The Berlin Exchange

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In chapter 4, Martin is at a meet-and-greet with other physicists working on nuclear energy for East Berlin when he begins talking with Klaus Fuchs, an eminent German physicist and former atomic spy, who feels safe in East Berlin. When Martin questions him, he answers, "No FBI, no more army intelligence, with their questions, trying to trap you. All those years, not knowing if— But now it's safe. You can breathe." How is his perspective different from Martin's? Almost a laugh, caught in time. Then, when she kept staring, “We don’t have politics. Not like here.” Everybody. Workers. Of course, in the beginning, a privilege. Hot water, central heating, these things were luxuries in those days. But now everywhere. We live not far from here. In Weberwiese. You’ll see later.” Now,” McGregor said, beginning to walk. “Not too fast. We want to be there at the same time. When you get to the barrier, they’ll raise it and you keep going. The others will pass you coming out. So nobody’s first. Nobody pulls anything.” I’m too much a coward,” she’d said. “All the blood. I don’t have the stomach for that. It doesn’t bother you?”

Let’s go,” Kurt said, leaving the guards to deal with whatever reports were going to be made. “It’s another matter, the exchange. Nothing to do with this. We don’t want them confused. Come.” Protecting himself. The driver stayed slumped over, but a young man opened the passenger door, hands up. “Don’t shoot.” He looked at the driver, distraught. “You killed him. Murderers.” Martin looked out the window, then up, following the line of the buildings. The contrast with the West had become a magazine cliché—the shiny cars reflecting the lights of the Kurfürstendamm, the gray shabby streets of the East—and it was true that the buildings were dingier on this side, neglected, but it was still the same city, the same architecture. They passed Torstrasse. She’d lived near here, an old tenement building in Albrechtstrasse, because it was close to the theaters and she wanted to be an actress, was an actress, except it was all foolishness in the theater, nothing serious, you had to scrape by with walk-on bits out at the UFA studios. When you could get them. And the building was all right, your own bathroom, not a shared toilet down the hall.

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A journalist, Hans Reiger, constantly dogs Martin about a violent incident that occurred during his exchange, in an effort to answer the same questions Martin has about it. In chapter 4, Kurt insists again that “nobody wants such a story,” yet goes out of his way to throw Hans off the trail. What does this signal about the importance of Hans’s story? Who do you think could be interested after all? Two years. Of course, the way he’s growing now, he may grow out of the part soon.” The proud father.

The Berlin Exchange, by the veteran spy-story author Joseph Kanon, expertly describes what happens when a disillusioned former agent tries to come in from the cold. . . . Kanon vividly evokes the suspicion, hypocrisy and relentless grayness of life in the East. . . . the plot shifts into high gear and turns into a complex, high-stakes operation in which Martin, thrillingly, is pulling all the strings. He’s one step ahead of his enemies, and three steps ahead of us.” — Sarah Lyall, The New York Times Book Review A master stylist of concise yet eloquent writing, Kanon recreates the corrupt atmosphere of East Berlin in 1963, to riveting effect… Kanon’s books are a gold mine for lovers of espionage…Fans of Alan Furst and John le Carré will include Kanon as the third member of a Cold War troika.” This book! I pondered for an entire day before doing the review. That is not my usual practice- doing the review almost immediately upon finish. It's fully 4.5 stars. I wanted to round it up but couldn't. Why? Because the nature of the beast is so complex and manipulative and frankly confusing- that the character / plot/ transitions/ continuity remain entirely mixed throughout the book. It's difficult to even remember all the primes' names. There are probably 20 to 25 all going in various and shadowed (or not) directions. Thus it is not an easy read. Yes,” he said, still smiling. “She’s anxious to see you. After so many years. And of course Peter.” The Berolina. Only the best for a distinguished guest,” Kurt said, a wink in his voice. “We’ll find you an apartment later. When your plans are settled.”At Invalidenstrasse. Wall jumpers. In an ambulance. I think something new, using an ambulance. I don’t remember anyone before—” It’s not a secret, is it? Of course I know. In this work you have to know everything about your clients.”

No, he needs to be a child. That’s the point, you understand. A family show. Peter does something he shouldn’t, some mischief, and then his father teaches him a lesson. How a good socialist behaves. It wouldn’t work if he were older.” In chapter 8, Stefan accuses Martin of “having a taste for” espionage, something Sabine and Andrei also echo as Martin’s plan unfurls. Martin denies it each time. Do you believe him? Would his enjoyment of solving the puzzle to save his family invalidate the morality of his actions? Discuss the complexity of mixed motivations in high-stakes circumstances. Yes, Boothby. Just in time for his pension. The students.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “So also some political prisoners for the West Germans. They’ll be exchanged tonight at Herleshausen. And the West Germans will be very grateful to their British friends. So everyone gets something.” The salesman smile again. What was he talking about? Political prisoners. Martin just a piece of contraband. But what did it matter? He was here. Yes, I know. The SED Congress, the trade delegation. But that’s not all we are. A man shot dead in Invalidenstrasse? People want to know.”The way you want someone to look at you. Like a hunger. And I thought—if we’re telling the truth—maybe with him. But I had to know first. If we fit. You see, I don’t lie to you. I wouldn’t say this if we didn’t fit.”

The man who gave us the bomb. That’s what they used to say in Neues Deutschland. You know you’ll have to give them an interview. It’s not so usual these days, coming east.” Hans made a faint smile. “Your next spy.” He looked at Martin. “You’re the physicist, no? So here’s another. My interview today.” He tilted his head up, someone at the hotel. “A returnee. What do you ask a physicist? That a reader understands?” On second thought, maybe you’ll fit right in. With the Krauts. They say everybody’s got an ear out over there.”Apartments are assigned,” Kurt said, explaining. “I’ll get you a priority on the list, but until then, the Berolina. A guest of the state.” He lowered his voice, suddenly practical. “You still have an English bank account, yes? Hard currency. Very valuable here when you transfer the funds. Well, come.” A tense spy thriller… Kanon balances a convincing portrayal of spycraft with fleshed-out characters, while vividly depicting the impact of secret lives on the loved ones of those engaged in espionage.” A few minutes and he’d be free. Which wasn’t how Digby, the junior warden who’d handled his release, had seen it. “You ask me, it’s changing one prison for another. Different walls, that’s all.” But how could he know, someone who went home at night? “They’re trying to get out over there, not in. You’ll be getting parole soon. You’d have a choice. And who’d choose—?” Berlin, 1963. American physicist Martin Keller, jailed for ten years in an English prison for being a Soviet spy, is suddenly offered his freedom and a new life in East Germany. The price is reasonable: a Cold War prisoner exchange—Martin for two American students who tried to help a friend escape over the Berlin Wall and an old MI6 operative. An irresistible offer. But has he merely traded one prison for another? His freedom has been arranged by his ex-wife’s new husband, Kurt, a man who works all sides of every conflict, and his old spymasters still see him as a valuable chess piece. But to what end? Well, perhaps. But a bad symbol. There was so much to do after the war. And no money. What do you do? Save the past, patch it up? Or build the future. A socialist society—we had to look ahead. Wait till you see what they’ve done in Alexanderplatz.”