexing indeed. Let me say that we want to give you all the help
and information we can to solve the mystery. I know Rosenberg’s
already told you that but I want to underline it. You have our full
confidence, of course."

There was silence as they ate,
each occasionally sparring with the other but gaining no particular
insight, and the meal eventually dribbled to an end. As they drank
coffee Spitze lit a cheroot, waving away the smoke between
them.

"Forgive me, Miss List, but I
have meetings scheduled for this afternoon and with this recent
incident, of course ... " Spitze's voice trailed off and Bettina
gladly took the chance to escape, inventing meetings of her own to
attend.

She decided to try to meet Georg.
Through his work and his personal connections Georg often picked up
interesting snippets of information on what was going on in
Dresden. Whether he’d want to discuss it with her was another
matter, she thought, remembering how things had changed.

Georg had been a close friend of
her father's and had helped the family financially and continued to
support them in other ways after her father had disappeared to the
West. Her mother and Georg had become close and begun a
relationship but although this was only short lived they remained
good friends and kept in touch regularly afterwards.

Georg and Bettina had always been
very fond of each other but something had interfered with this and
at their last meeting his attitude towards her had suddenly changed
and he’d become very detached, short and almost irritated with her.
She’d caught him looking at her with a mix of sadness and anger and
she knew then that he’d discovered her Stasi involvement. With his
background as a political radical he was bound to take badly what
he'd see as her betrayal of ideals he'd thought she
shared.

Georg's office wasn't far and the
day, although still chilly, had produced a weak sun so she moved
her car first to a convenient location then walked along the west
bank of the Elbe and as it made one of its southern loops she
turned left at the Art School and made for the old city centre.
Georg’s office was one of the detachments of the Court, responsible
for the administration of the appeals and the registering of the
definitive sentences. It was close to the ruins of the
Frauenkirche, the opulent baroque church that had once been the
symbol of the city.

She entered the modern,
nondescript building and let her memory guide her through the
seemingly endless corridors to where Georg “sifted paper,” as he
sardonically said. Georg’s office seemed identical in appearance to
the first time she had been there, - almost ten years earlier on a
visit with her mother − a complete chaos of files, law books and
chewed pencils. She’d thought then that it hardly fitted with the
image of the blind goddess dispensing justice rationally and
without favour or emotion.

Georg was sitting at a worn-out
desk, his head deep in a pile of documents and looking the same as
ever. With his wide ears, seraphic expression and double chin he
could have been a Buddha had he been sitting in the lotus position
rather than conventionally on a chair.

Bettina stood in the doorway
looking at the engrossed figure, remembering with a rush of
recognition how fond she’d been of him. She shuffled slightly, then
coughed experimentally but got no response and it took a very loud
“hmmmm” to get Georg to acknowledge that someone was present. He
recognized her, smiled, and got up from his chair. They hugged for
a long moment in genuine affection.

“Hello Bettina. It’s good to see
you again. How’s your mother? I haven’t heard from her for a few
months now.”

“She’s fine. You look in good
shape, Georg.” She’d first met Georg when he was forty-one and he’d
always looked identical since although was little was left of his
always thin blondish hair now was showing some grey. “How’s the
photography going? Any exhibitions lately?”

“No galleries, I’m afraid, just
small things amongst friends. But I still enjoy it immensely - I’m
experimenting now with some new chemicals for sepia
colouring.”

There was silence for some
moments, each wondering how to broach the subject they knew they
had to talk about eventually. Bettina looked down at her feet and
then back at Georg.

“I’ve heard about a strange
situation you might know about, a privatisation ... "

“Best we talk outside.” Georg
interrupted. He turned off his desk lamp, closed and locked his
door then poked his head into a neighbouring office to tell his
colleague he’d be away for an hour or so. Outside, he led Bettina
through back streets to a small café bar entirely lacking in
quaintness or charm but which was almost completely empty. They
took a table deep into the small room and once they’d ordered Georg
turned and looked at her.

"You were going to ask me
something. But I need to say something to you first. I know who you
work for, Bettina. You must know, particularly after what they did
to me, that I can have no sympathy with that. When they tracked
down who was behind that newspaper, who had helped fund it, who the
'Hans Frei' who wrote all those critical articles really was, I was
lucky to escape a long jail term but they still ruined my life as
it was."

"You weren't lucky, Georg. I know
how good you were as a senior judge in Leipzig, how well people
thought of you there, and it was that and your integrity which had
got you some powerful friends."

"Not powerful enough, though,
were they? I was good in that work and I could use my position as a
judge to stand up against injustice. Now look at me, a clerk in a
Dresden administrative office of no importance, a person with no
power and no way of helping people as I used to be able to do. If I
try anything now I'm facing a long jail term, with anyone who could
help me long gone."

Bettina looked away,
uncomfortably, and then Georg spoke again. “But I need you to tell
me whether you’ve ever written anything about me, during the time I
was with your mother or at any other time, before or subsequently.
I need the truth, Bettina. I can understand if you did, although I
confess it would hurt me deeply.”

Bettina looked him straight in
the eyes. “No, never, I swear. Your relationship with mum was some
years before my joining and even that apart I wouldn’t have
informed on you.”