Ghosts Of Berlin

By Ralph Ryan

In 1971, after five years training as a covert CIA agent, Mark Dillon returns to Berlin. But he's not there for a Cold War government mission—he's there hoping to search the war-torn streets of East Germany for Russian General Mstislav, who raped his mother during WWII. Mark wants revenge.

Mark is given the opportunity to help smuggle Ullie, a woman trapped in East Berlin, over to the West. The mission will give him better access to Mstislav, so he agrees. He meets Ullie in Dresden, intent on helping her escape. But when Mark and Ullie discover they both have reasons to hate Mstislav, they set off together to find and kill him.

The plan fails and Ullie is captured, but Mark escapes. Meanwhile, his mother, a retired CIA agent, realizes Mark's objective and begins searching for her son. Amid double crosses, double agents, and a dark family past, Mark is determined to save Ullie, deliver justice to Mstislav, and uncover the motives of a suspicious KGB agent who knows his mother. Will Mark be able to achieve his personal missions and rid himself of his ghosts, or do some things simply haunt us forever?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ralph Ryan
• Release date: Dec 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393045700

Book preview

GHOSTS OF BERLIN

By

Ralph Ryan

Table of Contents

Title Page

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

COPYRIGHT

INTRODUCTION

World War II was a global war that lasted from 1939 to 1945. The vast majority of the world’s countries—including all the great powers—eventually formed two opposing military alliances: the Allies and the Axis.

In 1944, the Western Allies invaded German-occupied France, while the Soviet Union regained its territorial losses and turned toward Germany and its allies. The war in Europe concluded with an invasion of Germany by the Western Allies and the Soviet Union, culminating in the capture of Berlin by Soviet troops, the suicide of Adolf Hitler and the unconditional surrender of Germany on May 8, 1945.

After World War II, Germany became divided into the Soviet, American, British, and French zones of occupation. The city of Berlin, though technically part of the Soviet zone, was also split, with the Soviets taking the eastern part of the city and the Allies taking the western part of the town.

The Soviet Union and the United States emerged as rival superpowers, setting the stage for the nearly half-century-long Cold War. The Cold War was a period of geopolitical tension between the Communist Soviet Union with its satellite states, the Eastern Bloc countries, and the Capitalist Western Bloc countries.

The term cold war is used because there was no large-scale fighting directly between the two sides, but they each supported major regional conflicts known as proxy wars. The conflict split the temporary wartime alliance against Nazi Germany and its allies, leaving the USSR and the U.S. as two superpowers with profound economic and political differences.

The first phase of the Cold War began in the first two years after the end of the Second World War. The Soviet Union consolidated its control over the Eastern Bloc states. At the same time, the United States began a strategy of global containment to challenge Soviet power, extending military and financial aid to the countries of Western Europe.

The Berlin Blockade (June 24, 1948 to May 13, 1949) was the first major crisis of the Cold War. The Soviet Union blocked the Western Allies’ railway, road, and canal access to the sectors of Berlin under Western control. Two days later, on June 26, 1948, the Western Allies organized the Berlin Airlift to carry supplies to the people of West Berlin, a difficult feat given the size of the city’s population. The Americans and British then began a joint operation in support of the entire city. They flew over 200,000 sorties in one year, providing to the West Berliners necessities such as fuel and food. The Soviets did not disrupt the airlift for fear this might lead to open conflict, even though they far outnumbered the Allies in Eastern Germany and especially Berlin.

On May 12, 1949, the USSR lifted the blockade of West Berlin, and the Airlift officially ended on September 30, 1949, after fifteen months. The US Air Force and the Royal Air Force delivered a combined 2,325,510 tons of supplies on 278,228 flights to Berlin.

Tensions gradually escalated between the Soviets and the Allied forces in Berlin. In 1961, the Soviets began sealing off all access between East and West Berlin by laying down more than 100 miles of barbed wire slightly inside the East Berlin border. The barbed wire was soon replaced by a six-foot-high, 96-mile-long wall of concrete blocks, complete with guard towers, machine gun posts, and searchlights. East German officers known as Volkspolizei (Volpos) and Soviet soldiers patrolled the Berlin Wall day and night.

In 1970, the Wall was raised to 10 feet to stop escapes, which at that time came almost daily. From 1961 to 1989, a total of 5,000 East Germans escaped; many more tried and failed. High-profile shootings of some would-be defectors only intensified the Western world’s hatred for the Wall. It was referred to by many as the Iron Curtain.

Being an island of freedom in the middle of Communist East Germany, Berlin became known as the Capital of Spies. The United States entrenched the CIA, FBI, and the Army’s Special Forces Berlin Unit. The Russians embedded the KGB and the GRU agencies, the East Germans had their secret police known as the Stasi, and the British employed the MI6. These agencies roamed throughout West Berlin, East Berlin, East Germany, and the Soviet bloc countries conducting counterintelligence operations and guerilla warfare, and became known as the Ghosts of Berlin.

A bone-chilling fog had descended on Dresden’s residential district as Mark strained to read the numbers on the tall brick buildings that crowded the narrow streets. He knew they were inhabited, but fear wrapped around every shuttered window. While searching, the sound of hobnail boots echoing off the ancient cobblestones stopped him in his tracks. Adrenaline pulsed through his body in concert with each resounding step, and for a fleeting moment, he thought of running as fast as he could to escape the impending doom that would crash down upon him.

Curfew had long since passed, and the thought of being caught by Russian soldiers terrified him. Frantically, he slipped into a recessed doorway and pressed tightly against the coal-ashen bricks. Dingy soot assaulted his lungs, and its acidic sting burned his cheek. As the stomping grew louder, he took a deep breath and held it. His heart pounded so forcefully his body rocked with each beat. As the figures passed, he exhaled into a slump.

CHAPTER ONE

IN-FLIGHT TO BERLIN

After the Pan American 707 reached cruising altitude, a stewardess pushing a cart stopped by Mark’s row and kindly asked, Something to drink?

Mark looked at the lady sitting in his row, allowing her to order first. She nodded and answered, Red wine, please.

As the stewardess poured the wine into a cup, she asked, And you, sir?

Scotch please—double, rocks.

Mark thanked the stewardess as he received the cup and took a sip, smacking his lips. He looked at the lady next to him, who had introduced herself earlier as Natalie. Nothing like a good scotch, he professed as he took another sip and placed the cup on his tray, then stood up. Excuse me, restroom break.

In the lavatory, he splashed cold water onto his face trying to fend off his fatigue. His thoughts of Walsh being injured and their time in Laos still consumed him. Somewhat refreshed, he returned to his seat and took a big sip of scotch. He began to feel drowsy. Thinking it was the alcohol coupled with his fatigue, he looked at Natalie. I need a little nap!

She appeared delighted as she said, By all means, enjoy.

A light tap on Mark’s shoulder brought him into reality but in a defensive state. The friendly green eyes that met his instantly calmed him. She pulled her arm back. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. The pilot has just asked us to fasten our seat belts due to anticipated turbulence.

Mark sat upright, rubbing his eyes as he mumbled, How insightful.

Excuse me? She raised her eyebrows in amusement as she returned her magazine to the pouch in front of her seat.

He turned to her with a tempered smirk and grunted, I’ve been flying for the last two days without much sleep. I’m a little rummy.

From what you were saying in your sleep, I’d say you’re more than a little rummy, the young miss replied.

To hear her mention he’d been talking in his sleep disturbed him. They’d just met.

At the academy, he’d experienced many mental manipulators, where they taught him to suppress all emotions, consciously and subconsciously. Now a stranger had a foothold on his most profound thoughts, but he didn’t seem to mind, which surprised him even more. Not taking heed of his thoughts, he calmly asked. What was I saying?

She took her glasses off, eyes narrowing in contemplation as she feigned mild concern. Let’s just say that if I were to counsel you, we’d have a lot of couch work to do.

He looked into her eyes and wondered if she might be playing him. Before he dozed off, she’d told him that she had a practice in psychology, his most despised advisory at the academy. Had he revealed any secrets, or divulged too much about his looming intensions while talking in his sleep? He could deal with talking about his fatherly issues, but everything else should’ve been off-limits. Still fixed on her eyes, he unthinkingly responded, Everyone has demons to deal with, you should know that being a shrink.

She gazed across him out the window for a moment, and then turned to him in all seriousness. The working of the mind fascinates me. That’s why I chose this career. I’ve seen some messed up minds in my practice. With mock sincerity, she added, I was kidding when I implied you need a lot of couch time.

Mark chuckled in relief. You probably aren’t too far off base.

Her expression turned serious, her stare boring into him, causing him to shift uncomfortably. In a matter-of-fact tone, she added, It appears we have some father issues and something about a farm. Do you want to talk about it?

CHAPTER TWO

THE FARM

CIA Training Facility—Camp Peary, Virginia.

Excitement coursed through Mark as he and the other recruits filled the chairs in the classroom. He looked at each of the other recruits, trying to size them up when the door swung open, sending a blast of frigid air toward the group. Two men walked in and positioned themselves at each corner of the room. All small talk ceased as they sternly eyed each candidate until the discomfort level became contagious. Then another man walked in, built like a linebacker. He appeared to be at least six-four and all of 240 pounds. Short cropped salt-and-pepper hair accented his steel-gray eyes.

He surgically scanned the room, occasionally stopping to stare down a few of the recruits. Mark could taste the tension in his throat as the man yelled, I’m Senior Agent Jones. We have chosen you all to be here because of your contacts in Eastern Europe. If and when you graduate, you’ll most likely be assigned to the CIA’s Eastern Bloc Division, but that doesn’t mean you won’t be assigned to any other conflict we’re involved in, which happens to cover a large portion of the world.

Jones paced among the recruits. While here, you’ll learn the latest in counterintelligence techniques. The Cold War is heating up again, and we need agents to carry out our missions in the Eastern Bloc countries. From now on, your asses are mine. For the next forty-eight months, you’ll be constantly watched and critiqued. You screw up, you’re gone. Most of you already know German, and we’ll expect you to learn and speak Russian.

Jones stopped in front of an unsuspecting recruit. His evaluating glare made him shift nervously in his seat. He moved on, emphasizing, First off, we’ll break you down physically. Once you’re on the edge of extreme exhaustion, we’ll expose you to intense psychological tests. If you can perform these tests to our satisfaction, you will continue on in the program. If not, you’ll be washed from the training.

He continued to pace silently, allowing the recruits to fully digest his definitive statement. Now, he went on, "considering you make it past the initial stage, you’ll have many instructors, each an expert in their respective field. I’ll teach you how to recognize, develop relationships with, and recruit foreign spies, how to trail a suspect and know if you’re being trailed, how to seduce the enemy and how not to be seduced, and lastly, I’ll teach you counterintelligence, terrorism techniques, and political warfare.

Our weapons specialists will teach you to become proficient with not only the weapons we employ, but all those the enemy uses as well. They will teach you assassin techniques, and how to conduct ambushes.

Jones walked to one of his instructors and patted him on the shoulder. If you are assigned to missions out of Berlin, you may work closely with the Army’s Special Forces Berlin Unit, like this man here. These warriors are entrenched in Berlin and have conducted missions in the Warsaw Pact countries since 1956. Their goal is to stand ready to go to war on a two-hour notice, if and when the Russians decide to overrun Berlin and head toward Western Germany. They will wreak havoc behind enemy lines to buy time for the vastly outnumbered National Atlantic Treaty Organization forces in Berlin to conduct a breakout from the city. This man and his team will teach you how to conduct sabotage missions, guerrilla warfare, special reconnaissance, unconventional warfare, escape and evasion techniques, and surveillance techniques.

He took a breath, and then continued, And lastly, you will be instructed by a few smokejumpers we recruited from the Forest Service’s wildland firefighters of the Pacific Northwest. With a sinister grin, he added, Which means you’ll be parachute jumping from planes and helicopters into all types of mountainous terrain, and they’ll teach you the ins and outs of delivering cargo via parachute. So, he demanded, if any of you are afraid of heights, get airsick, or can’t handle jumping at night, you’d better check out now so you won’t waste our time.

Jones walked to the front of the room and rustled through papers on the table. He turned around and cautioned, You will experience severe sleep deprivation, hunger, and exposure to the harshest elements. Your instructors will play games with your minds all the time, so you’d better be on guard twenty-four seven. We’re talking about serious stuff, recruits, so pay very close attention, and think before dropping your guard. Your life may depend on it.

His eyes cut through each candidate as his commanding voice shattered the tangible silence. Any questions before we move on?

It became so quiet you could’ve heard a pin drop.

Mark looked around the room; he could sense the strained breaths around him. He noticed a couple of attractive women and wondered how they’d fare in such an environment.

Jones looked at the two men standing by the blackboard. They stepped forward. He introduced them as Squad Leader One and Squad Leader Two. They walked down the center aisle and stopped in the middle, standing back to back.

Agent Jones ordered, The group on the left belongs to Squad Leader One, the group on the right to Squad Leader Two. From now on, they will be your only contact outside of yourselves and your instructors. He grinned at his Squad Leaders. And believe me, they will make the first stage of your training the hardest twelve months of your lives. They will break you down both physically and mentally. If you screw up, you go home. Am I clear on this?

A few recruits mumbled, Yes.

Jones stormed toward the group, yelling with spittle spraying out of his mouth, Am I clear on this!?

This time everyone shouted, Yes, sir!

Now get the hell out of here!

Mark and his group followed their squad leader to a training room, where he further outlined the rules and their training schedule.

During the first twelve months of training, you’ll have limited contact with the outside world. After that, furloughs will be granted throughout the remainder of the training. Wakeup call is at 0500. Classroom work will be in the mornings after chow and physical training. Afternoons will be field training. Everything Agent Jones detailed to you will be executed to perfection. If not, expect immediate termination from this program. No smoking or drinking will be allowed. In your barracks, you will find an envelope on your cot. If you have a passport, put it in the envelope. We’ll be issuing you an American diplomatic passport, which may give you some protection if by chance you’re detained. When you are assigned to a mission, and depending on which country you’re assigned to, we’ll supply you with supporting documents that will make you appear more legitimate.

His speech shifted to the two women. You will have separate housing from the men, but will participate in all training exercises as a team. The other group of recruits will be your adversaries in many of the exercises, so be aware of everything. He pointed to a building through a window. For you men, that’s your new home. Get settled and acquaint yourselves. Pick one person to represent the group. You women, follow me.

Mark and his fellow recruits marched into their building. He found his name tag on a cot and the envelope. He inserted his passport and pulled out a piece of paper that revealed that his occupation, if and when he was assigned to the Eastern Bloc Division, would be that of an industrial engineer consultant, a much-sought specialty in Eastern Europe, since the rebuilding process was crawling along from the devastation of World War II. He assumed he’d be assigned to Eastern Europe.

By vote, his group chose the most intimidating-looking recruit as their liaison—a tall, muscle-bound man with a shaved head and beady black eyes. They spent the rest of the day acquainting themselves with each other.

Months of grueling physical training followed. The daily routine left Mark so exhausted that at night he couldn’t sleep. He’d stare at the ceiling and watch it sway back and forth, and muscles he didn’t even know he had ached from the stress.

Mark enjoyed the parachute training; it gave him a short time to be alone. The assassin training proved to be a great stress reducer. He tended toward violence from his military brat upbringing. Whenever his family lived in a state or country where the only television station offered was the military’s Armed Forces Network, they bombarded him and his siblings with military shows like Combat, Twelve O’clock High, The Rifleman, Have Gun Will Travel, and the like. He would sit in front of the TV with an old military helmet on and clenched his hands around his toy machine gun, rooting for the Americans. For all practical purposes, this form of indoctrination was hitting home.

When the mental fitness tests intensified, the training became evermore grueling. Making quick, split-second decisions under duress was required for his survival in the program. He managed to complete them, but his perceptions changed for the worse. He despised the heartless instructors, who verbally demeaned them to the point where they almost believed they were worthless shit-bags for making tactical errors in their judgment or actions in critical situations. When the recruits screwed up, they heard about it instantly. When they did well, they heard crickets. He often envisioned himself using his training against them. He became weary of continually being drilled on strategic decision-making and to not trust anyone. It became so endemic, he didn’t even believe his own thoughts, which frightened him. Then at times, he embraced the abuse, realizing how lucky he was to be there. It became a rollercoaster of emotions for himself and his fellow recruits.

After the twelfth month, the recruits performed better than the instructors had envisioned. As a token of their appreciation, they gave the rookies a surprise—a night on the town.

A bus pulled up in front of the barracks. Jones hustled them out, saying, You all have exceeded our expectations, and as a reward, you’re going to a local bar for the night. I’ll see you in the morning.

The next morning, Jones ordered Mark into his office. As soon as he entered, Jones went off on him like a banshee. Dammit, Dillon, he spewed, she set you up last night. We give you a night off, and what do you do? Get seduced by one of our plants!

Mark stormed about the room, occasionally eyeing Jones with contempt. You encouraged us to go out and unwind. How was I to know you were setting us up?

Haven’t we been warning you from the very beginning? Jones yelled. You are always on the job. There is no unwind time. The enemy is everywhere, always looking for an undisciplined agent, and sure enough, you compromised yourself and possibly your whole team if this was a real mission.

Jones threw a file on the desk. "I should wash you out right now, but we have too much invested in you. You are the seducer, do you hear me? You are the one who needs to be in control all the damn time. Are you reading me, Dillon?"

Mark wanted to slug him for being so caustic about one slipup. The training had been so intense that he wanted to separate himself from it by indulging in a woman’s company, which turned out to be his weak spot. Mark remembered hearing from his peers in high school about this supposed weakness. He understood the underlying reason for his wanting. It manifested itself when he was ten years old, when his family had moved from France to K.I. Sawyer Air Force Base in Michigan. In their military housing complex, he’d met the girl living next door. Joyce and he became close friends and they developed a case of puppy love, his first emotional attachment to someone outside of his family. There was a duck pond across from the housing area and one day he convinced her to go to the pond with him even though her father, a strict sergeant, forbade her from going there. They held hands, another first in his life, to the pond and explored the tadpoles, frogs, chipmunks, and even harmless snakes. On the way home, her dad was waiting outside for them. He stood over Mark and lit into him with a fury that lingered his entire life. The sergeant terminated their relationship on the spot. He was heartbroken, and more so when they moved away.

Mark’s family eventually moved to Germany. He never stopped thinking about her, and then on a family vacation to the French Riviera, he was on the beach and thought he saw her walking along the shore. His heart pounded as he ran to her yelling, Joyce, Joyce. When the girl turned around, it wasn’t her. Again, he was devastated. That was the military lifestyle, making friends only to have to say goodbye, over and over again, never to develop any meaningful, long-lasting relationships. He yearned to feel what he had experienced with Joyce. Was it a weakness to yearn for female companionship? Maybe. Was it a longing for emotional validity? Definitely!

Mark bit his tongue. Yes sir, I screwed up. It’ll never happen again.

Jones cornered him, his face contorted, jaw musicals flexing. Damn right it won’t, Agent Dillon!

Mark concentrated on his training and made up for his single indiscretion. The months flew by and when it was time to graduate, he performed near the top of his class.

During his exit interview, Agent Jones instructed Mark, You will not use the new identity we gave you until you’re assigned to a mission. He leaned toward Mark, adding, You will be a special asset to us considering you are German-born and have contacts in East Berlin and East Germany through your mother. The fact that you were adopted by an American airman and have dual citizenship is also helpful. You know military protocol from traveling all over the United States and Europe as a military brat. Your knowledge of the Soviet-controlled countries in the Eastern Bloc will benefit you, as well as our mission. Resume your life until we call upon you, Agent Dillon.

This suited Mark just fine. Mark rushed to the barracks to a frenzy of now bona fide CIA agents packing their belongings for a one-month furlough. He, too, packed with earnest, excited to be free. He planned on returning to Berlin while he waited to be called in for a mission, to reconnect with his high school sweetheart. Bidding farewell to his fellow agents proved difficult, but the excitement of being agents created a jovial atmosphere filled with smiles and laughter. He walked to his car hoping it would start, after having sat for most of his training, and sure enough, it didn’t. Other agents had the same problem, and while he waited for the vehicle used to jump start the cars, the compound loudspeaker blared out: Clark, Walsh, Dillon. Report to Jones’s office immediately.

Mark rushed to the office, wondering, Now what?

Jones’s office door was open, so Mark entered to find Walsh sitting in front of the desk, looking nervous.

Have a seat, Dillon, Jones ordered. Once Clark gets here, I’ll explain.

Clark arrived and took a seat next to Mark.

Jones handed each of them a piece of paper. Sorry for the short notice, but this is the nature of our business. These are your orders. You are going to Laos for a one-year assignment.

Clark questioned, Laos, sir?

Yes, Laos! Jones reiterated.