Pop quiz. Name the only two Americans who have written James Bond novels. No, not Ian Fleming. He invented 007 but he’s a Brit and has been dead since a previous millennium.

Give up? They are Jeffery Deaver and Raymond Benson. Raymond and Jeff have written lots of other bestsellers too, as you may know. And now they’ve teamed up as editors of an anthology of Cold War stories called Ice Cold (appropriate, right?), under the direction of Mystery Writers of America.

They asked some of their best-selling buddies to contribute stories for the book, including Sara Paretsky, J. A. Jance, T. Jefferson Parker, John Lescroart and Gayle Lynds. Oh, and they also picked ten stories from the hoard of starving but competent writers in the universe. The good news is that I’m one of them.

My story, “Checkpoint Charlie,” will be in the book, to be published April 2014. Call it serendipity, but the timing for this book was perfect for me. I found out about it when my wife and I returned home from a trip to Germany, including a visit to Checkpoint Charlie and the museum there.

 When the Berlin Wall was up (from 1961 to 1989) the only legal way you could get from West Berlin to East Berlin, and vice versa, was through Checkpoint Charlie. Many people tried to cross the border illegally, mostly from East to West. Some of them made it; some of them died in the attempt.

The museum commemorates those attempts. It’s a poignant trip back to the days of the Cold War. People tried to go over and under and through the wall. Many of the conveyances they used are in the museum. The collection includes newspaper articles by the score. There’s a movie about the demolition of the Wall. It’s difficult to understand how valuable your freedom is until you’ve lost it. A trip to the Checkpoint Charlie Museum will highlight that in bold letters.

My wife and I first visited Checkpoint Charlie in 1993, not long after the Wall came down. A piece of the Wall was still there, and sections of it are on display today, there and elsewhere. In its prime it was covered with graffiti—the graffiti of frustration. If you ever get to Berlin, be sure to visit Checkpoint Charlie and go through the museum.

And be sure to purchase a copy of Ice Cold. We don’t ever want to forget those days.

I wrote a poem about the Berlin Wall after our first trip there. At one time it was on display in the Checkpoint Charlie Museum.

Over and under and through the Wall they came,

parched with a thirst they couldn't quench.

Tunneling, flying, leaping, crawling, hidden

in car seats and carts, determined to wrench

themselves free from tyranny's stench.

Oppressed, tortured, imprisoned, shot—

still the thirsty would not could not be denied.

The spring of freedom beckoned, so close, so far;

yards, feet, nay inches away they died—

and friends and loved ones cried.

Some made it! a baby hidden in a bag in a cart;

desperate men who leapt on a moving train;

a hollow car seat, tunnels, boats,

a makeshift glider, balloon and plane;

putting an end to the thirst and pain.

And then one day, one wonderful day,

they hammered and shattered and tore down the Wall!

Thirsting, singing, shouting, laughing, hugging,

chunk by chunk they watched it fall—

and the terrible thirst was quenched for all.