Up against the wall (Closed)

[Initiate_me]

Hauptstadt (East Berlin), 1966.


Feet dragging through the sludge of half-melted snow, Jana made her way home. The sun was falling now, winter's evening chill taking hold, and she was one of several hunched figures visible on the street, eyes down, overcoat drawn tightly, silent.

Jana neared her apartment block, and passed an acquaintance, for whom she managed to summon up a brave smile. She paused for a moment outside the block, as she often did, half admiring, half hating it. She admired it because it was new, because it was easing the housing crisis, and because without it she would face a life on the street. She hated it because her parents' house had been knocked down for its construction.

The steps, all three flights of them, provided a familiar test of her strength, which fluctuated day to day. This, she reflected as she unlocked the door of the apartment, was an easier day.

Inside, Jana's eyes searched for signs of her husband's presence, and found it in the discarded overcoat that lay forlornly on the floor, near the door. She picked it up, knowing that it was fatigue and not carelessness behind the action. She removed her own coat too, hanging them both up, shaking free her long dark hair.

She snuck into the bathroom, wanting, as usual, to have a chance to tweak her appearence before greeting Jens. She stared at the cracked mirror's relfection. She was still the same pretty girl that had captured some local attention as a teenager in those difficult post-war years. But now, at twenty-three years old, she could see something else in her face. A tiredness around the eyes.... very slight. The face.... just a little too thin. Not gaunt, not yet. But... somehow... lacking.

Jana tore herself away from the mirror, after arranging her hair and applying a sparing dab of her almost-finished blusher to her pale face. She knew that there would not be another tin anytime soon.

Once in the living room she could tell that something was wrong. Jens was slumped on the sofa, smoking silently, staring at the cieling. Knowing better than to disturb him before he was ready to speak, she satd down beside him, crossed her legs, and waited. A minute passed, and the another. Jens finished the ciagreete and stubbed it out on the wooden table in front of them. His voice was low and reluctant when he spoke.

"I have some bad news," He said, turning to look at her for the first time. Jana's mind, whilst whirrring in panic through the various disasters that her husband, might be about to announce, was lit up with a strange annoyance- she had wasted that blusher. Wasted it. He had some terrible news, and they would have to discuss it, and cry, and plan, and he wouldn't even notice whether he face was as rosy as a children's book's princess or as white as a frozen corpse. It was a waste.

 

[RhoEpsilonDelta]

It was a cold, wet night as Torsten darted across the street, pulling his father's old trenchcoat higher up his neck to try and keep out the chill. There were few people out, but his eyes watched them all carefully. It was dangerous for him to be moving around like this, especially now, but he had no choice. If he didn't make his appointment one of the other bootleggers were sure to swoop and and take the supplies for themselves, and he couldn't trust anyone else to go in his place.

Rounding the corner he quickly stopped, hugging the shadows as the routine patrol glided down the street. At first his pace quickened, worried that they were looking for him, but as the car rolled past he saw the driver and passenger chatting animatedly and knew they were just doing their rounds.

After they were gone he stepped out onto the pavement, his back hunched and hands buried deep in his pockets, fingers clenched around the old service revolver and bayonet which were the only other items his father had left for him. The revolver felt good, an old reassuring presence against his palm, and had helped him out of several difficult situations. He only wished he could get ammunition for it, rather than just waving around as a prop whenever he had to talk his way out of a problem.

The bayonet on the other hand... He tried not to let his thoughts dwell on that. There were some things a man had to do, to protect himself and others, and once they were done it was best to just let them go.

Ahead the streetlight flickered as the shadowy figure waited, the glow of a cigarette stabbing out of the darkness. "You're late." Came an impatient growl.

"You're lying," Torsten retorted, "If anything I'm early."

The figure turned towards him and even though he couldn't see them he knew the dark eyes were burning into him. "You're later than I would've liked" The voice growled again, slightly less aggressive but now with a more annoyed tone. Torsten knew he was playing on dangerous ground, but he also knew how to play the game well enough to stay one step ahead of his rivals.

"People have been asking after you," The figure continued, flicking the spent cigarette into a nearby puddle and reaching for an almost empty packet for one more, "The wrong sorts of people."

Torsten turned away for a moment, pretending to admire the cloud darkened sky as he swore silently at himself. "Yeah, I know. It's just a small problem, not something for you to worry about."

"Who says I'm worried?" The figure said, an unlit cigarette hanging from its lips. "I'm not the one trying to buy illegal goods."

Torsten turned back with a cheeky smile and outspread arms, "'Illegal'? I had no idea! The person I bought them from assured me they were legitimate."

The figure barked out a laugh in the darkness, the cigarette barely staying in place as it threatened to tumble out for between the gaping lips. "That line's not going to work forever, but that's not really my problem is it?" The figure said, reaching up with a lit match.

Even after all this time Torsten still had to admire the full, pouting lips as Liesel sucked the cigarette into life. She was poison to him, but the kind of poison he just couldn't stop taking. Luckily for him she knew when to stop, even if she had to break his heart in the process. "Do you have it?" She asked bluntly.

With a sigh Torsten reached under his coat and pulled out the parchment he had hidden there. Handing it over he felt Liesel's fingers brush against his for a moment, but she immediately pulled away, unfurling the canvass to inspect the oil painting. She looked over at him with a suspicious eye. "Is this genuine?"

Torsten shrugged his shoulders, "As far as I know it is. I didn't really have time to have it authenticated and the seller wasn't the type to answer those sorts of questions."

For a moment Liesel just starred at her former lover, trying to decide whether he could be trusted or not. They'd been working together a long time and her husband knew all about the street rat she'd taken to her bed. Not that he cared, the goods Torsten could get his hands on were far more valuable than the supplies he could trade for them, even if he had to whore out his wife in the process.

With a resigned sigh Liesel quickly rolled the canvass back up and slipped it under her coat. The painting looked good enough in the pale light and there were far more thieves than forgers in the city so it was more than likely the real deal. With a flick of her hand she tossed a set of keys over to Torsten, who snatched them in midair with one hand.

"Warehouse two blocks down. Truck's out back with the goods. Make sure it's back before the four o'clock check and keep your share hidden for a day or two." She said, her gruff tone all business.

"I know the drill," Torsten replied with a smile and a fake salute, "Say hello to Helmut for me."

As he stepped past her Liesel's hand suddenly reached out and grabbed Torsten pulling him around to face her as she quickly pressed her mouth to his. He was immediately pulled back to their time together years earlier, but as he moved his hand down to her waist Liesel quickly pulled herself away.

"Keep yourself safe," She whispered to him before turning away and disappearing into the darkness.

For a moment Torsten just stood there under the flickering streetlight, his eyes staring off into the darkness, before coming to his senses. Tossing the keys up in the air he sntached them back with a flourish before heading off towards the warehouse with a spring in his step.

 

[Initiate_me]

Jens looked battered and defeated, a losing boxer. Jana knew better than to hurry him, and waited patiently. His thick hair was streaked with sweat from another day in the factory, his face grimey. He raised his large hands and massaged his temple with strong fingers, as if trying to expel the pain.

"It's Dieter and Karin."

Jana's friends' names sent a tremor of fear through her. "What?"

"Dieter and Karin. They're.... gone."

"Gone where?" Jana was whispering, without meaning to.

Jana didn't reply immediately, struggling to understand. Her mouth opened and closed in confusion. "How could they leave their children?"

"I don't know," Jens replied quietly.

"They would never leave the twins.... never. Do you.... do you think...."

"I don't know."

"The Stasi? Do you think that-"

"- I don't know!" Jens barked. They sat in a heavy silence for a few long minutes.

"Where are they? The children?"

"With a neighbour. They can't stay there. It's an old lady who can barely look after herself."

"We have to take them in," Jana asserted, nodding grimly.

"I know. There's no other option. The government isn't going to help- they'll presume that Dieter and Karin fled west somehow, and the children will go God only knows where. I don't know how we'll feed the four of us."

Jana sank into Jens' arms, and he held her, the electric light flickering above them.

 

[RhoEpsilonDelta]

It had taken almost three hours to open up the crates and resort the goods inside so that no-one would notice the missing stock. Mostly it was canned foods and basic medical supplies, but there were a few luxury items from the West hidden in the rear crates too. Torsten didn't even bother resort those, anyone who did notice a few missing items would only be putting themselves in trouble if the tried to report it.

Slamming the rear hatch of the truck up and locking it in position Torsten turned to move to the driver's compartment when the bright light suddenly exploded in his eyes, blinding him.

"Good evening sir," Came the snide voice of a patrolman, "I'm sure you know there's a curfew tonight?"

It was all Torsten could do not to punch the man just for the tone of his voice. The little runt would never stand a chance in a proper fight, but he didn't need to. While he wore the uniform he had the full authority of the Stasi to back him up.

"Just heading home now sir," Torsten replied deferentially, tilting his head towards the ground as though out of respect and raising his hand to his hat to cover his face.

For a few tense moments they simply stood there as the patrolman studied him carefully, trying to decide whether it was worth the paperwork to haul the man down to the station for questioning. Finally turning away the patrolman shone his lantern towards the truck, inspecting it for any sign of trouble.

"This is an official vehicle?" He asked quizzically.

"Yes'sir," Torsten answered quickly, stepping towards the patrolman and lifting the flap to show him the crates marked with the official seals piled inside. "I was asked to pick up some vital supplies and deliver them to the warehouse before leaving for the night. That the only reason I'm out so late."

Leaning in closer the patrolman ran his finger over one of the seals, one of the seals on a crate of luxury items which Torsten hadn't bothered to cover back up properly. "Someone's been tampering with the..."

Before the patrolman could do anything Torsten lunged forwards, one hand grabbing him by the back of the neck, pulling his face down into Torsten's shoulder, while the other swung the bayonet up, sinking it between the man's ribs. They stood there together in the darkness as Torsten felt the man's blood dripping over his fist and his last breaths gasping against his trenchcoat until he was certain the man was dead.

Crouching down carefully Torsten lugged the corpse up into the back of the truck and quickly fastened the side flap down, glancing around his to make sure no-one had seen what he'd just had to do. Sure he was in the clear Torsten scooped the patrolman's lantern up off the floor where he'd dropped it an climbed up into the driver's seat, tossing the lantern over onto the passengers seat before bringing the vehicle into gear.

He knew better than to drive fast, that would only draw unwanted attention. Instead he simply rolled along the dark streets for several minutes, heading for the far side of the district before stopping near a large drain cover. It only took him a moment to lift the cover, carefully rolling it to one side, making sure not to make too much noise. As the body hit the water below Torsten winched at the loud splash and quickly rolled the cover back over the drain, hoping no-one had heard the racket.

It wasn't until he was well away that he looked down at the dark red stain barely distinguishable against the black cloth of his coat. For a moment he pondered whether he'd made the right move, but quickly pushed the thought to the back of his mind. Best not to dwell on things a man had to do.

 

[Initiate_me]

The next morning, Jana woke to a harsh rapping on the apartment door. She rolled away from Jens, still deep in his sleep, probably full of escapist dreams, and picked up a worn old woolen jumper from the floor. She pulled it on- it was another cold morning.

She opened the door and was suddenly face to face with a haggard old woman, who met her gaze with an unflinchingly-bored stare.

"Here they are," She said in a low voice, and turned to descend the stairs once more. Now Jana saw the children.

"Harald, Katja!" Jana exclaimed, kneeling to grasp the seven year-olds in a tight embrace. She ushered them inside, and set about preparing a hot drink for them, serving them tea with a slice of rye bread each. After providing some consoling words, and dodging their questions about their parents, she left them with the food and returned to the bedroom. Jens was sat up, rubbing his tired eyes.

"They're here," She told him.

He nodded. "How did your outing go yesterday? Did Frau Amsel have what we asked for?"

Jana averted her eyes, looking instead at the floor. "No."

"What reason did she give?"

"Disruptions to her supply, increased demand. She returned the marks I gave her last week. She was very sorry."

"What good is that?" Jens was reddening, his temper rising. "What good is her apologies now that we have two more mouths to feed, and barely enough bread to keep two people from starving?! For God's sake- even the marks are no good if we can buy nothing with it!"

Jana took his hand, and tried to calm him, her voice wrapped in a soft, soothing tone. "Frau Amsel has given me the name of another trader, who may be able to provide something for us. She doesn't normally draw attention to her competitors, but because we are old friends-"
"-yes, yes, who is it?" Jens interrupted harshly.

"Herr Maurer. Torsten Maurer, she said. She gave me a time and a place to find him. I'll try tomorrow. I'll get us some food, really I will. I promise."

Jens nodded grimly. "I'll greet the children," He said, rising to exit the bedroom.

 

[RhoEpsilonDelta]

It was a cold morning and even though he would've prefered not to Torsten pulled his trenchcoat on as he stepped out of his apartment building. He'd spent half the night carefully scrubbing it down with boiled water so that the blood stain was barely noticable, but he still felt like he was a marked man as he made his way through the crowd.

Dropping by on an old friend, he told the checkpoint guards as he passed them his papers. It was an old excuse, but one used so regularly now the guards knew him by sight and nodded happily as he stepped through the gates.

When one of them touched his arm Torsten froze, half expecting a squad of armed soldiers to appear from the bushes. "How's it going with Ilsa?" The guard asked with a friendly smile, "Is she still..?"

As the guard held one hand flat in front of him while swinging the other as if slapping someone repetitively across the buttocks all Torsten could do was rub the back of his neck bashfully and smile uncomfortably. At least there was one thing he didn't have to lie about today, "She's left." He said, the words falling freely from his lips, "There was an order for skilled workers in Dresden, and since she has family there..." He let the rest of the sentence hang in the air, they all knew what it meant.

Standing frozen in mid swing for a moment, the guard pulled himself together, patting Torsten on the shoulder comradely. "I'm sorry for you, my friend. At least you're a free man now, ehh?"

As he walked away from the checkpoint, Torsten was relieved. Not just about the gate check but also with his thoughts on Ilsa. Truth be told me was glad to see the back of the cheating harlot. He knew she'd been fucking at least two other men behind his back, thinking he didn't know. And one of them had been the gate guard. The only part of her departure he felt sorry about was that she'd made such a good distraction whenever they'd passed through the gate together, now Torsten would have to find another way to smuggle his goods between the districts.

Stepping around the corner, he quickly checked the coast was clear before shaking his leg vigorously. Bending down he scooped up the long spice sausage he had had hidden in his trouser leg, tucking it under his arm before setting off down the road.

 

[Initiate_me]

The alleyway had the faint smell of urine. It was narrow, about six feet across. Jana imagined that it would be pitch-black at night, as there were no streetlight nearby. She stood there, waiting, a few feet from where the alley opened onto the street, rubbing her hands together to warm herself.

She glanced again at her fellow customers. A young boy, early teens supposed, in a far-too-big jacket, staring blankly at the ground. A great bear of a man, dressed in smart, expensive-looking clothes that were tattered, telling a clear story of a fall from riches. No conversation was attempted as they waited. Jana wondered if they were regular customers of Herr Maurer.

She eased her right hand into the pocket at the front of her faded blue frock, holding tightly the marks. She hoped he would arrive soon, and that the transaction would be quick- she didn't like to leave the children alone in the apartment, but there really was no choice. Jens had to work. She gazed out onto the street, and a faint smile flowered. Berlin. She loved it, despite never having known its years of glory, hearing them only as impossible-sounding stories, told by her grandmother in the years immediately after the Russians, and Americans, took the city. Hauptstadt. Established when she was just six years-old. She hardly knew anything else. Older citizens complained, and despaired, but she had no comparison to make. It was home.

Jana snapped out of her reverie as footsteps were heard, approaching the alley, easily audible in the repressed quiet.

 

[RhoEpsilonDelta]

Torsten stamped his feet hard and he stomped through the alleys. Berlin. He hated it, with its rotting underbelly glossed over with cheap paint and tacked on decorations. The way his father used to tell it the city had been powerful once, but the decisions of a madman had driven them to ruin when Torsten had still only a young boy. Personally he couldn't believe it, surely the city had already been rotting before that, the decay and depravity he saw reaching back to to the beginning of the century, instead of only the last thirty years.

All he remember of those times was his father being called away for service, returning years later with a missing leg, and his mother having to do secret, hidden things he was never to be told about just to ensure there was enough food on their table to stop the family from starving. When the Russians had arrived he'd been forced to watch from his hiding place in the walls of their old house as the soldiers slit his father's throat and raped his mother until she died from the shame.

He hated this place.

Stepping into the alleyway he was surprised at the number of people waiting there. Johan he knew, and was expecting, but the large man in the bad suit he didn't know. For a moment Torsten wondered it he was a Stasi agent, sent to ferret out the rumours of the illicit trade being conducted in the filthy backstreets. He didn't want to take a chance and was just about to turn away and keep walking when he saw her.

This, he told himself, this is the reason I stay in the city. The young woman was beautiful, even beneath the thin layer of grime which clung to her face and those haunted eyes which darted around her nervously. She looked to be shivering within the loose frock which seemed to have been made for a girl with a little more weight than she had on her slight frame, but that was only to be expected in these times and what curves she had drew his attention almost immediately.

Torsten glanced towards the giant of a man standing nearby, before nodded his head a couple of times to Johan, a code they'd arranged for times such as these when caution was advised and their meeting was to be rescheduled for later. Stepping towards the girl he reached down for her hand, crumpling something in his palm as he did.

As he rubbed her gently with both his hands, blowing warm air onto the cold fingers, he leant in close to her, whispering in her ear, "If you're here to trade it's not safe," He mumbled with a small laugh, as though he'd whispered some dirty joke in her ear, his eyes darting towards the large man for a brief moment, "Meet me here in fifteen minutes."

With that he broke away from her, looking back over his shoulder with a grin and tugging his hat politely before walking away around the corner, leaving Jana holding the scrap of paper with the map showing another alleyway a couple of blocks across the district.

 

[Initiate_me]

Jana tried to swallow a deep-seated fear of strangers as the man took her hands, repeating her mantra to herself- I have a job to do, I have a job to do. When he strode away, she unfolded the scrap of paper that he had left pressed in her palm. It was a roughly drawn map, and she knew the area which it covered. She squeezed the paper in her fist, looking around to see if the others were watching. The boy had gone, and the mountain of a man was walking away, casting a forlorn look at her over his shoulder as he went. Her heart ached for him, and she yearned to call to him, to lead him with her to the new meeting place- but she knew that there must be some reason why Herr Maurer, presuming that was him, had not invited the man. He didn't look like part of the Stasi... but one never knew. And Jana had the children to care for now.

She waited until the streets were almost bare, and set off. It was a short walk, but it brought her through a part of Berlin that she had not seen for years. Through a square where she played as a child. Past boarded-up shops that had doled out rations of meat. Houses of friends that she had not seen for a decade. Jana felt older than her twenty-three years. A soft rain began to fall, and her faded dress clung to her slender frame.

The alley was empty when she arrived. Wide, behind a long row of old houses. Jana wondered if these dwellings too would be demolished in favour of apartment blocks. She waited.

 

[RhoEpsilonDelta]

Hanging back in the shadows Torsten waiting until the girl left the alley before falling behind her, following her carefully as she made her way to the rendezvous as he'd requested. Watching the crowds he didn't see her try to make contact with anyone else, and watching his own back he was almost certain no one else was following them. Almost. These days it was difficult to take anything for granted.

As she stood in the alley Torsten hung back, watching her from the distance until he was satisfied she was truly alone. Quickly checking his watch he knew he had plenty of time before he needed to meet Johan, and the boy would wait for him even if he was late.

With a quick, casual stride he began to walk down the pavement towards the alley, seemingly heading somewhere but not too conspicuously to draw any unwanted attention. This wasn't his favourite meeting spot and he couldn't be sure if any of the people in the houses around him were the type to report suspicious activity.

Approaching Jana Torsten almost stepped past her, his trailing arm suddenly snapping out and grabbing hers as he quickly slipped into the alley and pushed her up against the wall, his hand pressed firmly against her mouth.

Leaning in close he hissed in her ear, "Are you alone? Just nod your head if you are."

 

[Initiate_me]

Jana nodded slowly, breathing throuh her nose, maintaining, with great effort, her calm. His hand was cold, and strong. She waited patiently for him to release her, counting up in her mind the time passed since she had left her apartment. Harald and Katja were old enough to be alone for a while, she realised. Just. This was more important. Food was more important. She prayed that the man had something worthwhile.

 

[RhoEpsilonDelta]

"I'm sorry about this, but you can't be too careful these days," Torsten said gently as he lowered his hand. For a moment he stood there, his body pinning Jana to the wall before, with a blush to his cheeks, he took a step back.

Rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away from her Torsten reached into his pocket, fingering his bayonet carefully, still not entirely sure he could trust this beautiful stranger. "Are you the girl looking to trade for supplies? Who was it who sent you again, Herr Poppe?"

 

[Initiate_me]

Jana relaxed as the man stepped backwards, allowing back to her some space. She met his eye, determined not to undermine her position as customer through a show of clear weakness. I'm not weak, she told herself. I'm not weak.

"It was Frau Amsel. She recommended you, said that you are in the business. I'm not looking for anything fancy, just some food. I have marks." Jana spoke with a tone of determination, staring intently at the man. She guessed he must be around thrity years-old. Perhaps younger.... the city had a way of ageing people prematurely. She should know.

Jana considered showing him the money, but it seemed unwise. She should see the goods first. Her eyes darted back towards the opening of the alleyway, to the street beyond. It might be difficult to escape if he tried to rob her.

"You are Herr Torsten Maurer then?

 

[RhoEpsilonDelta]

Relaxing as Jana gave him the correct name Torsten let go of his bayonet and pulled his hands out of his pockets. People were usually a lot more comfortable around strangers when they didn't have to worry about what they were hiding in their hands, he'd always found, so crossing his arms across his chest he made sure both were clearly visible.

Reaching up Torsten rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Marks? Hmm, I usually prefer to work with barter, trading goods for other goods, but if it's just food you're after I suppose marks will do. How much food were you looking for exactly? And how many marks do you have?" He was impressed that she hadn't try to show him the notes, only an idiot would be waving money around in this part of the city, but he did want some assurance that she could actually pay what she was offering.

 

[Initiate_me]

Jana's heart fell when Herr Maurer expressed his preference for barter, but she was immediately relieved by his assurance that he would accept marks for food. It wasn't a surprise to Jana that the trader was hesitant about taking money- she'd never known a stable curency in her life.

"I have ten marks," She said, hands clenched around the two notes in her pocket. It was a little over a quarter of what Jens earned in a week. The majority of East Berliners had no trouble attaining the necessities- which were provided. Since the turn of the decade, life had improved, and only those who were under suspicion by the state were generally at risk of going hungry. But there had been supply disruptions in recent weeks, and now with two extra, unrecorded mouths to feed... Jana wondered again if she should register them, declare her adoption of them.... but the taint of their parents fleeing west would bring hardship onto the household.... no, they had to remain unregistered. Which meant no allowance for them in the state's provision of necessities.

"I need however much I can get. Bread especially." She fixed her hazel eyes on his, hoping for a favourable response.

 

[RhoEpsilonDelta]

Moving his hand around to the back of his neck Torsten let his gaze wander down towards the girl's chest as he tried to make some calculations in his head. Her loose frock hung down from her neck just far enough not to let him see anything interesting, but the way it gathered at the top of her chest...

With a sigh he looked up into her eyes, "Bread, I can't help you with. I can provide you with a sack of flour and a I'm sure you know how to use your hands. For ten marks I could also provide a few cans of food, but I can't guarantee what might be in them."

As he spoke Torsten reached for Jana's hand, pretending just to be using them to make his point, but gazing down he couldn't help but admire their slender grace. Her fingers felt soft against his rough, calloused hands, but as he looked closer he could see the scars and marks that showed Jana was no stranger to adversity.

Turning her hand over in his palm Torsten gently ran a finger down the centre of it, watching as Jana's fingers curled together factionally. "If you had anything else to offer me, perhaps I could throw in a bottle of wine or two as well?" He said, looking her in the eye with a suggestive grin dancing across his lips. He knew the offer was out-of-line, but with Ilsa gone and Liesel 'unavailable' Torsten couldn't help but try his luck with this beautiful, frail woman.

 

[Initiate_me]

Jana listened carefully to Herr Maurer as he made his offer. A sack of flour and a few cans of unspecified food didn't seem like much for ten marks- she had hoped for much more. She could, of course, make bread from the flour without too much trouble, but if that and a few tins were all she could get, was it wortth it? She reminded herself that, yes, it was worth it- saving the money was no use if she could get no more food with it. Her and Jens' names were on the customer lists, and what they could buy, and the amounts, were limited- the children were unregistered, and so they had no way to buy extra food for them through legitimate channels.

She allowed him, warily, to take her hand, and listened to his suggestion.

"We don't need wine, thank you very much." She replied curtly, looking away, eyes settling on a cat that stared and then darted from view.

 

[RhoEpsilonDelta]

Sighing sadly as she pulled her hand away Torsten looked up and down the alley, checking once once for any witnesses. "You're happy with the rest then, I take it?" He asked, pulling the collar of his coat up around his neck and nodding his head decisively. "Then I think we have a deal. Both of us should leave now, walk around the block a few times and meet me back here."

Without waiting for a reply he quickly trotted off down the alleyway, in the opposite direction from the one they'd arrived from. It took him less than a minute to make his way through the back streets to the cellar where he kept most of his perishable stock. Pulling open the heavy freight hatch doors he climbed down the stairs, pulling the door closed again behind him.

The single light bulb hanging from the ceiling gave barely enough illumination to see past the first couple of shelves in the damp, dark room, but Torsten didn't need it, he already knew where each and every item was placed. He grabbed two empty boxes from an assortment covering the rickety old table set directly under the light and made his way towards the back of the room, picking his way past the old soiled mattress on the floor which he sometimes used on night's when waiting for late deliveries. He slipped one box into the other, making sure the outer one could close easily over the other with a grunt of satisfaction.

The flour was stored in an old, sealed cupboard, protected from the dampness and pulling it open he hefted the large bag onto his shoulder. There was probably enough there to feed the skinny girl for a month, he though with a smile, recalling the way Jana's loose frock had hung so appealingly from her slight frame. Sealing the cupboard he let the sack roll down into the boxes made his way over to the shelf full of canned foods.

The rows of cans were lined up neatly on the shelves, not one of them with a label Stepping past the ones at the front, some of which were starting to rust, Torsten moved to the newer, fresher stock. She was a beautiful girl after all, and he was sure the better quality goods would entice her back eventually. He remembered he'd told her it would be a 'few' cans, and usually he would give his clients seven or eight cans, but for those big, haunted eyes he pulled ten cans down and dropped them into the boxes, including one he'd been saving for himself which he knew contained peaches.

Before long he was back outside, locking up the hatch as he rested the heavy box on his hip before heading back through the alleys to meet Jana again, taking a different path then the one had used to get there.

 

[Initiate_me]

Jana took the walk around the area as instructed. She wondered what the children were doing in the apartment, how Jens was feeling at the factory. His mood later, and probably for the entire week, was almost completely dependent on what she could bring back with her today. She knew that it would have to be her, depsite Jens' protests, who would have to go without if it came to it. The children needed food, as much as possible, and Jens needed the energy to work. She would have to get by on whatever was left.

Jana returned to the alley. Herr Maurer was there, with the sack of flour and two boxes crammed with tins. Her eyes brimmed, from relief, and she hurredly wiped the tears away as she stopped in front of him. She hadn't expected so much- along with what she and Jens could get with a little more of their sparse savings and their customer cards, it would be enough for the next couple of weeks.

She wanted to thank him warmly, embrace him, but showing surprise and too much gratitude, she knew, could undermine her bargaining position for the next time, if they did business again. So she instead employed a slight smile, and a nod, as if she had expected this amount. She drew the marks from the pocket of her dress and held the money out to him.

 

[RhoEpsilonDelta]

Quickly taking the marks Torsten stuffed them into his pocket without counting them. In his experience if someone was desperate enough to try using money for supplies they weren't going to try and lie about how much they had. And besides, if she had lied he'd be able to find her soon enough.

"Will you be okay with these?" He asked, his tone genuinely concerned for her as he passed the boxes and sack over. She seemed strong enough, despite her small frame, but he didn't want her to hurt herself with them, especially in the street where it might draw the attention of the authorities. He'd only just met the girl, and didn't know how quickly she may give him up if any questions were asked.

 

[Initiate_me]

Jana nodded in response. "I'll be fine," She said, and after a brief, polite fareweell, she set off- one box on her shoulder, with the sack on top, and the other under her arm. The burden was heavy, but she walked quickly, keen to get home. She didn't fear robbery- most people had enough to get by on, and very few of the hugry would attempt a robbery in the open, but the lingering threat of official interference spurred her on. An over-zealous patrolman of the Stasi might identify her, correcly, as a black-market customer, and take her in for questioning. It was unlikely, but not unheard of, and so, head down, she made her way as fast as her tired legs would take her.

Soon she reached the apartment block. Old Herr Voigt was coming down the stairs, and insisted on helping Jana, carrying a box for her. He made conversation- his usual grumblings- cursing the Communists, praising the fatherland's fallen heroes. They reached Jana's door and she thanked him for he assistance.

"Are times really so hard that you must visit the black market?" He asked her, with a twinkle in his eye. Jana wa speechless.

"Fear not, fear not! I'm the last man in Berlin who would betray a nieghbour to those Communist devils. I gave my entire youth in the war against them, and I'll never forget that! But I'll advise you to be careful... I've heard that they are opening new investigations against those informal traders... you wouldn't like to get in the middle of anything like that, believe me." He gave her a stern look, and tramped off back down the stairs. Jana stayed at her door for a moment, trying to work out how Herr Voigt had realised that her luggage consisted of illegaal goods. She could not, and so shook in from her mind, and entered the apartment, finding the children playing quietly with model soliders on the floor.

Katja looked up as Jana came in. "We're hunrgy!" She exclaimed loudly.

 

[RhoEpsilonDelta]

It was getting dark by the time Torsten arrived home to his apartment, a tightly wrapped package under his arm. He could feel his neighbours' curtains twitching as they watched him climb the stairs, curious as to what he may be bringing home. He smiled to himself, they weren't malevolent looks but eager ones, after all most of the time he was able to bring more than enough food to support himself and long ago had learnt that sharing with those around him was far preferable to having them envious and angry at him for his good fortune.

For years he'd been spreading the rumour of his 'uncle in the party', the mysterious benefactor who shower his nephew with gifts and presents on a regular basis. While he knew that most didn't believe a word of it, even the hint that he had powerful connections was enough to keep them at a safe distance. The occasional visit from Liesel, his 'cousin', had only helped to prove the stories true.

Stepping inside Torsten quickly made his way to the kitchen, placing the package on the table as he slid out of his coat and placed in over the back of a chair beside the stove to dry. Reaching into the cupboard he pulled out a plate and sharp knife, and after a moment's thought reached back into the shadows to pull out an old jar of mustard, a prize he'd earnt from a particularly successful trade.

Turning back to the table he carefully unwrapped the package, a large ham joint straight from the market. For a moment he stood there, inhaling the enticing aroma of the freshly cooked meat, the spices and herbs clashing with the ham's natural scent causing his mouth to water. Taking up the knife he carefully cut a small piece from the joint before adding a dash of mustard. The taste on his tongue was more than he could've hoped for.

Tomorrow he would hand out portions to his neighbours, an act of goodwill which would surely keep him safe from the authorities for another few weeks at least, but tonight he sat himself down and ate his fill, alone at the dinner table.

 

[Initiate_me]

The evening was a happy one. Jens returned from the factory, tired but with a strong determination, he told Jana, to find out what had happened to their friends, and, in the meantime, to care for the children as well as they possibly could. He was pleasantly surprised by the relative bounty that Jana had managed to attain from the marks, and they prepared a decent meal- freshly made bread and stewed meat from a couple of the tins. They decided that welcoming the children to the home certainly counted as a special occasion, and so they opened a tin of peaches also, and the makeshift family settled down in contented silence to eat the sweet fruit.

"Will you go back to this dealer?" Asked Jens, through a mouthful of peach.

Jana considered this for a moment. "I don't know," she said. "I shall return to Frau Amsel next time we are struggling, and see if she has anything to offer us. If she doesn't... then yes, I will seek him out."

"Why not go to him first? He gave youa good deal."

"That's true... but... it isn't like visiting Frau Amsel. I go to her house, she brews something hot to drink, we chat. And then we do business and I walk home- her aparment block is only five minutes away. Today I had to meet Herr Maurer in an alley, and then relocate to another alley when something spooked him- and then walk all the way home carrying all of this, which was risky."

Jens' eyes widened, and Jana instantly regretted telling him so much. "I had no idea," He replied, reddening. "That was very dangerous- you've heard the rumours as often as I have- the Stasi are cracking down on black market trading. They've had enough. And besides- anything could have happened in that alleyway! He could have robbed you, or, or...." He seemed to suddenly remember the presence of the children, and stopped himself.

"I know. I'm sorry- but it was necessary."

" Next time I shall go," Jens said, tapping the table with his finger for emphasis. "I don't like you putting yourself in harms' way like that."

"But what trader would trust you?" Retorted Jana spiritidley. "You look too strong, too dangerous. You look like.... like one of them."

"Don't say that." Jens said, anger hardening his features.

Jana was silent for a minute, knowing she had upset him. "I'm sorry. I promise that I will stick with Frau Amsel next time, if that's what you want". It was a peace offering- Jens was a man who liked his wife to submit to his benevolent autthority.

"Good."




Lying in bed that night, Jana wondered to herself how long it would be before they needed to return to black market dealings. What would she do if Frau Amsel had nothing to offer her? Could she disobey Jens and meet again with Herr Maurer? She wrestled with these troubles until, in the early hours of the morning, sleep took her.

 

[RhoEpsilonDelta]

It had been a good month for Torsten, even if he'd had to keep his head down a little more than usual. The Stasi's raids had taken out three of his rivals across the district, leaving only Frau Amsel and himself in business and with all the suppliers suddenly at a loss for places to hawk their wares Torsten had been able to make several very favourable deals, increasing his stock immensely.

His only problem was that with the stock came storage demands, some of the more volatile and perishable goods needed specialise equipment to keep them fresh. Luckily friend had a solution to his problem, for a price, which led to him standing on the street corner on a cold September night cigarette in hand as he waited.

Autumn was just drawing to a close and even with the thick scarf wrapped around his neck Torsten could feel the winter coming. Stamping his feet he barely noticed the Stasi truck pulling around the corner until it was almost on top of him and as it pulled up beside him Torsten sprung back on fright. As the driver's door opened and the jackboots hit the pavement Torsten's first reaction was to run, but as the figure stepped into the light, his olive green jacket and double-bar company commander insignia clearly visible he relaxed.

Reaching into his pocket he lifted out a packet of cigarettes and with a flick of his wrist offered one to the newcomer. "It's a nice night, don't you think?" He asked comradely. The man took the offered cigarette and barked a laugh.

"You must be going mad Torsten." The man said placing the cigarette between his lips and shaking away Torsten's offer of a light. Reaching into his own pocket he pulled out a gold-plated lighter and quickly snapped on the flame. "Too much of that western Schnapps, ja?"

Shaking his head Torsten rubbed the back of his neck. "I was just making conversation Friedrich, no need to be nasty."

Friedrich Klein had grown up with Torsten, running in the streets together with the gangs, before deciding to join the military. Without any notably skills he soon found himself relegated to the KdA, something that even now he felt was an insult. Luckily for Torsten his friend's unhappiness meant he was all too willing to help out smuggling and profiteering while overseeing the construction of the Wall.

"I hear you found another little plaything for yourself?" Torsten said amiably, looking up at the clouds drifting peacefully in front of the moon, "Is he any better than the last one?"

Of his many vices, the one most likely to get Friedrich shot was his homosexuality, another reason he had no fear of black marketeering charges. If they ever did search his home and discovered his journals and pictures of the boys he'd loved he was as good as dead anyway.

"Good enough," Friedrich replied with a smirk. "Still needs a little breaking in though."

Dropping his cigarette on the pavement Friedrich quickly crushed it beneath his heel before turning towards the truck, "Shall we get to business?" He asked moving to the rear panel and pulling the flap aside for Torsten to look inside. The three metal boxes looked too much like coffins for Torsten's taste as they lay on their sides tied down with cables. They looked exactly like what he needed apart from one small detail.

"Pink?" He asked turning to his friend with a raised eyebrow.

Friedrich shrugged, tilting his head with a grin. "You asked for refrigerators, I got you refrigerators. You didn't tell me what colour you wanted, so you get what you get. I even got some generators to go with them, to stop the officials asking too many questions about the power you're using." Patting Torsten on the shoulder Friedrich slipped the truck keys into his hand. "Just don't let too many people see them, or they may start telling rumours about you."

With a loud laugh Friedrich stepped away, waving his hand back over his shoulder as he started to casually wander off down the road. For a moment Torsten watch his friend go, smiling gently at the queer man, before turning and climbing up into the truck.

 

[Initiate_me]

Jens kissed Jana goodbye as he headed out to work. "Remember," He warned her, "Don't deal with anyone except Amsel. You have to be more careful." She nodded silently and watched him leave the apartment. She prepared breakfast for the children- there wasn't much to give them. The last month had been comfortable enough on the whole, but the extra food had run out, and in the last few days it had become clear that they would need, once again, to risk the black market.

Jana instructed the children to behave, hugged them, and left the apartment block. ANother cold morning greeted her, and she drew her overcoat tighter, glad of its protection.

After a short walk, she reached her destination- an identical apartment block. Frau Amsel greeted her- warmly enough, but without any real eye contact with Jana- who consequently feared bad news. She was correct.

"I have almost nothing for you. I'm sorry," The older lady said, staring at her old mantlepiece-clock.

"Nothing at all?" Said Jana,

"I have only a little tobacco."

"That's it?!" Jana's frustration spilled out in her angry tone.

"There has been a crackdown you know," Amsel responded frostily. "Besides, for what do you need more food? Surely you and your husband get enough through your allocations?"
Her gaze was an accusation, and Jana shrank from it.

"It's no business of yours," She whispered.

Frau Amsel took pity, seeing the pain in Jana's eyes. "I can give you a location to meet Herr Maurer again, if you really do need it."

"I do. My reasons are my own." Jana's voice was almost inaudible.

Amsel sighed. "Tomorrow, at noon, he'll be behind the old church two streets away from here. If he hasn't changed his schedule recently." She hesitated for a moment, as if wanting to help more. "Good luck," She finally said.