HAUSMEISTERIN: THE SECRET

Document Text:
3 April, 1984

About a month ago I was asked by the KGB to help safeguard a secret training facility they are constructing next to my farm near Bohnsdorf. The Chekists knew I worked as a Stasi filing clerk during the '50s and '60s. My former supervisor told them "Gertrude Baumann can be trusted to keep a secret," no doubt thinking he was doing me a favor. And so they informed me they wanted a local asset to keep an eye on the place without alerting the neighbors. It was an offer I could not turn down. In such an instance, one says, “Ja” and then keeps their mouth shut.

So I walked the grounds twice a week, checking gates and locks to make sure no farmer or villager trespassed the facility. To be honest it was all rather boring.

A week ago, the Chekists advised me that a delegation from the Lubyanka were coming to inspect the facility. They wanted me to show them around, which made me rather nervous. If the wrong people think you know too much, well... I have filed enough execution reports to know where that leads. But I also know how to be both helpful and ignorant in all the ways that count.
Yesterday they arrived, these grey men in their suits, and I led them through the facility, pretending not to recognize the crude reproductions of Air Force One and the Oval Office. Clearly an assassination mission would be rehearsed there. The less I seemed to realize this, the better.

And then it happened. There was an otherworldly sound and a flash of light in what I have come to think of as the "airplane hangar." I was standing away from the group having what I feared might be my last cigarette. Whatever that light was, it engulfed the KGB inspectors and I heard them scream. I ran to assist with injuries, but as my vision cleared I could see they were changed. Horribly changed. They howled like lost souls and lumbered towards me. I barely managed to latch the door with them inside.

What do I do now? They are still locked in the hangar. Do I contact my friends in the Stasi and let them know? Will I somehow get blamed for what happened to these men? Stupid question – of course I will. They will soon be missed. Someone will come looking for them. Again, what do I do now?