Tuesday, May 30, 1967, 0057 Central European Time, somewhere in Bavaria, Federal Republic of Germany

The clickety-clack of the rails below the Deutsche Bundesbahn carriage would have helped Joseph Fleury sleep on the red upholstered seat pulled out to its maximum reclination, but the nerves that one felt before going into hostile territory were real.

Outside of the window, occasional puffs of steam from the locomotive pulling this train could be seen. There were no curtains in this compartment and it wasn't like Fleury could get any better accommodation - this 'Interzonenzug' from Munich to Rostock via Leipzig and Potsdam only had seated passengers. No couchettes, no sleeping car, not even a buffet car.

The compartment was empty - most of what passengers there were had emptied out at Regensburg. There were about a dozen passengers heading for the Soviet Zone.

Fleury's mission was to travel to Leipzig to collect some raw intelligence from a professor at Karl Marx University in the city; he didn't know where it had come from or what it was. He didn't need to know.

His cover was as a visiting research student doing a thesis on classic German literature that required him to access the university library. The professor, one Manfred Wendell had got him an entry authorisation that he would exchange for a full visa at Gutenfürst station.

Which meant he was going to have to engage in conversation with some East German border guards in the middle of the night...

He checked his watch. Early morning. Almost an hour past midnight now. In the distance, forty-fifty kilometers or so beyond the glass window of the passenger car, the silhouette of a Bavarian mountain chain slowly rolled by, rising and dipping along the horizon in perfect accord with his blood pressure. He never enjoyed traveling behind the Iron Curtain, but duty called, and duty mandated he travel to Leipzig and meet with a college professor, a certain Manfred Wendell, at Karl Marx University.

Karl Marx University? Shit. How many hotels, schools, streets, buildings, parks in East Germany were named after Karl Marx? Too many to count.

He took a deep breath, and tried to relax. A smoke. Sure, why not? Smoking is allowed on trains. He pulled out a rumpled pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. It was a generic German brand, part of his inventory, his cover. He couldn't be American. Not even the cigs. Not this time.

He pressed it to his lips, and flicked open the lighter. The snap of a flame ignited the dart. He took a long pull. Better.

Focus. He needed to impress the guards with his German. Shouldn't be too hard. He knew the language and accents well enough. The East German accents. Yes. He ran over some phrases in his head. Practiced in mumbles only he could hear.

He looked around the passenger car. About a three-and-a-half hour trip. Who was still here? Anyone. He traded his time between what was going on in the passenger car and outside his window, taking in the scenery of each as he practiced his German, accented East, over and over.

The carriage was a standard long-distance one of German Federal Railways, with a ten compartments and a lavatory off a side corridor. Each compartment had large windows that could be lowered for ventilation and were big enough to climb out if that was considered a good idea.

There were three other people in the carriage; an elderly couple who were both asleep (snoring loudly) and a woman about the same age as him who was reading a copy of War and Peace in German.

The train began to slow down as the guard walked down the corridor.

[Language unknown: Yinouralllaroer! Ing fortinven o Itfosteefo! Linencble houei at foroun-wheera es Inosilre ntear Sterhe!]

The train rolled into a large station, where a freight train was sitting on a through track. A couple of railway staff were patrolling the platform. Well, more specifically they were standing around smoking.

There was a brief pause as two people got off further down the train and a mailbag was loaded into the carriage at the rear of the train. Fleury remembered this was the penultimate stop for the train in West Germany; they would run through some small stations before reaching the FRG frontier station of Hof.

Then the train began to pull out. The book reading woman was standing at the entrance to the compartment.

She was holding a bottle of Berentsen schnapps and a pair of drinking glasses.

[Language unknown: Di tr io ck ichoun? K inred er beisme ie moiome ur pre no wi whsiwh ivro Io fi na ne k orewi ti erslature. U mi nte ilrios linic ouli Vorrutpre Ngpeol.]

The directions for this assignment were rushed, terse. They seemed to be of utmost importance and time, as always, was critical. Go to Leipzig. Get information from a professor. The briefing, as it were, was near non-existent. This bothered him. Who was this professor to the CIA? What was the information? Did anyone else know of this information? Did they want it or were they looking for it?

The less information one had to go on, miscues were more likely. Danger more likely. This bothered him.

Become aware of your surroundings was always his first priority. An elderly couple snoring the night away. No concern there. At least not yet.

A reader of War and Peace. And it hasn't put her to sleep. A tough one, she, he thought.

When the train stopped and the guard announced transfers, he took him in with a pull of his cigarette. Movement on the platform. It seemed ordinary business, but was it? Nothing he could do about it.

He was returning his attention to the compartment when War and Peace stood near, addressing him. She was easy on the eye. An offer of a drink.

He responded, likewise, in German. "I'd hate to see a perfectly good bottle of Berentsen schnapps go to waste." He took one last drag from his cigarette, lowered his compartment window, and flicked the butt away. Standing, because he is a gentleman. "Better in us than on the ground." He motioned to the cushioned bench opposite him. "Please join me?"

"Sure", the woman said, taking the seat opposite him, "I'm Louisa. What's your name?"

Once they had exchanged first names, Louisa poured out a couple of glasses of schnapps and offered a toast.

"To Walter Ulbricht. May he choke on his own vomit!"

Tall, in shape. Very nice.

He introduced himself. "Dieter Müller. Pleased to meet you, Louisa."

He showed no emotion at her derogatory toast of the communist leader, save for a coy smile. His eyes tried to read something in her face. Was she fishing, trying to get a rise out of him, or was she sincere? He raised his glass in turn and sipped.

"So tell me Louisa, where are you headed?"

Louisa downs her schnapps in one.

"Potsdam. Family funeral. My aunt died of leukaemia. I was hoping to be there before she died, but the stupid Zoni government didn't grant my approval in time!"

The train continued to clatter along. Coming down the corridor, Fleury held a set of footsteps.

The guard walked the other direction, taking a quick look into the compartment.

"I've been advised there may be a delay at the border. The section of the train from Stuttgart left very late and we may have to wait for it to join us."

"I'm sorry to hear of your loss, Louisa. My condolences." He sips at the glass of schnapps. He watches the guard pass in silence before returning his attention to his companion. "So, you have family in both East and West Germany?"

Shortly, on hearing word of a probable delay he says, "Oh, really? It seems like we will have time to get to know each other, then." He smiles. "I'm on my way to Leipzig, to conduct some research on German classic literature at Karl Marx University. I must say it's my first visit. Do you know anything about the city, the university?"

Louisa nodded.

"Yeah, my father was from Leipzig originally... well, the guy I know as Papa. My actual father died in the war... Papa was in 9th Army and managed to get across the Elbe to surrender to the Americans. Ended up moving to Munich where he met my mother."

****
The guard went off and left them along. Louise continued.

"I've never been myself and my father only knows it from before the war. Apparently it's got a big trade centre."

The woman obviously had more than passing interests to the East. Still, he didn't quite know what to make of her. There was an edge to her, yes, he could detect that, a certain negative--let's say cynical--outlook.

"Your biological father died in the war, you say? Tell me about him, if it isn't too painful." He was trying to get a feel for where she stood on things. Maybe the question would reveal things about her. Then again, maybe it wouldn't.

Walder shrugged.

"I know very little about him. It was apparently a brief romance with a Landser on leave who went to Russia and was killed a couple of months later. I was born seven months later in the middle of an air raid."

****

The train continued to clatter along. The guard returned down the corridor, stopping at each occupied compartment.

"We're five minutes from Hof," he said as he stopped by Jacob and Louisa's compartment, "Since you're crossing the border, you'd better get your papers out and ready. I'll be getting off at the next stop and handing over to an East German guard. She'll need to see your tickets as well."

He nodded to the guard and waited for him to leave.

He listened to the woman's story. He now concluded she was nothing more than what she claimed to be--a woman attending the funeral of an aunt.

He fished around in his effects for his papers and his ticket. Afterward: "Well, before we get to the border we have a bottle of Berentsen's to finish. We'd better make progress." He poured himself another glass and filled hers as well.

Louisa downed her glass as they continued on. Soon, the train began slowing down and out of the window. The bright lights of an urban area appeared, their glow blotting out the stars that man was starting their attempt to conquer... but had temporarily stopped doing with following the deaths of three American astronauts in their capsule and a Soviet cosmonaut in a crash.

The train rattled slowly past an array of sidings where a batch of boxcars and other freight vehicles were sitting, then came to a halt at the platform, where the name 'HOF' was clearly visible.

Standing on the platform were a group of green and blue uniformed men, some with dogs on leads. They started to move towards the carriages.

As the train rolled into the station he reflected on Louisa's words, her mannerisms, her movements in an attempt to determine if she spoke the truth or was attempting to conceal something.

Perhaps Perception or Social/Charisma check.
10:40, Today: Jacob Fleury rolled 6 using 1d8 with rolls of 6.  Perception or Social check.

Seeing the guards, he readied his papers and reflected on who he was supposed to be. Dieter  Müller, student dong research at Karl Marx University, classic German literature.

Louisa did not appear to be deceptive, but it was increasingly clear that she was drunk. A number of glasses of schnapps on an empty stomach had resulted in her starting to slur her words and start to lose coordination... especially when she dropped her passport and authorisation letter on the floor.

"Sorry, I'm a bit tipshe..." she said as they heard the door to the carriage open. There was a series of thumps out in the corridor, gradually getting closer. Then, a blue uniformed man with a German Shepherd on a leash appeared, thumped a wall panel behind him and then turned to the two of them.

[Language unknown: Waulad Mielheadek. Beee heon ratdayess romss yinee veratiardine matra wipoplrila? Prostryin and enc o ateen ckcon alis ecint.]

Hadn't the thought occurred to him when hearing Louisa speak for the first time, that she could be drunk? Well, it seemed apparent now. Nothing clandestine with her, just too much schnapps.

"Allow me." He reached down to pickup her letter and passport. As he did so, he surreptitiously and briefly tried to read the first few lines of the letter.

Shortly thereafter, after the guard's words, he brought forth what little luggage he had brought. This was to be a short trip, a day or two, so he didn't have much.

Speaking of schnapps, they were starting to have a bit of an effect on him too...

He got a good look at it, before handing it to her.

10:24, Today: Jacob Fleury rolled 1 using 1d8.  Perception Check

The letter had the East German coat of arms on the top and was dated from Berlin on the 27th of the month. It was as suggested, an approval letter for a family visit... but it didn't mention a funeral.

In any event, Louisa was looking to be rather drunk and this could cause problems.

The Customs Officer completed his inspection and finding nothing untoward, nodded.

"Please remain in the compartment for the Passport Control Officer."

He left and about a minute later, a green uniformed officer with an sleeveband saying "Passport Control" appeared.

[Language unknown: To salihi, tiloai.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:30, Mon 29 July 2019.

He had perhaps two or three sips of the schnapps. It was never his intention to imbibe in the liqueur as if he were at a bachelor party. Noticing Louisa getting tipsy gave him further cause to not finish his glass.

Between the time the customs officer left and the green uniformed officer showed up, in that minute he asked Louisa, "The funeral, it was for your uncle you say?" It was an attempt to catch her in an inconsistency, to see if her story changed, especially now that she was slightly inebriated and her guard may be down.

He handed over his papers. "Anything?" he repeated to the guard. He shrugged a I-don't-know-what-you-mean shrug.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:34, Mon 29 July 2019.

"My aunt. Were you not listening? You're just like those Zonies. I had to make three international phone calls to chaseh this letter out and it came too latesh for me to see him before he died. I hate the so-called Germansh Democratix Republic."

The Federal Border Guard looked over the papers.

"Where are you heading?" he asked in a strong Bavarian accent.

"My mistake," he said simply to Louisa. He said nothing further to her, thinking it best to let her calm down before the guard came in, asking questions.

When the guard asked where he was headed he responded, "Leipzig," and nothing more.

The West German border guard took a look at Jacob's passport. Finding nothing untoward, he handed it back and then inspected Louisa's own passport.

Returning that, he nodded to the pair of them.

"Have a safe trip."

He went back into the corridor and could be heard talking to the elderly couple.

A few minutes later, a large black steam locomotive went past the right hand window, running backwards. From his position, Jacob could read the name 'Deutsche Reichsbahn' on the cab and the number 52 8080 on the front before a cloud of steam obscured his view.

Then someone else came into the compartment. A dark-haired woman wearing a blue garrison cap with a similar coloured uniform. She was holding a ticket puncher in her hand and a torch in the other.

"[Language unknown: Ie daywhitho]," she said with a clipped precise accent, "[Language unknown: Totoic, areoerich."]

He nodded and watched the guard leave. In the time when his eyes weren't on the train maneuvering into position, he kept an eye on Louisa. What was she doing? She seemed tipsy, belligerent, but there was still the idea in his suspicious mind that she had lied to him. He didn't have proof, but her letter didn't state she was attending a funeral, but he didn't see, or the letter didn't state, another reason for her to go to East Germany.

"Good morning," he said in reply to the female guard. He produced his ticket from one pocket and presented it to her.

The woman took the paper ticket that had been issued at Munich Central station, inspected it and then punched a triangular hole in it with her ticket punch.

She did the same with Louisa's ticket. Louisa noticeably forgot to thank her.

"We're going to wait here for twenty minutes while I find out what has happened to the Stuttgart carriage. Please do not leave the train."

He smiled wryly, asking playfully, "The Stuttgart carriage, really? How long has it been missing?" He asked the question as if Stuttgart carriage were a person and he were a cop.

The woman nodded.

"It was supposed to be here...", she looked at her watch, "Almost 30 minutes ago. It should have been waiting for us on the other platform when we arrived. It has probably been delayed somewhere.

She walked down the corridor.

****
Ten minutes later, Jacob heard the shrill of the guard's whistle blowing. Then the train started to move again.

It clattered out of the station at fairly slow speed, making a number of turns. Louisa had fallen asleep as the three carriages of the train bumped along the track.

The train guard did not return.

Out of the window, Jacob saw them pass through a small station with the name 'Feilitzsch'. Apart from the lights and a solitary station master, it was completely empty. Well, it was two in the morning.

There wasn't that much to see out of the window, just dark fields and the occasional section of trees.

Then the train began to slow to a walking pace and Jacob saw the night brighten up. A white beam of light briefly shown into his face then went past him.

Then he saw a white sign go past with the words that indicated he had now crossed the Rubicon...


Then standing about ten metres after that was a pair of uniformed soldiers. One was holding a lantern, the other an assault rifle.

He was now in the German Democratic Republic. East Germany.

He had crossed the Iron Curtain.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:30, Sat 03 Aug 2019.

He thought it best the alcohol not be visible when the East Germans came in and likely began turning everything upside down in their search for contraband. As Louisa slept he gently took it and looked for a place, either in his compartment or in the bathroom, to throw it away. Afterward, he'd wait for the train to stop and for the East German guards to board.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:14, Sat 03 Aug 2019.

It was quite easy to dispose of the alcohol. He could tip it down the toilet, flush it and the entire contents would disappear onto the track below.

The bottle... well, he could throw that out of the window. It would be ages before anyone found it in a closed off border zone.

The train rumbled on for a bit longer, then pulled into the station of Gutenfürst. Grey and blue jacketed men in uniform were standing on the platform. This was a three carriage train and there were about twenty people present.

The door to the carriage opened and some rather loud yelling followed from the corridor

[Language unknown: Ei nteentenc! Ouringthithi Acetpl u fi EAR! Shehisall eve alas tictinthu conwitted beiv stli'esitte!]

He checked his meager effects one last time and then checked on Louisa. If she were still asleep he'd nudge her awake and tell her what was happening, if the East German guard's booming voice didn't do that all ready. He'd be waiting with his passport and papers when the guards arrived.

Louisa woke up with a confused look and a general lack of coordination.

"[Language unknown: Ofat? Ndal iouionort on ceerou nc? Liriwh oun os?]"

She tried to stand up... then looked like she was going to puke.

He regretted waking her up the moment he did it. Looking pale and squeamish, having imbibed in too much sickly sweet schnapps, she seemed poised to be sick at any moment.

"No, sit back down, dear. Get your papers ready. We're crossing the border into East Germany."

10:20, Today: Jacob Fleury rolled 8 using 1d10 with rolls of 8.  Agility.

"I don't feelsh..."

Louisa started to move out to the corridor, heading for the bathroom. The next thing Jacob head was a bump, some apologetic German and the sound of vomiting.

Then a Grenzer yelling for help.

This isn't going to end well, he thought, watching Louisa bump along out of the compartment and out into the hall. When he heard the cry for help, he knew, indeed, it hadn't.

10:32, Today: Jacob Fleury rolled 4 using 1d8 with rolls of 4.  Perception Check.

The Grenzer's sharp voice made it clear what was going on.

"Soldier! Give me a hand with this drunk! Now!"

There was a female scream and a sharp thud against a window.

He eased from his seat and stood in the doorway of his compartment. He looked out into the hallway, to see what was happening and to see if the sound of a thud against a window could be explained.

It most certainly could. The Grenzer had Louisa pinned up against a window with one arm held behind her back.

OOC: Take a Knowledge Check. Target 4

Another Grenzer was walking rapidly towards him, holding a pair of handcuffs, which he passed to the first guy. He secured Louisa's arms behind her back very tightly, with visible pain on her face.

"Stick this woman in a cell until she sobers up. And get someone to grab her luggage from this compartment."

The first Grenzer handed her to the woman, then turned back towards the compartment, seeing Jacob as he entered.

"You! Is that your wife?"

10:11, Today: Jacob Fleury rolled 3 using 1d6.  Knowledge check.

I'll pause a moment to see what the Knowledge check reveals, if anything, and then respond to the guard.

The guy doing the yelling is a Lieutenant. He's wearing a Passport Control cuff band, which means he is in fact a Stasi officer.

The other guy has no special marks of note and appears to be whatever the East German equivalent of a grunt is. Except this grunt has barely started shaving.

So many things to consider but so very little time to do it. It was something he had become accustomed to, trained to do, but when it hits you in the face, complete with snarling guards with dog-like faces who're snapping off words as rapidly as machine gun fire, it is still a little off-putting.

The woman, Louisa. Is there any reason to go to bat for her? What did he know of her? What little he'd learned--she was a woman going into East Germany to attend a relative's funeral--couldn't be verified through the furtive eyes he'd cast upon her letter. Not to say it wasn't true, he just couldn't confirm it.

To him, she was simply a woman who couldn't hold her schnapps, that sickly sweet liqueur. How could anybody drink it on its own? So the answer is no, there is no reason to jeopardize himself and his mission before it starts, and to put himself between the easily-angered border guards and the damsel in, seemingly, distress.

It came as a small surprise when he found himself saying, despite his conclusions, "No, she's not my wife. She's my...friend."

The man looked confused.

"Your... friend? Well, in that case you can come with me to fill out the forms... and pay my laundry bill."

Jacob noticed that the Grenzer's pants and boots had a large array of vomit on them. So did part of the floor.

"What is this lady's name? You will need to retrieve her luggage from the luggage compartment... and whatever cases she has here."

Their words brought a taste for violence into his mind. The heat of anger burned in him. He thought of his days boxing. He wanted so much to tell these brutes to go to hell, then back it up by reducing their faces to bloody pulps on general principles.

But he didn't.

Training. He remained calm. The mission was important, don't let this distraction become something bigger than it is. His voice was even, "I told you we were friends, not mates or even casual lovers. I just met her. I have no idea what her name is, other than her first name, which I think she said was Linda. We were simply passing the time talking. To me, that qualifies us as friends."

He leaned back against the compartment doorway and spoke easy. "I have no idea what her luggage looks like, so I can't get it from the luggage compartment. I don't know where her compartment is, she came into my compartment to talk. So, I can't fetch her cases either."

He shrugged.

The Lieutenant's face twitched for a second, then his tone went to increasing anger.

"Then you will go through this carriage and if necessary, this entire train to find that luggage", he snarled, "Else you will be joining her in a cell. Is that clear, Comrade?"

He stopped.

"Also, I need your papers. Now."

He remained leaning against the doorway. "I'll be glad to do that, comrade. But for me to succeed in the task you've given me, Linda will have to come with me to point out her compartment so I can get her cases, and also accompany me to the luggage compartment, to tell me what her luggage looks like."

He stepped into his compartment to retrieve his papers. "Otherwise, I may bring you the wrong bags." He glanced at her. "You may want to let her out of those handcuffs so she can point these things out to me."

The Leutnant started to walk forward and followed Fleury into the compartment.

"If you bring the wrong bags, you will have to go back and find the right ones, won't you. You'll just have to ask her yourself when you bring them to the Visa Office."

He stepped into Fleury's personal space and his right arm grabbed Jacob's shoulder.

"Now, if I hear any more backchat from you, you'll be wearing handcuffs as well. Do you understand?"

"You wanted these." He handed his papers to the the gorilla.

The 'great ape' took the papers and started to look at them as he waved for Jacob to find the cases.

Finding Louisa's suitcase was actually very easy. Only three of the compartments were occupied and the one that Louisa had been in still contained her suitcase. It was a light green hard cased American Tourister case with her address details contained on a leather label tied to the handle with a shoelace.

Getting it down was a bit more of a task - it weighed almost 20 pounds.

There were none of her cases in the luggage compartment of the train, so Jacob was able to take the case to the Visa Office along with his own. However, as he stepped down from the train, Louisa Walder was nowhere to be seen.

The Visa Office was a small, claustrophobic office with a long counter along the middle. A till was sitting at one end and Jacob tried to remember why it was there...

Knowledge check, please

Standing behind the counter was another officer. The Lieutenant handed Fleury's papers over to the other officer, who looked at them.

"Where are you from, Mr. Müller?"

He notices the address label. Does Louisa's story hold up? He grasps it in his hand and reads the address. Is she from where she claimed to be?



Interesting. Thoughts began to bubble in the American's head. Had she been thrown in a cell as the temperamental guards had claimed? Or was it something else?




10:52, Today: Jacob Fleury rolled 3 using 1d6 with rolls of 3.  Knowledge Check.



"Moers."

Louisa's home address was in Garching, which Jacob recalled was a town just outside Munich and home to a nuclear research facility that was part of the university.

As Fleury saw the Visa Office till, he remembered that he would need to change up 5 Deutsche Marks for 'Ostmarks' at the official rate of 1 to 1 (the real rate was more like 1 to 5) for each day that he was staying... and would have to spend the money in country.

The officer looked over the papers.

"Moers? Where is that?"

Interesting. The more he thought about it, the more he was beginning to think Ms. Walder wasn't just looking to pass the time, but had intentionally come into his orbit. Pretending to be drunk? No, she vomited on the guard. Coincidence. Likely.



"Can I get Deutsche Marks exchanged for Ostmarks here? "



"It's in west West Germany, on the western bank of the Rhine."

The officer started to look through the invitation letter and then reached for a visa card.

"Yes, you can exchange money here. You also need to pay for the visa. 15 Westmarks. How long are you staying for?"

When Jacob identified his alias' hometown, the guard looked up.

"North Rhine-Westphalia or Rhineland-Palatinate? Can't say I'm familiar with that area. I come for Rostock myself."
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:10, Sat 17 Aug 2019.

Good question. How long was he staying? He handed over the bills for the visa and thought how long does it take to meet a professor, receive his 'raw intelligence' and get out? "Two days," he said to be on the safe side, giving himself an extra day to accommodate unforeseen circumstances.

Two days, 5 marks per day. He handed him another 10 Deutschmarks to be exchanged for 10 Ostmarks. "Can I get that exchanged, please?"


"North Rhine-Westphalia," he said, succinctly. Every answer on the subject of his mythological hometown would be succinct, of course. He presented the mien of a bored, weary traveler.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:57, Sat 17 Aug 2019.

"I'm not the cashier here. She'll be over shortly." the passport control officer said and put that to one side.

He copied out the details from Jacob's passport onto the visa card, then also applied a visa stamp to the passport which he then filled in.

"Don't forget that you will need to register at the Leipzig police headquarters on your arrival in that city. They will also be responsible for dealing with any visa extension request."

Then he handed over another form to Jacob.

"Customs and Foreign Exchange Declaration. You must declare all monies in your possession and in your luggage."

Behind him, the door to the platform opened to reveal an old man with a walking stick. It was also starting to rain outside.

He nodded his head and edged over, making room for the older gentleman he espied with a glance over one shoulder. He filled out the form, writing 75 Deutsch Marks in the space on the paper. He'd arrived with 100, now minus 15 for the visa and another 10 to be exchanged.

Sliding the form back to the officer, he stood straight and took a closer look at the elder man that had just arrived. He especially noticed his hands. One thing he'd been taught in training at Langley is to always notice the hands--it's the hardest part of the anatomy to disguise.

The man was dressed in a dark brown jacket and was wearing thin wire glasses. Another Grenzer was with him, carrying his suitcase.

"Sorry for inconveniencing you, sir," the man said, "It's just I really can't carry stuff as well as I could..."

Perception roll please.

"No problem at all, sir. Take your time." He looked down at his hands.

09:57, Today: Jacob Fleury rolled 7 using 1d8 with rolls of 7.  Perception Check.

Jacob saw nothing untoward with the man's hands.

A blue uniformed customs officer now entered the room, and saw Jacob.

"You're the one with the drunken girlfriend, right?" he asked in a matter of fact tone.

He shook his head. "No, I don't have a girlfriend. The woman of which you speak came into my compartment and started talking to me. That is all. I'd never seen her before a few minutes ago."   

"I believe you. Thousands wouldn't", the customs officer said, "In any event, she's in a cell pending a decision on what to do with her. Don't want to wake up the prosecutor so she'll be here until at least the morning. Almost certainly be denied entry."

He looked down at the bags.

"Is that her bag? If so, give it to me and I will put it in a safe place."

The thoughts, ideas came and went quickly. He'd briefly considered Louisa might be something more than what she was pretending to be when he'd first met her. That idea vanished when she puked on the clothes of the custom officer. It was impossible for any credible intelligence agency to send an agent into the field that was prone to alcoholism--that vice would've become evident at some point and said agent would've never made it out of their home country. In any event, his final conclusion was that she was not pretending. She was what she claimed to be--someone attending a funeral, although not all of the details could be verified.

He had no good reason to hold on to her bags, no good reason to be an obstacle to an officer of a nation he wasn't a citizen of, and risk incurring further wrath. "It is." He handed him her bag.

"Right, now your bag please", the officer said as he started to examine the customs form, "Just 100 Marks? Nothing else?"

He shook his head. "I wrote 75, started with 100. And no, nothing else."

The officer started to open the bag and have a look through it.

He waited as the officer looked through his belongings, his thoughts drifting to Louisa, wondering what she was going through, and wondering if his instincts were correct about her.

After a couple of minutes, the customs officer nodded, smiled and closed the case.

He then stamped the customs form and handed back to Jacob.

"You will need to get this updated every time you exchange money during your stay in the German Democratic Republic. I'll exchange the money now."

The officer went to the old looking till and pressed some of the levers to bring up 25.00. The till then popped open and Jacob was handed five brown bank notes.

Each of them had the words "5 MARK DER DEUTSCHEN NOTENBANK DDR' on one side with the picture of some guy named Alexander Humboldt at the side. On the other was a drawing of Humboldt University.

"Right. We're done here. You can get back on the train now. Enjoy your stay here."

He accepted the customs form and the five bills, folding and placing the bills in his inside jacket pocket. "Thanks." He returned to the train and to his compartment.

As Jacob stepped back to his carriage, he saw a small shunting engine pushing a single carriage along the platform to join up with the rest of the train.

The compartment was empty and the carriage only had the noises of one man with his dog checking under all the seats for contraband.

He took a moment to notice the dog, what it was doing and how the man was handling the dog. He also looked around his compartment to see if anything had been moved or seemed out of place. He would wait for the guard and his dog to move on, out of eyeshot before returning to the seat in the compartment.

OOC: Take a perception roll please.

Jacob continues to study the scene...

10:22, Today: Jacob Fleury rolled 6 using 1d8 with rolls of 6.  Perception Roll .

The guard was wearing a blue customs uniform and pulling a German Shepherd dog along, sometimes a bit too strongly. The dog was barking and growling, clearly not happy about the situation and the guard was barking commands at him, interspersed with obscenities about the dog's lack of cooperation.

Shortly after that, they stepped off the train and Jacob saw another woman wearing a red coat with beret walking towards his carriage from the entrance.

He remained where he was, but looked for a spot along the wall to melt against. He wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible. He would watch the woman in the beret to see where she went, to monitor the way she comported herself--was she confident, uncertain, anxious?

There wasn't really a spot in the carriage he could both observe from and effectively hide in, unless he went into one of the toilets where he might be able to peer out a crack.

Standing in the corridor, Jacob could see her climbing up the stairs; she was carrying a single large green bag. Probably not a long distance traveller, then.

He continued to watch her, to see where she'd go. If she passed close, he would say in German, "Good evening, or is it morning? I've lost track of time." His intention was to prompt her to say something, listen to her accent, and learn is she were a German of the East or West, or perhaps of some other nationality.

The woman was a short blonde one, quite pretty. She was wearing a lapel badge showing the East German and Soviet flags.

"Good morning", she said in a Saxon accent that clearly indicated she was a local, from the GDR, "I guess you're some kind of tourist, since you're on this train at this hour... and you sound like you're from the Rhineland."

She looked around the compartment.

"I have a day long conference in Leipzig today. Economic planning..."

"Ah, I'm headed to Leipzig myself. Doing some research at the university's library."

He quipped, "Not a tourist, but who knows, maybe I'll wander around at some point and mimic a tourist."

He looked up and down the corridor. "Have you found your compartment?" He stepped toward his. "Maybe you'd like to pass some time in mine?" His next smile was marked with a humorous tone and boyish grin. "We can talk about Leipzig."

The woman looked over him, considering the offer.

"Sure, it's a three hour journey and my book wasn't that interesting anyway."

She entered the compartment and pulled the door behind her. If Jacob wanted to engage in a spot of German-German relations, he'd need to remember there were only curtains on the outside window and anyone walking past in the corridor could see in.

She found a seat by the window.

"What do you want to know about Leipzig then?"

He took his time getting to his seat. He looked out the window, trying to get some sense of when the train would start moving again. When he did sit down, he withdrew a rumpled pack of cigarettes from his inside jacket pocket.

Finally, he looked at her. "Leipzig, have you been to--oh, where are my manners? Never start a conversation with someone before introductions have been made. My name is Dieter Müller. With whom do I have the pleasure of sharing a compartment?" He removed a cigarette from the pack and a blink later had it between his lips. He offered a cigarette to the young woman.

The woman shook her head.

"I don't smoke. Name is Katrina Falk. Doctor Katrina Falk to be precise."

The locomotive above them made two quick whistles.

"And I think we're about to leave..."

"Don't start. Nasty habit." He returned the pack to his pocket and produced a match, flicking it with his thumb, lighting his cigarette. He opened the compartment window.

As the train jostled into motion, he asked, "Doctor, you say? What did you get your doctorate in?"

The large drop window allowed for someone to physically climb out of the train if they were so inclined. In any event, the train was jolting about somewhat as it ran over each of the joints between the rails, so Jacob had to be careful to avoid dropping his cigarette out into the Saxon countryside.

Dr, Falk watched him as he stepped towards the window and then crossed her legs, leaning back against the headrest.

"Economics. From Humboldt University in Berlin. Did my dissertation on the coming crisis in Western economics. The whole thing is built on easy access to Arabian oil, under the control of a few companies. Have you heard of the Seven Sisters?"

Some dogs could be heard barking in the distance.

"The Seven Sisters?" The name rang a bell. He'd read something about them once upon a time. "Greek mythology, correct? The specific story escapes me, but I have a feeling we may be thinking of different seven sisters. I doubt mythology and economics connect."

Of course, he could be wrong. He sat casually in his seat and listened.

"The big oil companies", Falk corrected him, then started to count each one off on her fingers, "Anglo-Iranian, Gulf Oil, Royal Dutch Shell, SoCal, Esso, Mobil, Texaco. They control 85% of the world's oil production and work together as an effective cartel. Fortunately, we have our own sources in the German Democratic Republic from our Soviet allies."

He listened and tried to understand. "Your dissertation, then, addresses why this cartel will falter or fail, and the result will be a western economic crisis?"

"Indeed", Falk replied with a smile, clearly now in her element, "Arabian oil is ultimately under the control of corrupt Middle Eastern potentates."

She reached into her pocket for her diary and pulled out a fold-out world map, written in German.

She pointed to "Saudi-Arabien".

"King Faisal overthrew his own brother to take the throne. He is in charge of a religiously conservative country where women aren't even allowed to drive. What reforms he is making will be challenged by the clerics and there will be a crisis at some point."

She moved to Iran.

"Mohammad Reza Pahlavi. You should know what the CIA and British did in 1954 - launched a coup that allowed the Western oil companies back in. He lives in luxury while millions live in poverty..."

Then to Jordan.

"King Hussein of Jordan rules by martial law. He has recently been humiliated by the Zionists."

She nodded.

"Not all of them are corrupt. Some have already come round to the socialist way of thinking. Nasser in Egypt, Salah Jadid in Syria...

And speaking of Zionists, the coming war isn't going to be good for the West, that's for sure."

He listened attentively, and sidled closer to her on the seat, his eyes following her pointing finger on the map. This Katrina Falk was certainly all-in ideologically to her Marxist masters.

His face and tone showed interest in her words. "And this crisis that will come to the West, it is a war, you believe? A world war, perhaps?"

"I hope not a world war. But I am sure that they have been covering the crisis between Israel and Egypt in the news there. If Egypt wins and destroys the state of Israel, the West will find itself facing a refugee crisis. If Israel wins, especially with capitalist help, it will accelerate the break between the Arabs and the West."

She got up to pull the seat out to the maximum reclining position.

"Basically, the Arabs will stop selling the West oil, or at least severely increase the price... and with the price of oil going up, so will the price of many other things capitalism depends on... double-digit inflation will result in mass unemployment."

She then got down and reclined seductively on the seat.

"Then, the people of Western Europe will overthrow their oppressors and adopt Socialism."

He could see his flirtations were having some effect on her, if not his previous stabs at dry humor. She was relaxing now, getting comfortable, no longer the terse statements and all-business attitude she'd exhibited till now. She was even returning the flirtations.

But how useful could she be to his objective? A casual fling then? A tryst as he went about serious business in Leipzig? Truth is maybe she wouldn't be much help at all, but maybe there could be something useful gained, some general information about the information-broker he knows nothing about.

He decided to take it slow, though. First beginning with the city. He put one arm over the top of her reclined chair, keeping contact within arms' reach. "I'm headed to Leipzig to do research at Karl Marx University, but I'm not exactly sure where it is. Would you happen to know where it is in town, what it's close to, perhaps some interesting things to see...for two?" 

"The University is in the city centre. Just a short tram ride away from the main station, which we'll be coming into later... but the library probably won't be open until nine at the earliest..."

Katrina was looking a bit giggly.

"As for the sights... I know there is a zoo if you're into zoos. I'm definitely into zoos. Do you like sloths?"

"Sloths? What an amazing coincidence." He kept his tone light, humorous, the promise of a laugh on the edge of his speech. "Sloths just happen to be my favorite mammal ... that likes to hang in the trees ... of South America!"

Hopeful of eliciting a giggle, making her more comfortable around him, he would approach the topic that had him curious. He knew nothing of the professor, Manfred Wendell, the man he was supposed to meet. Chances were low, but he decided to see if she, perhaps, knew anything at all. Perhaps the professor had earned a reputation. "Opens at nine? I'm supposed to ask for--" he acted as if he was trying to remember a name, "--Wendell, I think. Yes, Manfred Wendell."

He watched her closely, noticing any subtle change in facial expression.

Katrina looked blank.

"Sorry, name doesn't mean anything at all. I did my studying in Rostock and Berlin. I use the library in Leipzig on occasion for research, that's all."

She suddenly yawned.

"Wow, I'm feeling a bit sleepy. Must be that wine kicking in... We've got a couple of hours to go, so if I fall asleep, wake me when we're at Leipzig, OK?"

"Uhm, sure. Sure thing." Just his luck. Women falling asleep while he's trying to charm them? He wondered if this ever happened to that British guy.

He turned his attention to the window, gazing out of it, seeing the scenery pass before him. Like the woman that decided to get drunk on schnapps when he first bordered the train, he doubted that Katrina Falk was anything other than what she claimed--on her way to Leipzig to attend a conference on economic planning.

Nothing to do but wait till the train arrived in Leipzig. At least he knew where to find Karl Marx University.

The train continued to rattle through the night. Jacob felt himself starting to get tired...

Seems like a good idea, he thinks, seeing Katrina drift off to sleep in front of his eyes. Sleep. Why not get some sleep while the opportunity presents itself? He should be fresh and alert for his assignment in the morning.

But he doesn't forget his training and takes the necessary precautions, even though there's nothing incriminating on him. He keeps his money in an inside pocket of his jacket, jacket zipped, of course. Any carry-on luggage he has is nestled under one arm--he leans against it for support as he dozes off.

Any play made for his effects should jostle him awake. Or so says the theory.

The motion of the train soothed Jacob to a swift sleep. Time became meaningless, thoughts sorted themselves out in strange ways and then...

There was a knock on the door of the compartment and Jacob suddenly returned to consciousness.

"Good morning" said a man in railway uniform, "We're fifteen minutes out from Leipzig if you wish to freshen yourself up before we get there."

He looked at his watch.

"It's 6.15am. We're running about ten minutes late; there was a hold-up during the night due to a problem with a freight train. Now fixed."

A bleary, watery eye did he open, regarding the steward. "Thank you. Yes, I would, of course." Then he thought of something. "Oh, a freight train you say? What exactly was the nature of the problem?"

After the steward's answer... Approximately four hours had he slept. He checked his bags and effects, making sure they hadn't been tampered with. He also looked to see if Katrina was still asleep, or still in his compartment.

"I don't know. I was just told there was a fault."

His bags and effects had not been tampered with, to his relief. Katrina had not moved from the seat, but was now starting to wake up and straighten her clothing out.

Out of the window, they were passing a batch of farmland on one side. On the other, a small suburban train with short carriages was being passed by them, steam from the engine at the front calmly drifting over it.

"I see. Thank you." He waits for the steward to move on.

Apparently there was nothing wrong with the freight train, but he recalled lots of jostling and movement of cars. Typical, perhaps.

Seeing Katrina awaken, he said, "We still have fifteen minutes, if you'd like a little more sleep." He stood and began to think of the last time he saw a bathroom. Down the hallway, outside his compartment?

Katrina shook her head.

"No, no," she said, "I don't need more sleep. We'll be there soon and I have to freshen up."

Jacob remembered there was indeed a small toilet at the end of the carriage down the corridor.

He also noticed Katrina heading in that direction.

He stands and pokes his head into the corridor, looking to see if there's a second toilet in either direction. If not, he'd wait on Katrina to return.

In the meantime, he takes a look around his compartment, just to see if there's anything out of place, something added or taken away in his time of sleep.

There was another toilet at the other end of the carriage.

Jacob's inspection of the compartment found no changes from when he'd gone to sleep. It would have been rather hard to do so without waking him in any event.

He goes to the other toilet, looks in the mirror to remind himself what he looks like, and begins to freshen up.

The tap wasn't working properly - the amount of water that came out was absolutely pitiful. However, Jacob was just about to freshen up.

Returning to the compartment, Jacob found a bright eyed and relatively bushy tailed Katrina standing in front of him.

"I suspect you're going to be rather hungry when we get into Leipzig. If you let me buy you breakfast, it will be a good addition for my report on you to the Ministry of State Security."

She smiled innocently. Jacob wasn't quite sure if that was a joke or not...

OOC: Perception check please.

Training--no facial expression. Eye contact. Light smile. Humor. "Well, I'm glad I'm above average. It usually takes a few days to get on someone's list."  Wider smile now.

10:12, Today: Jacob Fleury rolled 5 using 1d8.  Perception Check.

Katrina smiled back.

"I'm required to report all my contacts with foreigners, including those from the 'Federal Republic'. Ironically, we're all Germans together. I'd love to see a reunified Germany one day."

She sat down and looked out the window.

****

Shortly after this, the train pulled into the huge train shed of Leipzig Central Station. It was still pretty early in the day, so the station was pretty empty. The ticket inspector at the end of the platform was looking bored... but the Kalashnikov carrying Transport Police officer standing next to him was scrutinising the passengers keenly...

"The passport control officer told me I'll need to register at the Leipzig police headquarters on my arrival in the city." He gathered his gear and kept a smile on for Katrina. "If you don't mind a bit of a delay, hopefully a brief delay, I'll take you up on your offer of breakfast."

Katrina collected her own gear.

"You won't be able to register just yet. The police station isn't open until at least nine o'clock. Provided you register within 24 hours, you should be OK."

She reached the door, opened it and descended to the platform, starting to walk towards the ticket barrier.

"There's a Trapo [Transport Police Officer] at the ticket barrier with an assault rifle. Wonder what's going on there?"

He stood with his bag in one hand, patted his jacket pocket to confirm the possession of his papers and money, and down the platform he went with Katrina. "That's unusual, is it?" he asked, responding to her statement. Being unfamiliar with trains, in his mind there was a lot of jockeying of position with one train car and the next, seemed unusual. Perhaps something amiss had occurred overnight, or perhaps not.

"Yes, it is unusual", she said, "There must be some reason, perhaps someone on this train is a wanted criminal?"

They continued to walk towards the barrier. Reaching in her pocket, Katrina pulled out her ticket and presented it to the ticket inspector. He inspected it and handed it back to her.

Then it was Jacob's turn. When he handed over the ticket, the inspector nodded to the police officer, who stood a bit more alert.

"Your papers, please," he said.

He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved his papers. He handed them over without a word. Traveling behind the Iron curtain, he thought. It's everything they said it would be. He waited for the Trapo to look over his credentials, remaining silent and as unobtrusive as possible.

OOC: Luck Roll Please.

18:04, Today: Jacob Fleury rolled 3 using 1d12.  Luck Roll.

The police officer took a quick glance through the passport, said nothing and then handed it back to Jacob without further comment. He then stood aside to let the two of them pass.

Katrina walked through without any challenge at all, then turned to her companion.

"Guess they're looking for another man."

"Probably the one who kept everyone awake moving around the freight cars," he joked. He couldn't help but think of the drunken woman--what was her name--who got well-liquored on schnapps. Louisa Walder, yes, that was it. Did she escape her cell? He silently wished her well as he walked through the barrier.

Katrina looked confused for a second.

"Sorry, moving around the freight cars?"

Another joke that went over like a lead balloon, he thought. Well, he'd chalk up it up to what are likely drastic differences in humor, thinking, mindset from West to East. It certainly couldn't be that he wasn't funny.

"Oh, it's nothing really. A bad stab at humor plus my unfamiliarity with trains. Just seemed like there were delays as we waited for one car to be moved into place last night, this morning. It's nothing, I guess."

"Well, let's get some breakfast", Katrina said, looking around for a place to eat. Sure enough, she saw a sign depicting an elongated M over a wheel.

"Mitropa. Do you remember the railway restaurants run by them in the West before the war?"

She led him through a spectacular station building with stone columns holding up huge glass ceilings, the early morning sun filling the concourse.

He kept his answer short and sweet. No unnecessary details. "I've heard of the name, but I've never eaten at one of these places. Any good?"

In reply to Jacob Fleury (msg # 118):

"Yes, they're decent enough. A bit on the pricey side, but that's railway food for you."

They continued to walk along and soon reached the outside of what was a rather elegant restaurant.

"Table for two", Katrina said to the man at the entrance and they were shown to a table with a white tablecloth and two place settings out.

Katrina took a seat and started to look at the menu as a loudspeaker announced another imminent departure to somewhere in the GDR.

He took a moment to look over the menu as well. It was breakfast time, so he looked for something easy and light. Maybe some coffee, a couple of eggs sunny side up. As his eyes swam over the menu he thought of his assignment. See professor. Get information. Leave. Simple.

However, no other information was given. The assignment sounded like it could be completed in minutes. Why pack for more than a day? Why pack anything at all? Maybe to bypass the East Germans. Why would someone come behind the Iron Curtain to spend less than a day? But how would they even know? Somehow, it seemed peculiar, this mission, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

As Katrina looked over the menu he allowed flirty eyes to catch her attention. He smiled. "Allow me to order for you? What would you like for breakfast?"

"Eggs and sausage please", Katrina said, "With a cup of coffee to drink. No milk."

There was the sound of commotion outside the restaurant and two workers rapidly rushed out.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:11, Sun 20 Oct 2019.

He wasn't inclined to rush from his seat and look outside; he was sure whatever the situation, it would be kept under control by the powers that be. Instead, he kept his focus on Katrina. If he could be this close to someone who could expose him, yet maintain his cover, he felt confident about doing the same for the duration of his mission.

Too, he liked looking at her. He thought he might get her talking if he brought up a topic she was interested in. "At these seminars, does anything exciting happen? Tempers flare, arguments, some consensus reached?"

When the waiter came around, he ordered for her. "Eggs with sausage. Coffee, straight black," along with his own two eggs, sunny side, up, toast, black coffee.

Katrina laughed.

"We get some consensus eventually, but there's an awful lot of scrabbling for position. Some of the men are looking to advance their own positions and prospects, often at the expense of the common good..."

When the waiter had gone, she returned to the topic.

"We want a successful economy that works for all people. Not the rich take all of the West. America in particular... do you remember those riots in Los Angeles two years ago?"

He did. The riots occurred in the area of L.A. known as Watts. His mind hiccuped. Should he mention Watts, or would that be too specific, something a West German (what he was portraying himself to be) wouldn't know, but an American would know? But surely international news crews would have been specific, mentioning the area by name. Best to side on caution.

"Yes, I did hear about that. Black protests, correct? A police incident triggering an uprising in a large black area?"

"I don't remember all the details. It was extensively covered on our television and in the press, but I must confess I was preoccupied at the time with my divorce..."

She looked around and got up to find a newspaper. Finding a copy of New Germany on a stand, the paper of the Socialist Unity Party, she placed it on the table in front of them.

OOC: The cover of the paper with the headlines- https://www.nd-archiv.de/ausgabe/1967-05-31

He glanced at the newspaper, allowing a look of confusion to play at his features. "Well, why did you bring up the L.A. riots, then?"

Katrina looked confused.

"Oh, I don't remember the details of the riots, just that the area has fallen into complete decay now. Businesses won't touch the place since the riots. Once you stop making money for the capitalists, you're just a place to be left behind in yourquest for the next big profit.. Even if you're a person."

At that point, their drinks arrived.

He added a lump of sugar to his coffee and stirred it with his spoon. He kept silent about the politics of a volatile area of L.A. It wasn't going to be in his plans to engage in a political debate--he surmised he'd be walking on thin ice if he did so. Instead, he said, "Is it unusual for a woman to be in your position? Are you the only one? I know these are enlightened times we live in, in 1967, but still that has to be a bit unusual, yes?"

"Well, I'm the only woman at this economic planning conference who isn't some form of secretary... but that probably won't exempt me from some leering men."

"But we're better off than you are in the Western Zones. Much better access to contraception for example."

He wasn't sure if that was an invitation to bed or a not-so-subtle poke at the West. Or both.

"You find your ideas are taken seriously, then? Not dismissed with a wave of the hand or a roll of the eyes? Or worse, completely ignored?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:09, Tue 29 Oct 2019.

Katrina laughed slightly.

"Well, it depends. My ideas get taken seriously if some of the bigger people in the room find them to their taste. If a certain guy - I won't name him - likes them, then I get a much easier time from the rest of the room. More often than not, he doesn't."

She turned more serious.

"Well, he won't be in my way much longer. I've found out his little secret and I'm going to tell the police."

Of course he would try to subtlety pry in an attempt to get the information out of her. "A secret. Well, now you've piqued my curiosity. Without revealing any names, of course" (at least for now, he thought), "what is the secret that is worthy of the police's notification?"

Katrina grinned.

"He gets pornography posted to him from the West. Hidden inside regular economics journals."

At that point, there was an musical chime announcement over the public address system.

"This is a public announcement. Would Dieter Müller please make his way to the station office. Would Dieter Müller please make his way to the station office."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 21:49, Tue 05 Nov 2019.

Great. What's this going to be about? he thought.

He looked up to the heavens, to the sound of the voice. "Well, someone's calling my name." He checked his gear. "I have all of my bags. Any idea what this could be about, Katrina?" Her answer would at least give him a minute to brace himself or prepare some type of response to whatever inconvenience-to-hardship that awaited him.

"Sorry, I haven't got a clue. Is someone acting as a host for you?" Katrina said.

"No," he answered, rising from his chair. At least as best he knew he didn't have a host. "Well, I'll see what this matter is about and I shall return, hopefully before the eggs get cold." With that, he left for the station office.

When Jacob arrived at the office, there was a People's Police officer standing there. He looked down at a piece of paper briefly and then back up at Jacob.

The officer then walked over towards him.

"Mr Müller", the man said, "Could we please go somewhere more private?"

OOC: Perception check please.

He assumed it was a rhetorical question. He had an inkling he didn't have much say in the matter. "Sure."

17:00, Today: Jacob Fleury rolled 7 using 1d8 with rolls of 7.  Perception Check.

The officer led him out onto the concourse and towards a waiting room. Opening the door, he indicated a quiet corner of the room and motioned for 'Dieter' to sit down.

"I understand you are here to meet with Professor Wendell. I've got some bad news. He had a heart attack last night and is currently in hospital fighting for his life."

He had never met the man, this Professor Wendell, didn't know him from anyone else in East Germany. The news was surprising but didn't shock him, any more than it did hearing about any stranger in the world having a heart attack.

His compassion for him was more as a fellow human being than as a friend. But he wasn't going to let the attendant know that. He leaned back in his chair and then leaned forward, holding his head in his hands. Sitting up he said, "This is terrible news. What's his prognosis? What hospital is he in and can I visit him?"

The officer kept a neutral tone in his discussion, which was perhaps not the best choice in a situation like this.

"He survived the night, but it's still early days. He is at the University Hospital in intensive care. Visiting hours are not until this afternoon."

"University Hospital." He said it aloud to remember the name for later. Thoughts ran through his brain quickly now. What if the professor doesn't recover, then what? The mission is called-off? No other avenues, leads to explore on obtaining the information the professor wanted to pass on?

He could visit the university--when it opened for business, so to speak. He understood his lodging accommodations were there, but without the professor in the loop, would anyone else there know, expect him, have accommodations prepared?

What he really needed to do was to contact his superiors to inform them of this situation. With the professor disabled perhaps the entire mission was in jeopardy. He thought of where in Leipzig there might be a phone, not tapped, that he could use to call his people in West Berlin.

Knowledge check to know where he may find an untapped phone.

11:32, Today: Jacob Fleury rolled 6 using 1d6.  Knowledge Check. Untapped phone.

Jacob realised that the Stasi were not necessarily going to tap every phone in Leipzig, but they were going to almost certainly tap the limited number of telephone lines that crossed the border into West Berlin further north.

A telegram was another option - but those would have to pass through the East German postal network just like the telephone call.

He was just going to have to phrase his message extremely carefully.

He allowed the necessary emotional waves to pass through his face, to exhibit his distress over his friend having suffered a heart attack. A few moments later he said, "Thank you for the information. If there's nothing else I will return to my breakfast."

"I assume you've arranged your visit with the university. I suggest you contact them to see what they want to do about things."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you." He stood to leave, to return to the restaurant and to hopefully a hot breakfast waiting for him.

In reply to Jacob Fleury (msg # 146):

Jacob's food was in fact waiting for him under a metal dish cover. So was Katrina.

"I told them to put the cover on to keep it warm", Katrina said, "What was the message?"

Arriving at the table the information he'd learned, and how to proceed, was still percolating in his mind. "Oh, thank you for that," he replied, indicating the covered breakfast.

He removed the lid and set it aside. "Well, I've been informed the professor I was supposed to meet at Karl Marx University, Manfred Wendell, has suffered a heart attack. He's at University Hospital and things don't look too good. Visiting hours aren't till this afternoon."

He took up his utensils and began to pick at the food. "I'm just wondering now if my trip has been rendered for naught."

Katrina looked concerned at this.

"Sorry to hear that. I think I've met the Professor before... yes, at a function there. He seemed to be a nice man. You're going there for research, right?"

Her own plate had been cleared and she had nearly finished her coffee.

Interesting. A lie? Or a sudden remembrance of a meeting at a party?

When they first began to converse on the train, Katrina had told him the name Manfred Wendell meant nothing to her. Now, she recalls meeting him at a party, and he made enough of an impression on her that she thought of him as a nice man. If he'd made that kind of an impression on her, wouldn't she have remembered at least meeting him when asked on the train? Furthermore, she'd stated she'd only been to Karl Marx University to occasionally visit its library. Now, she says she was at the university for this party wherein she met Wendell.

Yes, she had lied to him earlier. But why?

He began to eat his breakfast in hardy bites, having noticed she had finished hers. He was proceeding with caution, not that he wasn't before. He decided to see if she remembered anything else about the man he was supposed to contact, Manfred Wendell. The man was a mystery to him.

"Yes, for research. You met him at a party. I suppose he has a background to some extent in economics, then?"

"No, not that I think so. He was talking about 19th century German literature, I believe. The function was a party to mark our country's 15th anniversary. I only just remembered it."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:58, Tue 19 Nov 2019.

"I see. Well, can you remember his age, what he looked like, or anything else about him? I must say I'm quite curious now, and I doubt I'll see his true personality at the hospital, he may not even be able to speak."

Katrina scratched her head slightly.

"Early 60s, balding, half-moon glasses. I had quite a bit of Blue Strangler so things were rather a blur. Especially later in the evening."

Well, she likes to drink, he thought. Seems a few in East Germany like to drink--can't blame them. Getting them drunk might be an option somewhere down the road, to either loosen tongues or ... other things.

He assumed Blue Strangler was a drink. He could be wrong. "I see. Hmm, well he certainly seems to fit the typical description of a literature professor."He continued to consume his breakfast, saying little else. Since she had finished hers, he ate not fast, but not too slow either, so as to not keep her waiting longer than necessary.

When he was done he said, "Well, looks like it's time for the bill."

He thought about his next step--go to the university, perhaps? Become acquainted with his accommodations? Maybe Katrina had something in mind...?
This message was last edited by the player at 15:52, Fri 22 Nov 2019.

The waiter came over with the bill, a total of 10 Marks. Katrina paid it with her own money and then put on her coat.

"You've still got to register with the police. The headquarters should be open now. I'll have to ask for directions though. It's not like I've had much call to visit it."

"I would hope not. It doesn't seem like it would be a pleasant experience." He thanked her for breakfast and stood to leave. As she rose he held the seat out for her and smiled, eyes flirty and inviting. "On to the police station--I'm such a romantic!"

Stepping outside the station, Jacob found himself standing next to half of a six lane road. Unlike in the West, there was rather little traffic and very few of the vehicles were recognisable on an American street. A pair of buses went past, followed by a truck.

In the middle of the road were a pair of tram tracks, with a cream coloured tram carriage with pantograph raised pulling another carriage without one. It was sitting at a tram stop, loading and unloading passengers. It then rang a bell before moving again.

There was also a distinct smell in the area. Like coal...

Katrina smiled.

"We'll ask at the tram stop over there."

Nothing lends more to a romantic mood than the smell of coal in the air, he thought, obviously sarcastically. He followed her advice and headed for the tram cars.

Once there, he asked someone who looked like they may have common sense as to the location of the police station.

In reply to Jacob Fleury (msg # 158):

He found himself talking to a middle aged gentleman wearing a fedora, who was holding a rolled up newspaper. He seemed happy to help.

16:19, Today: Jacob Fleury rolled 6 using 1d12.  Luck Roll.

The man knew where it was. Jacob would have to walk around the edge of the city centre and (handily enough) past the university to get to the central police station. It would take him about 20 minutes to walk. The tram was another option, but that would not go past the university.

"Are you up for a walk?" he asked Katrina. "The police station is a twenty minute walk from here." He turned the collar up on his jacket and checked the sky. Hopefully, no rain was in the forecast. "It will take us past the university, so I'll at least get a lay of the land en route and learn where I'm staying."

With that, he led Katrina in the direction the man indicated. He would thoroughly check his surroundings as he walked. His training and natural instincts were on alert for followers or those who seemed to be giving him more than an average interest.

The two of them crossed over to the other side of the road for the start of their walk.

Katrina saw a poster for a musical recital and pointed it out to him. It had a picture of a violin playing man called Tadeusz Sikorski.

"What do you have planned for tonight?" she asked, "I'm planning to go along to that."

"I really have no plans. I should get settled into whatever accommodations the university has prepared for me and then visit the professor. I don't know how long that will take, or what potential holdups may take place while I'm at each. I would hate to be late or have to cancel."

He was in an interesting position. Should he continue to put himself in the presence of someone who could certainly have him arrested, probably want to have him arrested, just so he could have a companion and perhaps satisfy a carnal desire; or leave her soon, charter a course alone, and quickly and succinctly wrap up this assignment?

He takes a long look at the poster. "This violinist is pretty good, I assume?"

Katrina nodded.

"Yes, he is," she replied, "A major childhood prodigy now hitting the bigtime. He's just come back from a tour in the West. Or he's coming back. I have some free tickets. Perks of the job. You serve the Party faithfully, it serves you faithfully."

As they continued to walk, a car drove past them at some considerable speed.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:51, Tue 03 Dec 2019.

"What's his hurry, I wonder?" He attempts to identify the car and driver--make and model, get a license number and commit it to memory or as much of the license plate number as possible. It's probably nothing. But then, what if it is something? He'd prefer to know when he sees this car again.

He continues walking toward the police station, not saying too much. As they come within a dozen yards of the station he says, "Is there a way to get in touch with you, after I'm settled-in and visit the professor, in regards to tonight? I'd hate to promise going to a concert and then no-show."

"I'm staying at a hotel in the city centre", Katrina said as she carried along her suitcase, giving the name of the hotel. Give them a call when you're settled in."

"I'll do that. Well, looks like we're here." He entered the police station.

In reply to Jacob Fleury (msg # 168):

The car was going too quickly and putting out too much exhaust for Jacob to get an clear ID of any registration, or to see a brand name.

As Jacob entered the police headquarters, he saw a large twelve-pointed star with the emblem of East Germany on it next to the words 'German People's Police'.

He was in a fairly large reception area. Behind a wooden counter, a rather young man in grey-green uniform was making some notes on a pad out of sight when he saw Jacob enter and look up.

"Good morning", he said, "Can I help you?"

"Good morning. I believe I need to register with you. What documentation do you need from me?" He presented a cheery air, lightly smiling and maintaining the easy tone he'd had with Katrina.

The officer nodded.

"Passport and visa, please. Also, please fill out this form."

He reached down under the desk and pulled out a form in triplicate, which he handed over to Jacob. A fountain pen was chained to the desk.

He handed over his passport and visa to the officer. He'd examine the forms closely before mindlessly filling them out. A thought then occurred to him that he hadn't heard a word from Katrina since he'd entered the station. He looked to see if she were still about, or had she left after handing him her contact information at the hotel?

The forms were pretty standard registration forms, with name, address, residence while in the GDR, that sort of thing.

Looking back, Jacob could see that Katrina was standing outside the entrance to the police headquarters, casually watching something.

He fills out the forms and hands them back to the police officer.

The officer took the forms, stamped them with a rubber stamp and then put them in a tray.

"Thank you, you're all done", he said.

OOC:Luck roll please

He nods and turns his head toward the doorway, to where Katrina was standing, wondering what she was looking at.

19:11, Today: Jacob Fleury rolled 1 using 1d12.  Luck roll.

Katrina was looking at a car which had broken down. Smoke was billowing from the bonnet and a man was standing at looking very agitated.

Well, he was jumping up and down a lot.

It looked like the same vehicle Jacob had seen speeding around early.

He approaches Katrina and following her gaze, takes a look at the mad motorist. He pays particular attention to the subject's clothing and his face--hair, skin complexion. Next, he takes a close look at the now-damaged car. He's wanting to determine if this appears to be an average, ordinary citizen or someone of significance.

He says to Katrina, "Well, looks like someone is having a bad day. Wouldn't you know, it's the man that nearly ran me off the sidewalk."

The car was an Opel with West German plates; so clearly not from around here. The man was a long-haired white guy in his 20s dressed in expensive casual clothing and sunglasses. He had a thin moustache and shaking, put a cigarette in his mouth, which he then lit.

"Maniac", Katrina said, "Probably overheated his engine or something. Do you want to help him out or leave him to stew?"

He had pressing matters to attend to--getting settled in at the university and seeing his contact in the hospital were at the top of his list. Getting sidetracked now to lend a hand to an irate civilian who he had not much compassion for, considering he was almost killed by that selfsame civilian, wasn't something he wanted to do.

So, it came as a surprise when he found himself saying, "I know a little--a little--about cars. I may be able to help him. Let's see." Unless she protested, he led Katrina toward the fellow to check on his car.

"Sure, might as well help him out. That way we can leave."

The smoke coming from the car was white. The man was still very upset and gesticulating wildly.

Hmm, he thought. White smoke serves as a clue. He approached the man and car to take a closer look. "I have an idea what the problem is," he started. "Mind if I look?"


17:33, Today: Jacob Fleury rolled 3 using 1d12 with rolls of 3.  Drive Check.

"Sure!" the man said, "I can already guess what it is anyway! Stupid junk!"

It was clear to Jacob what had happened. The head gasket had blown. A costly and time consuming fix at a garage.

He asked the fellow if he'd pop open the hood just to confirm his suspicion--the head gasket had blown. Afterward, he said, "I'm afraid it's the head gasket. You'll have to get a tow. It'll need to be taken to a garage."

The man swore again.

"I thought it was that. I don't know any numbers for a breakdown company round here... and you don't sound local, that's for sure."

Katrina stepped in.

"You're right next to a police station", she said, "They can probably tow the car themselves."

At that point, Jacob heard a voice behind him.

"And you can explain just what you were doing".

He turned around, to look at the source of the voice. Then paused, to learn if the voice was addressing him, or the motorist.

The voice was a police officer, someone that Jacob hadn't yet seen. He looked somewhat senior.

The man walked straight past Jacob and headed over to the motorist.

"Can you come with me, citizen?" he said, "We'd like to discuss your rather dangerous driving."

The man thought for a second, then complied, walking with the man back into the police station.

"Someone's going to have to get that towed", Katrina said, "Right, I need to head off. Shall I see you tonight?"

"Yes." He patted his pockets with his hands. "Did you give me your number?" Finding the slip of paper, "Ah, yes, you did. You're at the hotel in the city centre. I'll give you a call after I get checked into my housing at the university and visit the professor at the hospital. How does that sound?"

Parting, he would make his way to the university. There, he would inquire as to his quarters.

It was a short walk back to the university and after asking around, Jacob was able to make his way to the reception, where a young woman with dark hair was sitting, speaking on the telephone to someone about a conference. She didn't appear to have noticed him, or if she had, she was ignoring him.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:01, Fri 27 Dec 2019.

He waited. As long as she was talking or appeared to be listening to someone on the other end, he waited. He would make it a point to stand in her range of vision, directly in front of her if possible, so that she would notice him.

"Hang on, I'll call you back in a couple of minutes", the woman said, "Kisses!"

She hung up and turned to Jacob.

"Good morning, how may I help you?"

He kept his remarks short and to the point, intrigued by what the young lady would reveal or not reveal, as the case may be. "Good morning, my name is Dieter Müller. I believe lodging accommodations have been made for me here, perhaps by Manfred Wendell, the professor I am to meet."

"Professor Wendell?" the woman said, "I'll call up his office and see if he's available."

She reached for the telephone and tapped a four-digit number...

He thought it would be most interesting if he didn't interrupt her, to let her complete the call. He'd been told of the professor's sudden illness and his confinement to hospital, but was it true? He would soon find out...perhaps.

The woman listened to the telephone and said nothing for about thirty seconds.

"I'm not getting any answer, I'm afraid."

"That's fine. If you could tell me where to find my lodgings, I would appreciate it."

"Ah, yes," the woman said, "I'll need to make another call."

She did this and after a discussion, she made a note of something on a piece of paper on a notepad. She reached under her desk for a fold out map of Leipzig and after tearing the sheet off, handed both to Jacob.

"You're in our student halls on Talstraße. 12a. It's just over 10 minutes walk from here."

Consulting the map, he began to make for the Student Center. He decided he'd get settled in as quickly as possible, then visit the ailing Manfred Wendell.

OOC: Take a Luck Roll please

The map was in black and white, with rather small text. He also suspected that it wasn't fully accurate - maps in the Communist bloc generally weren't. It wouldn't do to put the location of the Stasi offices on a map anyone could pick up...

16:37, Today: Jacob Fleury rolled 2 using 1d12 with rolls of 2.  Luck roll .

Jacob found the student accommodation easily and was soon face to face with a fierce looking older woman who reminded him of one of his teachers. Down to the accent, as she had been a refugee from Germany before the war.

She took his details, handed him a key and gave him the house rules, including no music past 2200.

She then led him to his room, which was a single bedroom in a shared apartment for five people; the kitchen and bathroom was communal. The bedroom had a desk, a bed, some shelves, a wardrobe that had seen better days and a wall-mounted radio with the dial currently set to one of the East German stations.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:08, Sun 12 Jan 2020.

Wow, he thought, this Manfred Wendell really went all out on the accommodations. I guess he's showing me Leipzig's best side.

"Thank you," he said, accepting the key. "Pardon me, ma'am, before you go, I'm a bit confused. I have a couple of questions: can you tell me is this housing attached to the university? Do students lodge here who are enrolled at the university, or is this housing for the public at large?"

Afterward he asked her the best way to get to the hospital, and if it were possible for her to contact him a cab.

"This housing is part of the accommodation provided for students who are enrolled at the university and those given special permission", the woman said, looking metaphorically down her nose at him while actually looking up, "It is not for the public at large."

"The hospital is on the university campus and you can quite easily walk there, Comrade", she continued, "I assume you are there to see our fine medical facilities."

It was clear she was not going to call him a cab... and at that point, the hall light went out.

"Another power cut, Comrade. You're not from round here, are you?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:36, Tue 14 Jan 2020.

"Thank you for the information. You're correct, I'm not from around here."

Before he left his luxurious suite, he asked her one last question. "I'm actually visiting a friend. Perhaps you've heard of him, he's a professor here--his name is Wendell. Manfred Wendell."

The woman grunted and shook her head.

"Sorry, I don't know him..." she said in a testy manner, "What does he teach?"

At that point, the lights came back on.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:33, Thu 16 Jan 2020.

"Literature. Good day, ma'am."

He closed the door to his room, locked it and left to go to the hospital.

The walk to the hospital was fairly short and uneventful. It was now a case of asking where the professor was at reception.

He approached the nearest person behind a desk who at least looked like they had common sense, and had an air of caring about their job. "Pardon me, I'm hear to see Manfred Wendell. Can you tell me what room he is in, please?"

In reply to Jacob Fleury (msg # 208):

The nurse looked down.

"I'll just make a call and find out," she said, "What is your name, comrade?"

Once he had given it to her, she dialled a number on the rotary dial telephone in front of her and gave his details.

"Please wait, someone will be coming to escort you up to see him."

A couple of minutes later, the doors to the intensive care ward opened and two men in trench coats walked over in his direction...

He waited to see what would happen next. These two gents were his 'escorts' he presumed.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:50, Tue 21 Jan 2020.

The two men moved rapidly towards him. One reached into his pocket and pulled out some form of identity card. He got up to Jacob and discreetly showed him a card with the words "Ministry of State Security" on it.

"Please come with me. Do not resist."

"As you wish."

He didn't resist, and walked with the men.

The two men led them out of the hospital and into the car park, where a black saloon car was waiting.  One of them opened the rear door and ordered Jacob to get inside, taking the middle seat. They then joined him on the leather bench seat, one either side.

A wire mesh screen separated him from the driver, a bald man with a bent nose and boxer's ear, who said nothing as he turned the key to start the ignition.

The man who had shown Jacob his pass turned to him and spoke calmly.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way. We know Wendell was working for the West and we know you were one of his contacts."

OOC: Perception check please.

11:13, Today: Jacob Fleury rolled 3 using 1d8.  Perception Check .

Jacob strongly suspected that the man was bluffing and the Professor had not in fact talked after all. Also, the heart attack story might have a considerable ring of truth around it.

They were starting to head out of town as well.

"That's a flat-out lie and you know it!" he said with both conviction and certainty. "I'm here to speak with Wendell, an expert on German literature, and for my research, nothing more. And where are you taking me? You learn of a West German visiting your country for scholarship and you're immediately suspicious of him? I demand to be released or to be taken to the West German embassy to straighten this out at once!"

The officer looked at him and smiled.

"Count on your fingers, please. Out loud."

OOC: This is a test. If you've ever seen a certain Quentin Tarantino film, you may remember a scene with ordering drinks.

This was absurd!

If he were back home he would put this guy in his place for his impertinence in no uncertain terms. But he wasn't back home, was he? He was in a communist country where they'd likely stick him in the gulag for a sideward glance.

Swallowing his tongue, he counted. On his fingers. Out loud.

"One, two, three..." etc.

Sorry. Don't know the reference.

Unfortunately for Jacob, he'd not had his clandestine operations training during the Second World War. This particular 'shibboleth' might have been covered.

As he extended his ring finger to count 'three', the man who had arrested him broke into a wide grin.

Then switched into English.

"You are not German, are you?" the Stasi officer said, counting on his own fingers... and his three saw him extending his thumb, "So, we have you on entering the German Democratic Republic on forged papers... that's a couple of years in prison at any rate."

He placed his hand on Jacob's shoulder.

"Ever been to a place called Bautzen?"

I'm not sure I understand what's happening. It's been understood Jacob has been speaking German the whole time. Now, it suddenly switches to English just because he's counting ?! I don't get it.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:45, Fri 31 Jan 2020.