Berlin Encounter by T. Davis Bunn Page B

to turn away. But a hand on his arm stopped him. The sergeant shouted to the officer. The officer replied in what was clearly very rusty Russian, but the sergeant was having none of it. He gesticulated angrily with the bottles and roared a command so loud that activity among the refugees temporarily halted. Then his soldiers saw that the man’s ire was directed elsewhere, and they returned to their looting.
    The political officer pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket, looked at Jake’s vehicle tag, scribbled something on it, reached and handed it to Jake, all without meeting his eyes.
    Jake looked dumbly at the paper, then up at the grinning sergeant. “What is this?”
    It took another bark from the sergeant for the officer to reply, “A Soviet travel permit. Show it to the other checkpoints between here and Berlin.”
    Jake nodded his dumbfounded thanks at the sergeant, who toasted Jake with the bottles. He then turned and bellowed at his soldiers, who left their sorting and began making a way through the flood of refugees. Jake clambered aboard, started his engine, and drove forward with a final wave to the grinning sergeant.
    There was one brief moment when their truck was completely surrounded by refugees, a slow-moving river which blocked them from view. One of the men lifted himself from the morass and approached Jake’s window. Jake recognized him as the husband of the woman who had lost her shawl. The woman stood beside him, two children clutching her ragged skirt, her eyes unable to shed any more tears.
    Jake intentionally flooded the engine, then turned to the subdued Hechter and hissed, “Grind the starter. Do it!”
    As the scientist reached across and pulled at the starter, Jake flipped the back canvas curtain aside, reached and grabbed and came out with four pairs of boots. He tossed them to the startled man, signaled hastily to wait. He turned back, came up with all the remaining eggs and bread and cheese. He handed these down, then opened the glove compartment and pulled out one jar of honey. Dumbfounded, the man looked down at the treasures that had appeared from nowhere to fill his arms, then brought his eyes back up to Jake. Jake saw the miles and the misery in the man’s face, nodded once, said quietly, “Go with God.” He pumped the choke, the truck motor started and caught, and he drove on, the man’s gaze etched onto the surface of his heart.

Chapter Ten
    As far as Sally was concerned, postwar Berlin was a driver’s worst nightmare, and the lighting only made things worse.
    Major Theo Travers had picked her up just before dawn, and they had immediately proceeded to get totally turned around. There were few direction markers save on the thoroughfares used for military traffic, and those they wanted to avoid at all cost, since their desire was to go and return without being noticed any more than necessary.
    It had taken Travers the previous day and much of the night to arrange things, and to do so without making the kind of waves that would draw unwelcome attention his way. Sally had stayed put in a run-down civilian hostel in the American sector, the best she could manage given her false Swiss passport.
    The first thing Theo said when he picked her up was, “Why Swiss?”
    “I wanted a reason for the accent they’re going to hear with my first word of German, and Switzerland is filled with all kinds of foreigners,” she replied, surveying their transport. “Why a dump truck?”
    “I’ve been thinking,” he said, climbing aboard. “A lot, as a matter of fact. Been quite an experience, hearing those rusty gears grind around.”
    “Speaking of which,” Sally said, wincing as Theo fought the lever into first and lurched away, “I hope this thing gets us where we need to go.”
    “Get us there and back,” Theo assured her. “What’s more, it’ll supply us with the best alibi I could come up with on short notice.” He reached under his seat, came up with a sheaf of papers.