The way the wind worked its way through the endless pine tree woods reminded the secret service man of the shady nature of the land beyond the gate.
A hissing sound started in the distance, outside the reach of the human ear, and approached rapidly through the needle canopy, but always unseen. Even when it came very close and evolved into the oceanic noise of breaking waves, it still remained hidden in the trees and showed no more than a moving shade. It rushed and gulfed, and peaked for a moment — almost as if communist agents were rocking the trees barehanded — and then it faded away again. The wind moved around in a shroud of secrecy that fitted the entire nation out there.
It was funny how standing right at the Iron Curtain turned even the hardest government official into a softie. Captain Rosswell stood there, muscular, wearing a sturdy hat and raincoat, and a mustache of a robustness that made him the envy of actors and dictators, and the target of many women of this era. He was responsible for the exchange of a Soviet spy on this windy day — but at the same time he felt like a regular poet!
But Captain Rosswell’s musings about the wind and the secrets of the German Democratic Republic were not to last. One of his colleagues, Henri Washington, looking identical though a bit younger, stood next to him going through some papers.
“Herr Doctor Ernst Zschopau, Chemist, high ranking in the scientific nomenklatura of the GDR, specialized in the development of revolutionary new synthetics,” he read from a sheet. “Kicked out for no reason at all.”
“For reasons unknown to us,” Rosswell corrected him. “We’re giving them a soviet master spy, so you can trust our bosses for Dr. Zschopau being well worth the sacrifice.”
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