Argosy (UK), January 1955 — page 8: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

6 ROBERT SHERMAN TOWNES Miraculously, beautifully, the official smiled. He announced that he was from the Security Police—as though one could not tell at a glance—and wished to take Comrade Kleinmikkel into special confidence. ‘Trembling with relief, Comrade K. leaned forward over his big belly, wiggling and glowing with loyalty. The official’s heavy Russian accent slurred the ungrammatical German. Comrade Kleinmikkel, he said, must have heard that Berlin was about to be honoured by a visit from no less a per- sonage than Admiral V. I. Baranovsky, of the Soviet Navy. The visit, the official went on, was under the personal supervision of Security Police Chief Wilhelm Meisner. Herr K. was hardly able to suppress his shudder. Baranovsky was only a remote, exotic name.- But Wilhelm Meisner sat at table with every man, woman, and child in East Germany, went to school and to work and to the tavern with them, had keys to anything to which they had keys. He was totally the secret policeman, trained in Russia, twice tortured by the Nazis, a man tempered and drawn to utter perfection, above corruption, beyond mercy. Herr K. wondered with dread just how he was to figure in the plans of such a man. His caller explained. Chief Meisner had arranged special entertainments for the Admiral’s visit of state. One highlight was to be a night at the circus—Russians being especially fond of circuses. Klaus Kleinmikkel beamed. This was opportunity knocking loudly. The official explained in great detail, reading from a typed piece of paper, exactly how the evening was to be handled. Herr K. nodded and nodded, his round head filling up with rosy dreams. “ All will be correct, Herr Kommissar,”’ he said happily. “ Comrade Kommissir,” the official corrected frostily, ‘ You understand,”’ he went on in his thick accent, ‘‘ everything must be absolutely wunderbar. Nothing second-rate. We know a thing or two about circuses, we Russians.”’ Abruptly, he rose, swung on his heel, and left. Herr K. sat at the window, watching the black car stirring terror everywhere as it moved slowly down the street. Only fifteen days remained to prepare. Carpenters from the Security Police erected gunners’ perches and lined the state box with sheet steel. Herr K. worked like a navvy in the sawdust arena. Madame Vera was brusquely ordered to work up a brand- new act, a slow adagio on the slack-wire. When she and her partner protested, Herr K. only pointed grimly with his gold toothpick towards the police agents standing silently about. New costumes were whipped up in gay Russian colours. Sawdust for comicloooks.Ccomn)