[IC] The Minds of the Living

[Ulstermann]

                                                         CHAPTER I

                         THE GHOSTS OF THE GENERAL STAFF

Location- Berlin, Germany

The discovery of hitherto unknown documents in the bowels of the German archives revealing a location thought to have been established by the Science Division of the SS has caused a stir in historical circles. It is possible that this facility, hidden on the Courland Peninsula in Latvia, could contain clues to the Science Division's secret research bunker and he trove of loot within. 

Access to the records building is forbidden without the permission of the German Cultural Ministry. 

If you have an invite, it's simply a matter of following your guide to the basement where the records of the Wehrmacht's Army Group North is stored in Halle 13C. Invites are not particularly difficult to obtain, but the Germans do check before issuing one.

 Otherwise you'll have to either break in at night or seduce, impersonate or bribe a guard or employee. 

Being a government building the records department has impressive security systems including alarms, tripwires, and cameras. It is patrolled by officers of the Berlin police, who are armed with batons, pistols, and pepper spray.

Tom Carson craned his neck to look up at the buildings around him as the taxi came to a halt outside the German cultural ministry. Thanking the driver in his stiff German Carson stepped from the taxi and made  his way to the entrance. 
The man behind the desk inside greeted him with a smile. "Good evening, sir. How can I be of assistance?" 

Carson rummaged inside his coat. "I'm Captain Carson, I have an appointment to view some of the contents of of your archives for a book I am writing."

"Very good, sir." The receptionist said after checking his log. "Herr Apfel will be along shortly. May I see some ID?"

Barely had Carson shown his passport Herr Apfel arrived. "Mr. Carson? I am Ferdinand Apfel. Please follow me, I will show you the way."

Carson nodded and walked towards the lift, Apfel spouting pleasantries. 

@Simple Unicycle

Three vehicles pulled up at the loading bay of the Records Building. Two grey Audis escorted a Mercedes van, looking very much like a prisoner transport. The guard at the kiosk inspected their papers before hitting the controls to open the door and let them in. They swept through and stopped in the bay, disgorging a phalanx of dark-suited men wearing ear mics. Theodore 'Theo' Becker, second in command of the Berlin section of Talon Corporation, stepped from the lead Audi as a grey-haired German police officer approached. 

"Theo, old friend, it is good to see you." the officer said, shaking Becker's hand. 
"It is, Karl, it is." Becker responded. "So we are clear to proceed? No interference?" 

The policeman shrugged. "You know I can't give you a certainty for that kind of thing. Keep things quiet. You should be able to find what you're looking for and get out without problems. If you make a racket...all bets are off." Becker nodded at his men. "Get the little shit out here." 

Two Talon troopers emerged from the van, dragging Don Richardson along with them. Becker pointed to the policeman. "You see that, Richardson? We got the cops on our side, too. Don't fuck me about, or you'll be sorry. You find us the rest of those co-ordinates, and we stay friends. Got it?"

[Simple Unicycle]

The whole ride to the archives, Don was thinking of comebacks to what the men might say. He already thought about the phrase 'don't fuck with me' or something along those lines, to which he'd reply, "Fuck with you? I wouldn't even touch you." Of course, no matter how he said it, it'd most likely end with him getting punched in the face. So, only about a fifth of the way to archives, Don decided he wouldn't be a smartass unless he wanted a black eye.

So the whole ride there, Don would hum a song that he liked to listen to in his boyhood years. And soon, he would simply just start singing it, "Brazil, where hearts were entertaining June, we stood beneath an amb-" His singing was interrupted by one of the Talon Corp. guys shouting at him to shut the fuck up. So, of course, Don just kept on singing. It was just then that the same one who told him to shut up continually punched him in the gut. Don just laughed, and continued singing.

After a few more punchs, so hard that Don even coughed up a drop or so of blood at one point, the man stopped once Don had finished singing. Don just simply slumped back, smiling. He looked at the man, then said: "That was fun. Wanna go again?" He didn't even wait for the man's response before singing once again, and again being punched over and over. They stopped after the driver shouted at both, and then they finally arrived at the archives.

Don looked at Becker with a defiant grin. Still, he didn't want to be beat up again so he played it smart. "Sure, Becky. I gotcha." With that, he followed them inside the archives and searched around for the coordinates. As he searched, he asked: "Hey Becky, you mind telling me why these coordinates are so important that you slaughtered my whole team?"

[Ulstermann]

@Simple Unicycle

Becker laughed. "You're a bold little fucker, and no mistake." He signalled one of the guards who stepped forward and slapped Richardson hard across the back of the head. "That's for speaking out of turn." Becker said. "Why do you think we wiped out your team? Because the coordinates you had led to something worth more than their lives, that's why." He paused. "Worth more than your life, too. So find em as quick as you can, and we might-might, mind you- let you live." The Talon commander broke off as the lift pinged. "Who the fuck is that?" He snarled at Karl the copper, who just shook his head as two men, one with a ragged moustache and the unmistakable bearing of a soldier, came down the aisle.

Herr Apfel had been telling Carson all about the refurbishments the city had been considering making to the building. "And you, see, herr Hauptmann, we've been waiting for this kind of investment for years. Why, the facade alone-" He stopped once he caught sight of the group of men. "Mein Gott, what is this now?" Muttered the thin little clerk, heading towards the grey-haired police officer who stood nervously beside the little group. 

"Deal with him." Becker hissed at Karl, before stooping over Richardson's shoulder. "Keep your mouth shut, or by God I'll make you suffer." He muttered in his captive's ear.

"Officer Kreuz." Apfel complained. "What is the meaning of this?" Kreuz shrugged. "These men are conducting research on the logistical details of the Shoah for the Tel Aviv University." He said. It was the perfect answer; no German official would raise an issue with that. Apfel nodded hurriedly and wished the men luck. Carson raised an eyebrow; those guys were no more from a university than he was from the Salvation Army. But what the Hell, he thought as Apfel ushered him into one of the aisles, it wasn't his problem.

"All right, Herr Apfel." He said, taking his thoughts back to the task at hand. "I'm looking for as many references as possible for Ferdinand Shorner's summary executions amongst Army Group Courland from August 1944 onwards.  I'm trying to build a compelling description of the man, you see." Apfel clapped his hands in delight. "Wunderbar! We shall search, and find, herr Hauptmann." 

"What do you mean, you can't send em away?" Becker's fury was evident even as he kept his voice low.

Karl Kreuz shook his head.

"The man has an appointment. If I were to insist he leave, it would raise questions we don't want. Just don't slap Richardson around and Apfel will stay out of the way, he's a spineless little toad." 

Becker nodded reluctantly. "Fine." He said at last. He went back to the table where Richardson was sitting, flanked by Talon troopers. 

"Listen up, you little weasel." Becker said. "Looks like we've got some company for tonight. Some guy writing a book about the Wehrmacht, for a change. So keep it down." 

Carson carried a thick binder full of Army Group Courland's various war logs back to the long central table. Taking an empty chair far from the supposed university group he began perusing the documents. He stole a glance at the group down the table. He could make out the title of one of the documents. "Todt Organization logs for the SS raw materials requirements in the East, 1942-1943." Gripping stuff. He turned back to his war logs.

[Blue Demon]

It was quite easy to secure a fake invite. With a system that heavily relied on technology it was very vulnerable to Devin. The man knew hos way around computers. Which apparently included government archives in Berlin. She had spent the past two days watching the archive before making her move. The only reason why she was rushing it was the Intel she had received that have pushed her into moving.

Talon and the Americans were moving. Jessica swaggered into the Archive as if she owned it. With a beaming smile directed towards the man staffing the main desk. "<Good afternoon.>" Jessica greeted him in German. "<Vivian Angstrom.>"

Jessica produced fake documents showing the fake name. The woman had even dressed to the nines to match the appearance of a wealthy Spanish mogul's wife. Money always moved mountains.

The man behind the counter examined her documents before passing them back. "<The document is very popular. We already have two groups down in the archives. It might be a while before you're allowed to view it.>"

The fact nearly made Jessica wince internally. She knew she was behind dang it! There was no need to rub it in her face. But aloud she said; "<That's fine. I'll wait.>"

Like hell. Jessica waited until the man's attention was off her before she moved away and slipped into the elevator with another man. With calm assurance that this was where she was supposed to be, she pressed the button to the proper floor. Her assurance was such that the other occupant didn't even question her being there without an escort. When she stepped off the elevator, she paused after the doors closed. She lifted her leg to check for her ceramic knife, perfect for not setting off metal detectors. It was still there. Though it was a shame that was her only weapon.

Jessica slipped off her heels and tossed them in the nearest trash can. They'd only slow her down now. That taken care of the treasure hunter slunk down the hallway, keeping a wary eye out for Talon and the Americans and any other sharks that were circling the drain.