Ring of Lies Read Online Free Page A

and the West was erected, and the Cold War broke out. Here the Stasi unleashed its reign of terror, and here the Wall was torn down and the two Germanys were reunited.
    Outside, an ominous winter day. Minus nine, said a billboard. The streets were covered in fresh snow and the sky was leaden. Just a faint bluish light.
    He got out of the cab on Unter den Linden, and the cold lashed at his face like a curtain of needles. His feet crushed the coarse salt and pebbles that had been scattered on the ice.
    He had fifteen minutes until the meeting. Germans wrapped in hats and scarves hurried past him. Bebelplatz was close. He recognized the impressive Humboldt University building. A sudden gust of wind sent a shiver through him. He made his way carefully along the icy path.
    Bebelplatz was flat, rectangular, snowy, and empty. He looked for the monument buried in the cobblestones. He saw pale light coming from a bare, square window in the center of the ice-covered surface. He approached and looked down into the space. It was about fifteen feet square. Its walls were lined with empty bookshelves painted white.
    Here, in 1933, the Nazis had burned twenty thousand books written by Jews, Communists, and liberals who refused to accept Nazi principles.
    The whispering monument was bloodcurdling.
    It was as if it were murmuring, Your mother is dead .

BEBELPLATZ, BERLIN | 15:56
    Alex’s eyes were fixed on the empty bookshelves. The cold seared his mouth and windpipe.
    Reflected in the glass floor beside him was a large image of someone else. He hadn’t heard any steps approaching. Alex turned and examined him. The tall German had a large, strong build.
    â€œYou are the emissary,” the man declared, the wind playing with his mane of white hair. Alex recognized the dolphinlike forehead and nodded.
    â€œSo the boss is too busy to see me,” the German added, slightly offended. A moment later, he decided to smile and reached out to shake Alex’s hand. His own hand was encased in a fine-quality glove. His grip was warm and strong, but his bottom lip drooped as if he’d just gotten bad news.
    â€œHow are you, Justus?”
    â€œSpring does not arrive here until a month after it reaches Munich in the South,” Justus said.
    â€œWhat happened to your man in Istanbul?” Alex asked.
    Justus smiled mischievously. “What’s your rush?”
    â€œIn one hour last night we lost the Istanbul Nibelung, and the leader of our operational team was wounded and captured. Even if she’s released, she’s burned forever. Do you still insist on foreplay?”
    The German’s smile flew off, gone with the wind. He shook his head.
    â€œCould Istanbul have betrayed us?” Alex asked.
    â€œNo chance,” Justus said.
    â€œSo why are the Turks only talking about a female Mossad agent and not saying a word about him?”
    â€œI do not know yet,” Justus said. “But I know my people very well. I promise you, Istanbul was no traitor.”
    â€œBased on what?”
    â€œI can read people like an open book.”
    â€œReally?”
    Justus studied him. “You are too close to your operative to handle this matter with the good judgment it requires.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œYou are a man of nearly endless patience who is at the end of his rope.”
    Another gust swept across the empty plaza. Alex felt as if he’d been stripped of his clothes. “Why did you want to meet here?”
    â€œWhy not?” Justus asked.
    â€œIs this your favorite spot in Berlin?”
    â€œOne of them. I love books. For me, this place is like the mouth of a volcano. Lava seething with hatred flows under our feet, threatening to erupt. Here, you can actually see it. If you are looking for beauty, go to Paris. People come to Berlin for its scars. Do you read German?” Justus tightened the gray cashmere scarf around his neck.
    Alex nodded.
    â€œThere is a quotation from the