Chapter 37

"We made a mistake," Eva said softly, walking through the mist with her arm around Wolfgang's waist.

"What do you mean?"

"The papers that man was carrying," she glanced behind her, but they were alone as they left the Charles Bridge, turning left to walk along the river embankment. "I'll show you."

They stopped beneath a streetlamp, the dull yellow light barely cutting ten meters through the thick fog. Eva reached inside her leather jacket and pulled out a neatly typed letter, hastily folded and wrinkled. The words were in Russian, stamped Most Secret top and bottom and bearing official looking seals which made Wolfgang frown.

"We weren't instructed to retrieve anything," Wolfgang said slowly.

"I know," Eva said with a shrug. "I was curious."

"What does it say?" he asked, knowing it would be pointless to argue.

"It's a list. Russian penetration of Germany by the SVR, the Foreign Intelligence Service," Eva told him. "It lists individuals by name, as well as their German code names and Russian code names. Dates of service, control officers..."

"Okay," Wolfgang nodded. "That's good then."

"You don't wonder why it was necessary to terminate the source?" Eva asked. "It seems like he would valuable if he was willing to pass information like this."

"Maybe," Wolfgang said. "Or maybe disclosure is a greater risk. We don't want the Russians to know the information was leaked."

"But see?" Eva smiled. "We're not supposed to have it, Wolfgang."

"But..." he narrowed his eyes. "Who's on the list?"

"Guess."

"Eva, don't play games," Wolfgang looked at the paper in his hands.

"This one," she pointed at a name. "Wilhelm Beck. His SVR codename is Witch and in Germany, he's known as ... Mozart."

"Mozart?" Wolfgang stared at his sister.

"He's been working for the Russians," Eva said. "Since before the Wall came down. He was a KGB mole inside the Stasi, or so it would seem according to these dates."

"That's not possible," Wolfgang shook his head. "I don't believe that."

"Papa didn't know," Eva told him, reading her brother's thoughts. They both knew anyone was capable of anything, but their father had vouched for the man. Edwin Brandt had put his children into Mozart's care.

"What if he did know?" Wolfgang looked at Eva and his trust was too fragile, the boy's heart too easily bruised by any hint of weakness in his father.

"That is what we won't believe," Eva told him forcefully. She stuffed the paper into her purse, zipping it inside a pocket, and took Wolfgang by the arm, pulling him with her as they continued their walk.

"My God," Wolfgang breathed. "Who have we been working for?"

"How many people have we killed for Russia?" Eva asked him rhetorically. She looked towards the Vltava River moving swift and deep beneath its gloomy shroud. "At least one, Wolfgang, but the next will be for Germany."

"Yes," Wolfgang agreed softly.

The walked for nearly a kilometer before turning away from the river and towards the city center. They had a room at the Prague Hilton under their cover names Juergen and Ilse Eckhardt. Neither of them spoke as they considered how they'd been betrayed once more. Every turn their lives had taken, it seemed, ended with lies and deceit. Except for each other. The only good they'd been able to find in the world was in the love they shared, and even that was unfairly tainted by their incestuous blood.