Deception
DECEPTION
“GERMAN-SWEDISH TRADE AGREEMENT SIGNED,
Germany will receive swedish iron ore for machine-parts and coal. Analysts say...”
Wall Street Journal, August 15th, 1936
Florence Ryans room, house of the Ladies Ryan, Boston, USA, August 24th 1936, 19.07 hours
“Hi sweetheart!”
“Mum! You are back already!”
“Yeah, late enough. Whats up?”
Jill entered her daughters room. Her new work had her living most of the time down in Virginia, only at weekends she took the airship to Boston. It must be hard on Florence. It was hard on herself too.
“Uh, my math teacheress says I am really gifted. But in Sports I missed the cut. No place in the hockey team.”
“Are you disappointed?”
“No. You know, Mum, dont like hockey that much.”
Yeah, Florence was a coach potato if Jill had ever saw one. Even getting a bit overweight. What was Beth feeding her with? Pizza or Pasta three times a day?
“What are you reading?”
“Wonderwoman comic. Really great.”
At least Florence liked super heroine comics. Not everything was lost.
“You know, collected them myself, but the fire in grandmas house back then...”
“Yeah, too bad, Mum.”
“Whats going on this time? Still fighting chinese mistressmind Shia Ling Zen?”
“Whos that? No, its Dark Mistress, look, she is abducting ladies for her sinistre plans, brainwashing them in her lair to build a secret army.”
“To conquer the world?”
“Sure.”
“How did I know that?”
“Mum, its a comic. Not reality.”
“Really?”
Both smiled. Jill looked at the pages. Black clad figures womanhandeled helpless ladies, bound and gagged, into large crates.
In the comics, there were nearly no killings. Overpowering and tying up was the game, as it had ever been. Jill eyed the pictures, and thought of disappearing scientists.
Forest north of Magdeburg, Germany, 26th of August 1936, 15.55 hours
Madeline White was more than a bit angry. She had no real love for the german countryside, despite saying otherwise when socialising with the superfrauleins while drinking their beer with them. She cared even less for the risk involved.
She picked her way between trees and bushes carefully. Somewhere around here...
Back in July, a source revealed to her a secret base of the dreaded Sondereinsatztruppen in the forest north of Magdeburg, about 150 kilometers southwest of Berlin.
Some silly beanconteress back at Langley thought it an excellent idea to send good old Madeline out there to have a look and take some pictures.
Happened all the time, the problem was, this time it had been approved by the old dragon herself.
So, Madeline was out here with her camera, struggling through the woods and thinking of guards with submachineguns and nervous fingers, and of mines, the Gestapocellars, well, you name it.
There was a red sign fastened to that tree to the right. It read... great. A deathhead and landmines. She was already in the field. A creepy feeling in the spine, being in such a minefield. Not good for the performance of your longevity drug, you can count on that.
And everything because some idiot wanted pictures of german superfrauleins robbing through the dirt. It would be a training camp, Madeline was sure of that.
She was much less sure that she would get out of this minefield alive.
Perhaps over the trees, like Ariane, Queen of the jungle. Well thats a comic to be sure...
She managed to get on a tree, and climbed further, a small jump, perhaps her last...
Uff, she was on the next tree. Ariane of the jungle, or maybe Jane Bonda... the most silly movies ever made about espionage. Maybe old Couzens watched this sh*t herself too much. There went her trousers. Really, a nice cut in the left leg. If she got out here alive, she would send the bill to Langley. This silly, mad, idiotic... there it was.
The base was surrounded by barbed wire and a high fence, surely under high voltage. Guard towers with machineguns. Guards with sheepdogs, heavily armed, every single one of them tall and prototypes of superfrauleins. About a dozen barracks. A small camp, but heavily guarded. Looked more like a prisoner camp than a training ground. No mud, no sweeting gals robbing on the ground, no screaming sergeant...
Madeline shifted her position slowly and started to make pictures.
There, a door opened, a child ( a child?) appeared, together with another sheepdog. The child, a girl, had a red ball. She through it and the sheepdog ran to collect it. Strange watch dog, this one. And what was a child doing here? It called out to the dog. Strange german dialect. Or was it Dutch? It WAS Dutch.
Very weird. Madeline made a picture of the girl, and than of the dog too, just for good measure.
Time to be on her way. The Jane Bonda stunt again. Goddess, being back in her flat in Berlin, having a good drink...
Beyonce Tuckers home, New Orleans, Louisiana, USA, September 7th 1936, 20.14 hours
“Jamie Lee Owens is in front, the others clearly behind, she is going, she, yes, its the gold medal. Oh, I see the look on Lady Hitlers face. Doesnt fit in with your racial theories, Miss, eh? Owens is triumphant, for USA. Between, Chiquita bananas...”
Beyonce took a sip of her Jenny Walker and shook the glass slightly. The ice made a small sound. So, Owens had won. Yes, the superfrauen wont like that. Too bad.
Do these Germans really abduct our scientists over here? Do they really dare? The case count was now up to eleven. Directress Hoover was talking about bodyguards for scientists in earnest, but where to take all the women needed for that? Regular cops?
Deep in thought, she closed her lips around the cork filter of a cigarette.
“Didnt you want to quit, my beauty?”
“Uh, what?”
Puzzled, Beyonce looke up to her husband. Tom smiled at her. He lit her Pall Mall with a match.
“You said last week you want to quit, remember?”
“Yeah, Tom, but the work... I am a bit stressed, and...
“Its okay, sweetheart. Enjoy your smoke. Looks like Owens showed it to the Germans.”
Beyonce nodded.
“Good to see a black gal winning. Hows work at school?”
Tom sighed.
“Boring, honey, just boring. Nothing like chasing white slaveresses and bank roberesses...”
“You know, its mostly office work...”
“OKAY, HERE WE GO, high jump is next. Theres this soviet chick, Natalia Evanikova, but our Cindy Alfstroke has a good chance too. The qualifyings are already over, and...”
“Interested in this?”
Tom still smiled at her.
“Not if theres something more interesting afoot.”
“I can think of a thing or two,” Tom said, looking over to the bedroom...
Cafeteria, CIA headquarters, Langley, Virginia, September 13th 1936, 13.09 hours
Jill snorted. Who wrote this article? She took a sip of her water und looked it up again.
One Madeline White. This could have been directly out of Frau Goebbels office. Disgusting.
“Germany has shown the world its peacefulness and its beauty. The propaganda lies back in the States about the sinister plans of Germany cant be maintained any longer. I advice everyone to see for herself how its really like. Foreigners are welcome here, the german ladies are most friendly, and their politness is something still to be learned in America.”
Should stick to sports, this lady. Was she paid by Goebbels? Or having sex with the bitch?
She took a cigarette and lit it.
The Germans were even winning the medal race. At least Owens snatched three golds away from their greedy hands. But they won in hockey, against England, which in turn had defeated the US chicks in the semifinal. Jill had listened to the game in the waiting hall of Richmond aerodrome, after a machine breakdown had postponed her flight home to Boston. A tight match, decided in penalty-shots. Young Valerie Feathers had missed her shot, to the dismay of nearly every American on Earth. Well, thats sports. The girl was what, nineteen?
This Whites report in the paper on the semifinal had been excellent. The gal should really stay at sports and leave politics to the Washington Post.
“Hi, Jill. How are things going?”
“Lady directress. Please, take a seat.”
“May I steal a cigarette from you, Jill?”
“Sure, Mam.”
“A light? Uh, thanks. What do you say about the Neutrality act?”
“Ah, to be honest, not what I would have done.”
“It was a tactical move. Most Americans are strongly isolationist, and Lady Roosevelt needed to boost her polls on foreign policy. The race with Landon is close.”
“Yes.”
Jill said nothing more. Before the silence got to long, Couzens got to the meat.
“Ive heard Landon attacked you sharply because of your job here.”
“Well, she did, but she can hardly do something about it. Many older gals of my party see it as good opportunity to look into things. I mean, for me, not that any information I gather leave this house.”
“Some say you are the coming woman of the Reps.”
Jill coughed.
“Take a sip of water. Perhaps you should change to Lights? These lung torpedoes...”
“Who in hell said that?”
“Well, Lights taste not really bad, I have changed to them many years ago, and...”
“Mam, who said that I am the coming woman of the Reps? Thats pure nonsense. I even have no time to attend party meetings. I never had a mandat, and I dont plan on having one.”
“Sure, Jill, sure. Watch your cigarette, you ashed on your blouse.”
“Mam, please.”
“Trust me, there are some of your ladies behind the scenes who are planning for the time after Miranda.”
“The polls say she can win.”
“Its September. The polls can change. Well, must be on my way. Thanks for the smoke. USA TODAY? Disgusting, this White gal, isnt she? A traitress, if you ask me... see you, Jill!”
Jill starred after Couzens. Then she killed her Lucky and lit another one.
What the hell?
Frontline north of republican held Madrid, September 17th 1936, 11.15 hours
Amy Wilder of the Annabell Lincoln brigade raised the binoculars and looked over to the nationalist lines. Something going on there, probably a new assault. Would be the fifth in 48 hours. The ground ahead of the trenches was littered with dead fascist gals.
The fascist chicas really wanted this hill, as it overlooked the mainroad into Madrid from the north.
The american volunteress gave the binoculars back to Capitan Maria Flores. The small spanish lady sighed.
“Losses high, munition low, no food this morning. Amy, I fear for Madrid, I fear for our cause.”
Amy smiled defiantly.
“Signora Capitan, as you say: Ne pasaran! They will not get through!”
“Yes, you are right. Whats that?”
“Airplanes! Dammit, its their Stukas.”
“They are coming to us, I fear. ATTENTION! AIR ATTACK!”
Amy cursed the bloody Germans and their most feared weapon.
They arrived quickly, and delivered their load with the deadly accurency the Germans were known for.
Amy stumbled to her feet, her ears ringing, blood running across her face, blurring her sight. Capitan Flores was only a torn apart corps a few meters to the right. Dead and wounded everywhere, smoke rising. Amy looked out to the enemy line.
Fascists soldieresses approached rapidly uphill. Amy searched in the dirt for her rifle. She couldnt find it. She must find it...
Amy Wilder of Annabell Lincoln Brigade gets to know the Stukas
“MADRID FALLEN TO NATIONALISTS
In the spanish civil war, the nationalist scored a major victory yesterday by conquering the capital Madrid. Our analysts say, german airplanes of LEGION CONDOR, a formation of german volunteeresses, were crucial to the fascist success. It is believed that the victory of Madrid was a decicive one, and that the end of the civil war is in sight...”
International Heraldress Tribune, September 20th 1936
Madrid in fascist hands.
.
