The Message Turns to Ash
FIRST HAND: The Courier The letter arrived at 0417 hours, pressed between the pages of a Baedeker travel guide handed across the platform at Friedrichstrasse station. The courier — a young woman named Margit, twenty-four years old, her hands steady despite the February cold — did not read it. She had been trained not to read. During her induction in 1960, her instructor had told her: "Your job...
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