East Berlin's June Boat Song

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Honestly, I was bluffed by George.

About my big secret?What secret can I have?I couldn't figure it out, but I still went to Lodz with him as if in a daze. Of course, this is also the only way we must go back to Germany. We only need to rest here for a day or two.

But according to George's current physical condition, he can't take any actions, so the task of obtaining the big secret naturally falls on me. I seriously suspect that he is using me.

"Hey, don't squeeze the labor of the working class, you bourgeois." I dissatisfiedly helped him into the bedroom and put him on the bed: "If I find out that you are lying to me, you will die."

"Oh, my dear Comrade Mueller, tell me how to die quickly?" He blinked his eyes, his charm was shocking: "I don't think it's punishment if you want to fuck me, on the contrary, I will enjoy it."

He touched my waist lewdly.

Holy Son Jesus, it seems that the legend is true!There is no such thing as a normal British man!

I snorted and snorted: "I wouldn't be so hungry."

He raised his eyebrows: "Look at what you said, can I still climb high?"

He suddenly made a fuss and exclaimed: "Could it be that you are afraid of General Azrael, in fact..."

He leaned close to my ear and said softly, "It's quite exciting to steal something occasionally."

"Hey George!" I pushed him away: "You don't have to tease me like this, and don't act with me. I like men, but it doesn't mean I like every man."

He was pushed onto the bed by me, and he seemed to touch the wound, and he groaned in pain. I couldn't bear it anymore, and slowly helped him up.

"Okay, tell me quickly what I'm going to do."

George gave me a resentful look, as if complaining about my incomprehension, took a deep breath, and his expression became serious.

"This time in Poland, I got two important pieces of information. The first one was intercepted from my arrogant colleague. He should have added a specific password to the information, but because he was too confident, he only used the regular code. The password, so I easily deciphered it. This is the information I want to report to General Azrael personally. And the other—"

He glanced at me: "To be honest, this is not an exact piece of information. It's just that one day at the end of 54, I was walking in the bustling market in Lublin, yes, it was the kind of daily market, with people coming and going, So I don't even know who slipped a note into my pocket. It said 'Go to Lodz and learn about Rhine Muller'."

"At that time, I was still wondering why I wanted to obtain your secret. Although we met once, of course, I was deeply impressed by a handsome man like you, but I didn't think I would come to Ross specifically for you. Risky. However, strange things happened, and I was inexplicably betrayed shortly afterwards, captured by the Poles, and—”

He stared at me sullenly: "You are here."

A different sneer then appeared on his face: "It seems that we have been calculated into a trap."

After hearing what he said, I gasped, and couldn't change my thoughts for a while. After a long time, I asked: "So, let's go to get this so-called secret now, what if we fall into the other party's arms?"

George raised the corner of his mouth, his expression became colder and colder: "Then, it's exactly what I want."

He looked up at me: "After all, if you want to catch fish, you have to jump into the river first, don't you?"

I was silent, I really don't know who is the person who connects me and George?But the only thing that is certain is that this person knows the informant relationship between Julian and me, and the informant relationship between Julian and George. In addition, he is our enemy.

An enemy hiding in the shadows.

I walked out of the apartment where I was hiding and headed for the station that George had investigated long ago.It is said that there is an important clue in a locker there. Of course, this is what he investigated later when he was bored.According to what he meant, at that time he was still thinking that if he could use that secret one day, it might be a good thing to hold me back.

The urban area of ​​Lodz is very lively. Like Berlin, a city located in the heart of the Pod Plain will always have an open and high sky.Some of the newly built modern buildings in the city look very Bolshevik, but the French Neo-Artistic and Baroque buildings with a sense of age are also fortunately preserved after the war - small spires in the sun, small balconies full of flowers, Gothic little shields can be seen everywhere.

This once traumatic city has become Poland's largest industrial center.

I came to the long-distance bus station behind Lagiewniki City Park and found the locker No. 13 in the waiting hall. I curled my lips and thought, why is there such a relationship with the number 13?After opening the locker, inside is a card.

Business card of Karutel's pawn shop in Lodz.

I pondered for a moment, then took the tram to Carutel Pawnshop according to the address on the business card—a pawnshop located in a remote alley that looked dilapidated, as if it was about to close down.

Pushing open the creaking wooden door, I frantically organized the language in my heart, trying to come up with a few Polish words.But the old man behind the counter keenly captured some of my German characteristics when he saw me at the first sight, with a sly look in his eyes, and said with a smile: "GutenTagmeinHerr." (German: good afternoon sir)

I smiled friendly, took some snacks, went to the counter and said to the old man, "Well, I think I need to find something, maybe my friend left it with you."

"Oh? Could you tell me the name of your friend?"

I thought about it, and then said, "George Blake."

He lowered his head to look through the roster, and then made an apologetic gesture: "Oh, there is no friend like you here."

Strange, I lowered my head to think, and then suddenly a thought popped into my heart, I looked up and said, "Well, Rhein Müller."

The old man looked stunned, then quickly flipped through the roster, and said with some excitement: "Here it is! It's here! Your friend has kept a few books with us. Hey, let me tell you, if it wasn't for your friend repeatedly Please accept it, I have no intention of wanting these books that are about to rot, but they are out of print, we Poles still have feelings, hey!"

He seemed to be moved by his great kindness, he chattered a lot, then walked into the secret door at the back, making a sound of rummaging through boxes and boxes, but within a short time he came out with a brown paper package .

"You have to pay interest." He stared at me and smacked his mouth.

I shrugged and pulled enough zlotys out of my purse.

"I think my friend must have been very embarrassed at that time." I wanted to extract some useful information from his words: "Otherwise, I wouldn't be reduced to selling books. He loves books the most."

"That's right! You're in such a mess! This friend of yours looks like a scholar, he doesn't know how to fool people, and he only speaks softly when begging for help. Hey, if it wasn't for my kindness, he would have starved to death!" He counted the zlotys and smiled happily: "You are so rich, you should help your Polish friend. Now, now... Oh, we are having a hard time!"

Poles, perhaps foreigners who speak Polish well.If it is a foreigner, he must be very good at disguising, so that the old man who can tell that I am German at a glance cannot see through his true identity.

I left holding the dusty package in the old man's happy smile, feeling a little heavy.

Instead of going back to the apartment, I found a nearby coffee shop.Since it is my secret, I naturally have to read it first.

Looking at the kraft paper package on the table, I was flustered and felt inexplicably bored.After all, I got this package just now after giving my name, so the mastermind behind it even calculated that I would come to Poland and meet George.

This is not a pleasant thing, like being naked in the shower but being peeked at by others.

I smiled with the corners of my mouth open, and then mustered up the courage to tear off the fine hemp rope on the kraft paper, spread out the kraft paper, and found that it was a book by the famous Polish writer Pruss.

Even though I’m very new to Polish, I can still recognize the title of the book as “Dolls”—what an uncomfortable word, with a hint of mockery.

The other two are "The Outpost" and "What Wave". I don't know the word. These books are the first published editions of Prussia in the 19th century, and they are indeed of some value.I flipped through it, and the dense Polish in it made me dizzy.I picked up the most uncomfortable "Dolls" again, and suddenly I felt an inexplicable tension in my heart.

It seems to face the tension of fate.

I swallowed, and opened the book, because there was something between it, so the pages of the book were naturally spread out on that page, and the photo rushed into my eyes unobstructed

Although I had made sufficient mental preparations, I was still so shocked by the contents of the photos that I couldn't speak.I don't know what expression I should have, surprised?Confuse?sad?uncomfortable?

All kinds of emotions rushed into my heart in an instant, entangled and rose, and hit my brain, making me unable to think.

I reached out stiffly and took out the photo.

How beautiful, how beautiful he was then, exactly the same as now, I say Julian is a man who never grows old.And who is standing in front of him?Is it me?It's not me, why does this person look so similar to me?

He looked a little old, and time had not spared him. He was a bit rickety and was being escorted by the Soviet army. His expression was depressed, his face was gray, and he seemed to be numb and tired of his upcoming fate.On the other side, the conspicuous commander is my Julian, the silver-haired major, staring at him coldly and silently.

I covered my face, trembling with unspeakable emotions, unable to hold back my tears.

I have long had a grudge against Julian who always knew I was Randall's son but never kept silent.I understand that nuclear weapons have always been a secret of every country, but even if Julian mentioned to me that Randall is still alive, and told the heartbroken me after the death of Minister Zeisel that I still have relatives in this world, Even if I don't let me see him, just let me know that he is still alive, I won't be so sad.

What's more, after he gave me the code name "River" (Rui Fan), I added the surname "Randle" (Randall) privately. Anyone knows that I miss him and miss my miserable life Father.But the person I love the most turned a blind eye and cruelly kept me in the dark, delusional to let me live in the tragic reality of being unaccompanied.

But today I found out that it was Julian who took my father away with his own hands.

Oh Julian, my Julian, why you, why...

After all these years, what else have you been hiding from me?

When I got back to George's it was after seven o'clock in the evening, and I bought some pate and bread, and sure enough George was lying in bed moaning loudly that he was starving to death.

Then when he saw my red eyes, he suddenly stopped screaming, and his expression became gentle.

"So, you have found your secret?" He looked at me with a smile, calm and wise, not at all like the usual him, no, maybe this is the real him.

I nodded: "I found it."

"That's good..." He pulled the corner of my clothes and motioned me to sit down: "Then don't be sad, because I will always be by your side."

I looked up at him: "Why?"

"Because you saved me, and I am a person who knows how to repay you."

"I don't need any repayment from you, I don't need anything, maybe..." I smiled weakly, "Maybe I need the truth."

"The truth of what?"

"The truth of everything." I handed the three books to George. Of course, I took out the photos and put them in my coat pocket. I pointed to the "Doll" and said, "Why do I feel that this word refers to me Woolen cloth?"

George's smile froze on his face.

"You think too much about Rhine, everyone lives for themselves, for themselves, how can they be called dolls?"

"Really?" I stared into his watery brown eyes, unable to suppress the trembling of my voice: "Am I really living for myself?"