The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

have other payoffs when the troops concluded their conscripted service.
Erwin Keitel approached one such Soviet soldier, a senior sergeant by rank.
'Good day,' he said in German.
'Nicht spreche,' the Russian answered 'English?'
'English is okay, yes?'
'Da.' The Russian nodded.
'Ten uniforms.' Keitel held up both hands to make the number unambiguous.
'Ten?'
'Ten, all large, big like me,' Keitel said. He could have spoken in perfect
Russian, but that would have caused more trouble than it was worth. 'Colonel
uniforms, all colonel, okay?'
'Colonel – povodnik. Regiment officer, yes? Three stars here?' the man tapped
his shoulders.
'Yes.' Keitel nodded. 'Tank uniform, must be for tank.'
'Why you want?' the sergeant asked, mainly to be polite. He was a tanker, and
getting the right garb was not a problem.
'Make movie – television movie.'
'Television?' The man's eyes lit up. 'Belts, boots?'
'Yes.'
The man checked left and right, then lowered his voice. 'Pistol?'
'You can do that?'
The sergeant smiled and nodded emphatically to show that he was a serious
broker. 'Take money.'
'Must be Russian pistol, correct pistol,' Keitel said, hoping that this pidgin
exchange was clear.
'Yes, I can get.'
'How soon?'
'One hour.'
'How much?'
'Five thousand mark, no pistol. Ten pistol, five thousand mark more.' And that,
Keitel thought, was highway robbery.
He held up his hands again. 'Ten thousand mark, yes. I pay.' To show he was
serious, he displayed a sheaf of hundred-mark notes. He tucked one in the
soldier's pocket. 'I wait one hour.'
'I come back here, one hour.' The soldier left the area rapidly. Keitel walked
into the nearest Gasthaus and ordered a beer.
'If this were any easier,' he observed to a colleague, 'I'd say it was a trap.'
'You heard about the tank?'
'The T-80, yes, why?'
'Willi Heydrich did that for the Americans.'
'Willi?' Keitel shook his head. 'What was his fee?'
'Five hundred thousand D-Mark. Damned-fool Americans. Anyone could have set that
up.'
'But they didn't know that at the time.' The man laughed bleakly. DM500,000 had
been enough to set the former Oberst-Leutnant Wilhelm Heydrich up in a business
– a Gasthaus like this one – which made for a much better living than he'd ever
gotten from the Stasi. Heydrich had been one of Keitel's most promising