So many alphabet agencies, so many agents, only one Tatiana, and one who is probally going to be so boring and do nothing. Will be interesting all the business the local coffee shops, diners, and stores get when she starts going to them, even if she just gets a cup of coffee to go.
Stupid Luck and Happenstance, Thread III
- Thread starter Peabody-Martini
- Start date
With all the things that Malcolm can bring to this expedition, the leaders would be crazy to turn him down.
The Luftwaffe sponsorship alone would bring things like the latest in survivor gear, the most advanced lightweight and rugged communications gear, a Luftwaffe meteorological team to give up to the minute weather forecasts.
Malcolm doesn’t have to lead the final assault to the summit, but he would be very helpful in coordinating the logistics of the climb, and the Luftwaffe gets great publicity and a real world test under extreme conditions of their latest technology.
And it seems that ITTL K2 hasn’t been successfully climbed yet.
The Luftwaffe sponsorship alone would bring things like the latest in survivor gear, the most advanced lightweight and rugged communications gear, a Luftwaffe meteorological team to give up to the minute weather forecasts.
Malcolm doesn’t have to lead the final assault to the summit, but he would be very helpful in coordinating the logistics of the climb, and the Luftwaffe gets great publicity and a real world test under extreme conditions of their latest technology.
And it seems that ITTL K2 hasn’t been successfully climbed yet.
Kat is wrong about Tatiana having o protection if something happens while in the United States.
Kat’s own reputation and the US desire not wanting to upset Germany is going to afford a measure of protection for Tatiana.
My main concern is that. Asia with her understandable hatred of the US, is going to use Tatiana as a sacrificial pawn as a way to cause a major diplomatic incident that would setback any progress that Germany and the U.S. are pursuing in things like arms control and a possible joint ESA-NASA Mars Mission.
Kat’s own reputation and the US desire not wanting to upset Germany is going to afford a measure of protection for Tatiana.
My main concern is that. Asia with her understandable hatred of the US, is going to use Tatiana as a sacrificial pawn as a way to cause a major diplomatic incident that would setback any progress that Germany and the U.S. are pursuing in things like arms control and a possible joint ESA-NASA Mars Mission.
Part 148, Chapter 2687
Chapter Two Thousand Six Hundred Eighty-Seven
11th June 1978
Harz Mountains, Near Goslar, Lower Saxony
The south face of Eschwegefels was familiar to Malcolm because he had made many weekend trips here with the University Mountaineering Club. The diagonal slabs of rock made for a challenge even if wasn’t particularly tall. He had heard about how one of the key innovations of the Wright brothers was that they had factored the potential of failure into their flight tests by having them on a broad beach and not making a show of it. That was what Eschwegefels was, a place to practice where any mistake had very low stakes. The club had plans for bigger things later that summer. Upon reaching the top, rappelling back down only took a minute or two.
Concentrating fully on the rockface had kept him from thinking about how his sister had made it clear to him that she thought that his plans over the next couple years were completely insane. The truth that Tatiana didn’t understand was that Karakoram 2, or simply K2 as it had come to be called, was a mountain that many believed was impossible to climb, to even challenge that perception required more than just mere insanity. You had to be absolutely barking mad to even want to try. It was Malcolm’s plan to flip the bird to a number of deserving people from the peak of K2, it was also his intention to come back and let them know that he had done it.
Finding his rucksack where he had stashed it, Malcolm watched as the other climbers in the club made their way up. As was expected, they were at all different skill levels and today’s activities were all about addressing that. For a beginner any cliff is daunting, and it was all about building confidence. There were also the metaphorical cliffs as well. At his annual fitness evaluation a couple months earlier Malcolm had passed it easily. When you are regularly lifting your whole bodyweight by your fingertips, most other strength requirements seem trite. One of his evaluators had asked why someone like him was sitting in bunker, babysitting a section of what can only be described as potatoes?
Malcolm had replied that he was a Doctoral Student and had been reminded that he wasn’t going to be forever. What came next? He had no idea beyond K2.
Königsberg, East Prussia
“Everyone has bad days” Dalia’s mother said as she saw the look on her face when she entered the small apartment that they shared with Dalia’s grandmother. Mercifully, Dalia’s grandmother was absent this evening otherwise she would be listening to two perspectives about her troubles.
Somehow that understated the situation. While it had not been the store manager’s intention to be cruel, he had certainly been exactly that to Dalia that afternoon. It was all because of those stupid generic products with the plain white labels that the market sold. The manager had gotten frustrated with Dalia’s putting items in the wrong spots on the shelves and had pointedly demanded to know who had let her do something like that. He had said that he understood that Dalia was trying to be helpful but would prefer it if she didn’t exceed her abilities. He had talked to her the way that one would talk to a dim toddler.
“The stupid don’t get to have good days” Dalia replied sharply, “Just days that are slightly less awful every now and again.”
Dalia’s mother gave her the she gave her when she thought that Dalia was acting silly. “If you are smart enough to know you are stupid then you aren’t stupid” She said.
It took a lot for Dalia not to slam the door of her bedroom as she closed it. Her mother had told her things like that for years and it was nothing more than platitudes. She knew that without the laser scanners and barcodes it would be difficult, if not impossible, for her to do her job to the extent that she did. If she was so smart, how come she knew children who functioned better than her?
Looking around her room, Dalia saw the drawings, as much as she wished she didn’t. Drawing was the only thing that she had ever been good at. The trouble was that when she had one of her bad days it felt like they were mocking her. She wanted to tear down the whole lot and throw it out or burn them. How many times had she been told her abilities with a pencil, or a set of pastels were far beyond those of ordinary people? It was always from people who had no idea that she would give that up in a heartbeat if it meant that she could make sense of words on a printed page for just one minute. Throwing herself onto her bed, Dalia screamed into her pillow before quietly weeping once she had exhausted herself.
“Dalia?” Dalia heard her mother ask as she knocked on the door an unknown amount of time later. It was dark, so it had been longer than she had realized. “Can I come in?”
When Dalia didn’t respond, she opened the door.
“I’m worried about you” Dalia’s mother said as she sat down on her bed.
Of course she would be worried, Dalia thought to herself. There had been so much to worry about over last two decades, especially the last few years.
“There is food in the kitchen in case you get hungry” Dalia’s mother said as she brushed the hair out of Dalia’s face.
With that, her mother left.
Somehow, her mother acting as if everything was normal only served to make Dalia feel worse.
11th June 1978
Harz Mountains, Near Goslar, Lower Saxony
The south face of Eschwegefels was familiar to Malcolm because he had made many weekend trips here with the University Mountaineering Club. The diagonal slabs of rock made for a challenge even if wasn’t particularly tall. He had heard about how one of the key innovations of the Wright brothers was that they had factored the potential of failure into their flight tests by having them on a broad beach and not making a show of it. That was what Eschwegefels was, a place to practice where any mistake had very low stakes. The club had plans for bigger things later that summer. Upon reaching the top, rappelling back down only took a minute or two.
Concentrating fully on the rockface had kept him from thinking about how his sister had made it clear to him that she thought that his plans over the next couple years were completely insane. The truth that Tatiana didn’t understand was that Karakoram 2, or simply K2 as it had come to be called, was a mountain that many believed was impossible to climb, to even challenge that perception required more than just mere insanity. You had to be absolutely barking mad to even want to try. It was Malcolm’s plan to flip the bird to a number of deserving people from the peak of K2, it was also his intention to come back and let them know that he had done it.
Finding his rucksack where he had stashed it, Malcolm watched as the other climbers in the club made their way up. As was expected, they were at all different skill levels and today’s activities were all about addressing that. For a beginner any cliff is daunting, and it was all about building confidence. There were also the metaphorical cliffs as well. At his annual fitness evaluation a couple months earlier Malcolm had passed it easily. When you are regularly lifting your whole bodyweight by your fingertips, most other strength requirements seem trite. One of his evaluators had asked why someone like him was sitting in bunker, babysitting a section of what can only be described as potatoes?
Malcolm had replied that he was a Doctoral Student and had been reminded that he wasn’t going to be forever. What came next? He had no idea beyond K2.
Königsberg, East Prussia
“Everyone has bad days” Dalia’s mother said as she saw the look on her face when she entered the small apartment that they shared with Dalia’s grandmother. Mercifully, Dalia’s grandmother was absent this evening otherwise she would be listening to two perspectives about her troubles.
Somehow that understated the situation. While it had not been the store manager’s intention to be cruel, he had certainly been exactly that to Dalia that afternoon. It was all because of those stupid generic products with the plain white labels that the market sold. The manager had gotten frustrated with Dalia’s putting items in the wrong spots on the shelves and had pointedly demanded to know who had let her do something like that. He had said that he understood that Dalia was trying to be helpful but would prefer it if she didn’t exceed her abilities. He had talked to her the way that one would talk to a dim toddler.
“The stupid don’t get to have good days” Dalia replied sharply, “Just days that are slightly less awful every now and again.”
Dalia’s mother gave her the she gave her when she thought that Dalia was acting silly. “If you are smart enough to know you are stupid then you aren’t stupid” She said.
It took a lot for Dalia not to slam the door of her bedroom as she closed it. Her mother had told her things like that for years and it was nothing more than platitudes. She knew that without the laser scanners and barcodes it would be difficult, if not impossible, for her to do her job to the extent that she did. If she was so smart, how come she knew children who functioned better than her?
Looking around her room, Dalia saw the drawings, as much as she wished she didn’t. Drawing was the only thing that she had ever been good at. The trouble was that when she had one of her bad days it felt like they were mocking her. She wanted to tear down the whole lot and throw it out or burn them. How many times had she been told her abilities with a pencil, or a set of pastels were far beyond those of ordinary people? It was always from people who had no idea that she would give that up in a heartbeat if it meant that she could make sense of words on a printed page for just one minute. Throwing herself onto her bed, Dalia screamed into her pillow before quietly weeping once she had exhausted herself.
“Dalia?” Dalia heard her mother ask as she knocked on the door an unknown amount of time later. It was dark, so it had been longer than she had realized. “Can I come in?”
When Dalia didn’t respond, she opened the door.
“I’m worried about you” Dalia’s mother said as she sat down on her bed.
Of course she would be worried, Dalia thought to herself. There had been so much to worry about over last two decades, especially the last few years.
“There is food in the kitchen in case you get hungry” Dalia’s mother said as she brushed the hair out of Dalia’s face.
With that, her mother left.
Somehow, her mother acting as if everything was normal only served to make Dalia feel worse.
Malcolm and Dalia, two talented people with learning disabilities, with very different outcomes (so far) due entirely to Stupid Luck and Happenstance. Malcolm has his opportunities because he was lucky enough to have a teacher who recognised that he was extremely intelligent, yet struggled with reading, realised that there must be something inhibiting his ability to learn that skill and took steps to remedy the situation. Even then, Malcolm has faced discrimination, both academically and professionally. Dalia, on the other hand, has endured an abusive teacher for whom all struggling students are, and forever will be, at least one of three things: lazy, wilful and stupid. Which is sadly ironic as he was too lazy to do his job properly, to stupid to recognise that not everyone learns the same way and too wilful to admit that he was a major part of the problem.
Malcolm and Dalia while having dyslexia, have much different experiences in dealing with it.
Malcolm had the advantage of having parents who had the resources to send him to a private school that specialized in the education of those who have dyslexia and the ways to overcome it.
Dalia on the other hand, went to a public school that didn't have the resources, and more importantly the desire to spend the money on students with special needs, especially those that are "Not One of Us".
Malcolm had the advantage of having parents who had the resources to send him to a private school that specialized in the education of those who have dyslexia and the ways to overcome it.
Dalia on the other hand, went to a public school that didn't have the resources, and more importantly the desire to spend the money on students with special needs, especially those that are "Not One of Us".
Part 148, Chapter 2688
Chapter Two Thousand Six Hundred Eighty-Eight
23rd June 1978
Pusan, Korea
Of course, the Brass found out what Erich was up to. That was bound to happen eventually and because he had made sure that the EPa crates had mostly gone to where they were supposed to go, the 3rd MID in this case, he had not gotten into too much trouble. Yes, the Luftwaffe had not been happy because a valuable commodity had been taken away from them but as Generalleutnant Jagoda, the present Commander of the 3rd had said when he had been informed of the matter, “Those Abflu trash can go fuck themselves.” It was strange hearing the slang term for Luftwaffe Ground and Logistics personnel being thrown around by a General, Abflu being a slang term referring to clipped wings.
It was only a few days later that a cargo ship arrived in Pusan with the hold crammed full of EPa boxes and suddenly it was all a moot point. Not that the Brass forgot about it, not even for a second. That was why Erich was volunteering for anything that would get him out of Pusan as he had found himself babysitting the American Observer. Not that the Ami was a bad guy, it was just that Gunnery Sergeant Tyrone Lee USMC wasn’t exactly welcome among the 3rd MID. Erich’s orders were to treat Lee with the amount of respect that an Oberfeldwebel was due and to keep him from seeing anything he ought not to see. That was far easier said than done, because it was difficult to figure out what someone like that ought not to see until it bit you on the ass.
When Erich had been at the Naval Academy he had read about how during the First World War French spies had been able to learn the precise locations of German Divisions by getting their hands on supply manifests. The Heer had suffered one of its worst defeats in the war due to bread and vegetables. Erich’s teacher had pointed out to the class that the leading elements of the Heer had managed to advance as far as the Paris Suburbs when that had happened. That was one of the great “Might have been” stories that armchair strategists endlessly debated over. If information security had been better, they might have taken Paris outright. That would have radically changed the outcome of the war and the events that followed. It had also been pointed out to them that Conrad Bauer, the individual deemed responsible for that leak had been Court Martialed, stripped of rank, and executed for his actions. There was also the consideration that Lee was Black, while the Ami didn’t look like any African that Erich had ever seen, he benefited from his ethnicity. Supposedly, that would have caused his own countrymen to severely underestimate him. Things couldn’t have been more different among the Marine Infantry. The Askari who had served in their ranks were considered to be among the toughest men alive. It was noticeable how the Marine Soldaten got out of Lee’s way when he came through the line in the Mess Hall. The fact that he was wearing a foreign uniform was not a consideration.
“What’s on the menu today LT” Lee asked, as he followed Erich and Oberfeld Muller into the Mess Hall.
“I would imagine the same thing as yesterday” Muller replied.
Erich and Muller held informal meetings most days over the running of the Platoon during the midday meal. Having the Ami along today was a wet blanket and that wasn’t helped by the food. Bierschinken, rice, kimchee, and tinned mandarin oranges from Japan on the side. Like always, the beer that was served with the meal raised Lee’s eyebrows even though it was weak on purpose and was practical considering that it was far safer than the water in most of the rural parts of Korea. While the Ami had said nothing, it was noticeable that he didn’t approve and stuck with the coffee that was one of the alternatives.
“Have you heard any more about detached service Leutnant?” Muller asked unaware that Lee was about to sit down.
“I’ve heard nothing” Erich replied. He had tried to warn Muller that Lee must speak German. Otherwise there is no way that the US Marine Corps would have sent him to observe his German counterparts and to be careful what he said. Muller had grown complacent after a few days.
“Detached service?” Lee asked in English, confirming what Erich had suspected.
“Platoons and Companies accompanying Naval patrols in the South China Sea and Indian Ocean” Erich replied, “Trying to stop piracy and smuggling.”
That wasn’t a secret by any means. The US Navy and their Filipino allies had the same issues. It was a safe assumption that the US Marines were involved with that.
“More like shoveling shit into a wheelbarrow with the bottom rusted out” Muller said, “Thanks to China being such a mess.”
“You want to do that?” Lee asked.
“Of course” Erich replied, “It’s a combat assignment and far better than sitting around in Korea.”
Units had also been sent to train with the Korean Army and in the far north help patrol the Sino-Korean border. Lee didn’t need to know about any of that especially because the US had been tentatively on the Chinese side during the war fought on the Korean Peninsula a decade and half earlier.
“That does sound like an adventure” Lee said.
Muller snorted when he heard that. It was something that Erich had found out for himself in Anatolia. Calling something an adventure was most often done after the fact. At the moment it was hardship, weeks at sea, getting shot at. The thing was that it was far better than keeping the men from engaging in God only knew what while sitting in Korea waiting for something to happen.
23rd June 1978
Pusan, Korea
Of course, the Brass found out what Erich was up to. That was bound to happen eventually and because he had made sure that the EPa crates had mostly gone to where they were supposed to go, the 3rd MID in this case, he had not gotten into too much trouble. Yes, the Luftwaffe had not been happy because a valuable commodity had been taken away from them but as Generalleutnant Jagoda, the present Commander of the 3rd had said when he had been informed of the matter, “Those Abflu trash can go fuck themselves.” It was strange hearing the slang term for Luftwaffe Ground and Logistics personnel being thrown around by a General, Abflu being a slang term referring to clipped wings.
It was only a few days later that a cargo ship arrived in Pusan with the hold crammed full of EPa boxes and suddenly it was all a moot point. Not that the Brass forgot about it, not even for a second. That was why Erich was volunteering for anything that would get him out of Pusan as he had found himself babysitting the American Observer. Not that the Ami was a bad guy, it was just that Gunnery Sergeant Tyrone Lee USMC wasn’t exactly welcome among the 3rd MID. Erich’s orders were to treat Lee with the amount of respect that an Oberfeldwebel was due and to keep him from seeing anything he ought not to see. That was far easier said than done, because it was difficult to figure out what someone like that ought not to see until it bit you on the ass.
When Erich had been at the Naval Academy he had read about how during the First World War French spies had been able to learn the precise locations of German Divisions by getting their hands on supply manifests. The Heer had suffered one of its worst defeats in the war due to bread and vegetables. Erich’s teacher had pointed out to the class that the leading elements of the Heer had managed to advance as far as the Paris Suburbs when that had happened. That was one of the great “Might have been” stories that armchair strategists endlessly debated over. If information security had been better, they might have taken Paris outright. That would have radically changed the outcome of the war and the events that followed. It had also been pointed out to them that Conrad Bauer, the individual deemed responsible for that leak had been Court Martialed, stripped of rank, and executed for his actions. There was also the consideration that Lee was Black, while the Ami didn’t look like any African that Erich had ever seen, he benefited from his ethnicity. Supposedly, that would have caused his own countrymen to severely underestimate him. Things couldn’t have been more different among the Marine Infantry. The Askari who had served in their ranks were considered to be among the toughest men alive. It was noticeable how the Marine Soldaten got out of Lee’s way when he came through the line in the Mess Hall. The fact that he was wearing a foreign uniform was not a consideration.
“What’s on the menu today LT” Lee asked, as he followed Erich and Oberfeld Muller into the Mess Hall.
“I would imagine the same thing as yesterday” Muller replied.
Erich and Muller held informal meetings most days over the running of the Platoon during the midday meal. Having the Ami along today was a wet blanket and that wasn’t helped by the food. Bierschinken, rice, kimchee, and tinned mandarin oranges from Japan on the side. Like always, the beer that was served with the meal raised Lee’s eyebrows even though it was weak on purpose and was practical considering that it was far safer than the water in most of the rural parts of Korea. While the Ami had said nothing, it was noticeable that he didn’t approve and stuck with the coffee that was one of the alternatives.
“Have you heard any more about detached service Leutnant?” Muller asked unaware that Lee was about to sit down.
“I’ve heard nothing” Erich replied. He had tried to warn Muller that Lee must speak German. Otherwise there is no way that the US Marine Corps would have sent him to observe his German counterparts and to be careful what he said. Muller had grown complacent after a few days.
“Detached service?” Lee asked in English, confirming what Erich had suspected.
“Platoons and Companies accompanying Naval patrols in the South China Sea and Indian Ocean” Erich replied, “Trying to stop piracy and smuggling.”
That wasn’t a secret by any means. The US Navy and their Filipino allies had the same issues. It was a safe assumption that the US Marines were involved with that.
“More like shoveling shit into a wheelbarrow with the bottom rusted out” Muller said, “Thanks to China being such a mess.”
“You want to do that?” Lee asked.
“Of course” Erich replied, “It’s a combat assignment and far better than sitting around in Korea.”
Units had also been sent to train with the Korean Army and in the far north help patrol the Sino-Korean border. Lee didn’t need to know about any of that especially because the US had been tentatively on the Chinese side during the war fought on the Korean Peninsula a decade and half earlier.
“That does sound like an adventure” Lee said.
Muller snorted when he heard that. It was something that Erich had found out for himself in Anatolia. Calling something an adventure was most often done after the fact. At the moment it was hardship, weeks at sea, getting shot at. The thing was that it was far better than keeping the men from engaging in God only knew what while sitting in Korea waiting for something to happen.
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Neither. More like 'Imperial Assassin Leni', 'Race Car Driver Leni', 'Policewoman Leni' or, most famously, 'Fallschirmjäger Leni' & 'General Leni'
Speaking of movies, I wonder if some of the ‘terrible’ Jochen Loewe films that Emil hated so much (like ‘Arganda Bridge’ & ‘Souville Hill’) have been reassessed after they’ve ended up as late night re-runs in Germany & in foreign screenings?
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Part 148, Chapter 2689
Chapter Two Thousand Six Hundred Eighty-Nine
24th June 1978
Mitte, Berlin
“What a bitch” Sophie said as was she poking out random, or perhaps not so random, notes on the piano that was in the parlor of the apartment that Gabi shared with her mother. Gabi didn’t respond to that, but she did smile that her sister was taking her side. She had this week’s copy of The Mirror in front of her and she had been reading Marcella von Holz’s annual Songs of Summer column before she had started talking with Sophie.
They had been talking about how Gabi had been playing bass guitar as a session musician in a recording project fronted by Sue Ballion. The trouble had started when Sue had invited Gabi to join the tour in support of the album and she had declined, preferring to continue studying music at the Stern Conservatory at the recently established Berlin University of the Arts that had resulted from the merger of several of the oldest and most prestigious art and music schools in the world. Sue had not taken that well.
Sophie had met the Englishwoman a few different times and found that she was a force of nature and had an extremely mercurial nature. While there was no doubt that Sue was going to be successful, Gabi would have been foolish to go along on that tour. It was extremely easy to imagine Sue abandoning that project and going to do something else, leaving Gabi and anyone else involved in a lurch. Continuing at University was a much safer bet for Gabi’s future and there would be other bands and recording projects. In parting, Sue had said a few choice words to Gabi over the phone before boarding a plane to Atlanta. That meant that Sue had already found a replacement for Gabi and that her angry reaction had been all about posturing.
Gabi had other concerns. When she had taken up playing bass a few years earlier, she had been fascinated by the instrument. The scale was identical to the cello while it was tuned like the bottom four strings of a guitar just an octave lower. And her mother had absolutely hated it. Later she had discovered that playing in Rock and Gutter Blues bands, bass players and drummers were never short of work. It had been about that time that she had acquired the sonic blue Fender P-bass that was very difficult to find in Germany. When compared to the Schroder semi-hollow bass she had been learning on before it was a revelation. Trying to explain that to Sophie had proven to be a bit futile though. Gabi had found that Sophie liked to listen to music but had absolutely no interest in the technical aspect. What was strange was that Sophie was nonchalantly tapping out notes that were all in the same key.
“I thought that you practicing scales without me having to tell you Gabriele” Gabi’s mother said as she walked in.
“Sorry Frau Scharnhorst” Sophie said as she stopped.
“Don’t be” Gabi’s mother replied.
Like always, things were tense and awkward between Gabi’s mother and Sophie. It was so weird because Sophie desperately wanted to be accepted by everyone and Gabi’s mother liked her as a person. The trouble was there was history, which was why Sophie maintained strict formality no matter how often Gabi’s mother asked her not to do that. It really did make Gabi wish that there was a reset button or something that she could press to make that problem go away.
Dublin, Ireland
After weeks dealing with other things, Ed finally had a bit of time to take a look at what Werth had given him. Having the contents of the accordion file spread out before him in addition to his own notes from the Greyson investigation, Ed was not liking the picture that was emerging. While he didn’t have a suspect yet, the motivation was growing clearer.
The Germans suspected that there was a high-level leak within their own Government who was passing information off to Langley. Ed didn’t need to call the CIA to know that they were just going to stonewall him if he did. Keeping that avenue open was something that many would kill to maintain, and it seemed that was exactly what had happened. He was also starting to understand why Werth had mentioned Hans Kohlhaas, a Sixteenth Century Merchant whose feud with a local nobleman over the theft and mistreatment of his horses escalated to the point where it nearly caused a civil war in Saxony. Kohlhaas had taken a principled stand and even though that eventually cost him his life when he was sentenced to be broken on the wheel. Was a moral victory worth the price that came with it? That was the question that Werth was alluding to when he had handed Ed the files.
That was why Ed had spoken to no one about the new information. As far as the powers that be were concerned his investigation into Greyson’s death had hit a dead end. Jimmy had asked a few times about what Werth had given them. Ed had told him that they had arrested Andreas Baader and that they had taken a dangerous animal off the streets, the Bureau certainly saw that as a win, and to leave it at that.
Meanwhile, Ed and Jimmy had other matters to contend with. The scumbags in Dublin had friends across the Atlantic, particularly in New York and Boston. It was exactly like the verse in that song by Weir and Barlow about powders being shipped across the Mexican border; Black goes south, White goes north. That was about guns and cocaine. Cheap guns from the United States tended to turn up at European crime scenes. At the same time according to the crime stats that Ed had seen there had been an alarming increase in heroin busts and drug overdoses on the East Coast. Heroin meant that it was extremely likely that the lunatics from the German GS were involved, that was a major headache and despite the memos that Ed, among others, were sending them it seemed like Quantico had no idea what was coming their way.
24th June 1978
Mitte, Berlin
“What a bitch” Sophie said as was she poking out random, or perhaps not so random, notes on the piano that was in the parlor of the apartment that Gabi shared with her mother. Gabi didn’t respond to that, but she did smile that her sister was taking her side. She had this week’s copy of The Mirror in front of her and she had been reading Marcella von Holz’s annual Songs of Summer column before she had started talking with Sophie.
They had been talking about how Gabi had been playing bass guitar as a session musician in a recording project fronted by Sue Ballion. The trouble had started when Sue had invited Gabi to join the tour in support of the album and she had declined, preferring to continue studying music at the Stern Conservatory at the recently established Berlin University of the Arts that had resulted from the merger of several of the oldest and most prestigious art and music schools in the world. Sue had not taken that well.
Sophie had met the Englishwoman a few different times and found that she was a force of nature and had an extremely mercurial nature. While there was no doubt that Sue was going to be successful, Gabi would have been foolish to go along on that tour. It was extremely easy to imagine Sue abandoning that project and going to do something else, leaving Gabi and anyone else involved in a lurch. Continuing at University was a much safer bet for Gabi’s future and there would be other bands and recording projects. In parting, Sue had said a few choice words to Gabi over the phone before boarding a plane to Atlanta. That meant that Sue had already found a replacement for Gabi and that her angry reaction had been all about posturing.
Gabi had other concerns. When she had taken up playing bass a few years earlier, she had been fascinated by the instrument. The scale was identical to the cello while it was tuned like the bottom four strings of a guitar just an octave lower. And her mother had absolutely hated it. Later she had discovered that playing in Rock and Gutter Blues bands, bass players and drummers were never short of work. It had been about that time that she had acquired the sonic blue Fender P-bass that was very difficult to find in Germany. When compared to the Schroder semi-hollow bass she had been learning on before it was a revelation. Trying to explain that to Sophie had proven to be a bit futile though. Gabi had found that Sophie liked to listen to music but had absolutely no interest in the technical aspect. What was strange was that Sophie was nonchalantly tapping out notes that were all in the same key.
“I thought that you practicing scales without me having to tell you Gabriele” Gabi’s mother said as she walked in.
“Sorry Frau Scharnhorst” Sophie said as she stopped.
“Don’t be” Gabi’s mother replied.
Like always, things were tense and awkward between Gabi’s mother and Sophie. It was so weird because Sophie desperately wanted to be accepted by everyone and Gabi’s mother liked her as a person. The trouble was there was history, which was why Sophie maintained strict formality no matter how often Gabi’s mother asked her not to do that. It really did make Gabi wish that there was a reset button or something that she could press to make that problem go away.
Dublin, Ireland
After weeks dealing with other things, Ed finally had a bit of time to take a look at what Werth had given him. Having the contents of the accordion file spread out before him in addition to his own notes from the Greyson investigation, Ed was not liking the picture that was emerging. While he didn’t have a suspect yet, the motivation was growing clearer.
The Germans suspected that there was a high-level leak within their own Government who was passing information off to Langley. Ed didn’t need to call the CIA to know that they were just going to stonewall him if he did. Keeping that avenue open was something that many would kill to maintain, and it seemed that was exactly what had happened. He was also starting to understand why Werth had mentioned Hans Kohlhaas, a Sixteenth Century Merchant whose feud with a local nobleman over the theft and mistreatment of his horses escalated to the point where it nearly caused a civil war in Saxony. Kohlhaas had taken a principled stand and even though that eventually cost him his life when he was sentenced to be broken on the wheel. Was a moral victory worth the price that came with it? That was the question that Werth was alluding to when he had handed Ed the files.
That was why Ed had spoken to no one about the new information. As far as the powers that be were concerned his investigation into Greyson’s death had hit a dead end. Jimmy had asked a few times about what Werth had given them. Ed had told him that they had arrested Andreas Baader and that they had taken a dangerous animal off the streets, the Bureau certainly saw that as a win, and to leave it at that.
Meanwhile, Ed and Jimmy had other matters to contend with. The scumbags in Dublin had friends across the Atlantic, particularly in New York and Boston. It was exactly like the verse in that song by Weir and Barlow about powders being shipped across the Mexican border; Black goes south, White goes north. That was about guns and cocaine. Cheap guns from the United States tended to turn up at European crime scenes. At the same time according to the crime stats that Ed had seen there had been an alarming increase in heroin busts and drug overdoses on the East Coast. Heroin meant that it was extremely likely that the lunatics from the German GS were involved, that was a major headache and despite the memos that Ed, among others, were sending them it seemed like Quantico had no idea what was coming their way.
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Sounds like the Boys from Langley are a wee bit twitchy over their line between HQ and their asset in Berlin. It's obvious that said line runs through Dublin, otherwise Greyson wouldn't have been in a position to "stumble" across whatever it was in relation to that line that got him dead. Poor sod could just have been in the wrong place at the wrong time to see or hear what he shouldn't have seen or heard.
As for O'Neal, he needs to do three things:
1) make sure he and Jimmy have a well documented paper trail to cover their backsides when Quantico finally realises the magnitude of the drug problem that has descended upon the US and they start looking for scapegoats.
2) find a very deep, dark and secure hole to bury that German file in until its safe for him to dig up and use.
3) arrange a failsafe designed to torch everyone remotely involved in Greyson's death in the event of... something... happening to him.
As for O'Neal, he needs to do three things:
1) make sure he and Jimmy have a well documented paper trail to cover their backsides when Quantico finally realises the magnitude of the drug problem that has descended upon the US and they start looking for scapegoats.
2) find a very deep, dark and secure hole to bury that German file in until its safe for him to dig up and use.
3) arrange a failsafe designed to torch everyone remotely involved in Greyson's death in the event of... something... happening to him.
So..... Instead of the "French" Connection, we get the "German" Connection or would it be the "Irish" Connection with a touch of the The Third Man included..
It means that the heroin trade on the East Coast is controlled by the Irish Mob in TTL. That has some very serious implications.