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Orient Express - East of Stuttgart

Reader mode

In a culture where children were encouraged to report the disloyalty of their own parents, there were few things that would place anyone above the suspicion of an up and coming Gestapo officer. Estelle's quick thinking at least gave them a plausible excuse for having ducked into a car of the train not frequented by normal travelers. Nor was Reinhard easily embarrassed at the idea of interrupting two clandestine lovers, if anything it prodded the false sense of moral superiority the Nazi's held against the bourgeois elements of liberal European society. Though Estelle played her part convincingly enough, if anything her beauty and behavior only piqued Reinhard's interest all the more, even if it no longer had anything to do with the murder.

Listening to their accents and and language he continued in English. "So your reaction to seeing a woman murdered is to slip off with another man?" He asked, the condemnation of her morals practically dripping from each word. Nor did he lower his lugar pistol from the combined center of mass of the two lovers.

"Yes a fine woman, let us get a better look at her." He said, his tone demanding now. "Stand up, both of you." He said, giving the menacing looking barrel of the pistol a slight wave as he closed some of the distance between them, his eyes scanning for accomplices while still keeping them in his peripheral vision.

As he got a better look at the man he spat"Rassenschande" in a low voice, barely perceptible to the couple assuming they even knew the German word for the now illegal act of sexual relations between Jews and Aryan's since 1935's Nuremberg Race Laws had been enacted.

"Your names?" He asked in a demanding tone, the pistol pointing more at Leo than Estelle now that they were standing and no longer an entwined mass of forbidden lust. As he listened and noted the names they offered, he approached Leonard and without asking his pardon patted him down for weapons, keeping his own pulled back close to his body.

Hearing the offered names he asked "Juden?" looking at Leonard but his gaze shifting to Estelle to indicate the question was meant for both of them.

"Your destination?" he continued his interrogation of them, knowing they were nearing Stuttgart and needing to know how long he would have them under his watchful eyes.
 
Name: Count Aleksander
Location: Sleeping Car/Murder scene/her compartment
@MsBloom @Traveler @Shiva the Cat

People forgot sometimes that the conflict didn't just end with the Great War. The War To End All Wars they called it. But war continued. Conflict continued. The scars on Aleksander's body were a testament to that. He could recall the brutality of the prison camp, the anguish of betrayal from the man he believed he had trusted most...and now, fascism. A rising specter whose wings sought to enfold the very continent. Maybe even the world, locked in battle with the great red bear of the east...

And how conflict had made its way aboard this very train...a murder, from what he could uncover. But he knew he could not (and should not) be pressing too deep. Not in public, not with the Gestapo around. Their authority, officially, would be questionable but in practice, authority was what anyone said it was...

And with the British onboard, who knew what side they were on? Aleks would not have put it past the Gestapo to have murdered the woman just to watch everyone else in the train dance to their dangerous rhythm either. His lips pursed grimly as he tried to consider every angle, every detail...Estella's words echoed in his mind...

Well, there were few people he could swear knew something and gaining information was now on him, wasn't it?

And then he met the eyes of Jane Eyelsbarrow. He locked his with hers, staring at her for a moment, so subtly that only she would notice. Now, he thought, or never.

His head flicked in the direction of her compartment. He wanted to speak with her...and they had to do it outside of prying eyes. And he had a bargaining tool with the briefcase.

Especially given that he and Estella had 'doctored' it.
 

The soldier's questioning was brutal. His tone and the way his eyes condemned them pricked Leo's ire, and at the insinuation that murder had somehow excited Estella, he looked at the man and frowned. "She needed to be consoled," he explained, as if he was the one taking advantage of her, and not the other way around.

But the mensch was used to being obeyed, and Leo presumed, he enjoyed his power. When he demanded they show themselves, Leo helped the singer off his lap, stepping slightly in front of her to face the German. The power of the weapon – Leo was very aware of how Jews had been recently disarmed. Not only were they defenseless verbally in this society of silence and condemnation, but physically. And now the tall blond was exercising his ability to silence them permanently if he so desired, and no one, none at all, could dare question him if he did.

As Leo faced the man and heard the curse, he squared his shoulders and faced him, his chin lowered slightly as he tried to keep the glower from his face. His eyes flinched at the nearly spat condemnation: race defiler, bastard of purity, and blood disgrace. On one hand, he was thankful that Estella was still passing for an Aryan. On the other, Leo found it insulting that anyone would tell him who he could or could not have relations with. He stood in his expensive, tailored suit, and met their accuser's eyes. These were the cold blue eyes that could have belonged to a man who would squeeze the life from a woman…and Leo realized that the man standing across from him would probably enjoy it.

"Your names?" He asked in a demanding tone, the pistol pointing more at Leo.

Damn it to hell. Leo could lie…but then he would be found out, no doubt. He could tell the truth and be condemned. Either way, this man had him. Leo felt the question like a psychic slap. He inhaled, stilled his will, and felt the hammering of his heart. Perhaps he could draw the man's attention to himself, spare Estella any additional harassment, and if the worst were to happen she could tell his family what had become of him.

"I am Leonard Wesley," he said. It wasn't untrue – Wesley was his middle name and his mother's maiden one. He flinched at the abrupt moving forward of the soldier and the harsh pat down of his body, his hands held palms-forward to the side as he endured the searching. He closed his eyes briefly, as the hand continued to search, then breathed once again as the body shifted away slightly enough to ask if they were Jews.

"I'm Protestant," he held his breath and listened to Estella's soft voice. He blinked slowly again, sending up a silent prayer. 'God, don't let him take her. Spare us – I will never set foot in Germany again…please.'

At the question of their destination, Leo met the man's eyes once more. "Istanbul," he answered. "I work with manufacturers of rail car fittings." He looked at Estella and hoped for her sake that the man wouldn't see fit to pat her down as thoroughly as he was. If there hadn't been a gun and a uniform involved, Leo would have joked that the man owed him a drink for getting so intimate.
 
Name: Jane Marple
Location: Sleeping Car/Murder scene/her compartment
@Vinaein

Once inside her compartment with the door closed and locked Jane sat down on the bed to think. She was reasonably sure of what the dead woman was, just not who which bothered her since the vague feeling of recognition refused to leave her alone. She was usually good at remembering faces and names. Whoever the woman was her death, her murder, meant that Jane would have to have a talk with Walsh about it. He had not seemed very interested in the death as such, more in the gathered crowd and introducing himself to Aleksander, seemingly at random. Experience however told her that in this game of lies and deception there were not such thing, not when it was done with such obvious intent and in a situation that certainly did not call for it. Could the introduction have been some kind of strange code, like: Trust the man who introduce himself to you at the most inopportune moment, or possibly the man who introduce himself where the dead lie?

It did seem a bit uncertain and overly complicated, and also something she had never encountered before. Unless it was the name itself that was the code, or his mention of what company he worked for. It was certainly worth looking into. If only she wasn't stuck on a train with no reliable source of information at hand. And then there was Estella of course, and whether she and Leo had something going on between them as well, or could it be that Leo had let slip that piece of gossip for an utterly different reason, perhaps a test to see if Jane would reveal herself through her reaction, or maybe he had slipped it to her as a clue regarding Estella's true identity. Suddenly Jane was not quite sure that Estella Devereaux was her real name any more than Eyelesbarrow was her real name. That mystery would have to wait though. The business with the murder of the courier was much more worrying. Estella did after all carry information that might be valuable to the commonwealth and her allies, at least that was Jane's conclusion from what Estella had told her.
 
Estella was surprised at Mr. Benjamin's quick improvisation skills as he pulled her closer. It didn't even seem like that much of an act, and she was downright impressed with the casual haughtiness with which he spoke to the officer. She didn't exactly appreciate the exact wording he used though; the Count's woman? A fine woman, is she not?

"What is this, the Westminster Kennel Club?" she whispered under her breath, sliding off Mr. Benjamin's lap nonetheless, never taking her eyes from the gun. She couldn't stay too annoyed though, considering how quick her companion was to lie on her behalf. That was a fucking dangerous move, considering the name that was probably on his papers. After all, if a dumb stripper could figure out what Mr. Benjamin was, no doubt one of the junkyard dogs trained to hate him would catch on pretty quick.

"I'm Estella Devereaux," the singer said, a little too quickly and much too loudly, as though the sheer volume of her voice could draw the attention away from Mr. Benjamin. "Surely you've heard of me? The Belle of Broadway?" Estella tried to flash the officer a smile, but he didn't seem impressed. Indeed, the man seemed much more interested in her companion, even going so far as to start feeling the poor guy up! Naturally, the idea of a hidden weapon never crossed her mind, otherwise she might have held out a little more hope for their current situation.

Eventually the officer pulled back though, just in time to ask that one-word question that ran through Estella's lead like a tolling bell. "Episcopalian," she said automatically, naming the first religion that came to mind. "But just ah...Christmas and Easter, you know? Don't get to church much since I'm so busy with work. I'm a dancer. Singer. I uh, I act too. A triple threat, really." A nervous giggled tripped over her lips. "I'm booked at a club in Istanbul for a few weeks starting Monday. A club owned by an American."

She tried to sound as much like the self-important society ladies back in New York as possible. "I'm also very good friends with some important men back in Washington. I even know a fella on the U.S. Olympic committee. Are you going to the Olympics, Mister...?"
 

"Yes, yes she looked quite verwüstet sitting upon you." He said with a cold smile, filling in with German some unfamiliar adjectives. He noted the attempt at chivalry, placing himself between his weapon and the girl. At this range the bullet would tear through both of them, saving he Reich the cost of a bullet if that were his intention. While the Gestapo did enjoy wide lattitude in the dispensation of summary judgement, it was genuinely still considered bad form to kill someone until you were at least reasonable certain who they were and what they were up to. He did not yet know that, but he was reasonably sure he wasn't being told the full truth.

"Step away from the Count's whore Mr. Wesley." Again he waved the muzzle of the pistol. "And who is this Count that you are so casually, what is the word? Cuckolding?" The officer gave a satisfied smile, always pleased to pull another name into the web of lies that was so often the undoing of clever men.

It was a careful and slow dance but the steps would eventually place Estelle between the two men. Leo's chivalrous bravado left Reinhard to simply point the pistol at Estelle as he approached her, figuring Leo would take a chance with his life but not with hers. "Wenn du dich wie ein Mann kleidest..." He said rhetorically as he gave Estelle the same pat down as Leo, though he took his time and seemed to enjoy it more. Whether it was a sexual satisfaction or simply infuriating Leo Wesley would be hard to say, though in truth the officer enjoyed both aspects. His eyes upon hers especially as he slowly and thoroughly let his fingers trace along the underside of each breast beneath her blouse. Her loose trousers seemed to justify a more thorough inspection as he stepped behind her and ran his hand from hips to pubic mound, fingertips reaching over her sex. This time his eyes were on Leo's, as if challenging him to defend her honor.

"I am afraid I have not heard of your Belle of Broadway, but apparently your Count was much impressed." He said, his voice not suggesting he shared in that particular assessment of her career. "Of course, and those men are?" He asked, inquiring about her contacts in the U.S. Capitol. He would need to make some notes after this encounter.

"Excellent! Then we shall have some time to speak again while we travel the German Countryside." He said, showing his first hint of good humor at the idea of questioning them again. "Do not leave the train, I shall have your passports until I have finished my investigation." He didn't ask them anything about why they were in the car where the murder occurred, as if that detail were simply unimportant to him. He then holstered his pistol and continued back into the crew's quarters, leaving them alone again at least for now.
 

"Step away from the Count's whore Mr. Wesley." Again he waved the muzzle of the pistol.

"Actually, it's – " Leo started to raise a finger and correct him, then saw the muzzle start to move in his direction and said, "Ah. Never mind. Yes sir," and stepped aside. Hopefully he timed it well enough that he could deny he misled the soldier intentionally regarding his name. Wesley was his middle name; with any luck he could claim that he was too intimidated by the man's presence to speak his entire name, including his title.

But Luck…ah…she was a fickle beast.

Leo watched the soldier's back as he turned to the entertainer. He noticed how the man used the most horrid words; first Rassenschande, then whore and cuckolding. True…that was precisely what Estelle had implied, but did the man had to be so crude about it? He continued to step in the crowded car until the soldier was next to Estelle. Then watched helplessly as she was groped, fondled, and nearly fucked fully clothed by the man. Leo's eyes narrowed, chin tilting up, watching the man as if he was doing the foulest thing imaginable. When the soldier's eyes met his in concert with his hand moving over Estella's sex Leonard realized the man was enjoying this. He liked touching her in front of him; flaunting his power over them both. When the man looked away Leo glanced at Estella with a look that said both 'I'm sorry,' and 'please understand.'

They were trapped. He was feeling that suffocating choking feeling once more, as if the walls in the car were closing in. The longer the soldier questioned them, the more claustrophobic he felt. His heart pounded so loudly that he barely heard Estella's replies, and the situation was made more dire by the man's indication that he would hold their passports until he finished his investigation.

Leo wanted to ask if he meant his investigation of the murder, or of their origins, but kept quiet. He felt like any word or haughty eye would only spell more disaster for them. It was a cold, long moment after the Soldat left before he could breathe. "I'm so sorry," he said to Estella, his voice brimming with sincerity. "You were extremely brave, my dear. You did so well."

He took a moment to lean a hand against a stack of boxes. "I did not do so well, though," he said, casting a glance at the door. His face grew serious as he considered the delicate situation they were in. "Do you think…if I were to write a letter to my family…you might send it for me if I do not make our destination?"
 
Name: Count Aleksander
Location: Sleeping Car/Murder scene/her compartment
@MsBloom

Aleksander waited. He waited in plain view, taking breath after breath as he felt his heart race and beat within his ears. Something had gone wrong...and now he was left to deal with the remainder. His mouth twisted as he tried not to think on it overmuch...but it was inescapable. Nazis on the train, the fascist bastards. There was that man in the jacket, who seemed to be...rather interested in a corpse as well. Or maybe solving the mystery...

And that left him with the possibilities. What to do here? What could he even begin to achieve? He was playing a dangerous game with Jane Eyelsbarrow, not her real name...after all, after things with Estella...he sighed to himself. Was he...jealous? That wasn't like him at all. Not even a bit. He was wondering what had gotten into him.

But Estella...not only pro-union, nor only beautiful. There was an unsmothered will to her, a fire he saw when she toyed with her pearls. And him? A former soldier, a betrayed aristocrat, a spy...so much baggage, more than the train could have possibly held. Lord, he was tired, he thought. Too tired...

He slowly made his way to Jane's compartment...and after determining the coast was clear, he knocked.
 
Name: Jane Marple
Location: Her compartment
@Vinaein

Jane was deep in thought about the recent murder, the murder of Arthur Henry Murrow and her fellow passengers. There were things that still didn't make sense in either case. The murder or the respected MP for one. If Estella had told her the truth about what the briefcase contained then why would she have murdered Murrow, unless of course Murrow was a traitor to the crown and had intended to sell the information to the Germans. It was of course a possibility and not one Jane liked to consider but there it was. This could mean that the mysterious woman seen entering the hotel with Murrow was not Estella but possibly the same woman who had strangled the poor woman a few doors down and now possibly posing as the courier. This brought her thoughts to Walsh. He had been outside the murder scene briefly but had not seemed overly interested in it but rather seemed to be in a hurry to remove himself from it, after that strange introduction. Was he aware that any courier that approached him might be an enemy agent in disguise? If he wasn't his mission could end in a total disaster.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. She straightened her hair and her blouse before getting up to open the door. She fully expected it to be the Gestapo officer wanting to ask questions, or at least inform her that he intended to do so in the near future. To her surprise it was not. It was the man she had heard introduce himself to Walsh as count Aleksander Zelinski.

Realising that any conversation held in the corridor could be easily picked up by the German authorities she invited him into her compartment as politely and discreetly as she could.
"Now then Mr Zelinski. What could possibly have brought you back to my door. Was there anything else Estella asked you to retrieve. I assure you that she wore nothing under that dress so there are no undergarments to collect."
Jane almost let out a chuckle at her question. Of course that was not the reason the East-European gentleman had knocked on her door. It was much more likely that it had something to do with the murder, but even that was a bit of a stretch per se though Jane was reasonably certain that it was the murder which had made the visit necessary.
 
Estella wasn't sure what 'verwüstet' meant, but she was pretty sure she didn't like the sound of it any more than she liked the way the blond bastard was circling her. Still, she found it easier to keep her cool with the Germans than with the British. As far as this asshole knew, she hadn't done anything worse than necking with someone who looked vaguely Jewish (though claimed not to be). Whatever had happened back in London was totally out of his jurisdiction--as in, he couldn't do dick about it.

Somehow though, the gun didn't seem like it was too interested in meting out justice via the proper channels.

"I believe there is only one Count on board this train," the singer replied in a noncommittal tone, her voice resuming that cool debutante tone she always used with the higher classes. "You may want to consult the passenger manifest to confirm, however."

it was a dangerous remark to make, but Estella wasn't about to say Aleks' name if she didn't have to. At the very least the man decided it wasn't worth shooting her over, although she did visibly tense when he laid his hand on her. The singer bit her lip and stared straight ahead as the officer began to feel her up, his hands as lover and tender as those of an off-Broadway casting director. She tried to tell herself it was no big deal, nothing a dozen guys hadn't pulled with her in the past.

But there was something awful in the blond man's touch; something cold and deadly that made her want to scream as she felt his fingers molesting her. The helpless look on Mr. Benjamin's eyes as he watched only made things worse.

"Jay Mahoney," she blurted out when the officer asked for names. "Judge Jay Mahoney. I'm very good friends with both him and his wife, Margaret." If you counted a drunken threesome in 1923 as 'very good friends,' that was. Estella set her shoulders back and stared defiantly back at the blond man. "And Margaret Mahoney has regular dinners with a certain Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt." Or so the American expat community liked to gossip.

She doubted the names of either Mahoney was what finally caused the officer to depart the car, but the singer knew better than to question it. As soon as he was gone she sank back onto the crate, hands shaking in front of her. "Fuck this country," she said finally, looking back up at Mr. Benjamin with a grim smile. "I need a drink."

Her companion looked equally shaken by the encounter, perhaps even moreso. Why, just that one exchange already had him thinking he was dead already. "Hey now," Estella murmured, with a surprising amount of kindness in her voice. She rose to her feet and stood in front of him, taking both of Mr. Benjamin's hands in hers and giving them a reassuring squeeze. "Look, you're an American citizen, right? Or at least, a British one? That's gotta give you some protection at least. These bastards might go around killing their own people willy-nilly, but unless you've committed some kind of crime--" She couldn't help but wince a little, knowing her own hands weren't so clean, but she pushed through for Mr. Benjamin's sake. "--they can't rub you out without some kinda consequence. That company of yours will be expecting you in Istanbul, right?"

She smiled a little. "You work for a rail company, dontcha? And if you were to disappear off a train, well...that's not going to look real good for the Compagnie Internationale des Wagons-Lits, is it? If I were you, I'd speak to the conductor. Let him know who you are, who you work for, and who it was threatening you. Don't these train companies know the customer is always right?"

Estella released his hands, noticing her crumpled up telegram on the floor next to his crate as she did so. Thank god the fucker didn't see that. Catching her with the briefcase would have been bad enough, but an obviously-coded telegram? She scooped up the paper and shoved it in her pocket, determined to burn it as soon as possible. The briefcase...well, for now it was safely hidden in its little nook and would probably stay there until at least Vienna. If she managed to survive Germany, she could try to retrieve it after that.

"Come on, Mr. B," the singer remarked, turning towards the door. "Let see if we can scrounge up some gin. I know it's early, but I think we've earned it." Pausing, she tilted her head and gave him a rather knowing look. "I suppose to be safe though, I should call you Mr. Wesley, shouldn't I?"
 
Name: Count Aleksander
Location: Jane's compartment
@MsBloom

Without answer and seeking them, the Count's knuckles rapped upon Jane's compartment door. There were too many answers in search of questions, with too many moving pieces and Aleksander knew he required assistance on this matter. He needed information, he though. Someone had throttled a woman on this train for reasons best known only to themselves and there was a dangerous set of Nazis about. Oh, yes, Nazis were never his favorite people from the rest....perhaps Charles Walsh had something to do with this...

And then the door opened, revealing Jane Eyelsbarrow. He was briefly gratified by seeing the expression of surprise upon her face. She seemed to catch on intantly, waving him into her compartment. "Count Zelenski," he corrected her with her words, his hands folded behind his back. "I hope you are not bearing a grudge about the previous evening..." he tried not to let the remark on Estella and her dress bother him, but the smugness of the woman did rankle slightly. He didn't let it show on his face, instead looking closely into her eyes.

"Foremost...the dead woman. I take it you are as in the dark as others..." dangle that out, see her reaction. "It is clear the both of us have a vested interest in all this....what led to your meeting with the Lady Devereaux...your interest in the briefcase? If you cooperate, I might see it returned to you."

Well, that was true as far as it went...
 
Name: Jane Marple
Location: Her compartment
@Vinaein

"None at all," Jane stated politely even if she was not pleased with having lost both the briefcase and the opportunity to further extract information about it and the mysterious woman it contained information about. From what she had deduced it would have to involve someone quite significant within the British government this woman had her clutches in. The one theory that had almost instantly popped into Jane's mind was quite terrifying even though recent news from London suggested that if the woman got what she desired the immediate threat would possibly resolve itself to some extent. What would follow in its wake was uncertain though.

"Ah yes, the dead woman. Poor thing."
Jane first played her part as a bored and lonely Cornish heiress to a T but as the count then mentioned having the briefcase and being willing to exchange it for information she smiled and motioned at the only chair in the room as an invitation for Aleks to sit down. She sat herself down on the bed, lit a cigarette and crossed her left leg over her right.
"I would not say I am as in the dark as everyone else no," she said and took a drag.
"There are certain things I do know that others might not, although at the moment I am not comfortable sharing them."
She took another drag and looked at the man.
"I am incontrovertibly curious by nature and having noticed how she clung to that briefcase inflamed my curiousity. It must be something quite important no?" she said with a smile.
So far she was telling him the truth and it was still true when she told him that she had taken the opportunity to sneak into Estella's compartment while she was busy having dinner with him to sate her curiousity.

"It wasn't until later, at breakfast this morning that I started putting things together, at least regarding the briefcase and possibly Estella's role in an incident that occurred back in London some days ago, although I sincerely do hope I am wrong about that part."
She took another drag. Her eyes had not left the count since she began explaining her interest in the briefcase.
"The dead woman is an entirely different dilemma though but one that might have equally catastrophic consequences for the crown and her allies. I have no evidence to support my suspicions regarding who she was but if I am right then we have a professional assassin onboard. There are people I need to talk to. If only that Gestapo officer would leave."
She tapped the cigarette, letting it drop its ash into the palm of her free hand and looked at Aleks in silence for a while.
"And what about yourself. How come you are willing to part with the briefcase so easily rather than giving it back to Mademoiselle Devereaux?"
 
Name: Count Aleksander
Location: Jane's compartment
@MsBloom

"Why thank you," Aleksander said as he made his way into Jane's compartment, dusting off his coat while he arrived. He slid the door shut behind him, looking at Jane intently like he might discern her meanings and motives without giving up too much of his own. She'd managed to best Estella in the game, but Estella...had been forced into this after getting into bed with the wrong man one night.

Aleksander had been through it in more ways than one. His eyes bore against Jane's, almost hypnotic and intense. "Poor thing indeed," he said, looking her over as he went to the chair, lowering himself into it. She was, of course smoking, a vice he himself had never managed to garner altogether much fondness for. But, of course, to each their own. He simply folded his arms delicately, watching her. "And here I had hoped you might know something about that...but if you are not fully in the dark..." he shrugged. "If you have secrets, keep them. At least until we barter for them." He smirked at her, leaning forward. "Curiosity. Is that why you took it then, hm?" He asked coyly. "Not that I mind overmuch....whatever one needs in order to conduct one's business, no? Please do elaborate on this...incident," he added while he rubbed his chin.

"I deal in information, Miss Eyelsbarrow...and right now, that is something I can use..." He gave her a warm look, his smile growing as he looked into her eyes. "Is there more I should know...?"
 
Mr. Leonard Benjamin, Esq.
Baggage Car towards First Class Lounge
@Shiva the Cat @xavierrol​

With Estella's connections she stood a good chance of getting through the country. He couldn't believe he had just kissed someone who knew Eleanor Roosevelt. It did not matter that the pretense was false, being physically adjacent to someone who had met such an icon made Leonard feel as if his life had just been touched by an angel.

"I'm traveling on my British passport," Leonard said in response to her inquiry about his citizenship. "But yes…you are correct. I do have an American passport in my luggage." His eyes went to the trunk with his name, and his hand patted his vest pocket to ensure that he still had the key, then returned to Estella's hands. "You must not have heard, Miss Devereaux, they've been hauling away my people for years now. No reasons needed; no charge of crime necessary, and none of these people go home." His verdant eyes slid to meet hers. "They may not 'rub me out' for no reason here, but that does not mean that I would not disappear."

He sighed. She was an optimist. He was not. His father had served in the Great War. He had been extremely patriotic, according to Leonard's mother, and staying in Europe or going to America had been one of the many things they fought about. She had feared what she saw as finger-pointing that would lead to suppression. And so…the divorce.

And now Leo was back where his mother feared he might be; fearing for his life because of the blood within his veins. It was ironic and would have been humorous had it not been happening in his reality.

As Estella seemed to collect herself much quicker than he, he had to smile at her willingness to continue his lie to the soldier. "Wesley is my middle name," he said. "Call me Leo, and hopefully I can convince the man that I use Leonard Wesley as my name and did not mean to lie to him about my surname."

To go to his room now would seem suspicious. Estella's offer of a drink sounded good, and for some reason the thought of being surrounded by others sounded good, too. "Let's see if we can lose ourselves in what little crowd is in the lounge," he suggested. When the passed the door where the woman had been murdered it was guarded by a nervous-looking train steward. Leo tried not to look when a younger soldier than the man who had questioned them walked by.
 
Name: Jane Marple
Location: Her compartment
@Vinaein

"There is always more one could know but that does not necessarily mean one should," Jane said but she was prepared to hear the man's offer for the briefcase.
"I'm assuming you are also in possession of the key to open it without setting off those little explosives."
She gave a little nod as if answering her own assumption and reached for the ashtray, dropped the ashes into it and placed it at her side.
"Some days ago there was a murder in London, of a very prominent member of the Houses of Parliament. You may perhaps have read about it in the papers. It just so happens that the initials on Mademoiselle Devereaux's briefcase match those of the victim. It is also rumoured that he was last seen entering the Savoy in the company of an unknown woman believed to be his mistress."
She raised an eyebrow looking at Aleks trying to judge his reaction, to see how much, if anything, he actually knew about the briefcase, its contents or its origin.
"Now mind you I am not accusing our mutual friend of murder in any way, although it is of course possible she is far from as innocent as she pretends to be."
She chuckled softly.
"Then again who is, right?"
She took one last drag on the cigarette and then stubbed it out in the ashtray by her side.
"As for the murdered woman on the train I do have a theory or two and a handful of potential suspects, yourself among them, but they are just that, theories and I do not know any more than you do about it. A young woman was found strangled in a compartment that was supposed to be empty."
 
Name: Count Aleksander
Location: Jane's compartment
@MsBloom

"Knowledge is power and power is a tool. To be wielded as one will," the Count returned from his possession, his shoulders rising and falling with a gentle shrug. "The fact of the matter is that the key to the briefcase? I may or may not hold it. The difficulty is what we know about circumstances surrounding it." But then...well, there was an interesting twist of the plot. Estella involved in a murder? Now, this was one out of left field...He simply smiled, giving no indication it was a shock to him. "I did hear of the murder. It made the worldwide news, in fact...granted, my own friends in high places would wonder...where did his sympathies lie? With Britain...or with Germany?" He lifted his eyebrow.

"And I'm flattered that I am a suspect. I've been accused of such before. Am I to take it you are a servant of the Parliament, and the crown...?" He asked her delicately. "Your way of gathering information was unorthodox indeed..." he leaned in to her, giving a rather playful smile.

"...How best would you enjoy interrogating me then? Ir shall we play answering questions for questions, if you are so intent on seeing justice done?"
 
Name: Jane Marple
Location: Her compartment
@Vinaein

"Without the key, what good is the briefcase to me," Jane said.
"It doesn't give me any more information about the contents than I already have."
Of course the briefcase would still be valuable to her even without the key even if it was indeed true that the briefcase alone would not let her know more about the information it contained.

His assumption regarding whom she served was endlessly more difficult to respond to. The parliament as such very rarely had anything to do with the business she was in even though they supposedly were the representatives of the British people. The crown was an even more complex concept to relate to since the death of King George V and the succession of Edward VIII. The latter had some rather disturbing sympathies with the German political philosophy and Jane was rather unimpressed by it. Luckily those sympathies had not spread to the supervisors of the S.I.S and if they should happen to do so then that would certainly be her cue to retire.
"I work for the British government yes, but the crown, as it currently sits, does not have my loyalty," she eventually said to make a point of the difference between the two.
She was still unsure of where the count's loyalties lay. Eastern Europe was after all leaning more towards fascism in general than Great Britain or even France, did. For all she knew he might be an undercover operative for Germany, or for Italy for that matter, or maybe even for the Soviet Union. All nations governed by tyrants of one sort or another. The thought put a faded smile on her lips as she couldn't help but wonder what Plato would have thought about his ideas had he seen it attempted in practise.

She thanked him for what she took to be a compliment regarding her methods of interrogation but also couldn't help but wonder if he was expecting the same method.
"Question for question seems a good way to go," Jane said.
"And since I just answered one for you it is my turn to ask."
She made a pensive face and then asked him if his own loyalties lay with a specific government or with an ideology, a movement.
 
"Leo, huh?" the singer mused, then offered him a smile. "My friends call me Stella. Since you've got dirt on me now, and I've got dirt on you, we might as well be friends, huh?" She patted his shoulder good-naturedly and followed him out of the baggage car, casting one last uncertain look towards the shadowy corner where she'd deposited the briefcase.

The corridor of their car had thankfully quieted down, with no one but an overlooked train employee left to guard the (thankfully) closed door of the dead woman's compartment. Estella did tense a little as she passed the door to Jane's compartment as well. Was it her imagination, or did she hear voices coming from inside? And was one of them Aleks? The singer frowned, wondering what business he could have had with the British woman.

For a moment, she was tempted to linger outside the door and listen in on the conversation, but suppose the blond bastard came back and caught her acting so suspiciously? Plus she would feel bad leaving Leo on his own; safety in numbers after all. Estella could always rendezvous with Aleks later, she supposed, and instead continued to follow the other man to the lounge.

The non-exclusive car was already populated with a few passengers, gathered in small groups and whispering about the murder, or sitting by themselves pretending to read newspapers and books while trying look as though they weren't eavesdropping. "Why don't we sit in here?" Estella murmured to Leo before they could continue on to the First Class lounge. "I think we're better off in a crowd right now, you know?"

After ordering a coffee with a healthy dose of brandy mixed in, she settled into a corner table and gestured for the businessman to join her. The first few sips off coffee did wonders for her nerves, and as she casually kept one eye on the door to the sleeping cars, a thought occurred to her. "You were chatting quite a bit with that Eyelesbarrow woman yesterday, weren't you? Jane?" Estella asked as she set down her cup. "Is she a friend of yours?"

If so, perhaps Leo could give her a little more insight to the woman's motives.
 
Name: Count Aleksander
Location: Jane's compartment
@MsBloom

"I know where the key is," Aleksander said as he kept his eyes locked on Jane's. "I assure you, there is a conversation to be had about that matter. "The important thing of a case is what remains within, after all...and that is what you are truly after is it now, Madam Eyelsbarrow? To find the truth of what happened in London. With this murder?" He knew the complexities of the British Crown had to be the greatest of difficulties to such a clever and skilled agent for them.

"I see," he said simply, his hands clasped before him as he pondered all of it. "So a true patriot." But one not loyal to the Crown...which meant not to the fascist Edward VIII...if she was telling the truth. "There are interests I represent that parallel your own, perhaps...but a question for a question will suffice for now...." He pondered her query...

And decided honesty was the best policy. "You might say with a government...Romania, Hungary, Poland...they have not quite rebuilt from the war. And are susceptible to foreign influence, who move them about. You might say there are agencies who exert pressure, hence where they move me...they're too divided to be called unified...especially with Hitler preaching former German territories belong to Germany still..."

He took a moment... "...What is your mission here? Exactly?"
 
Mr. Leonard Benjamin, Esq.
Baggage Car – First Class Sleepers – General Dining Car
@Shiva the Cat​

"Stella." He pronounced the 'la' with an 'h', so it came out as Stel-lah. "That's a lovely name, and I suppose dirt is as good of a reason to be friends as any," he said, finally feeling like he could breathe. They made their way through double doorways until they reached the general dining, and her offer of sitting in a crowd felt like a welcome suggestion to him.

He pulled a chair away from the table for her, then helped her scoot it in before taking his own seat. He ordered a tea, then some crumpets, and sat with her as the carriage filled with people having lunch and gossiping about the rumors of murder on the train. Leo let the tea steep for six minutes until it got nice and strong, then added a spoon of sugar to the dark liquid. A small splash of milk, and it was perfect.

He arched a brow at her question about Jane. "Ah…Miss Eyelesbarrow? I just met her yesterday," he confessed. "Although we didn't have half as interesting of a conversation as you and I did." He shook his head and sighed as he stirred the tea, careful to keep the spoon from clinking on the sides. "I, ah…I thought she was a certain kind of lady after seeing her and Mr. Walsh interact. I guess I was wrong." He shrugged. "You meet all kinds of people on this route."

Taking a sip of the tea he considered the way the cliental had changed. "There was a period of time when all you saw on this train were businessmen or the wealthy. You never saw a uniform," he said. "They would use the normal cars and not this luxury one. But lately…the last time I passed by here was last year." He shook his head. "That really should have been my last trip. But there is speculation that rail car fittings for those electric trains are going to be in high demand. Machine parts for cars…" he leaned forward, lowering his voice, "aircraft and tanks."

Leonard's handsome face grew solemn. "War…even the threat of war…makes greedy men eager." His eyes sought hers out. "I don't think I'm coming back this way once we reach Istanbul."
 
Estella actually laughed when Leo told her about the mistake he'd made regarding Jane's identity. Oh, if only she was nothing more than a courtesan. That would have made last night's encounter much more enjoyable. She was almost tempted to share the story with the businessman, but with such mixed company in the car it was probably best not to share stories of Sapphic escapades. Plus she was pretty sure the woman in spectacles at the next table was eavesdropping on them behind her book.

"Of course the conversation wasn't half as interesting as ours. I didn't see any of them jackbooted thugs interrupting the two of you when you was chatting. Must have been downright boring," Estella said drily as she sipped her coffee. " What kind of lady did Miss Jane turn out to be after you'd cleared things up with her? She a businesswoman too, or is she on board this train because it's just so much fun? What with all the murder and all."

She didn't really mean to sound that callous, but the emotions of the last twelve hours were absolutely exhausting, and behind the makeup the singer's complexion was beginning to fade. "Walsh...now who's he?" Estella continued, trying instead to focus on the conversation. "Oh wait, was he that flashy-looking fella that was following her around at the bar?" Her partner the singer suspected, though without knowing anything for sure she didn't want to bring the idea up to Leo. He had enough to worry about on the train as it was, although now that she thought about it perhaps Jane was one of the few people who could keep him safe.

If she wanted to, of course. But if there really was a war coming, and Jane really was a government agent, who knew? She might find herself too busy to help a poor schmuck like Leo, no matter how handsome he might've been.

"Pardon my French, Leo," Estella leaned forward conspiratorially. "But if I was you, I'd get myself on the first ship headed back to New York as soon as I get to Istanbul. Hell, that's probably the first thing I will do." Well, second after she met with Michael and found some way to worm herself out of the gig at Club Maxim. "But fuck that job of yours, and fuck those bosses willing to play games with your life. Get back to the States. The boys in charge there don't want nothing to do with any war except to make money off it, and I'd bet my ass America's not gonna send one doughboy over here unless someone wants to make a real big stink in Congress."

Smiling a little, she leaned back and swirled her cup. "If you need a job, I can always put in a few good words with some theater fellas I know. You don't look like much of a bouncer, but maybe you could do books or something? I got a brother-in-law who's a lawyer too, he could probably help you out. But any job that would send you over here, right now..." Estella shook her head and sighed. "I just can't believe it's worth it."

Pausing, she looked at him with a new thought in her dark eyes. "Unless...are you married, Leo? With kids, maybe?" Men always did stupid shit to take care of their families; Pop and Eli were proof enough of that.
 

He chuckled when she mentioned the jackbooting. "Yeah, that kind of adds a layer of excitement to the conversation, doesn't it?" He took another sip of tea, gazing out at the window as he considered her question. "She's an heiress." He turned to look at Estella. "I think she just spends her family's money," he added with a shrug. "I don't know – old money. They're different from everyone else."

Picking up the small plate, he offered her a scone before taking one for himself. He broke a piece off with his fingers and took a bite, savoring the taste of the lightly sweetened bread cake. "Charles Walsh?" he nodded at Stella's remembrance of the man. "Yes, that one. He came over to us after he left and apologized to her for storming out," he recalled. "I was half expecting him to bop me in the kisser for talking to her." Then he smiled more softly. "She wasn't worried about him, though. Of the two, she wore the trousers, if you know what I mean."

As Estella urged him to flee and forget his loyalties to the company who were willing to sell him out, he sipped at his tea and watched the expressions on her perfectly painted features. She made more sense than he had heard in a long time. Leonard smiled grimly. It was more a grimace of understanding. He was just a cog in the great war machine's gears; one little detail in a soulless, heartless, machina mortem. The death machine. No one who went to war profited from it, but their blood oiled the wheels of the machine.

He did not want to be a part of that. No one did.

"I'm not much of a fighter," he said. "But…" he tapped his fingers against the table as he considered her offer. "I'd like that, Miss Devereaux. I will seriously consider your offer, and you are right. It's not worth it." He stopped his tapping to pick up the teacup once more and when she asked if he was married, he shook his head, a wry smile teasing at his lips. "No, no…I've been too busy working to make time for such things. I've been saving up to go back home, maybe start a practice of my own."

He thought about the bonds he held that were meant to buy the factory. Could he really consider stealing from his company and using those funds to sail back to the states and seed his dream? He thought of the soldier's face in the baggage cart and narrowed his eyes as his mind traced out the myriad of possibilities that could occur if he did so. Arrest? Possibly. But…what if 'Leonard Benjamin' were believed dead, and 'Leonard Wesley' showed up in America with unearned monies? Would that earn him a place in hell, or would God or Yeshua understand and grant him that one reprieve?

Leo focused his eyes on his table mate. "As a matter of fact, if we make it to Istanbul…I'll do it." He decided. "I'll go back to the states. You are right, Stella. It's not worth it – they'll send another to replace me as easily as you or I would change our mind over a menu choice. "I'm not a crumb, but I know when my dance card is punched – it's time for me to find my way home."
 
Stuttgart Station 6:12 am Thursday

The train had just begun to slow for the next stop when uniformed nazi soldiers stationed themselves at either end of each car, blocking the exit of anyone wishing to depart. The conductor came through and quickly told people in as calm but loud a voice as he could manage. "Due to an unfortunate event, our stop in Stuttgart will be a little longer than normal. Please do not disembark from the train until the..." He gave just the slightest pause, as if he was having trouble acknowledging the word. "...authorities grant permission and match you with your passport. They may have some questions for anyone who may have witnessed the tragic events of this early morning." He repeated his message in French and German then headed on to the next car to presumably tell them the same thing.

As the train came to a stop there was an unusual quiet so unlike the usual hustle and bustle of the arrival of the Express as the sun rose on what promised to be a beautiful day. Though it was unlikely any amount of sunshine could purge the sense of gloom that seemed to permeate those that felt the oppressive boot of fascism pressing down upon them. Most Germans were becoming used to the sight of so many uniforms, many even feeling it is a return to national pride after the humiliation of the Treaty of Versailles. In any event, it might seem curious that a contingent of German police was awaiting the train, as if they had already known what was about to happen.

Reinhard Müller stepped off the train even as it was still slowing to a stop. He exchanged a Nazi salute with the officer in charge of the police. Anyone looking out the window would see them conversing with Reinhard giving directions to the attentive subordinate. Men went to the far side of the train as well as cordoning off an area for anyone disembarking the train to be rounded up for questioning. Reinhard held in his hand a stack of passports belonging to those expected to get off at the Stuttgart station. Obviously anyone making an unexpected exit would raise immediate suspicion.

Several plain clothes policemen boarded the train, one with a camera, the other with a case of equipment. They began to collect what forensic evidence was of interest to them as a pair of orderlies with a stretcher waited outside the compartment for the word to remove the body. It was all carried out with typical German efficiency, all under the watchful eye Sturmbannführer Müller.
 
Name: Jane Marple
Location: Her compartment
@Vinaein

From his answer Jane deduced that the count was some sort of of nationalist in the sense that he worked to preserve the nations of Eastern Europe as they were, free of German influence. There was also something in the way he spoke about Reichskanzler Hitler that told Jane he was not of the fascist conviction any more than she was, which was none at all. This was good, even if that in itself did not mean he was to be trusted of course, but at least the risk of him running to the Germans to trade the briefcase if he decided not to give it to her was minimal.

"My mission," Jane said and lit another cigarette.
"As you do of course realise I am not at liberty to fully disclose the details of it but I can tell you this much. I am here to observe another operative of the British government. Someone on a mission to Istanbul, a mission of great political import should the Germans decide to make a show of their claims to formerly German territories, possibly including Austria as well."
She paused and took a drag on the cigarette.
"This business with the briefcase and Estella is just a bonus, although I was briefed on the incident before leaving Paris. Yet somehow it now seems rather important, especially if Estella is not a murderess, which I highly doubt."

She stood and walked over to look out the window as they was now nearing Stuttgart.
"They will be quite interested in the briefcase," she said, only half to Aleks.
"And we have a long way to go before we leave Germany. I would hate to see Estella get into trouble over something she has been forced into rather than chosen herself. It would be quite dangerous to get caught with such information as she is carrying on German soil. You can tell her that when next you meet her. Now I do have other matters I need to tend to."
 
Name: Count Aleksander
Location: Jane's compartment
@MsBloom

The Count was hoping to give some details while concealing others. He knew Jane would likely catch on to certain aspects of what he said while guessing at others, which suited him well. But he could not hide his disdain for Hitler, not simply for his imperialist ambitions, but other reasons that he did not see yet fit to divulge. "I can understand full well if you are, as you say, far from at liberty to divulge every single aspect of your own mission." So much because of this damned briefcase, he reflected with a sour edge to his mind that did not quite seep into his voice.

They were dealing with Germans far too much as well. Nazis, black-clad thugs out to establish a fascist takeover of Europe. He watched Jane smoking there. "A bonus," he echoed, smiling thinly. "You think Estella has cold-blooded murder within her?" Don't YOU, his mind returned? he barely knew her, passionate and intelligent as she may be...what might she be capable of in her missions for the ones she cared for? "And is your government there to stymie Hitler's takeover or support it? Or has the government...not yet decided?" He pushed with a lifted eyebrow.

He reached to keep her from leaving just yet. "...Are we done talking so quickly, with such vital matters?"
 
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