Stupid Luck and Happenstance, Thread III
- Thread starter Peabody-Martini
- Start date
It sounds as if the FBI, or more accurately the white 'right' people, is upset that the 'wrong' sort of people are gaining power in Washington and is looking for dirt on them. To that end, why not find a nice Irish girl with dual citizenship who could possibly be 'induced' into relaying whatever information that she might happen to hear while working as a waitress at a certain Boston establishment during her summer break from university.
Really? To me it seems that the Feds managed to cotton on to the German's scheeme of sending their intelligence trainees to the US, specifically as waitresses and similar jobs in the service industry.
To me it sounds more like the congressmen may or may not be in the splashradius of Nixon's olympic surprise gift being dismantled. Or collatteral damage from that.
That bar did have a whiff of mob connections back then - if all the waitresses act uniformly like that either all of them german plants or the owner has reason to want uninterested employees. Reasons like not wanting to have answer questions like "We know Congressman X met with mob boss Y here" or "Is it true that Senator B met a woman not his wife here?".
That bar did have a whiff of mob connections back then - if all the waitresses act uniformly like that either all of them german plants or the owner has reason to want uninterested employees. Reasons like not wanting to have answer questions like "We know Congressman X met with mob boss Y here" or "Is it true that Senator B met a woman not his wife here?".
Speaker of the House "Big Bill" Stoughton is a long-time member of the Boston Irish political machine and is a big proponent of "Clean Graft" is always on the FBI's radar for potential corruption.
The problem for the FBI is they "KNOW" he is guilty of something, but they have no shred of evidence for it, so they are hoping that the waitresses have overheard something that they were not supposed to hear and use that as leverage against other potential suspects such as Rep, James Hendrix (D-WA).
Unfortunately for the FBI, Stoughton uses honest and ethical politicians like Hendrix as cover to get things done, and he makes sure that they remain clean while his friends benefit legally.
The BND apparently forgot that Margaret Anne Morgan, born in Salem MA, is a Natural Born American citizen and didn't take that in account.
Margaret (who goes by Anne) has an Irish passport, but she could be in a legal gray area if she hadn't formally renounced her American citizenship when she reached adulthood, and that may give the FBI leverage to make her become a Confidential Informant for them, which ironically may make the BND happy.
The problem for the FBI is they "KNOW" he is guilty of something, but they have no shred of evidence for it, so they are hoping that the waitresses have overheard something that they were not supposed to hear and use that as leverage against other potential suspects such as Rep, James Hendrix (D-WA).
Unfortunately for the FBI, Stoughton uses honest and ethical politicians like Hendrix as cover to get things done, and he makes sure that they remain clean while his friends benefit legally.
The BND apparently forgot that Margaret Anne Morgan, born in Salem MA, is a Natural Born American citizen and didn't take that in account.
Margaret (who goes by Anne) has an Irish passport, but she could be in a legal gray area if she hadn't formally renounced her American citizenship when she reached adulthood, and that may give the FBI leverage to make her become a Confidential Informant for them, which ironically may make the BND happy.
We did get a memo after all about all the intelligence agents inside of the US from their spy in German high command.
Was wondering if we were going to get Kat on a warpath after Tatiana is rolled up, but it looks like they're going the softer route this time around. No lobotomies and chemical interrogation... we hope.
Still 10 years for him to become disallusioned with the FBI and become an actor.It is sad world without Al Bundy.
Maybe this time the Popeye Doyle series will be picked up before he does Married... With Children?
Part 143, Chapter 2578
Chapter Two Thousand Five Hundred Seventy-Eight
16th August 1976
Dublin, Ireland
“And you thought that I was acting stupid” Greyson said as he dropped a fat envelope on Ed’s desk. “I arranged for Treasury to give us first crack at this.”
“Isn’t that illegal?” Ed asked, seeing the return address, “And strongarming an orphan is not a good look even if she is in her twenties.”
“Then I guess it won’t be admissible in Court” Greyson replied. Everything they had seen suggested that Anne Morgan was smart enough to know that
With a bit of reluctance, Ed opened the envelope and saw the forms that had been filled out with neat penmanship by one Margret Anne Morgan of Belfast, Ireland, age 25, her occupation was Student Teacher. The documents stated plainly that most of Anne’s income was from survivor’s benefits from the Irish Government which funded a very sparce existence. The money she had made working as a waitress in Boston over the summer was more than she normally saw in a year. Most of the year Anne was a starving post-graduate student, with emphasis on the starving part. She had filed this return because the alternative was another summer spent in Belfast with only enough money to keep a roof over her head.
“There is nothing here” Ed said, “She only made enough to pay taxes when she was working in Boston. She actually has a refund coming to her. That is something that the staff at the US Consulate in Belfast was perfectly happy to tell her.”
“You don’t get it” Greyson said, “They invented stonewalling and boycotting in this country. Unless you have exactly what they want they will never cooperate. You have a girl who grew up with distant relatives, who now attends a third-tier university and lives in an apartment straight of a Charles Dickens story. Becoming a teacher is probably not something she wants to do but is a regular paycheck. That is the basic idea.”
“I still don’t get where we fit in” Ed said flatly.
“Your friend, Jack Kennedy, is up to his eyeballs in the German BND and British MI6, even has Katherine von Mischner herself as a client. Doing defense work for gangsters here in Dublin is something he does because getting labeled a collaborator can get you killed here.” Greyson said, delighted to have an audience. “In Berlin, the GS, their answer to la Casa Nostra, which was founded by Katherine von Mischner’s father, has been working with the IRA factions to box the Russians out of Western Europe. The head of the GS calls himself Birsha Bleier, I assume that it fits his flair for the dramatic. The sick fuck’s real name in Joseph Ratzinger and he was supposedly run out of Bavaria for being a pervert.”
Ed was getting annoyed by all this. It seemed like random facts about European criminals. “Is there a point to all this?” He asked.
Greyson smiled and tapped on the papers on Ed’s desk.
“This is pure fiction” Greyson said removing a piece of paper from his pocket and handing it to Ed. “She doesn’t want to go by Margret because it doesn’t sound like her real name, which is Tatiana. She is actually a bored little rich girl hiding from her mother in Belfast of all places with an identity that holds up to a surprising amount of scrutiny. Working menial jobs to stay in character. Do I need to point out the possibilities? She connects all of this together.”
Ed looked at the piece of paper in his hand, it was a photograph from a magazine of the same girl he had met in Belfast a few days earlier. Except she was with Sophie Sommers, the Olympic Cyclist who had wowed the world in Montreal just a few weeks ago.
“What are we supposed to do with this?” Ed asked.
“Us, nothing” Greyson said, “She isn’t actually working against American interests here in Ireland or in Boston for that matter. Watching her though, that is where we come in.”
Richthofen Estate, Rural Silesia
It being the summertime, Mathilda had cast away the uncomfortable school uniform and was wearing the sort of simple homemade dress that she had learned to make at her mother’s side years earlier as a child and the sandals that Opa had acquired for her after she had outgrown her old ones. Her goal was to learn how to make the sandals herself, which seemed like a fun and useful thing to learn. Still, as Mathilda had worked on the new dress it had swiftly become awkward as the cut had needed to be different and the pattern altered accordingly. She was taller than she had been, and there were other considerations… Ilse, who she had asked for help in this matter had just smiled and pointed out that Mathilda was fifteen, it was expected. Then had come the trip to Canada, which had been interesting.
Now that she was back in the forest on Opa’s estate, it felt like the Holiday was truly starting. Singing to the forest with her dog, a Siberian Husky she had named Freyja at her side was one of the true pleasures of her life. Being joined by Ingrid, who showed an interest in singing and had needed to be taught the words, was a bother at first. As Mathilda did that and Ingrid showed a real interest in harmonizing it became fun. Beyond the words of the songs, Ingrid wanted to know the stories and Mathilda was perfectly happy to tell them.
16th August 1976
Dublin, Ireland
“And you thought that I was acting stupid” Greyson said as he dropped a fat envelope on Ed’s desk. “I arranged for Treasury to give us first crack at this.”
“Isn’t that illegal?” Ed asked, seeing the return address, “And strongarming an orphan is not a good look even if she is in her twenties.”
“Then I guess it won’t be admissible in Court” Greyson replied. Everything they had seen suggested that Anne Morgan was smart enough to know that
With a bit of reluctance, Ed opened the envelope and saw the forms that had been filled out with neat penmanship by one Margret Anne Morgan of Belfast, Ireland, age 25, her occupation was Student Teacher. The documents stated plainly that most of Anne’s income was from survivor’s benefits from the Irish Government which funded a very sparce existence. The money she had made working as a waitress in Boston over the summer was more than she normally saw in a year. Most of the year Anne was a starving post-graduate student, with emphasis on the starving part. She had filed this return because the alternative was another summer spent in Belfast with only enough money to keep a roof over her head.
“There is nothing here” Ed said, “She only made enough to pay taxes when she was working in Boston. She actually has a refund coming to her. That is something that the staff at the US Consulate in Belfast was perfectly happy to tell her.”
“You don’t get it” Greyson said, “They invented stonewalling and boycotting in this country. Unless you have exactly what they want they will never cooperate. You have a girl who grew up with distant relatives, who now attends a third-tier university and lives in an apartment straight of a Charles Dickens story. Becoming a teacher is probably not something she wants to do but is a regular paycheck. That is the basic idea.”
“I still don’t get where we fit in” Ed said flatly.
“Your friend, Jack Kennedy, is up to his eyeballs in the German BND and British MI6, even has Katherine von Mischner herself as a client. Doing defense work for gangsters here in Dublin is something he does because getting labeled a collaborator can get you killed here.” Greyson said, delighted to have an audience. “In Berlin, the GS, their answer to la Casa Nostra, which was founded by Katherine von Mischner’s father, has been working with the IRA factions to box the Russians out of Western Europe. The head of the GS calls himself Birsha Bleier, I assume that it fits his flair for the dramatic. The sick fuck’s real name in Joseph Ratzinger and he was supposedly run out of Bavaria for being a pervert.”
Ed was getting annoyed by all this. It seemed like random facts about European criminals. “Is there a point to all this?” He asked.
Greyson smiled and tapped on the papers on Ed’s desk.
“This is pure fiction” Greyson said removing a piece of paper from his pocket and handing it to Ed. “She doesn’t want to go by Margret because it doesn’t sound like her real name, which is Tatiana. She is actually a bored little rich girl hiding from her mother in Belfast of all places with an identity that holds up to a surprising amount of scrutiny. Working menial jobs to stay in character. Do I need to point out the possibilities? She connects all of this together.”
Ed looked at the piece of paper in his hand, it was a photograph from a magazine of the same girl he had met in Belfast a few days earlier. Except she was with Sophie Sommers, the Olympic Cyclist who had wowed the world in Montreal just a few weeks ago.
“What are we supposed to do with this?” Ed asked.
“Us, nothing” Greyson said, “She isn’t actually working against American interests here in Ireland or in Boston for that matter. Watching her though, that is where we come in.”
Richthofen Estate, Rural Silesia
It being the summertime, Mathilda had cast away the uncomfortable school uniform and was wearing the sort of simple homemade dress that she had learned to make at her mother’s side years earlier as a child and the sandals that Opa had acquired for her after she had outgrown her old ones. Her goal was to learn how to make the sandals herself, which seemed like a fun and useful thing to learn. Still, as Mathilda had worked on the new dress it had swiftly become awkward as the cut had needed to be different and the pattern altered accordingly. She was taller than she had been, and there were other considerations… Ilse, who she had asked for help in this matter had just smiled and pointed out that Mathilda was fifteen, it was expected. Then had come the trip to Canada, which had been interesting.
Now that she was back in the forest on Opa’s estate, it felt like the Holiday was truly starting. Singing to the forest with her dog, a Siberian Husky she had named Freyja at her side was one of the true pleasures of her life. Being joined by Ingrid, who showed an interest in singing and had needed to be taught the words, was a bother at first. As Mathilda did that and Ingrid showed a real interest in harmonizing it became fun. Beyond the words of the songs, Ingrid wanted to know the stories and Mathilda was perfectly happy to tell them.
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Well now. That’s most certaintly NOT what I was expecting. Was Birsha’s name revealed in-story earlier? Or did you decide who he is based on currently topical news?
No, but the Head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, which was historically called the Inquisition, in OTL most certainly would be. Do I need to explain what exactly he did while he was in that role?
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Considering that would be treading on dangerous ground outside of Pol-Chat, I'd advise you not to. Also as I am Irish, you do not need to explain to me what Pope Palpatine did with his life, much like his predecessor and his successor there is more than enough to go around.
I'm just pointing out how now that's two Popes who ITTL have gone into organized crime, even if the Polish one's approach was more hands off.
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Well, yeah, a little. Still do. The somewhat ham-fisted approach might not mean all that much to Tatiana, but it's going to ring alarm bells with her handlers. A coincidence that was not.
The BND and Tatiana don’t know it yet, but Tatiana is burned and is now on the FBI’s radar.
The FBI are going to have the US Customs Service and the INS inform the FBI whenever Margaret Anne Morgan enters the United States, but will also tell them not to detain her but give an extra look at her luggage.
Fortunately for the BND and Tatiana, the FBI and the CIA are not cooperating with each other, because the CIA has information that two of Tatiana’s honorary aunts Kristine and Asia are high up in the BND, and the FBI has unfinished business with Asia.
The FBI are going to have the US Customs Service and the INS inform the FBI whenever Margaret Anne Morgan enters the United States, but will also tell them not to detain her but give an extra look at her luggage.
Fortunately for the BND and Tatiana, the FBI and the CIA are not cooperating with each other, because the CIA has information that two of Tatiana’s honorary aunts Kristine and Asia are high up in the BND, and the FBI has unfinished business with Asia.
Margaret Anne Morgan is burned, Tatiana is not. It just means that Tatiana is not likely to work the east coast again for a while, America is a big country and it not that joined up yet.
I'd also suspect, that one of the first things Tat will do is report the incident to her handlers. They won't pull her out of Ireland, because that would raise an alarm, but will start a new legend for her, including some aesthetic changes - hair colour and haircut for example are great ones. From personal experience, even just small changes, like shaving off a beard, are enough to throw people completely.
If Marie is anything to go by, Tatiana shouldn't have too much difficulty changing her appearance enough she could probably walk past Greyson in the street without him realising, and he seems arrogant enough that if Ed tries to point that out to him, Greyson would shut him down too.
Part 143, Chapter 2579
Chapter Two Thousand Five Hundred Seventy-Nine
27th August 1976
Montreal, Canada
Just like that, the Summer Holiday was coming to an end. Standing in line to register for the upcoming term had driven that point in like few other things, which is what Marie had spent the morning doing. This was after Marie had spent most of August working on a painting. Not that she was complaining. The painting of Henriette and Alice had been a gift to Henriette on her twentieth birthday, Marie had enjoyed doing, Henriette and her family had loved it. Oddly, the other highlight of the summer had been during the Olympics when she had her entire family come to her at the Blackwood house. It seemed odd because Marie had decided to go to McGill to escape the long shadow cast by her parents.
It had occurred to Marie that she was also halfway through her time at McGill. Despite the ongoing conflicts with her grandmother, and her occasional moods the time had flown. Two years had passed, and she had two more before the reckoning over what she would do next. The thought of her grandmother reminded Marie that Margot was back to not talking to her. Having to be gracious over having the wrong royals as guests in her house while getting pointedly snubbed by the one she had wanted had been a bit too much. That was hardly Marie’s fault. Her grandmother had gotten exactly what she thought she had wanted, namely the esteem of her peers and she had gotten it, just not in the way she had expected.
It had been a sunny afternoon and Marie had made the most of it, sitting in the shade of the trees in the back garden and reading a book. Then dark clouds had appeared overhead. Marie had moved indoors just as a thunderstorm had started sheltering in her grandmother’s sunroom, she had watched the flash of the lightening in the distance and sheets of rain that were battering the bay windows.
“This simply will not do” Marie heard her grandmother saying in the hallway and getting closer. It seemed that the weather was interfering with her plans and there had been some cancellations as there tended to be when that happened.
“You cannot control the weather” Joséphine “Fifi” Tremblay replied in the proper manner of speaking she used. She was a lifelong friend of her grandmother and had lived next door for decades, so the storm had hardly bothered her. “It is folly to assume otherwise.”
“I guess” Margot said.
It was too late for Marie to leave without being seen.
“How lovely, your granddaughter is already here” Fifi said with a smile, “We need to get caught up after the summer you must have had.”
It wasn’t an accident that Fifi had not seen Marie in months. Normally when her grandmother had guests for tea, she had made a point in being elsewhere. If Marie had inadvertently been in attendance, her grandmother acted as if she were a bomb that could go off at any second. In the past, Fifi had commented that Marie was such a beautiful young woman with her lovely red hair or talked at length about touring Europe as a girl and how lucky Marie had been to grow up in one of the great Capitals. Those conversations had clearly driven her grandmother up the wall.
“I didn’t do much over the summer” Marie replied, trying to think of an excuse to leave without being rude.
“Oh, nonsense” Fifi said, “I heard about how you were a great help with that Romanian girl and that painting you did for the Lanes, of their daughter and granddaughter. When I was visiting the other day Patricia told me all about how you gave that to Henni as a birthday present, it is really quite wonderful.”
“Thank you” Marie said awkwardly. She could see that all of the blood had drained her grandmother’s face. This was not going to end well.
Rural Silesia, south of Glatz
Niko had been expecting an easy holiday on his grandfather’s estate and starting University in Breslau. It seemed that Silesian Cadet Corps had other plans for the last two weeks of the summer. The Landwehr Division maintained by Silesia was conducting readiness drills and they had found themselves sent where they were needed. In the case of Niko it involved getting shoved into a Platoon tasked with guarding the border with Bohemia. Even that sounded far grander than it really was. He had heard that the General commanding the Division had Bas placed on his staff. The advantage of medaling at the Olympics if Niko had to guess.
Standing on the side of the road, Niko could feel water dripping down his back where there was a hole in the rain poncho he had been issued as the car stopped as signaled. He felt completely absurd doing this.
“Is there a problem?” The driver asked.
“You are entering an area where the military is conducting a joint exercise” Niko said, repeating what he had already said a hundred times that day. “Caution is urged because you might encounter armored vehicles or soldiers on the road.”
“Thank you” The driver said as he rolled up the window and sped off down the road. Showing exactly how much caution he intended to use. Niko could hear Schütze Novak radioing into Headquarters that a civilian car was passing through.
This was how Niko had spent the last week. There were the others in the Squad he was supposedly leading, but they were mostly playing cards and killing time in various other ways. Everyone did a few hours out on the road working in pairs like this. The food situation was terrible, and the accommodation was worse. Once a day, a truck came, dropped off a day’s worth of rations and they were to make do. The all too familiar erbswurst, oatmeal, and the bread and mystery meat that both came in a can. There were the chocolate bars and the hot & cold drink mixes that were with the ration packs, those weren’t too bad, just petrified. The Squad was sleeping in a cabin that was built when this was the frontier with the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The roof leaked like sieve and Niko thought he could hear the rats moving around in the walls.
“Some holiday” Niko muttered to himself as he shifted the sling of his rifle so that it wasn’t digging into his shoulder.
27th August 1976
Montreal, Canada
Just like that, the Summer Holiday was coming to an end. Standing in line to register for the upcoming term had driven that point in like few other things, which is what Marie had spent the morning doing. This was after Marie had spent most of August working on a painting. Not that she was complaining. The painting of Henriette and Alice had been a gift to Henriette on her twentieth birthday, Marie had enjoyed doing, Henriette and her family had loved it. Oddly, the other highlight of the summer had been during the Olympics when she had her entire family come to her at the Blackwood house. It seemed odd because Marie had decided to go to McGill to escape the long shadow cast by her parents.
It had occurred to Marie that she was also halfway through her time at McGill. Despite the ongoing conflicts with her grandmother, and her occasional moods the time had flown. Two years had passed, and she had two more before the reckoning over what she would do next. The thought of her grandmother reminded Marie that Margot was back to not talking to her. Having to be gracious over having the wrong royals as guests in her house while getting pointedly snubbed by the one she had wanted had been a bit too much. That was hardly Marie’s fault. Her grandmother had gotten exactly what she thought she had wanted, namely the esteem of her peers and she had gotten it, just not in the way she had expected.
It had been a sunny afternoon and Marie had made the most of it, sitting in the shade of the trees in the back garden and reading a book. Then dark clouds had appeared overhead. Marie had moved indoors just as a thunderstorm had started sheltering in her grandmother’s sunroom, she had watched the flash of the lightening in the distance and sheets of rain that were battering the bay windows.
“This simply will not do” Marie heard her grandmother saying in the hallway and getting closer. It seemed that the weather was interfering with her plans and there had been some cancellations as there tended to be when that happened.
“You cannot control the weather” Joséphine “Fifi” Tremblay replied in the proper manner of speaking she used. She was a lifelong friend of her grandmother and had lived next door for decades, so the storm had hardly bothered her. “It is folly to assume otherwise.”
“I guess” Margot said.
It was too late for Marie to leave without being seen.
“How lovely, your granddaughter is already here” Fifi said with a smile, “We need to get caught up after the summer you must have had.”
It wasn’t an accident that Fifi had not seen Marie in months. Normally when her grandmother had guests for tea, she had made a point in being elsewhere. If Marie had inadvertently been in attendance, her grandmother acted as if she were a bomb that could go off at any second. In the past, Fifi had commented that Marie was such a beautiful young woman with her lovely red hair or talked at length about touring Europe as a girl and how lucky Marie had been to grow up in one of the great Capitals. Those conversations had clearly driven her grandmother up the wall.
“I didn’t do much over the summer” Marie replied, trying to think of an excuse to leave without being rude.
“Oh, nonsense” Fifi said, “I heard about how you were a great help with that Romanian girl and that painting you did for the Lanes, of their daughter and granddaughter. When I was visiting the other day Patricia told me all about how you gave that to Henni as a birthday present, it is really quite wonderful.”
“Thank you” Marie said awkwardly. She could see that all of the blood had drained her grandmother’s face. This was not going to end well.
Rural Silesia, south of Glatz
Niko had been expecting an easy holiday on his grandfather’s estate and starting University in Breslau. It seemed that Silesian Cadet Corps had other plans for the last two weeks of the summer. The Landwehr Division maintained by Silesia was conducting readiness drills and they had found themselves sent where they were needed. In the case of Niko it involved getting shoved into a Platoon tasked with guarding the border with Bohemia. Even that sounded far grander than it really was. He had heard that the General commanding the Division had Bas placed on his staff. The advantage of medaling at the Olympics if Niko had to guess.
Standing on the side of the road, Niko could feel water dripping down his back where there was a hole in the rain poncho he had been issued as the car stopped as signaled. He felt completely absurd doing this.
“Is there a problem?” The driver asked.
“You are entering an area where the military is conducting a joint exercise” Niko said, repeating what he had already said a hundred times that day. “Caution is urged because you might encounter armored vehicles or soldiers on the road.”
“Thank you” The driver said as he rolled up the window and sped off down the road. Showing exactly how much caution he intended to use. Niko could hear Schütze Novak radioing into Headquarters that a civilian car was passing through.
This was how Niko had spent the last week. There were the others in the Squad he was supposedly leading, but they were mostly playing cards and killing time in various other ways. Everyone did a few hours out on the road working in pairs like this. The food situation was terrible, and the accommodation was worse. Once a day, a truck came, dropped off a day’s worth of rations and they were to make do. The all too familiar erbswurst, oatmeal, and the bread and mystery meat that both came in a can. There were the chocolate bars and the hot & cold drink mixes that were with the ration packs, those weren’t too bad, just petrified. The Squad was sleeping in a cabin that was built when this was the frontier with the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The roof leaked like sieve and Niko thought he could hear the rats moving around in the walls.
“Some holiday” Niko muttered to himself as he shifted the sling of his rifle so that it wasn’t digging into his shoulder.
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