Chapter 1

*Author's Note: All installments will have a 15 rating, regardless
of the appropriateness of each individual installment. This is done out
of discretionary necessity; in other words, I am only trying to put
forth a constant generic rating so the reader can use his own
discretion more freely.

Part I
"Drizzle"
Chapter I

Kleinsasser worked his way through the throng of drinkers, waiters,
onlookers, spectators and other various patrons of his
high-talk-low-walk bawdyhouse, with Papa and Mik in tow. Kleinsasser
opened a door that led into a short hallway with the men's and women's
w.c.'s on the left side, and the head manager's office on the right
side.
The Berlin Brothel Man's office was a rather drab room. A cheap wooden
desk with a cracked old leather desk sat at the back of the room, which
was rather dimly lit by only one light bulb, which dangled from the
ceiling constantly after the sun set. Another odd nighttime occurrence
would be the chunks of plaster that would fall from the ceiling at any
moment. The most elegant feature of the office might just have been the
brand new filing cabinet, all polished over and shining like one of der
Fuhrer's own Mercedes-Benz's.
In the first drawer held many sordid elastic items Kleinsasser had
procured on the black market. Unlike most men in his profession,
however, Kleinsasser was not one to get too much action; rather he was
more concerned with the profitability of his employees, who charged
their own exorbitant rates for their special duties. The second drawer
kept thousands of photographs, for he was too lazy to construct a
scrapbook. The last drawer was padlocked and combination locked.
Kleinsasser squatted down and pulled a key out of the breast pocket of
his suit jacket, and opened the padlock. He then proceeded to crack the
combination and open the drawer.
Suddenly, above them, a man yelped as something hit the floor. Mik and
Papa were fairly startled by this, but Kleinsasser hardly
noticed.
"What do your employees do to your customers?" Papa asked, chuckling
lightly.
"My customers know the dangers of getting laid by one of my frolines,"
Kleinsasser answered. "They ought to know I recruit only the most
intense women in Germany."
"Is your daughter&;#8230;also an employee?" Mik asked, despite
Papa's glare.
"It's all right, Comrade. No, my boy. Ever since the wife died a few
years back I vowed not to let the only woman I had left in life go to
just anybody. But she does have quite a singing voice. She's usually
the opening act, sings a quick song, but nothing coming off."
"I see," said Mik, and before he could say anymore, Papa changed the
subject.
"Alright, Gert, what have you been planning for six months that needs
our undying attention? I hope it's more important than hitching up my
son to your daughter."
Kleinsasser grinned as he pulled a folder out of the drawer, as well
as a few maps and photographs, and an envelope with deutschmarks.
"You've heard of the Ruhr, Comrades?" Kleinsasser asked. The duo
nodded in affirmation. The Ruhr was a somewhat mountainous region of
northeast Germany.
"Well, I have heard rumors that der Fuhrer has begun developing
industrial facilities in the Ruhr. Plans for science labs, plane
factories, and other things. Basically, der Fuhrer is planning to
construct a great deal of his war machine out of the Ruhr.
"So I dug a little, and found a wealth of information on the matter.
One of my own operatives is a captain in the Gestapo and an aide to
Heinrich Himmler himself, and he found these files on the projects," he
said, pointing to the dossier.
"The money is my payoff to him, 5,000 marks in total. My spies are
well paid in this beautiful haven of socialist autocracy," Kleinsasser
continued sarcastically.
"You sent me and my son all the way to Berlin just to show us a folder
about and industrial hub that may not ever exist? This is the stuff
that gets people shot, Gert," Papa said. "Why the Ruhr? If that maniac
wants to run the world, why would he put an arsenal in such a desolate
locale? I know he's rather stupid, but he knows his geography."
"I do not know, but my operative is one the most reliable I have. I
can trust him with his information," Kleinsasser retorted, but not in
an injured tone. He knew that Papa tended to overreact about such
things in a slightly tongue-in-cheek way. It was just Papa's way of
making sure all the pieces fit. Zhorkov Sr. had been doing this job for
a long time, and he had learned that making people's accomplishments
seem inadequate can make them spill out more truth or mindless drivel
that made any previous revelations seem quite worthless.
But Papa trusted Kleinsasser. He knew how to select operatives, and he
knew truth from rumor. He abandoned his weedling and proceeded to ask
the all important question of information exchange:
"What's in it for you?"
"You collect the information, and take my daughter with you to
Moscow."
Papa groaned heavily and glared once again at Kleinsasser.
"Gert, are you mad? If she slips her voice in our land she will be
killed, even if Comrade Stalin was her father!-"
"Mikhail, I have many enemies in this city. There aren't many people I
can trust anymore. If I am killed, I do not want my daughter to be made
the pet of Runstedt, or Rommel, or Himmler, or even der Fuhrer. Believe
me, she will be much safer in your care. Surely Comrade Stalin and his
partners will understand that!"
"If the words 'Five Year Plan' mean anything to you, I wouldn't press
your luck," Papa replied caustically. "And besides, Hitler doesn't play
around with women, you know that."
"You're taking the train to Dresden, true?" Kleinsasser asked. He made
a rhetorical question, as he slapped a train ticket on the desk. "I was
kind enough to cover her trip for you."
Papa looked at Mik, who was fighting back a smile. Papa knew his
opinion here, and Kleinsasser could be an annoying person to argue
with, because he would usually win, especially in matters he cared
about. And besides, in espionage, one must never press his luck during
negotiation; it might just get you killed. Furthermore, the train was
leaving in an hour, and there was not much time for negotiating
anyway.
"Alright, where is she-" Papa began, only to be interrupted by a knock
at the door. In came Kleinsasser's daughter Eva, her shoulder-length
curly blond hair brightening up the dim room like the sun itself rising
in the east. She was already dressed in her traveling clothes; being a
resourceful young woman, she had managed to pack everything she needed
under those clothes, making her somewhat, but even still not too
terribly unattractive.
"Are we ready, boys?" she asked, causing Mik to cough unconfortably,
for she asked this in a voice that would make Sirens seem manly.
"Da. I hope you know what that means, Eva," Papa replied gruffly as he
passed.
"Trust me, Comrade, I taught her the Russian language myself. Don't be
so upset about this. What other stupid things have you done for
me?"
"Far too many, Comrade, far too many," Papa replied, getting a rare
laugh from all parties present.
"I will transport you all to the station if that's all right with
you," Kleinsasser said. "I need to go out back anyway, to pay off my
operative. I might as well shorten your trip while I'm at it."
"That's fine with me," said Papa. "Besides, walking there will make us
look more suspicious."
And so it was settled. Kleinsasser led the group down the hall, after
picking the keys to his Deusenberg off of a coffee mug rack by the
office door. There was another door at the far end of the hallway that
opened to the back alley behind the brothel.
To the right of the door sat the Deusenberg. Kleinsasser ordered Papa,
Mik, and Eva into the car, and he had Mik sit in the front passenger
seat. As Kleinsasser revved up the car, a shadowy figure could be seen
walking up towards them. Kleinsasser opened his door and left it
opened, and he leaned on the hood as the shadowy man's face became
visible. Mik instantly recognized the face. He was the German captain
whom he had seen inside the bar, watching the dance number going on at
the time. Mik silently shifted into the driver's seat as Kleinsasser
greeted the officer.
"Kamerad&;#8230;" Kleinsasser said as he reached for the officer's
hand.
BANG!
Suddenly, a shot knifed through the still night air. A large gaping
red hole appeared in the back of Kleinsasser's jacket as he collapsed
to the floor. Mik jumped out of the car and lunged at the officer,
clearing his switchblade from his pocket. The startled officer didn't
have time to position his Luger pistole before grabbed the back of his
coat with his left and shoved the blade into his throat. The only sound
the man made was a puff of hot air that blew through his slashed
jugular, and a thud as he hit the ground.
When Mik turned around, he saw that Papa had already taken the reins
of the Deusenberg and grunted "Get in!" Mik opened the back driver door
and slid in as the car sped out of the alley, towards the train
station, and into the night&;#8230;