Landsberger Allee
Camarada VicRusty: Moltes gràcies! I could be speaking about this city for hours... Let's sum it all up saying it is the most exciting city I can imagine.
Camarada Kim Il Sung Sunwoo: ¡Muchas gracias por comentar! Well, your CJ is based on what happened to "those" who made what resulted in my CJ... An interesting European history CJ loop...
Comrade TPB: Thanks for commenting! Actually, I also feel there should be more "meat", but it is quite hard to recreate these parts of Berlin semi-accurately and to make everything look cool. Anyway, thanks for the suggestion.
Comrade Benedict: Thank you! Blame that to The Lives of the Others, one of my all-time favourite movies!
Comrade Sexysark:P: Well, this is actually this CJ you're saying, without John Lecarré and American spies, though.
Comrade Mymyjp: Thank you very much!
Comrade Roman_Samudra: Am I the best man? Better get a tux for the wedding! 
Comrade Huston: Always a pleasure to bring some T&R! Also necessary to disconnect a bit of C:S for a while!
Camarada Alejandro24: Gracias! I don't know yet, we'll see where does this CJ evolve...
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It rained "Berlin style" outside again. It is not a heavy rain, it does not fall hard. Very fine drops take the city suddenly, and a few moments later, everything is soaking wet. You don't even notice until you go out of home without your overall coat and you have to go inside again. The rain tends to stop ten minutes later. Ten more minutes pass until it starts raining again. And so it goes for weeks.
Nothing seemed out of normal that evening, February 1979 at the crossing between the Landsberger Allee and the Weissenseer Weg. All commuters, driving their lighly colored Trabants were going back home after a dull workday. The rusty Tatra trams, manufactured in the Czech Republic, went up and down the busy intersection tirelessly. The world was trying to get somewhere warm, while Dieter listened to his old music records while drinking some tea. HIs parents were at the doctor, his little sister was ill, so he had the whole tiny, cold and brown flat for him.
Dieter heard heavy knocking on the door. He turned off the gramophone, scared. There would be a neighbor complaining that the music was too loud. Stood up and walked the dark corridor, opened the door hesitantly. A low-speaking voice rushed him to open, pronouncing some feared words "State Security". Staatssicherheit. The Stasi. It took only two seconds to open the door, but it felt to Dieter like an eternity. All his activities of his last week went by his head, wondering what could have triggered a Stasi visit.
"Staatssicherheit. Can we have a short chat with you? It won't take too long." said a man in grey and lighly wet overalls, with exquisite but firm manners, grey eyes nailed on Dieter's. Two other men came along.
*****
He saw through the window the three men getting into a black Lada car, very official-looking, of Russian manufacture, pulling over south along the Weissenseer Weg, bound to the Stasi HQ at the Normannenstrasse, not too far from there.
After the Wall fell, some research pointed that, during the Stasi heyday, one out of six east Germans was a part-time Stasi informant or collaborator. Dieter was one of them, starting that same evening. Refusing to do so was not an option. Dieter wasn't willing to see what could happen if he decided not to collaborate.
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