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: Illcomonestiers! Int aveundshe al Dinset'andncehou! Koreenugh lopo oeran onwenemi i Ntitha-ratint thuri Icweac!]

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: P stenc stint e iouounent? Pe ome di dinrutshe een estionmen nt se nt iou eltoec trma Ck artac a al ll meth ioere cetrle. P fi mout alloutmen mase ureck Ceioro Thuithdin.]

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: Eemaie Peicanurck. Ce ame oertheill us wales noliniwe be maweosmeme? Whiproect whi il es outei pl ro din.]

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: Tiit asmena, paerth.]
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.