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Orient Express - East of Stuttgart

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"Mmm...oui," Estella replied with a smile, despite not having the slightest idea what he had asked. "It's Mademoiselle, though. I'm about as far from married as one can get," she added with a laugh as he escorted her into the dining car. "Hopefully there isn't a Countess sitting in a castle somewhere, jealous that I'm stealing her husband for a meal?"

Dinner service had been cleared, but there was still a waiter or two lingering about for any latecomers, and the pair had no trouble finding a quiet table to themselves near the window. Not that there was much to see outside besides the occasional far-off lights of the passing villages, and the singer quickly found herself wondering how much longer it was to Strasbourg.

"You gave my telegram to the conductor?" she asked Aleks as they sat down. "It's dreadfully important it get sent out. It's to my agent, you see. I don't expect an immediate response of course, but by the time we get to Constantinople..." God but that seemed so far away. Only three days, but there was a lot that could go wrong in that amount of time.

The menu was relatively limited, the best dishes having been sold out to more punctual diners. But there was still a very nice bottle of bordeaux available, as well as a tidy little assortment of cheeses, smoked meats and jams, with a lovely loaf of French bread baked right in the train's galley. Estella couldn't imagine eating anything heavier at the moment, although the wine did wonders to take the edge off her nerves.

"So, Aleks," she mused as the waiter filled her glass. "I don't recall exactly what your line of business was, aside from being a handsome nobleman of course." Her glass swirled slowly and playfully, the bordeaux as red as her lips. "Where were you headed, before you undoubtedly had your ticket changed to Constantinople? You do intend to come see me perform, don't you? It would be so nice to know there was a familiar face in the audience..."
 
Count Aleksander
First Class Dining Car
@Shiva the Cat
​
He was recognizing that maybe Estella did not have a proper grasp of French as she might have led one to believe, which piqued his interest even more. "I confess I am also far from married at the moment," he added as he kept his arm to her. "Perhaps you might need to come to the holdings and see for yourself sometimes....you would certainly brighten and cheer up those halls, I would admit and it would be worth your while.."

His eyes swept about the room as he beheld the waiters and the peace and quiet of a small table. He was also attempting to think of a way to explain he'd had a poor feeling as to the letter yet...In the intervening time he had checked between meeting with Leo and returning for Estella, but he had a feeling she would not like the answer. "I did check, but they are not accepting the telegrams until the train had come closer to Strasbourg. I will post it in the morning....I doubt Mr. O'Hara will have difficulties in its reception and I assure you that you are quite secure here," he said

The bordeaux was poured, a rather continental spread about for them, sipping his wine delicately as he picked at bread and cheese. "I would be delighted to see you perform...as for business...family holdings. Business, finance and trading. I assure you, it is hardly exciting." He added with a soft laugh.

"And what of you? How did such an enchanting star end up in this business?"
 
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Name: Jane Marple
Location: First Class Dining.
@Shiva the Cat @Vinaein

It was no more than fifteen minutes before Jane had changed into a new set of trousers and a knitted short-sleeved jumper and had made her way to the First-Class Dining where, as she already knew, the man and the woman had found a table. There was no one else in the carriage though, except for the head waiter who looked about as stiff as an English upper lip, and about as arrogant. He was the sort of head waiter that did not pretend to look down on the lower classes but, even though her probably originated from such circumstances himself, actually did. She smiled politely at him before stopping at the table where the only other two guests were seated.
"Fancy seeing you here," she said with a smile at Estella and the man.
"I don't think we were ever properly introduced before," she added and gracefully extended her hand at the man with a smile.
"I am Jane, Jane Eyelesbarrow," she introduced herself.
While making pleasantries she scanned Estella's body, her clothing and jewellery in particular, for any signs of where the key might be hidden. It must be on her person one way or another, even if it was sown into her undergarments. That thought caused a smile to move across Jane's face. If it was it would of course mean that it would be that much harder to obtain the key but also that much more fun. She let the smile pass and fade into a more neutral facial expression.
I need to get her alone and in private, Jane thought to herself it was just a question of how susceptible she would be to Jane's feminine charms. More women were than one might expect.

Introductions made Jane settled at the table next to the only other two dinner guests. She was almost immediately handed a very reduced menu and informed that the kitchen was closed and they could only offer a cold spread of cheese, fruits and an assortment of cured and smoked meats. Jane nodded and said it was fine, she would have a little of each with some bread and a large glass of Bordeaux.
"It is good to know I am not the only one with late dining habits," she remarked with another smile at Estella and then pretended to look out the window while in fact she was using the reflection against the darkness outside to observe Estella.

It was no more than a few minutes before a plate was set before her with a spread of mostly French cheese, smoked ham and salami in thin slices with a small wicker basket of sliced French bread that had probably been fresh that very morning. Jane had not realised before then that she was actually quite hungry, having not eaten anything more substantial than a handfull of croissants over the course of the day at various cafΓ©s around Paris.
"Bon appΓ©tit," she said and raised her glass towards the couple at the next table, Estella much more than at the man.
 
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"I would be delighted to see you perform...as for business...family holdings. Business, finance and trading. I assure you, it is hardly exciting." He added with a soft laugh.

Estella returned the remark with a soft smile. "Is that why you're on board? Fleeing the boredom of an ivory tower? Or are you headed back there, with shackles on your feet?" She even went so far as to comically glance down at his shoes, and wiped imaginary sweat from her brow when she saw nothing around his ankles.

The singer plucked a grape from the plate and rolled it slowly between her fingers before popping it in her mouth. "I go where my public needs me," she replied to his question about her own trade. "I used to sing at this lovely little theater in Berlin--back when Berlin was fun, of course. But then of course those stiff-shirted assholes had to go and ruin everything..." Estella sighed, and a look of genuine sadness passed over her face. She'd been lucky to get out of course, she knew that. But there were plenty of old friends she hadn't heard a word from in years, even friends-of-friends that had gone ominously silent. She didn't want to think of what became of them.

"So after that, it was off to Amsterdam. And Warsaw, and Milan, and Paris, and Edinburgh, and finally London. Now it's Constantinople, and after that...who knows?" she finished, crushing out her cigarette in the ashtray.

There wasn't much time to linger in ennui, however, due to a familiar voice interrupting Estella's thoughts.

"Fancy seeing you here," greeted Miss Jane Eyelesbarrow, much to Estella's chagrin. The unmistakable scent of Chanel No. 5 helped to announce the tall figure as she approached their table. Was the woman following her now? Surreptitiously the singer dropped her hands to her lap between the table, and pointedly avoided the British woman's eyes.

Instead, she kept her gaze focused on Aleks' face. Would he be taken in by the lovely woman as easily as Mr. Benjamin had? If so, perhaps the Count wouldn't prove to be quite as trustworthy as she might have hoped. Well, there was one way to combat that.

"Would you like to join me in my compartment?" she asked him a little too quickly and a little too loudly. "It's...it's the lights in here, you know. A bit bright for my taste." Just like Jane, or so Estella told herself. "I've had quite enough supper, but I would love to continue our conversation in a more private setting."

She laid her hand over his, the lamps gleaming off the gold charms glittering on her wrist.
 
Count Aleksander
First Class Dining Car
@Shiva the Cat @MsBloom @Traveler

*****​
"The boredom of the ivory tower," the Count had echoed with a low chuckle, his eyes glinting playfully as the smile tugged at his lips. "I am away on...business and pleasure both, you might say. Of matters financial and personal." He playfully tapped his foot, showing he was quite unencumbered as their talks continued. "There is so much to be done...it is good to appreciate the simple pleasures of life when they arrive, Mademoiselle Devereaux."

He took a slice of bread, taking a bite from it while he listened to Estella's tales of Berlin and of singing and dancing. He could detect the sorrow there, a frown passing over his face...he had been in Berlin as well, having dealt with several fascist thugs. In fact, he had left several dead. But Estella did not exactly need to know that much. He knew good men had died as well...and many more might yet. "Well traveled indeed," he murmured. "You are most cultured, my- " he stopped as the British woman arrived. The very, very British woman.

"You are correct. We have not been introduced," Aleksander shook her hand politely, scanning her eyes. Those clever, ruthless eyes indeed...he could recognize a great deal there and he did not trust her. less than Estella...Leo Benjamin was either a bystander or a consummate actor, but this woman...she had been looking about quite a bit, hadn't she? That made him suspicious. And resistant to any charms, especially at Estella's clear discomfort. He was polite, cool and relaxed, but little more at the time.

"Ah, yes indeed," he said to Estella, taking her invitation. "These are conversations best had in private. Madame Eyelsbarrow, I bid you a wonderful evening. Mademoiselle Devereaux, if you would lead the way...?"
 
Name: Jane Marple
Location: First Class Dining
@Shiva the Cat @Vinaein

"Mademoiselle, S'il-vous-plait," Jane said with a hint of having been offended by the man's assumption of her marital status but followed her correction of said assumption with a polite but insinuative smile and wished them both a most pleasant night.
She was unsure of whether the woman had invited the man back to her compartment simply for the pleasure of his company or perhaps as protection from ... well from her. She didn't take her eyes off of either of them as they made their way back to the sleeping carriage. They did seem like strangers having just met on a train. Then again, one never knew what strangers on a train might get up to, especially with the political situation in Europe as volatile as it was.

She finished her meal and then made it back to her compartment again. There was not much more she could do for the time being. She had the briefcase and in the morning she would ask Charles if he knew a way around the explosive trap on the lock. She undressed down to her undergarments and went to bed.
 
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Strasbourg Station
  • Index
    • Arriving Strasbourg

    The bright headlamp of the engine pierced the darkness of midnight as the Orient Express approached Strasbourg. There was a barely perceptible slowing that only the lightest of sleepers or the most focused of the conscious would notice. Beyond Strasbourg was the Rhine River and Germany and while clearly French, the Germanic influence was palpable. The station, compared to that in Paris was quiet, more due to the time than the vitality of the city itself. The city housed a University and was also where Gutenberg helped usher in the Enlightenment with his printing press. Jane Eyelesbarrow would heat the gentle but insistent knock of the conductor upon her compartment door in time to get dressed to send her telegram as requested. It must be of a rather personal nature that she didn't simply scrawl her note out to be relayed, but it was hardly suspicious.

    As the train neared the platform some banging and jostling was unavoidable as the small spaces between car couplings shifted from tension to compression as the engine slowed. All but the soundest sleepers and those engaged in the most intense of conversation or other activities would avoid noticing the train was coming to a stop. The platform held a handful of passengers and their well wishers who waited for the small steps to be placed to help them onto the train. The platform side was well lit and raised, making boarding the train a matter of a few careful steps up. The opposite side was dark and treacherous but there was no good reason to try and board from that side anyway, but it was hardly impossible.

    Among the handful of male passengers boarding the train in Strasbourg there was a rather non-descript female among the new passengers. The conductor collected her ticket and her passport even though she kept her head down and face hidden by the brim of her traveling hat. It being late he didn't bother with the formality of checking her passport picture to her face as was the custom, her photograph being rather unremarkable like one of a million other European women. Her traveling clothes were nondescript as well and the conductor would barely remember her minutes from now, which was probably her desire.

    The train waited a bit longer than it took to take on passengers, allowing Ms. Eyelesbarrow to send her telegram and for the firemen to top off the coal and water supply as both were cheap and plentiful in Strasbourg. The Orient Express may be the epitome of style and culture, but it was still run as a business and profit wasn't a bad word. Though the main reason was to provide the German authorities a passenger manifest to clear the border into the Third Reich. The manifest included names and nationalities and for those that included it, religious affiliation. A couple of short whistle blasts would signal the train's imminent departure and soon entry into Germany.
     
  • Index
    • Name: Jane Marple
    Location: Jane's sleeping compartment.

    Jane had only managed to fall asleep after having recapped and analysed the evenings events in her head when there was a knock on the door. She wrapped herself in a short robe and opened the door with her hair in disarray and sleep in her eyes. It was the conductor letting her know that they were about to arrive in Strasbourg. She nodded and closed the door again. She dressed herself and hurried towards the entrance/exit doors. As she exited, the moment the doors opened she bumped into a young blonde, and fairly well endowed, woman wearing a trench coat wrapped tightly around her body and a large hat with the brim pulled down over her face as if she desired to be as inconspicuous as she possibly could.
    "Pardonnez moi," the young woman said hastily in what was almost a whisper. Had it not been for the hat and the accidental bump of their bodies Jane might perhaps not have taken much note of the woman but as it was she turned her head and looked over her shoulder. She didn't think much about it though. There was no time if she were to manage to send the telegram for which she had asked to be awakened.
    Need information on jewel heists. Stop. Greater London area. Stop. Send reply to Vienna. Stop. Orient Express. Stop. Jane. Stop.
    She then gave the telegraphist the adress: Flat 203 at 56B, Whitehaven Mansions. Before hurrying back on the train. Hopeful that if anything was afoot in London the Belgian detective would know.

    She made her way back to her compartment and returned to sleep, or at least tried to. The new variable to the equation kept her awake for a while. Then again it might just as well be absolutely nothing. There was nothing about the way the woman was dressed to cause any real suspicion, nor in her behaviour, and eventually Jane closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, hoping this time it wouldn't be interrupted until breakfast.
     
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    Estella smiled gratefully at Aleks as he agreed to accompany her back to the safety of her compartment. With a murmured thank you to the waiter and absolutely no acknowledgement for Miss Eyelesbarrow, she led him back to the sleeper car at a somewhat quicker pace than which they'd left it. When she opened the door, the first thing the singer looked for was any sign of intrusion. The ashtray had been emptied--the work of the chambermaid who'd stopped by earlier, no doubt. Estella felt a bit bad about that now, the poor woman had just been doing her job after all. And the room even smelled nicer now.

    Looking back towards Aleks, the singer sat lightly on the edge of her berth and stared at him. "I am trying to decide whether I should share some...information with you," she began, crossing one leg over the other. "You strike me as a very kind person, Aleks, and a trustworthy one. I'm all alone on this godforsaken train, and I need a friend I can trust. Desperately."

    Running her fingers through her hair, Estella let out a long sigh before making sure the door to the compartment was latched. "I have reason to believe there are people on this train who wish to do me harm. That incorrigible woman back in the dining car is one of them. Have you noticed she's been following me ever since this afternoon in the lounge?" She let out an annoyed chuff as she began to fiddle with the long string of pearls.

    "I suppose she could just be a Sapphic, but somehow I don't think so. Or at least, that isn't all of it. You see, there are some people I've worked with in the past...people with a lot of enemies. I don't think anyone is out to hurt me for my own sake, you see, but they would if they thought it could deal a blow to my boss. Or maybe they just like to shoot the messenger." Estella's lower lip began to tremble as she leaned forward, taking Aleks' hands in hers.

    "I'm begging you Aleks...stay with me tonight? Help keep me safe? You'll have my gratitude of course, and I'd be happy to make it worth your while..." She let go of his hands and rose to her feet. Turning around slowly, she began to reach her hands upwards to the zipper at the top of her back.

    "Help me undo this? I can't seem to get it myself..."
     
    Count Aleksander
    First Class Dining Car -- Estella's Compartment, First Class Sleeper Car
    @Shiva the Cat @MsBloom
    ​
    Truthfully, Aleksander was pleased to be out of the open. The Count had straightened and adjusted his clothing and gloves, offering Janes Eyelesbarrow a final pleasant glance and a leaving several pence for the staff. He could, he supposed, afford generosity at the moment. While he departed, bidding Jane farewell, he walked with Estella and wondered what he might see.

    "Information...?" He asked her. She wa partially right. Aleksander was kind when he could afford to be, but he was trustworthy when it suited his mission, as much as he wished otherwise. He stepped closer to Estella, hearing the "point" begin to emerge now. "I see," he whispered. It did make sense. He could have surmised some of it now. "The British woman indeed....she seemed to tip her hand quickly, did she not? Such things do have a way of sticking out in one's mind..." he thought of quipping how one like Estella could draw anyone...but that was likely not going to be appreciated for the time.

    "And who is your 'boss' to use the American colloquialism?" He asked as her hands touched his. Her query was clear in its invitation and he certainly had his own designs there...he was not opposed, but he wondered if she might be offering with an ulterior motive...probably. but he had been too taken with her to halt now. She was good, enrapturing him this much so quickly..

    And there it was. "Help me undo this..." He reached wordlessly, slipping his hand to the zipper and beginning to slide it down...helping her from it, he had her face him, tilting her chin up...and kissed her. Once, one brush of his lips, long and slow. The train rocked, sending him forward...to press her down upon the bed with him above her.

    "I'll stay...gladly," he whispered into the hollow of her neck, his teeth finding it ever so firmly.
     
    Aleks' kiss was warm and sweet; a perfect panacea to silence the fears and worries that had plagued the singer ever since she boarded the train. Sighing happily, Estella wrapped one arm around the Count's neck, teasing her fingers through his hair, while the other traced slowly down his broad back. She'd gotten rid of her bra prior to changing into her dress, and now her nipples were showing clearly through the silky red fabric. When she felt the aristocrat's teeth pressing into the delicate skin of her neck it only made her wetter, and her legs instinctively opened to him (well, as much as they could in the constricting skirt).

    Then several unfortunate things happened.

    The first thing Estella became aware of was that the train was beginning to slow. Strasbourg already? she wondered between her moans as her dress began to hike up. The singer was well aware that her telegram to Mort was still unsent, but with Aleks pressing so firmly against her, the feel of his own desire grinding against hers...oh what did it matter? She could send the damn telegram from the next stop, it wasn't like Mort was going to be able to do anything from New York anyway, and she certainly couldn't expect any response until she got to Constantinople regardless.

    The second thing was not so easy to ignore. When the Count laid her out on the bed, her bodice now rumpled around her hips and leaving her breasts fully on display to him, it occurred to Estella how soft the mattress was. Too soft. Not that she expected the Orient Express to use straw pallets in their First Class compartments, but she should have been able to feel something hard and rectangular stowed within the ticking. Estella pulled her skirt all the way up in order to let her legs stretch languidly along the mattress, praying the case concealed within had merely shifted with her and the Count's efforts. She did the same with her arms, which may have looked a bit odd to Aleks, but not nearly as odd as the expression that crossed the singer's face a moment later as she realized the briefcase was gone.

    The third thing was recognition. Estella suddenly realized what the curiously pleasant scent in the compartment was. Chanel No. 5.

    That sneaking bitch.

    So that's why Miss Eyelesbarrow had followed her into the dining car. The trollop wanted to fucking gloat. Gone was Estella's fear of the British woman, replaced instead by insult and rage (not the least of it was directed at her own stupidity for daring to leave the case behind). There was no time to waste now. She needed to get it back.

    Estella pushed firmly against Aleks' chest. The timing was inopportune, but this was no telegram she could easily ignore. This was her life, and Eli's, and possibly the lives of thousands of American soldiers if that son of a bitch had his way. "Aleks...please stop. I'm sorry, I can't," she gasped, sitting up straight. The singer needed a lie, and she needed one quick. But then again, why lie when you had a convenient truth?

    "My telegram! We must be at Strasbourg. I need to send it, immediately." Despite her claimed inability to unzip her dress, Estella had no trouble zipping it back up again. The fabric was crushed and wrinkled badly, but she was hardly concerned about that now. The Count's face did give her pause though. "I'm sorry, darling," she added gently, leaning forward to kiss him again. "I don't mean to be a spoilsport, but I must take care of this. I won't be but a moment if you want to wait here though."

    An idea struck her then, and Estella removed the charm bracelet from her wrist. "Here, take this as collateral," the singer said, pressing the heavy gold links into Aleks' hand. "Don't tell anyone I gave it to you, and for God's sake keep it safe. I'll be back to claim it as quickly as I can." She kissed him again, more tenderly this time, and before he could argue she had slipped back out into the corridor.

    The singer vaguely recalled the door Jane had pointed out when offering to help her recover from her fainting fit. Yeah, I bet she wanted to help Estella thought bitterly as she rapped on the door. "Miss Eyelesbarrow?" she whispered in a voice like the grave. "Wake up. I need to speak with you."

    Continued in Jane Marple's Sleeping Compartment
     
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    The sounds on the train had died down to a comfortable low din. People walked by his door and distant voices could be heard, but overall the sound of the train's wheels on the tracks drowned out the majority of the distraction, and soon Leo fell into a deep sleep. What seemed like hours later he felt the train shift and slow, pulling him out of his dreams and causing his eyes to flutter open. He could see the lights of Strasbourg outside his window as the cars slowed over miles of track, then come to a squealing stop in the station. The bright lights outside his window drew Leonard to climb out of bed and pull the blinds completely down, but not before catching a glimpse of the passengers waiting to board.

    Hopefully the darkness of his cabin kept the new passengers from seeing his bare torso as he reached up, his slim body marked by firm lines that swept across his planes of muscle and tendon. Then his cabin was once again washed in comforting darkness and he crawled back into bed, intending on making the most of this opportunity to rest.

    He woke again as the train began to move. Rolling over, he tucked an arm under his head and fell back to sleep. There was almost four hours until their next stop, and then two after that. With any luck he would be able to sleep undisturbed until they reached the Stuttgart, Germany, station. His alarm was set for 06:00. He had already dialed back the hands an hour to make up for the time difference between England and Germany, and knew that he needed as much rest as possible if he was going to be sharp-minded when they reached their destination.
     
    Karlsruhe Station
  • Index
    • Strasbourg to Karlsruhe

    With typical German efficiency the Reich maintained a customs station in Strasbourg where the conductor could drop off the manifest of passengers and other declarations required by international travel. It was a rather perfunctory duty for the conductor, routine really but he had no sooner delivered it than the list was given to a small team of stenographers at their own telegraph station. While the entire list would be sent within the hour, out to Berlin and down the line of the Orient Express' path through Germany, the list was scanned for certain people of interest and known aliases. These would be cross referenced against other lists, the clatter of telegraphs could be heard before the last car of the train crossed the Rhine into Germany.

    While geographically, it was difficult to distinguish one side of the Rhine from the other, but for those of particular political sensibilities, the difference was palpable. Most of the passengers, like the residents they passed were sound asleep. But the train never truly slept, with new passengers getting settled into their compartments, and it wasn't a long stretch before the first German town. The dinning car and lounge stayed open even if sparsely filled, it wasn't unusual for fellow passengers to meet, discuss business, then go their separate ways. But at least one rendezvous didn't take place as scheduled.

    For those sleeping, the next stop might well seem to blend into the first even though there was a little over two hours between Strasbourg and Karlruhe. The distinctive tower of the Karlsruhe Palace would be recognized by anyone having passed this way before. It was a prosperous but quiet town, benefiting handsomely from the munitions production favored by the Third Reich's current planning, the global recession fading mercifully into memory and the horrors to come still unknown. The station was quiet, a uniformed member of the Geheime Staatspolizei also known as the Gestapo, chatted amicably with a comely young Fraulein of generous Aryan proportions. A couple more less prominent passengers waiting with suitcases at hand. The officer was ostensibly on a routine visit to Munich for a conference, at least that was what he told Fraulein, but he had other business on the Orient Express.
     
  • Index
    • Hedwig Wolff pulled herself free from the embrace of the uniformed officer's forceful embrace. Just because they had spent the evening and parts of the night together did not mean he owned her. Or did it?. No, she decided it most certainly did not. It was bad enough that he had insisted on taking her to the station. She had a mission, which was to travel to Istanbul and at the German embassy there she would entertain those among the diplomats that were unwed or sid not yet have any children. It was perhaps not the most pleasant of missions as such but there was little she could do. It was that or her mentally challenged brother's life. If she agreed to breed and bear children of Aryan descent then he would receive care at a sanatorium, if she refused they would send him to a work house where he wouldn't last more than a few months. Friedrich, the Gestapo officer whom she had only just managed to avoid kissing goodbye had been her supervisor ever since the deal had been struck, and while he had been under strict orders not to impregnate her he had found other means to call in physical favours in exchange for visits to the sanatorium to see her brother among other things. Ihr KΓΆrper hat mehr als eine HΓΆhle, he had said and used the two where there was no risk of pregnancy.

    She was glad to be rid of him but she knew there were plain clothes agents on the train that would keep an eye on her. The difference was that she did not know who they were but somehow she was sure she would recognise them as they too would almost certainly be of pure Aryan stock,, like herself. As she stepped onto the train one of the porters, of an obviously oriental descent, carried her suitcase to her compartment where she undressed and laid down. She just needed to close her eyes for a few moments before breakfast.
     
    Stuttgart
  • Index
    • Karlsruhe to Stuttgart: Serving Breakfast

    Reinhard MΓΌller watched the disgraceful behavior of the man groping the young woman in front of him. He cleared his throat, making his presence known, which was typically enough to squelch any questionable behavior as even senior officers were reluctant to be scrutinized by Gestapo officers. The Gestapo Laws granted them broad extra judicial arrest powers, their orders could not legitimately opposed by any legal means within Germany.

    It would be difficult for outsiders to truly appreciate the fear that the secret police had spread across the Third Reich but the rumors were swirling about. Even the Geheime Staatspolizei officers themselves were still learning the breadth of their powers and Reinhard was eager to push the envelope. In the interest of state security of course.

    As the train entered the station, Reinhard handed his bag to a porter and then offered his hand to the young Fraulein to step up on to the train. It was an otherwise uneventful stop and went quickly. Reinhard was shown to his compartment and instructed the porter to ensure he was called for the breakfast serving. He went inside and removed his uniform so it wouldn't wrinkle and laid down for a few hours sleep, it was going to be a long day.

    It had seemed as if he had only closed his eyes for a moment and he heard the knock on his door for breakfast. He put his uniform back on and headed for breakfast, waiting to hear from contacts of his own on the train. Breakfast was quite an event on the Express and the aroma of pastries, especially struddles filled the air. It was a great day to be a German in the glorious Reich.
     
  • Index
    • Mr. Leonard Benjamin, Esq.
    First-Class Sleeping Train Hallway, to the First-Class Dining Compartment
    ​

    Leonard pulled on the bottom of his jacket to straighten the fabric as he stood in the sleeping car's hallway. He slid his broken bedroom door shut, then turned to look out of the window at the passing landscape as the train began its pull from the station. The morning light shone across the blue velvety luxury of his suit and the delicate patterns of his double-breasted vest. The chain from his pocket watch dangled at his hip, it's subtly elegant Turkish design discernable to the traveled eye. Beneath the knot of his silk tie an obsidian oval gleamed within a its grey metal clasp, and the buttons of this vest and at his wrists mirrored its hue. He was nothing, if not a man who paid attention to the details.

    He pulled in a shaky breath as he began to make his way towards the dining compartment. This was the part of the trip he hated the most, more so because of the mounting acceptance of the Reich's presence in the world. He was entertaining the idea of finding a way to stay in Istanbul, or perhaps to leave this part of the world altogether. Things were becoming tenuous here. For a man like Leo, it meant he either had to find a way to change his identity or disappear altogether.

    Rather than chance offending Jane by knocking at her door he opted to pass her doorway by and simply wait for her in the dining car. He could smell the scent of coffee, toast, eggs and ham as he opened the dining car doorway and stepped into the room. He scanned the car briefly as he noted the still mostly empty car. He picked one of the two-seated tables on his left, about two-thirds of the way down, and then took the seat that would face the doorway he had just entered through.
     
    Charles Walsh
    First-Class Carriages

    Despite a slight disturbance close to the morning that sounded like a commotion a couple doors down, Charles awoke when he had intended to and donned a navy blue wool suit, with a thin silk black necktie and simple onyx cufflinks. He also armed himself with his PPK, and used the mirror to make sure that it wasn't visible through his jacket before he ran a comb through his hair and stepped out into the corridor. He idly wondered if he should lend his spare gun to Jane, as she hadn't seemed to be armed and they were, after all, entering Germany. He decided to bring it up the next time they discussed business and went to the dining car. He gave Benjamin a respectful nod and sat down a few tables away, also facing the door to the sleeping berths. He pulled out his gunmetal cigarette case and his battered Ronson lighter and lit his first of the day, taking a long drag as he waited for the breakfast menu.
     
    Name: Jane Marple
    Location: Compartment and First Class Dining

    It had been a long eventful night and it felt as if Jane had slept only a few minutes when there was a knock on the door to her compartment again. This time it was the steward announcing that breakfast would be served in fifteen minutes. Jane made an inarticulate noise at the door to signal that she had heard and then sat up in her bed.
    "You can rest when you're dead Janey," she told herself with a sarcastic chuckle as she got up to wash her face in the small porcelain basin in the corner.
    The water was cold but did have an invigorating effect. She lit a cigarette and began to brush her uncooperative hair before dressing herself in tanned cotton pants and a deep red short sleeved blouse. She even put on a bit of make up even if she generally didn't wear it, but one look in the mirror clearly stated that she looked like death without it, a bit of eye-shadow and lipstick. Lastly she was about to spray herself with perfume and that's when it dawned on her. It must have been the scent that gave her away to Estella. This realisation caused her to laugh softly at herself.
    "You're starting to slip Janey," she told her reflection in the mirror.
    "Perhaps you are getting too old for this game."

    Once she was dressed and made up she left the compartment and made her way to the First Class Dining Car. She had promised Mr Benjamin they would have breakfast together. He was still a question without an answer and such things were something her brain simply couldn't accept. Her curiousity was what had made her good at what she did, curiousity and a mind sharper than most.
    "Good morning Mr Benjamin," she said as she approached the man with whom she had conversed the previous evening and whom.
    "I trust you slept well?"
     
    Mr. Leonard Benjamin, Esq.
    First-Class Dining Compartment
    ​
    Leo nodded at Mr. Walsh when he entered the compartment, then brought his gaze back to the simple menu in his hand. A few moments later Jane arrived, and as she approached the table he stood. "Good morning," he greeted, glad to see that she had still intended to make her date with him despite the commotion last night.

    "I did sleep well," he said as he moved to help her with her chair. She was casually but beautifully dressed; simple, chick clothing that complimented her modern haircut, and for a moment he wondered if he had remained too long in the customs of old. Once she was seated, he resumed his own chair across from her.

    "And you? Were you able to get rest last night? There seems to be quite a few night owls traveling with us," he remarked as he looked across the table at her, noting the delicate colors she had applied to herself and the wealthy scent of her perfume.

    A waiter came by and asked them if they would like to order a beverage while they decided on breakfast. He smiled down at Jane, his eyes flickering over the curves of her blouse, lingering on her breasts, then raising to look her in her eyes. After Jane made her decision, Leo ordered coffee and water, then set his menu down as he directed his attention at the young lady across from him.
     
    Name: Jane Marple
    Location: Compartment and First Class Dining

    It was not that Jane had not noticed Charles when she entered the dining car but she simply chose to afford him no more than a polite nod as to someone you didn't actually know but under the circumstances were obliged to greet, like a fellow passenger on a train.
    "Yes I noticed quite a bit of commotion in the early hours," Jane replied with a smile that would suggest she was grateful that he had not more specifically indicated that the night owls in question had been heard in her compartment even though she was quite certain he had located the noises Estella had made towards the end. She was equally certain that Charles must have heard them as well.

    "CafΓ© au Lait, s'il vous plait," Jane said when asked if she wanted something to drink and looked up at the waiter with the wandering eyes with a smirk that suggested it might last longer if he drew a picture.
    "And then I'll have a cheese omelette and a croissant," she added to her order.
    More than six years having Paris as her home base had influenced her breakfast habits.

    While waiting for the order to be prepared and served she lit another cigarette and looked out the window. Germany. The enemy. From now on she would have to be extra cautious. There were many men of power in the Third Reich that would have her head on a silver platter, if they knew who to look for of course. Perhaps this was not a good time to cling to her no guns policy as stubbornly as she had over the last two decades. Perhaps she should find Charles privately some time after breakfast and ask if he possibly had a spare, a small, easily concealed revolver perhaps.
     
    Mr. Leonard Benjamin, Esq.
    First-Class Dining Compartment​

    Leo ordered a slice of ham and spinach quiche and a bowl of fruit, then leaned back in his chair as he watched Jane light her cigarette. The flash of light in front of her lips illuminated her beauty. It also revealed the bags under her eyes. She looked tired, but then…everyone was worn out when they were on the road. He wasn't one to throw stones, he was sure that his stress in traveling through Germany was beginning to show around his eyes.

    His gaze followed hers to the window. "It's a beautiful country," he said. The land itself was gorgeous. He loved the mountains, the lakes and the forests. It was a country of beautiful vistas. The people, they were delightful. Their colorful dress, the food, the beer – it was a feast for the eyes and the pallet. The laws…they were troublesome. This assignment had been one he had not wanted to take because of the route, but his company had been adamant.

    He studied Jane as she looked out the window and thought that she seemed preoccupied. She must have had a lot on her mind, he decided, and he pulled out his own pack of cigarettes and bumped one into his hand. As he lit it, he looked up at Jane. "I want to thank you for meeting me for breakfast," he inhaled, lighting the tip brighter.

    "I think I might send the rest of the day in my room…going over business papers," he said, though it would give them enough time to get through to Germany and Austria before he had to come out again. Once they were clear of this land he would feel better.
     
    Name: Jane Marple
    Location: Compartment and First Class Dining

    "Quite beautiful indeed, so exotic in many ways," Jane confirmed.
    "A shame though about its history and current state of affairs. That Hitler fellow is more trouble than people might imagine."
    She sighed and focused her eyes on her company.
    "Then again ... So was Napoleon in his day. I just fear this will be much worse when it is all over and done with."
    She took a deep drag on the cigarette.
    "Not to mention that Russian fellow," she added in a tone suggesting that politics was not really her greatest interest, which in many ways it wasn't.
    Her main political interests were two, the stability of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and equal rights for women. Her only interest in men liks Hitler or Stalin were the effects they could have on either. Stalin for instance had recently undone much of the advance towards the latter which had been declared by his predecessor. The situation however was still worse under Germany's new rule.

    When breakfast was served she put out the cigarette and stared down at her plate for a few seconds before picking up the knife and fork.
    "Oh think nothing of it," she said to him thanking her for meeting him for breakfast.
    "Even bored Cornish Heiresses have to eat and there is naught wrong with a bit of pleasant company while doing so."
    She then nodded when he mentioned his intentions of spending the rest of the day in his compartment. Given his family name she could understand him wanting to keep himself unseen through German territory, especially since it seemed that there were uniformed members of the Geheime Staatspolizei on board as well. They had probably found something worthy of interest when checking the passports in Strasbourg, such as the name Benjamin, or perhaps they had somehow gotten wind of the reason Charles was on the train and hoped to intercept the courier he was supposed to meet. Either way it was not good.
     
    Charles Walsh
    Same location
    @MsBloom

    As he ate his own breakfast, Charles watched Jane and Benjamin and the other passengers. He noticed her preoccupation, and surmised she might indeed want to borrow his spare gun. He casually stretched and yawned, but the hand that didn't cover his mouth--the one that was still rested on the table--was curled in a three-finger gesture instead of his whole hand being flat on the table. It was a simple signal, but the Gerries--at least the uniformed ones--were elsewhere so perhaps no one who could be a problem caught the message of meet in thirty minutes he sent Jane's way. He also could stand to spend the rest of the trip through Germany in his compartment, unless there were matters that demanded his attention. And where was that fucking courier? They were late.
     
    the spectacled woman
    Main Dining Car
    @All Cast

    *****
    ​
    It wasn't clear when exactly the spectacled woman had boarded the train. She wasn't the sort of person most people noticed.

    She might have gotten on in Paris, although her mousy, bookish demeanor was hardly character of the sophisticated and fashionable residents of that city. Perhaps she'd slipped in at Strasbourg, in the dead of night. She was certainly quiet enough; her roommate in the second-class compartment she'd booked had completely slept through her arrival; the only proof of her appearance being the ragged black coat resting on the neatly made lower berth. Or perhaps the woman had arrived among the throngs at Karlsruhe. She was reading a German edition of On the Origin of Species as she sat sitting coffee near the door to the First Class Dining Car, and so probably had nothing to fear from any Gestapo officers either on the platform or the train.

    In any case, no one besides the waiter refilling her cup had paid any attention to her, which suited the spectacled woman well enough. Behind her glasses she preferred to see, and not to be seen. So far since setting up camp at her little table she'd seen the spotlessly-dressed German military official, the foppish business man, a gentleman with a cigarette who did manage to hold her attention for a few scant moments, and lastly a tired-looking lady wearing a bit too much perfume for such an early hour. All were bound for the First Class Dining Car, which probably explained why they took such little interest in the poor students, office workers, and continental travelers confined to the lower classes.

    The spectacled woman ran one hand over the gold jacket of her day dress, grateful for the last minute adjustments she'd been able to obtain before sitting down to breakfast. It was still a bit flashy for her own personal tastes, but one couldn't be particular in situations like this. She did, however, notice a single small dot on the sleeve cuff, probably the result of some leaky pen or chaotic drop of coffee. It was enough to make her frown though, and after asking the waiter for "Weißweinessig, bitte," she began to dab the clear liquid against the spot.
     
    Mr. Leonard Benjamin, Esq.
    First-Class Dining Compartment
    ​
    Jane's mention of 'that Hitler fellow' being troublesome made Leo's eyes dart around, looking for anyone who might have overheard her. She was bold. But being bold made it dangerous. Then she mentioned the Russian fellow and he nearly coughed. "St-Stalin?" He dabbed at his lips with a napkin. "Dear friend, it's not safe to speak so freely here," he said, lowering his voice.

    Ah, to be back in New York, U.S.A. instead of here – he would have given almost anything.

    "I have to apologize," he said as they ate. "Every time I take this route it becomes more and more tenuous. I'm hoping this will be the last time I'm sent through," he confided, smiling apologetically at the lovely woman across from him. To look at Leonard one would think him strictly British, perhaps from Wales, but his last name was a curse and a blessing. His first position at Brooks and Banksy was simply because he met the qualification and his first boss had considered it good luck to hire someone of Jewish heritage.

    "Money flows to them like magnets," the man had said, grinning around his cigar as he offered a younger Leo his first employment.

    But now he was both 'good business,' and a calculated risk. They could afford to lose him, and he had also built up enough of a relationship with their Eastern 'friends' to be trusted with these negotiations. If only he could make it through Germany intact.

    "I think many in London are on edge," he said, tapping his fingertip against the brim of the coffee cup. "You did hear of that Parliament member's murder, did you not? Uhm, Murrow, I believe. Yes. Arthur Henry Murrow?"

    Leo's head tilted slightly as he regarded Jane, wondering if she even cared for idle gossip or politics. "The Bobbies are all whispering that he had entered the Savoy Hotel with a mysterious woman. Some thought she might be his mistress...And that was the last anyone saw him alive. It's amazing how foolish some men become when thinking with the wrong part of their anatomy."
     
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