Elsa Ziegler looked at Brodie. That was the answer she wanted, but it didn’t explain why CID Agent Brodie had come to her Stasi Archives with questions that seemed to have nothing to do with the investigation of ahomicide perpetrated by Islamic terrorists. She asked, “Is there anything else?”
“A few more things.” He asked, “What can you tell me about the Stasi’s plan to invade and occupy West Berlin? Day X.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are we still discussing your case?”
“I am a CID agent investigating a murder, not a history buff with time to waste.” He added, “Please answer the question so I can report that you were very cooperative.”
Ziegler nodded and replied, “All existing records pertaining to Day X—and there aren’t many—are kept here and have been reviewed by academics and journalists, and their findings published in a number of news articles and journals that you can find on the Internet.”
“Anything to add to the public record?”
“No.” She hesitated, then added, “Though I do have one curiosity.” She opened one of her desk drawers and removed a small mahogany box, then opened it and turned it toward Brodie.
He walked to the desk and picked up the box, which was lined with green felt and contained a star-shaped gold military medal hanging on a black-red-and-yellow ribbon.
Ziegler said, “The Stasi had these medals minted in anticipation of their successful paramilitary occupation of West Berlin. This one is the Combat Order of Merit for the Reunification of the Fatherland.”
Brodie examined the medal, which featured the symbol of the Stasi—an arm hoisting a bayoneted rifle on which hung the flag of East Germany—along with German words ringing the symbol. It was bizarre—and chilling—to be holding a military medal created for a war that never happened.
He placed the box back on Ziegler’s desk. “In retrospect, it looks like they suffered a crisis of overconfidence.”
She took the box and looked at the medal. “They ruled with impunity over a small and terrified nation, and so they thought they were bigger than they were. I like to keep this here, as a reminder.” She closed the box, returned it to her desk, and looked up at Brodie. “A reminder that they were not so big. And that their failed dreams now live in a little box in my drawer, next to the stapler.” She checked her watch. “Now, I do have a meeting this morning that I need to prepare for.”
“Just one more thing. Is there anything you can tell me about Operation Black Harvest?”
Ziegler looked surprised. “That’s quite obscure. Where did you hear about that?”
“Turning over every rock, looking for maggots.”
She said, “It was a rumored Stasi operation to develop biological and chemical weapons to kill livestock and crops in Western Europe. Degrade and destroy the food supply. I say rumored because no documentary evidence of its existence has ever been found. This evidence could have been destroyed in the Stasi’s final days, or it could be sitting in shreds inside a bag at Zirndorf. Or the whole thing could have been made up.”
“By whom?”
“By the only person who has made public mention of this operation. Stefan Richter. A former Stasi man. HVA. After the Wall came down, he began the rumors of agricultural weapons research being done by the Stasi in conjunction with the People’s Army for this so-called Black Harvest.” She added, “Many believed he was looking for his fifteen minutes, as you Americans say.”
“What do you believe?”
Ziegler shrugged. “Anything is possible in the insane asylum that existed then.”
“Where might I find Stefan Richter?”
“I have no idea if he is even alive. I spoke to him in person once, back in the nineties. We were hoping some of these old Stasi men had held on to some of the records of their work, and unlike most of them Herr Richter seemed to want to share his war stories. But he had no documentation. Nothing concrete. A lot of bluster. I’m not even convinced he was ever Stasi. I recall being unimpressed with the man.”
Brodie nodded. Stefan Richter was likely the HVA official who had given the interview about Black Harvest that Taylor had read in a German foreign policy journal.
Ziegler seemed to remember something else. “The one thing Richter brought with him was a box of microscope slides. He claimed they were biological agents he’d taken from the lab as keepsakes. He wouldn’t turn them over or allow anyone to analyze them.” She smiled. “He probably boughtthem from a hobby store for ten marks.” She looked at Brodie, and her smile dropped. “Mr. Brodie? Are you all right?”
Brodie stood. “Yes. Thank you. You have been very helpful.”
She did not respond and remained seated as Brodie went to the door.
He added, “My German counterparts might be following up.”
“Of course.” She stood and made eye contact with him. “Tell me. Is this business with Odin connected to what happened to Mr. Vance?”
Brodie looked at her. “No.” Elsa Ziegler deserved a more honest answer than that, so he added, “I don’t know.”
She broke eye contact, and in the dim light of her tiny office, Elsa Ziegler, the steward of millions of documents about a world she’d believed long dead, seemed worried.
