INTO THE UNKNOWN HOME


Wulf Schlau stared at the progress bar on the screen, his heart rushing ahead of the seconds, his eyes trying in vain to push the narrow blue stripes forward faster.

It wasn't exactly a state secret, which is why Wulf was not risking a minimum of six years in prison. For the same reason, the files weren't protected like state secrets – yet. Nevertheless, the raw data on the research of the newly discovered oil and gas deposits at the bottom of the West Sea would be worth a lot of money in Jeltland that lie just across that very sea.

Finally! There it was. Noticing once again how tense his lower jaw was, and trying to relax it, Wulf opened half a dozen files at random to make sure they weren't corrupt. Then he pulled the flash drive out and dialed a number on his cellphone.

The call was answered immediately, but instead of a voice, Wulf heard three short beeps followed by a long one. Then the call was interrupted. Wulf nodded with satisfaction and put the phone away. Five minutes from now, the circuit he had installed would make the institute's network server melt down, hopefully not starting a fire. In due time, files would be restored from yesterday's backups – without any records of what had been done today.

Having sent two fake emails of identical content to the director of the institute and his secretary while the network still functioned, Wulf took a memo he had prepared yesterday and left his office. So far, everything had worked out fine. He may have been fired in disgrace from his last job as a computer technician, but the experience had certainly paid off in this institute, the nation's leading facility for research on marine resources, where most people couldn't tell a motherboard from a video card and were therefore very grateful when Wulf lent a hand with their computer problems on top of his regular duties.

Now he had to get through the difficult part.

* * *

"Sir, I just got a message from the ministry..."
"Yes, Maruska, I saw it too. I have to hurry now. Tell Petar to get ready with the car."
"Right away, sir."
Boleslav Duratski, Director of the Moregrad Maritime Institute, stood up from his desk with an annoyed grimace. His weekly meeting at the ministry had been rescheduled and would start two hours earlier than usual.

Of course neither the director nor the secretary thought of double-checking the message by telephone. When you were summoned to the ministry, you went there and didn't ask unnecessary questions. Besides, they had no reason to suspect anything was wrong.

Wulf watched the black car leave, hopefully with the director inside. Then he walked unhurriedly towards Duratski's office. Maruska would surely leave soon. With her boss away, she could take a lunch break longer than usual, and she wasn't the kind of employee who would miss such an opportunity.

Strangely enough, Maruska didn't appear from her office. Wulf stepped slowly closer until he was able to recognize her voice through the closed door. She was evidently on her cellphone. Dammit! This can take any amount of time. And there was nothing he could do.

The corridor was empty. Wulf pretended to be absorbed in the document he was holding in his hand and waited.

With the upcoming unification (not only peaceful but enthusiastically celebrated) of the Republic of Lenko with the Federation of Galynia, the future of the ethnic Jeltans in Lenko didn't look rosy. Wulf knew only too well how easily the words "Go back to Jeltland!" came to the ethnic Lenko in conflict situations, and there was little point trying to tell them that several generations of his ancestors had been born in this country and no one awaited him in Jeltland. The ethnic Jeltans made up 30% of Lenko's population, but in the united country their share would be a mere 7%. Even though the government tried its best to make it look like nothing would change, the theme of "historic justice" kept popping up more and more in the internet comments. Taking our home back from the Jeltan invaders and all that. The government had greatly increased police presence on the streets to avoid any excesses, but the fact was that for some time now one didn't hear the Jeltan language spoken in public places. Privileged colonists of the distant past had long ago become a grudgingly tolerated minority, and now they feared for even that unenviable status.

Wulf didn't think it would come to actual pogroms, but he wasn't keen to stick around and find out. The problem was that the government realized that many ethnic Jeltans were worried about their future safety. Therefore the borders were closed to prevent a possible mass escape that could damage Lenko's carefully nurtured image as a tolerant and stable democracy. It meant that the only way for Wulf to leave the country was by boarding a boat at the harbor. For that, Wulf needed a special order from the Institute. And since he had no legitimate cause to get one, he had to forge it. It was impossible to forge Duratski's digital signature, so the only way was to do it on paper, with the official seal of the institute which was kept in the office of Duratski's secretary.

At last Wulf heard the door opening, and the clacking of heels as Maruska's voice was coming closer from behind a corner. Evidently she and her friend were trying to come up with a cafe where to meet. Wulf started walking. He and Maruska nodded hello passing each other. A smile appeared on his face when he turned around the corner and walked towards his goal.

The last remaining obstacle on Wulf's path was the security guard whose job was to keep the unauthorized away from the three doors that led to the offices of the Director and his two deputies. That's why Wulf had taken with him a copy of an innocent memo.

The guard was a young man he had never seen before, evidently a recently hired one. Upon the sight of Wulf he stood up lightning-fast. "Good day, sir!"
"Good day. I'll just put this on Maruska's desk."
"That's all right, sir. You can leave it with me." The guard stretched out his hand.
Wulf hadn't counted with this. But there was nothing he could do. He handed the memo to the guard, hiding his dismay, and left.

What now? Without getting into Maruska's office, his plan was going to go up in smoke. Damn the new eager employees! Should he have insisted he take the document into the office himself? Would it have worked or would he only have made himself suspicious? Well, it didn't matter now. There was no way back.

Wulf could think of only one possible way of getting rid of the guard. He headed for the office of Silke Niedlich two floors below his own.

He had never actually spoken to her before. They worked in separate departments and had only seen each other at a few ceremonies, office parties and such. Wulf had not yet mastered enough courage to walk up to her and make conversation.

Miss Niedlich was the closest thing to an eccentric this serious institute had. Although not even 30 years old, she had made herself a name as a valued specialist. In spite of her Jeltan ethnicity, she would have had excellent career prospects if she hadn't caused something of a scandal a couple of years ago. Her friends called her at work and announced they were going on a trip, leaving Silke just about enough time to write an unpaid vacation application. After a little grumbling, her department chief saw he had no choice but to approve it, and Silke left to spend a month in South America. Such behavior gave the top brass an excuse to keep her on her current post, with her current salary.

Silke Niedlich had just the right personality for what Wulf needed. As well as the right ethnicity, of course. That's why Wulf was gambling on her agreeing to become his accomplice on such a short notice.

"Come in!"
Seeing who it was, Silke Niedlich raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Schlau. To what do I owe the pleasure?" she said in Jeltan with a noncommittal tone.
Wulf sat down opposite her and came straight to the point. "Miss Niedlich, would you like to get away from Lenko?"
"What do you mean? I'm a loyal citizen of my country just like you are," she said with the kind of sarcasm in her voice only a fellow Jeltan would understand.
Wulf knew it had been a stupid question. Who didn't want to get away? But everybody knew the Kingdom of Jeltland whose glory days lie two centuries back wasn't at all interested in immigrants from Lenko, because their number could potentially rise to millions. Only 150 km away, the historic motherland of their people sometimes seemed like another planet!
"Have you noticed our network is down?" Wulf asked.
"What is it you want, Mr. Schlau?"
"I could forge a work order on paper. They would see at the harbor that our network is down and register us manually. Thus we could get on one of our speedboats."
"To go where?" Her voice had become tense.
"Gelegenhafen." That was the nearest Jeltland harbor.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "How can you be sure they won't send us back?"
The word "us" sounded very good to Wulf at this moment. "Because we won't arrive empty-handed," he replied, showing the flash drive he carried on a string like a necklace. He didn't mention that this drive was empty and the real data was on another one hidden inside his shoe.
Silke's lips opened and closed several times like there were a hundred questions on her tongue. Adjusting her long dark brown hair nervously, she looked at the flash drive, then into his eyes. "And what exactly do you need me for?"
"I need to get a sheet of official notepaper and the seal from Maruska's office. I lured her and Duratski away, but there's still the security guard who would keep me from entering the Director's office on the grounds that there's no one there. I need you to somehow make the guard leave his post for a few minutes."
Silke's face turned into ice.
Wulf said quickly: "I would gladly do it myself, but..." He pointed at his body.
"Yes, I understand," Silke replied coldly. "Can I have some time to think about it?"
"No. When Duratski arrives at the ministry and learns the message was wrong, he might have a long lunch at some seaside restaurant, or he might decide to come back here. I can't take that risk. We must act quickly."
Silke closed her eyes and swallowed. She didn't ask what message Wulf was referring to. After a few nerve-racking seconds of silence, she looked at Wulf with a mixture of anger and suspense, and said in a matter-of-factly tone: "If your plan fails, I'll kill you."
"Okay. I really appreciate your help."
"Yeah, right." She made an impatient head movement. "Just get out of here. And you have to give me at least five minutes," she added while reaching for her handbag.
"Of course. I'll wait for you afterwards in my office." Wulf stood up and walked out quickly before she would change her mind.

* * *

Wulf was pacing back and forth nervously. He was all set. The coveted fake document was in his bag, as well as the hard disk of his computer. The latter had no actual value. He would throw it into the sea to get rid of the traces of his subversive activities today. Not that they wouldn't know whom to suspect, seeing Wulf had disappeared, but there was no point in making the enemy's job easier.

Wulf hated having to sit still and wait. He hated even more to have to rely on someone else doing what they were supposed to to.

Earlier when Wulf had sneaked into Maruska's office, the guard had been away all right. Wulf had no idea how much or little teasing he had required in order to leave his post. Also out of Wulf's control was the extent of liberties Silke would subsequently have to (or be willing to) endure. He didn't want to know. He didn't want to wonder about it and imagine various possibilities, but he couldn't avoid doing it.

Looking longingly towards the sea, his eye fell on a poster "Lenko Returns Home" on the street. They were everywhere. Although Lenko and Galynia had never actually been one state, the big event was commonly referred to as "the reunion" and Wulf Schlau wasn't the one to step forward and say it was historically inaccurate. It was indisputable that Galyne and Lenkish were essentially the same language and the two writing standards existed only because of historical reasons, Lenko having been part of Jeltland throughout much of its history. In both countries, there were many who considered the Galynians and the Lenko one people. Without doubt, their number would increase greatly in the next few years.

A soft knock on the door made him jump. Silke Niedlich entered, her clothes and hair perfectly decent and her face emotionless.
"What now?" Her voice was the only thing to betray her impatience.
Until this moment, Wulf hadn't been quite certain she would choose to follow him into the unknown and leave all her life behind in this increasingly hostile, but nevertheless enormously endearing homeland. That's why he had prepared two work orders – one with only his own name on it, and one with the names of both of them.
An opportunity to explain a plan restored Wulf's composure instantly. "We'll go to the harbor by separate routes. I take the Sumatoha Boulevard. You follow five minutes later by the Copernicus Street. Do you know Cafe Eftino?"
"Sure. It's just outside the harbor."
Wulf nodded. "Walk there leisurely and have your last cup of decent coffee. It shouldn't take too long at the harbor office, but that's always unpredictable as you know. If I'm caught, you don't know anything, you just felt like having a cup of coffee."
Silke had a worried look. "Show me the work order."
Wulf took out the document with two names.
"Looks right enough," she said. "Wait, I don't have your phone number."
I don't have hers either. God, what an idiot I am!
Wulf quickly saved Silke Niedlich's number and made her a call so she had his. He resisted the urge to hug her or at least touch her arm to reassure her, and left, trying to look like nothing was out of the ordinary.

Having turned around the corner to the wide Sumatoha Boulevard where several trolleybuses cruised unhurriedly between the myriad of scuttling cars, Wulf realized he had made a bad mistake. If he got his assignment registered and Silke would fail to turn up, there was no way of knowing if she had been stopped by someone or had chickened out and decided not to come. How long would he wait?
If she was merely delayed by a lady friend wanting to have a little chat, and he got tired of waiting and left too early, he would betray his ally. If she was, however, caught by the police, he had to leave as soon as possible. And, needless to say, in the latter case the last thing he ought to do was to call her to ask what's keeping her.

Cursing himself, he did the only thing that seemed reasonable – turned back, waited for Silke to leave the Institute building, and followed her at some distance, hiding as well as he could without making himself conspicuous. With his heart pounding, he walked between the "Lenko Returns Home" posters and a policeman here or there. Under orders to nip any extremism in its bud at least until the "reunion" was successfully carried out, the police occasionally stopped people at random asking to see their ID. Of course, they were polite and often even friendly. After all, the "reunion" was a happy event. Thus, thinking rationally, there was nothing for Wulf to fear. But it's hard to think rationally when you are about to escape the country with the help of a forged document and with copies of confidential data in your possession. And when your accent would reveal you as someone disliked by many.

Wulf sighed in relief when he saw Silke enter the Cafe Eftino. However, he himself had caught the attention of a policeman.
"Good day, citizen! May I see your ID, please."
Wulf gave him his identification document. The policeman raised his eyebrows:
"My, my! Wulf Schlau. Come this way, please."
He took Wulf into a police bus nearby, offered him a seat and sat down opposite.
"Are you nervous about something?"
"No." Wulf knew he was lost. The cop didn't look like he was letting a suspicious Jeltan off the hook very quickly. And should he search Wulf's bag, he would find the hard disk.
"What are you doing here?" a metallic voice asked.
"I was going to Cafe Eftino." Wulf tried in vain to hide the shaking of his voice.
"Don't try to be witty with me! What are you doing in Moregrad?"
Wulf was completely confused by this strange question. He had no idea what kind of an answer the policeman wanted. "I live here," he replied cautiously.
"What do you mean?" The officer leafed through Wulf's ID until he found the page with the residence registration. "You live in Moregrad, Shumna Street 7–5?"
"Yes."
"Where do you work?" The officer tried to continue to sound stern, but he was clearly losing his confidence while Wulf was quickly regaining his.
"At the Moregrad Maritime Institute."
"Can you prove it?"
Wulf gave him his work ID card.
"Wait, please." The officer left the bus, leaving the door open.
"Sir, it can't be him," Wulf heard him say to someone. "He's a local and works at the Maritime Institute."
After a mumbled discussion, the officer returned and gave Wulf his documents. "Sorry to have bothered you, citizen. Have a nice day."
"Thank you." Wulf noticed his hands were shaking when he stuffed the documents back into his pockets, but the officer had already left the bus.

He walked past the Cafe Eftino and saw Silke Niedlich through the window. With his hands still shaking, he showed her a raised thumb. Silke nodded.

Making sure no one was watching him, Wulf stepped into a narrow sidestreet and dropped the hard disk into a trash can. It had been so stupid to take it with him.

* * *

The harbor office was bustling with activity. Wulf took several deep breaths while waiting for his turn. He thought he was reasonably calm by now. After all, people in uniforms always looked serious and even a little grim, whereas common people in the midst of uniformed officials usually looked a little nervous. That's why he merged well into the scenery here.

Why was the queue so long today? Wulf was worried Silke would get tired of waiting. That thought made him awfully bold. When he heard an official talking to a colleague with an obvious Jeltan accent, he stepped up to the man and showed him his work ID, saying (in Lenkish, of course):
"Excuse me. I have to register a very urgent assignment."
"Everyone's business is urgent," the man said grumpily. Then he cast a glance at the card in Wulf's hand. "Oh, the Maritime Institute? Wait a moment, please." He walked to the top of the queue and talked to the official in the booth. Then he motioned for Wulf to approach. "Go to office number 8 over there."
"Thanks a lot. Appreciate it."

Wulf had heard from several of his colleagues how they had taken advantage of the high prestige the Maritime Institute had, to jump the queue at the harbor office. He had never dared do it until now and found it really surprising how easy it had been.
Office number 8 was good news too. With high likelihood, it meant Mrs. Malinova.

"Oh, Mr. Schlau! How nice to see you again."
"Always a pleasure, Mrs. Malinova!" Wulf didn't have to force a smile as he handed the middle-aged woman his work order, the one with two names on it. Viktoria Malinova was one of those (admittedly not few) Lenko who couldn't care less about ethnicity. In all likelihood, she was blissfully ignorant of the apprehension the majority of Jeltans were currently feeling – and might find herself shocked to her core in a few months or years.
"No holiday for you yet, I see," she said when she looked at the document.
"No. Working as hard as always."
"So... you're taking the JA-14 and you're headed for... Ptashki Island, then Prichal, then back here..." She clicked her mouse a few times and said apologetically: "Your network is still down, I'm afraid, so this'll take a while. Help yourself to coffee."
"Thank you." Wulf poured himself a cup and sat there, adding an occasional word or two to the friendly woman's account of her and her family members' recent undertakings while her fingers were industriously clacking at the keyboard.
She was suddenly interrupted by the ringing of Wulf's phone.
"Sorry! Excuse me, please." He saw the caller was Silke Niedlich. "Hello?"
"What's going on?" She was speaking Lenkish and sounded nervous.
"Yeah, everything's fine," he replied casually in the same language. "You can meet me at the harbor gate in..." he took a peek at the computer screen, "ten minutes." He looked questioningly at the official who nodded in agreement.
"Got it," Silke replied and hung up.
He reflected they were very lucky he had been assigned to Mrs. Malinova who wouldn't find anything suspicious in two people with Jeltan names leaving the harbor on the same boat. Of course, not everyone with a Jeltan name was an ethnic Jeltan, but another harbor official might still have asked him questions and maybe even called the institute to double-check. Wulf's device had disabled phone lines along with the network, but someone might have had someone's cellphone number.
"Your laissez-passer is now registered," Mrs. Malinova said after a while. "The Coast Guard will know you're on official business. There's some wind. Be careful." A moment later she chuckled: "Of course, you know the sea better than I do."
"Thanks for the warning."
"You should be spared the rain. It's further northwest. Have a safe trip."
"Thank you, Mrs. Malinova. Enjoy the holiday, in case I won't see you in the meantime."

Wulf walked back through the corridor and past the registration queue. At the last moment before reaching the exit, he remembered to go to the lavatory and tear up the other work order he no longer needed.

* * *

Silke was waiting for Wulf on the other side of the road to remain inconspicuous. She crossed the street quickly as soon as she saw him.

"Relax," he said. "It went like clockwork." Lucky she couldn't feel his heart that had started pounding again as they walked towards the checkpoint just at the edge of the pier.

The wind was indeed a little stronger than it had been near the institute, and the waves were licking the pier. I wouldn't go kayaking in this weather, Wulf thought. Hope she'll be fine, adventurous as she is. Wulf didn't know how much experience with sea travel Silke had. He had brought two raincoats, but a trip of nearly 200 km could get bumpy and there was nothing he could do about that. Well, the West Sea wasn't exactly the ocean. She'd survive.

The middle-aged official whose nametag read "Podlec" took Wulf's work ID and raised an eyebrow while reading his name out loud. He looked demandingly at Silke and stretched out his hand. Silke gave him her work ID and Podlec read her name with obvious contempt in his voice.
He typed Wulf's name into his computer and seemed disappointed that he had a valid laissez-passer.
"Where are you going?" he asked sternly.
"Ptashki Island," Wulf replied.
"May I see what's in your bag?"
"Of course." It was an unusual request, but Wulf saw no point in being uncooperative.
Podlec rummaged grimly in his bag, then pointed at Wulf's chest. "What's that?"
"An empty flash drive."
"Empty?"
"Yes, empty." Wulf held back a smile as he pulled out the drive and handed it to the official. With a puzzled look, Podlec connected it to his computer.
A bald man with a ring beard entered the booth. "What is going on here?"
Podlec jumped to attention. "Sir, those two are trying to get to the boats." He handed Wulf and Silke's documents to the boss.
It was unthinkable for an civil servant on duty to admit openly that he disliked the Jeltans. Evidently Podlec wanted the newcomer to draw his own conclusions. Instead, the latter read out loud: "Maritime Institute? And why are you keeping our dear colleagues from attending to their duties?" His eye fell on Wulf's open bag. "Did you think they were drug dealers or something?"
"No, sir!" Podlec hastily pulled the zipper of Wulf's bag close. "Have a safe journey," he pressed through his teeth while the boss handed their documents back.
Wulf looked questioningly at the computer. "Oh, sorry," Podlec said and returned Wulf's flash drive under the boss's steely gaze.

"Empty?" whispered Silke when they had walked half a dozen paces.
"Shut up!" He noticed Podlec was still looking at them. Wulf suspected it was not because of Silke's backside.
They reached JA-14, one of the two new fast boats the institute had acquired half a year ago.
"The man is on his cellphone," Silke said.
"There's nothing we can do," Wulf replied. "Act normally."

They climbed on board and Wulf started the engine.
"I thought you said earlier that you had something valuable on that flash drive," Silke said when the boat started to move.
"Did you think I was stupid enough to openly carry a flash drive with confidential data on it?"
Silke fell silent for a moment. "To be quite honest, I did. Stupid of me."
Neither of them spoke for several minutes while Wulf was steering the boat carefully out of the harbor. Then Silke asked: "Where are you keeping the real data then?"
"Feel free to search me and find out."
"No, thank you!" she snorted.

* * *

They were halfway to Ptashki Island, well out of sight of the shore, when Wulf changed course and turned northwest. They hadn't seen any other vessels for some time. He watched the screen of the navigator more than the increasingly wavy sea ahead. Wulf couldn't help feeling nervous again. He had never driven a boat before, only watched with great interest. They would be in the international waters soon enough, but he had really no idea how smoothly or quickly he would be able to explain to the Jeltland officials that they were more than mere travelers without visas. Judging by his past trips to Jeltland, they were civil enough. He wouldn't have to fear anything like a beating. It was just that the people of Jeltland really disliked those who broke rules – any kind of rules, big or small.

His thoughts were abruptly brought from the near future back into the present when Silke threw her arms around him. "Oh, Wulf, we really made it! I'm so happy."
"Hey, get off me! I have to steer the boat."
She called me Wulf! he realized a moment later.
He turned his head and noticed the obvious hurt on her face.
"I'm not a professional boat driver," he explained as gently as he could. "I've sailed in the coastal waters only, and always as a passenger. It's not easy to keep this thing on course when all I can see is a gray expanse of water."
Silke sighed. "Of course. I'm sorry. I'll watch our back, okay?"
Before turning around, she threw him a fleeting glance that somehow made Wulf very decisive. He said: "Silke," cherishing the sounds of the name on his tongue.
She stopped and turned around again.
"Come here!"
Apparently sensing a change in him, she approached hesitantly.
Sunk deep into her brown eyes, he put his hand onto the back of her neck and pulled her head closer. She replied to his kiss so eagerly that he chanced squeezing her buttock with his other hand.
When he broke the kiss, he said: "You will have to have a little patience. I'm not going to stop the boat and take advantage of you." As she smiled amusedly, he paused for a second and added, shocked by his own boldness: "But I assure you I'll fuck you as soon as we're safely on land."
Her face turned serious and Wulf's heart missed a beat. Did I ruin it all now?
Tilting her head slightly, Silke said: "I might agree to make love, but if you intend to fuck me, it'll have to be in a 5-star hotel overlooking the Mediterranean."
Wulf grinned widely. "I'll keep it in mind. Now take the binoculars from my bag and watch out for traffic."
Silke grinned back. "Aye aye, Captain!"



(C) Olavi Jaggo
First published: 2022-03-15
This version: 2024-10-12




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