A Shameful Affair: The Nikki Sinclair Spy Thriller Series, #3

By Jaye Rothman

If you enjoy lesbian thrillers, you'll love reading the Cold War spy novels featuring MI6 agent Nikki Sinclair.

 

HOW FAR WILL SHE GO?

 

Nikki's mission – find a dissident cell and infiltrate it. Not an easy task in the dystopian world of 1970s East Berlin, where informants of the secret police lurk everywhere. Fellow student Katerina arranges an introduction, but she extracts a high price. Nikki discovers her alluring neighbour works for the Stasi. But can Nikki trust either of her lovers?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jaye Rothman
• Release date: Apr 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215477199

Book preview

Chapter 1

East Berlin,

Deutsche Demokratische Republik

November 1974

You look as cold as I feel. Do you know your nose has turned a lovely shade of blue? Has mine?

Nikki swivelled around. Standing about an inch shorter than herself, the speaker had short, unruly, dark hair and was swigging at a bottle of beer. What caught and held Nikki’s attention were the girl’s eyes. The colour of autumn leaves triggered a memory of Dvora, her ex-girlfriend who worked for the Israeli intelligence service.

Thick cigarette smoke hung in the apartment, mingling with the pungent smell of weed. The Beatles album, Yellow Submarine, the sound tinny and distorted, blasted out from a tape recorder set in one corner. Someone must have recorded the soundtrack from a radio station tuned illegally to the West. No albums from Western pop groups were permitted to be sold legally. Black-market copies cost a fortune, and the penalty for owning one involved a lengthy interview by the secret police at Stasi Headquarters.

Nikki had arrived fifteen minutes earlier. Nobody had acknowledged her presence, but then she hadn’t spoken to anyone. She stood in the corner of the room, hunched in her coat, sipping at a plastic glass filled with cheap Bulgarian wine, and surveyed her stark surroundings. Someone had taped posters of The Kinks, The Rolling Stones and several other western bands onto the walls. A string of fairy lights hung over the table of half-eaten food standing against the wall, and a dingy brown carpet, which had seen better days, covered the floor. The vibe reminded Nikki of student parties she’d attended during her university years. She’d clung to a wall, willing away men and wishing a woman would approach her.

She tried to find the party’s host, Matthias, who had issued the invitation but drew a blank. On the first day of university, back in September, he sat on the bench beside Nikki and introduced himself. She’d been impressed by the flaxen hair that matched a pair of brilliant blue eyes and his delicate pianist hands. If Matthias had been a woman, she would have found him attractive.

Last week he had insisted Nikki attend his birthday party. Initially, she’d demurred, but she couldn’t afford to turn down this opportunity, so she agreed after a little more persuasion.

London’s need to embed an asset in the Baader-Meinhof gang took first priority. The East German regime had granted refuge to several terrorists who were free to plan their next act of terror against Western democracies. Several gang members were wanted by the West German government for serious crimes, which included bank robberies, bombings and assassinations. Nikki’s secondary task involved infiltrating student groups to determine whether they had organised themselves into an active opposition force against the ruling Communist regime. So far, she hadn’t encountered anything remotely anti-political or anybody who dared to voice disapproval of the Party or the State.

You didn’t answer me. The young woman’s loud complaint broke through Nikki’s reverie, and she returned to the room. The broad grin that followed the words caught her off-guard.

But she returned the smile. The party had a preponderance of men, so why was the young woman talking to her? Nikki scanned the partygoers. The males were huddled in groups, their eyes focussed on the women dancing together. She shrugged. Yes, your nose has turned blue.

The young woman threw back her head and laughed. There’s a milk bar open down the street. Coming?

The invitation struck Nikki as odd. It implied they already had a degree of intimacy. She pretended to weigh her options and, intrigued by the offer, accepted with a nod. She almost shuffled back a step when her companion grabbed her hand. The young woman led her through the throng of people, brandishing cigarettes in one hand while holding drinks in the other, to the exit. Then, holding the door open, she ushered Nikki into the passageway.

The door closed, leaving them in a thick blackness. The young woman cursed softly under her breath as she searched for the light switch and pressed it. We must hurry. The light goes off in two minutes. She chuckled. You don’t want to be left in the dark with me.

Nikki frowned at the curious comment. The young woman’s hand holding hers suddenly felt like an intrusion. But needs must. The woman seemed to know the layout of the apartment building, and Nikki didn’t want to risk losing her footing. A fall headfirst down the steep, stone steps could end in disaster. So, hands clasped tightly, they raced down the stairs. They reached the entrance to the apartments, and the light went out.

Just in time! The young woman giggled and shoved open the heavy door. They stood on the step for a moment catching their breath. Puffs of air emerged as clouds of white vapour in the bitter cold.

With a jolt, Nikki remembered she still clasped her companion’s gloved hand and released her hold. What’s your name? she said, turning towards the young woman.

Katerina. She skipped down the stone steps into the street.

Nikki followed at a slower pace. She found it strange the girl hadn’t asked for her name.

Cracked and broken paving slabs covered the ground, and Nikki had to navigate her way to Katerina, who was waiting under the flickering light of a lamppost. The yellow bulb barely illuminated the pavement. As if she needed no permission, Katerina linked an arm with hers. A vague memory niggled in Nikki’s brain. Her companion seemed familiar. Do I know you?

Katarina chuckled. Well, I’ve looked at the back of your head every Tuesday and Thursday morning for the last eight weeks.

Nikki kicked herself. Her acute observation skills had somehow deserted her. Katarina was in her nuclear physics class. She’d had her under surveillance for how long? From the beginning of term? A cold shiver ran down her spine, and the icy chill didn’t come from the wind that blew across the Prussian plains.

You’ve been watching me.

You’re the only woman worth watching. She placed emphasis on the word woman.

Nikki narrowed her eyes. What should she construe from that remark? If they’d met at a party in London, she’d likely assume Katerina was a lesbian and was testing her reaction. But this wasn’t London, and in East Berlin, although homosexuality wasn’t illegal, it certainly wasn’t encouraged.

Nikki shot sidelong glances at her companion as they continued on their way. Katerina tugged at her red woollen hat, pulling it down to cover her ears, but she seemed oblivious to Nikki’s scrutiny. Their footsteps, clattering on the already frosty pavements, echoed in the empty street. An occasional yellow light peeped from the tall shadowy buildings looming overhead. Like pairs of eyes, the windows seemed to watch and assess Nikki’s every move as she walked past. At 9 p.m., the city was already shut down in preparation for a freezing night. Temperatures were forecast to hit minus eight degrees.

A tinny bell sounded as Katerina pushed open the door of the milk bar. Nikki scanned the room. Apart from the man bundled up in a threadbare overcoat who sat behind the counter, they were the only customers. A cigarette hung from the corner of the man’s mouth, and ash droppings peppered his chest. His eyes didn’t stray from the newspaper before him as they entered the establishment.

Nikki took a seat at a table for two by the window. Condensation covered the glass, and she rubbed the moisture away with the sleeve of her overcoat. Nobody walked past. Not even a dog walker was out braving the cold. Nikki had arranged to stay at Matthias’s apartment with the other party guests, but now, the prospect of a sleepless and freezing night on the floor made her cringe. Unfortunately, the last tram from Prenzlauer Allee back to Pankow had left ten minutes ago. A wave of homesickness washed over her. The thought of her cosy apartment in London, a hot shower and curling up in a warm bed with a good book had immediate appeal. 

Late August, when she had arrived, Berlin was in the middle of a heatwave that left the city's inhabitants exhausted. Rain hadn’t been seen since June and, every day, the sun seemed a little hotter, beating down relentlessly on the citizens who waited in queues for groceries or transport. The trees were practically bare, their leaves lying brown and furling on the park's brown, brittle grass.

The lack of fresh air had nearly driven Nikki insane. She’d opened every window of the stifling apartment in Pankow. Still, she couldn’t rid her living space of the disgusting cabbage odour and stink of disinfectant that seeped under the door and through walls to permeate the building.  The trams, buses and the U-Bahn reeked of unwashed bodies. Nikki nearly gagged at the overpowering smell of sweat, tobacco and alcohol that pervaded the transport systems. Rather than enduring thirty minutes of hell, Nikki had taken to walking to her destination. A strategy that also allowed her to check whether she’d picked up an unwanted tail.

As if that wasn’t enough, less than half a mile from Pankow, the gasworks in Prenzlauer Berg belched out thick grey smoke that hung over the entire area like a blackout curtain. And day after day, factories in the neighbourhood pumped pollution and smoke into the atmosphere. Hacking coughs became common on public transport, worse since winter had arrived.

November had brought a bone-chilling icy wind. In the summer, the blue sky had lightened her mood. Now, skies, buildings, and people had all turned into a dull, monotonous, unchangeable grey.

Katerina, carrying their drinks, approached the table. She slopped grey liquid into the saucers as she put them down on the grubby Formica. Nikki thanked her and took a sip. The coffee, or what passed for the beverage in the DDR, was lukewarm. Nikki struggled not to pull a face at the awful taste.

Katerina pulled out the chair opposite, rummaged in her coat pocket and extracted a battered packet of Juwel’s. With a smile on her lips, she offered one to Nikki. Then, leaning forward, she lit their cigarettes with a disposable lighter.

Nikki repressed a shiver and pulled her overcoat tightly around her neck. The only heat came from a one-bar radiator beside the counter, warming the proprietor's feet. She released a smoke spiral and said, Have you known Matthias long?

Katerina’s smile widened. Only since the start of term. And you, do you like him?

Nikki raised her brows at the strange question. After all, Matthias had invited them both to his party. Yes, he’s a nice guy.

Katerina nodded slowly as if she was mulling over her reply. 

I’m closing in five minutes, the man called.

Nikki swallowed the remainder of her coffee. The grits clogged in her throat, and she almost choked. She rose to leave.

Thanks for the coffee. I’d better get back to the party. I’ve missed the last tram, and Matthias is letting me stay over.

Katerina looked at Nikki and said, Why don’t you stay with me? She got to her feet. You didn’t seem as if you were enjoying the party. My room is small, but at least it’s warm.

Nikki weighed up Katerina’s invitation. In her student days, she’d detested parties. The guests would become increasingly drunk and stoned, then pass out on the floor by 2 a.m. So, lying in the freezing cold next to an inebriated man did not appeal to her in the least. The sleeping arrangements at Katerina’s apartment would likely be better. There’d be no drunks, and Katerina would probably offer her a chair or blankets for the floor.

Nikki smiled. That’s very kind of you. How far is it to your place?

It’s in the next street.

Nikki nodded. Katerina must live in another squat. The streets of Lychener, Schiemann and Duncker were known throughout East Berlin as LSD because most inhabitants favoured an alternative lifestyle. Many of the five- or six-storey houses lining these streets had been abandoned after the war. The regime, headed by the First Secretary of the Socialist Unity Party of Germany, Walter Ulbricht and subsequently Erich Honecker, had decided to build high-rise rabbit hutch apartments, known as Plattenbauten, on the outskirts of Berlin.

Do you live in a squat?

Yes. Katerina scowled at her. What’s wrong with that?

Nothing, I guess.

Katerina opened the milk bar door. Three of us live in a top floor apartment. The place has been abandoned for years. Where else are students supposed to live while they study? You know how difficult it is to find affordable accommodation.

An icy blast of wind whipped by them, and Katerina shivered. Where do you live?

In Pankow. It’s my aunt's apartment, but she’s looking after my grandmother at the moment, so I have it all to myself.

Katerina scowled. It’s alright for some.

Tiny flakes of snow drifted from the leaden sky. Katerina stumbled on a broken kerb, and Nikki grabbed the sleeve of her coat to prevent her from falling. Then she linked their arms, and with heads bowed they battled against the bitter wind.

They plodded in silence for several minutes, and then Katerina said, Do you think it will ever get better?

Of course. Nikki squeezed Katerina’s arm. The lyrics of our national anthem encourage us to think of the future. She sang the first few lines from the patriotic song. Risen from ruins and facing the future, let us serve you for the good, Germany, united fatherland.

Katerina giggled. I didn’t peg you for an active party member.

And I’m assuming you’re not.

Another lamppost emitted a faint yellow light. The remainder of the streetlights had burnt out and hadn’t been replaced. Yet again, citizens had to put up with another chronic shortage of supplies. Nikki tried to recall which country in the Comecon economic organisation was responsible for producing the lightbulbs, but the fact slipped her mind.

As if she’d read her thoughts, Katerina said, The lightbulbs are exported to the Soviet Union. We have none, and our beloved comrades don’t give a damn. They’re still making us pay. So much for comradeship. I don’t think the Soviets will ever forgive us for what our grandparents did.

You shouldn’t speak like that. It’s disloyal to the Party and the State.

Katerina’s laugh sounded brittle. Are you going to report me?

No, but somebody else might. Nikki lowered her voice. You should be careful.

The scowl that contorted Katerina’s features didn’t bode well. Perhaps she already rued her generosity. Another two minutes of silence, and then they reached Lychener Straße.

My apartment is at the end.

Katerina pointed at the ground. You can’t walk on them. She steered Nikki into the middle of the road. You’d risk breaking your ankle.

Nikki glanced across at the footpath. The paving stones were either cracked, broken, uneven, or missing. A casualty of the war that had never been repaired, the pavement looked more like a building site than a walkway.

Two vintage Trabants were the only vehicles parked in the street.  A dim light glowed from a third-floor apartment above. The cars wouldn’t have belonged to students, so perhaps ordinary working people also lived here. The road ended abruptly. An eight-foot wooden fence with five rows of barbed wire strung across the top barred the way. The barrier would prevent citizens from jumping on a slow-moving train heading towards the West. The rumble of a train sounded in the distance.

Katerina looked up at the last building and let out an audible sigh. It’s quiet here, apart from the U-Bahn.

Nikki nodded. She was limited to one exit if the Stasi knocked at Katerina’s door. Still, Nikki had no reason to believe her companion was under surveillance from the secret police.

A double door was set in the middle of the frontage. Katerina pushed open one side. I’ll lead the way.

She flicked a light switch on. Nikki gazed around. The red and white tiled floor didn’t look as though it had seen a broom in years. Piles of leaves, old envelopes and unrecognisable objects littered the grimy surface.

An elaborately crafted iron balustrade, which must have been installed when the building was erected, wrapped around the stone staircase leading to the upper floors. Nikki had read the scarcity of metal had driven Hitler to order that all railings be requisitioned for the war effort. Somehow this house had escaped, suggesting someone important in the regime might have lived here.

Hurry up, Nicole, the light will go out in a few minutes, Katerina called from the first-floor landing.

Nikki raced up the stairs and caught up with Katerina on the fourth floor inserting a key into the lock.

You’re squatting, but you lock your door.

Katerina laughed. I don’t want my belongings stolen. Would you leave the door to your apartment open?

No, of course not.

Katerina entered the apartment. Come in.

Nikki stepped inside and shivered. The whitewashed walls of the tiny hall made the apartment seem even colder. A small brown desk holding magazines and papers stacked in two piles was pushed against one wall.

Katerina shut the door. The apartment is small, but I like it. She waved a hand towards the left. That’s the bathroom. Then she pointed to two doors across the hallway. Straight ahead is Klaus and Dieter’s room and, next to it, the kitchen.

Nikki dropped her jaw and opened her eyes wide. Do you mean they share?

Katerina laughed. Yes, does that shock you? She gave Nikki an impish grin.

I don’t know. I mean no, of course not.

This is my room. Katerina opened the door. I’ll turn the heater on. Do you want to use the bathroom? It’s over there. She indicated the brown door a second time.

Nikki nodded her thanks. She shut the door and turned on the tap. The cabinet above the basin contained a stick of shaving soap, two razors and a packet of headache tablets. After using the facilities, Nikki headed back to Katerina’s room. She pushed open the door and pulled up short. A naked Katerina stood in the centre of the room. Nikki’s gaze settled on the vast bush lying between her legs. During an embarrassing briefing in West Berlin, a young male officer explained that German women didn’t shave their armpits or trim their pubic hair. But the sight still came as a shock. Nikki averted her eyes and mumbled, I’m sorry.

Katerina laughed. Haven’t you seen a naked woman before?

Yes. Nikki’s face and neck were warming. Yes, of course, I have. She turned away and removed her coat. Her heart was pounding. The last time she’d seen a naked woman was ... An image of Jasmine reclining on the bed in Istanbul caught Nikki unawares. She blinked back the threatening tears and concentrated on looking around the room. In one corner sat a bookcase overflowing with books on physics and chemistry. An armchair placed under a standard lamp showed where Katerina did her reading. A poster was taped to the wall above the only bed. Nikki had to tear her gaze from the picture of two women naked from the waist up locked in an embrace.

Nikki cursed her luck. The irony of the situation didn’t escape her. For the last week, she’d woken in the middle of every night, bathed in sweat and aroused from erotic dreams. Since her arrival in the East, she’d been hoping to find a companion. Nikki corrected herself, no, a girlfriend.

Are you shocked? Katerina’s eyes probed at her.

No, Nikki said, I’m not.

I’d understand if you want to go home. Katerina picked up a nightdress and slipped the garment over her body. The hem reached to her ankles.

No. It’s fine. The two-bar heater had warmed the room a little. I don’t have a problem with your sexuality. She pointed to the armchair. Shall I sleep there?

You could, but you could also sleep in my bed if .... The sentence hung in the air. It will be warmer. You’ll freeze if you sleep in the chair.

Nikki let her eyes roam over Katerina’s body as the young woman climbed into bed.  What were the chances of meeting another lesbian, especially here, in East Germany? Then the unexpected invite to Katerina’s apartment, and now an offer to share her bed. This encounter might be rigged. But why? Nikki had kept a low profile. She’d spent her time either in her apartment, studying at the university library or attending lectures.

And she’d played it straight in West Berlin too, electing to spend her evenings in the company of her best friend, Lonnie. Although the urge was there, she’d not risked venturing into a woman’s bar.

Nikki missed Lonnie. She’d sighted him only twice in East Berlin, once while travelling on the S-Bahn and the other occasion when strolling across Alexanderplatz. They’d given no sign of recognition and barely glanced at one another. Their instructions were explicit, no contact except in the event of an emergency.

Had her behaviour somehow alerted the neighbours in her apartment building? She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Katerina had asked her a question.

I said you can borrow one of my nightdresses. Katerina pointed to a flowery, long-sleeved item of clothing at the bottom of the bed.

Nikki nodded her thanks. She picked up the nightdress, turned away and stripped off her clothes. Her underwear stayed on. Undressing in front of a woman never usually bothered her, but it did tonight.

Katerina must have seen or sensed her hesitation. You’re perfectly safe with me. I’m not going to touch you.

Although the room was no longer cold, Nikki shivered as she climbed into the bed and positioned her body on the edge of the mattress.

Katrina laughed. You’ll fall onto the floor.

I don’t want to disturb you. Nikki shifted towards the centre. How would she respond if Katerina touched her? Seven months had passed since Jasmine. Seven months without any affection. Seven months without sex.

You won’t. After three glasses of beer, I sleep like a log. Katerina snuggled down further into the bed. Her arm grazed against Nikki’s.

An unexpected pulse of arousal shot through Nikki’s body. She ran through her cover story. Nicole Schwartz had left Rostock because her fiancé had broken off their engagement. Nicole Schwartz liked men, not women. Nikki repeated the words silently, three times. Katerina’s warm breath blew against her neck, sending a shiver up her spine. The deprivation of physical contact was affecting her libido. What if she shifted backwards? Would Katerina take the initiative? Nikki banished the thought. She couldn’t take the risk.

Katerina, when did you know—Nikki swallowed back her reservations—you liked women?

I can’t remember when exactly, but I know I always have.

The hairs on the back of Nikki’s neck quivered. Agreeing to stay had been an error of judgement. She should have feigned outrage and left, but the poster of the women embracing had cemented a desire for physical affection.

It’s probably the same for you with men, right? Katerina said.

Nikki gnawed her lower lip. For a few moments, overwhelmed with need and her memories of Jasmine, she didn’t trust herself to speak. Then she nodded.

Do you have a boyfriend?

Nikki repressed the urge to tell the truth and instead said, No, not at the moment.

Katerina gave a throaty chuckle. I’m not surprised.

"Why would you say