Chapter One Thousand Seven Hundred Fifty-Four
20th September 1966
Laupheim, Württemberg
When it was a rainy day, Ritchie fully expected that their hosts were going to “celebrate” the turn in the weather by taking them on an extended hike through the mountainous terrain of Southern Württemberg. Instead, he found himself in the Mess Hall with all the tables pushed against one wall and Kristina sitting on one of the crates that had been unloaded from the back of one of the odd looking “Unimog” trucks that the Germans used. Rauchbier, who was never far from Kristina, was sleeping under one of the tables. Parker had assumed that the dog was a luxury given to her because of her being a Princess and Ritchie a similar thought until he learned otherwise. The truth was that the Germans had regulations regarding the care of Unit mascots who were considered vital for morale, one of those cases of keeping things under control if attempting to stop them would be unwise or impossible. Rauchbier’s tags revealed that he was a service animal for the FSR and Medical Service along with having had all his shots. That wasn’t exactly a surprise.
“The goals of the Medical Service and secretive nature of the KSK are sometimes at odds with each other” Kristina said, “That is why I had to call my father to convince them to issue you with the latest protective equipment. I hope that you can put your own personal considerations aside long enough to be sensible on this matter.”
Ritchie could tell that Kristina hadn’t liked having to have made that call, however mentioning the goals of the Medical Service implied that the overriding consideration was to save lives. It was something that Parker hadn’t picked up about her when she had been in the States, she was a Princess who seemed to hate having that title and had dedicated her life to finding a higher purpose, medicine apparently. The other thing was that when Kristina had said that last part she had been looking directly at Parker. Ritchie had wondered if she had overheard what Parker had said about Jonny, fortunately she hadn’t raised a big stink over it.
The crates had Panzerweste Ausf. E stenciled onto the top of them. When they were opened, Ritchie saw that they contained Flak vests like the ones that the German’s wore. Intelligence had only mentioned the C version which was supposedly comparable to the American equivalent. They had learned that assessment was wrong when the Germans had been appalled by the M-60 Combat Vest of the US Army with its construction of ballistic nylon and fiberglass. They had said that it was inferior to surplus vests left over from the Soviet War. They had also looked askance at the M-1 helmets but were obviously choosing their battles.
Getting handed one of the vests, Richie could tell instantly that it was heavier than the M-60, layers of cloth similar to ballistic nylon with what felt like small hexagonal plates of some sort sandwiched between them, on the inside were the rounded heads of dozens of aluminum rivets in neat lines.
“Supposedly the Kwolek fabric and ceramic plates will stop a rifle bullet” Kristina said, “Do not attempt to test that out yourself, there have been incidents.”
“What sort of incidents?” Ritchie asked.
“The sort that prove that nothing is ever soldier proof” Kristina replied, “You know, idiocy.”
So, some things truly were universal.
Rhodes, Dodecanese Islands
The Windhund got ignored when she pulled up to the harbor. With the threat of war in the offing, warships had become a common sight here. It was something that had not changed since antiquity, this city and the island of the same name had seen many empires come and go over the centuries. For years, the Greeks had been disputing the Italian claim on Rhodes. The Italians in turn had dragged out negotiations because it was in their national interest to maintain a presence here. It had worked out well because a message had been received by Louis that someone high up in the Italian Intelligence Service had information that they were willing to share, for a price.
Making his way on foot into the old city trailed by a half dozen of his men, Louis worried about getting lost as the man who had sent him directions would probably be amused if that happened. Finally, he found the taverna where the meeting was to take place. Cosimo de’ Medici was already waiting at an outdoor table sipping a glass of wine with a plate of bread and cheese in front of him.
“You really ought to try this wine” Cosimo said popping bread dipped in olive oil into his mouth, “There is nothing quite like a vintage that is absolutely seeped with tradition.”
“That isn’t why I came” Louis replied.
“Being all business is bad for you” Cosimo said, “A man your age needs to savor life. Wine, women, and fast cars. Though motorcycles and boats are your thing, yes?”
Louis wondered what Cosimo might have heard and if that compromised the mission. Supposedly, the Umberto’s fixer had connections everywhere.
“At least have a seat” Cosimo said, “People are staring.”
Pulling an envelope from his pocket, Louis placed it on the table as he sat down in the chair opposite Cosimo. It contained two tickets for the opening night of the upcoming season at the Berlin State Opera.
“It is there” Louis said and Cosimo put the envelope into the pocket of his suit jacket without comment or looking inside it.
“And this is what you wanted” Cosimo replied, handing Louis a photograph. A cannon on a pedestal mount was clearly visible along with the ship’s name. “I trust you will have this dealt with quickly.”
“If I can” Louis replied, “Hunting requires patience.”
“I understand completely” Cosimo said and Louis caught a glimpse of something in his eye. As much as the Italian fixer projected an affable persona, there was a ruthlessness underneath. Suddenly Louis was reminded that there were larger forces at play here.
20th September 1966
Laupheim, Württemberg
When it was a rainy day, Ritchie fully expected that their hosts were going to “celebrate” the turn in the weather by taking them on an extended hike through the mountainous terrain of Southern Württemberg. Instead, he found himself in the Mess Hall with all the tables pushed against one wall and Kristina sitting on one of the crates that had been unloaded from the back of one of the odd looking “Unimog” trucks that the Germans used. Rauchbier, who was never far from Kristina, was sleeping under one of the tables. Parker had assumed that the dog was a luxury given to her because of her being a Princess and Ritchie a similar thought until he learned otherwise. The truth was that the Germans had regulations regarding the care of Unit mascots who were considered vital for morale, one of those cases of keeping things under control if attempting to stop them would be unwise or impossible. Rauchbier’s tags revealed that he was a service animal for the FSR and Medical Service along with having had all his shots. That wasn’t exactly a surprise.
“The goals of the Medical Service and secretive nature of the KSK are sometimes at odds with each other” Kristina said, “That is why I had to call my father to convince them to issue you with the latest protective equipment. I hope that you can put your own personal considerations aside long enough to be sensible on this matter.”
Ritchie could tell that Kristina hadn’t liked having to have made that call, however mentioning the goals of the Medical Service implied that the overriding consideration was to save lives. It was something that Parker hadn’t picked up about her when she had been in the States, she was a Princess who seemed to hate having that title and had dedicated her life to finding a higher purpose, medicine apparently. The other thing was that when Kristina had said that last part she had been looking directly at Parker. Ritchie had wondered if she had overheard what Parker had said about Jonny, fortunately she hadn’t raised a big stink over it.
The crates had Panzerweste Ausf. E stenciled onto the top of them. When they were opened, Ritchie saw that they contained Flak vests like the ones that the German’s wore. Intelligence had only mentioned the C version which was supposedly comparable to the American equivalent. They had learned that assessment was wrong when the Germans had been appalled by the M-60 Combat Vest of the US Army with its construction of ballistic nylon and fiberglass. They had said that it was inferior to surplus vests left over from the Soviet War. They had also looked askance at the M-1 helmets but were obviously choosing their battles.
Getting handed one of the vests, Richie could tell instantly that it was heavier than the M-60, layers of cloth similar to ballistic nylon with what felt like small hexagonal plates of some sort sandwiched between them, on the inside were the rounded heads of dozens of aluminum rivets in neat lines.
“Supposedly the Kwolek fabric and ceramic plates will stop a rifle bullet” Kristina said, “Do not attempt to test that out yourself, there have been incidents.”
“What sort of incidents?” Ritchie asked.
“The sort that prove that nothing is ever soldier proof” Kristina replied, “You know, idiocy.”
So, some things truly were universal.
Rhodes, Dodecanese Islands
The Windhund got ignored when she pulled up to the harbor. With the threat of war in the offing, warships had become a common sight here. It was something that had not changed since antiquity, this city and the island of the same name had seen many empires come and go over the centuries. For years, the Greeks had been disputing the Italian claim on Rhodes. The Italians in turn had dragged out negotiations because it was in their national interest to maintain a presence here. It had worked out well because a message had been received by Louis that someone high up in the Italian Intelligence Service had information that they were willing to share, for a price.
Making his way on foot into the old city trailed by a half dozen of his men, Louis worried about getting lost as the man who had sent him directions would probably be amused if that happened. Finally, he found the taverna where the meeting was to take place. Cosimo de’ Medici was already waiting at an outdoor table sipping a glass of wine with a plate of bread and cheese in front of him.
“You really ought to try this wine” Cosimo said popping bread dipped in olive oil into his mouth, “There is nothing quite like a vintage that is absolutely seeped with tradition.”
“That isn’t why I came” Louis replied.
“Being all business is bad for you” Cosimo said, “A man your age needs to savor life. Wine, women, and fast cars. Though motorcycles and boats are your thing, yes?”
Louis wondered what Cosimo might have heard and if that compromised the mission. Supposedly, the Umberto’s fixer had connections everywhere.
“At least have a seat” Cosimo said, “People are staring.”
Pulling an envelope from his pocket, Louis placed it on the table as he sat down in the chair opposite Cosimo. It contained two tickets for the opening night of the upcoming season at the Berlin State Opera.
“It is there” Louis said and Cosimo put the envelope into the pocket of his suit jacket without comment or looking inside it.
“And this is what you wanted” Cosimo replied, handing Louis a photograph. A cannon on a pedestal mount was clearly visible along with the ship’s name. “I trust you will have this dealt with quickly.”
“If I can” Louis replied, “Hunting requires patience.”
“I understand completely” Cosimo said and Louis caught a glimpse of something in his eye. As much as the Italian fixer projected an affable persona, there was a ruthlessness underneath. Suddenly Louis was reminded that there were larger forces at play here.
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