Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
None of the above, though trains do feature, as does a plane or maybe two in fact ... you'll just have to wait for the story Jolly'Well, now I'm confused. Is this an airplane or train story?
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It continued in London
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Right you are!None of the above, though trains do feature, as does a plane or maybe two in fact ... you'll just have to wait for the story Jolly'
Mohr promotion!
Is that a Luger?
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Walther LP53.
Gosh, can't you just hear them in the House of Commons?
Q: "Would the Right Honorable Gentleman the Member for Woodford agree with me that the last thing this country needs right now is Mohr trouble?"
Back benchers: "Hear, hear!"
WS: "What my honourable friend needs to bear in mind is that I have it on good authority from the President himself that she will fight on the beaches, she will fight on the landing grounds, she will fight in the fields and in the streets, she will fight in the hills - she will never surrender!"
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Migoz2
Senator
WS: "What my honourable friend needs to bear in mind is that I have it on good authority from the President himself that she will
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Mister Chamberlain is convinced, she will bring peace for our time...
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
A quick reminder, as if one was needed, that the much anticipated sequel to It Happened in Hamburg begins here, exclusively, in this thread tomorrow.
A short excerpt ...
The girl sighed with a resignation bordering on the tedious, and slowly closed her eyes. Turning her back on them she gripped the sides of her white shirt and pulled it up and over her head. She wore no bra, and so the fully denuded expanse of her back was exposed to the men.
“Everything,” The soldier added to his instructions.
“Why don’t you help me, huh?” Barb turned, revealing her exposed breasts and moved slowly towards the three-armed soldiers. Her hands were behind her back thrusting her hard nipples forward.
“Now we fuck you …” Came the lust-fuelled words!
A short excerpt ...
The girl sighed with a resignation bordering on the tedious, and slowly closed her eyes. Turning her back on them she gripped the sides of her white shirt and pulled it up and over her head. She wore no bra, and so the fully denuded expanse of her back was exposed to the men.
“Everything,” The soldier added to his instructions.
“Why don’t you help me, huh?” Barb turned, revealing her exposed breasts and moved slowly towards the three-armed soldiers. Her hands were behind her back thrusting her hard nipples forward.
“Now we fuck you …” Came the lust-fuelled words!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Is Barb in The Red Lion again?
Migoz2
Senator
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Good spot Migz. I can assure you all that there are no Mutant Forces involved at all in our story, and so we'll make sure the hyphen is removed before posting
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twonines
LIMERICUS
A
The shameless hussy`s wearing no bra.
When of this we`re appraised,
We`re completely amazed,
Because for Barb, it`s certainly not par.
All we know of this story so far,
The shameless hussy`s wearing no bra.
When of this we`re appraised,
We`re completely amazed,
Because for Barb, it`s certainly not par.
And here it is!
Enjoy!
Enjoy!
It Continued in London - Chapter 01
Duke of Beaufort’s Badminton Estate, South Gloucestershire, Britain – Friday, 9 June 1939
“My word,” Laurence Grand said. “She’s here. Have you ever seen a more gorgeous creature?” Harry Underwood turned his head, trying to focus in the glare given off by the huge chandeliers, only slightly alleviated by the flags draped around the chamber, the Union Jack, resplendent in red, white blue … or by the splendid uniforms with which the two Englishmen were surrounded, not to mention the bare shoulders and glittering jewellery of the gorgeous girls in attendance at this ‘Empire Party’ hosted by Henry Somerset the 10th Duke of Beaufort, inside his rolling South Gloucestershire Estate at Badminton.
Up to this moment Underwood had found the whole thing inexpressibly vulgar. A lavish party to celebrate London’s position as the largest city in the world and the capital of not just Britain, but the whole of the British Empire, and on this day of all days the King might well be putting his arm around Roosevelt right now across in the good old US of bloody A … but we all know war is coming and we had nothing better to do but get pissed in the Gloucestershire countryside. There must surely have been a better way to meet this girl.
“Yes, sir … sorry, I mean no, sir,” he agreed with his superior. “Very much worth a second look.” Or a third, or a fourth, or even a hundredth, Underwood had already decided. The woman in question had just entered the ballroom on the arm of a man wearing a perfectly fitted black dinner suit. His slicked back hair and chiselled features marked him out as a stereotypical German Aryan male. He was handsome enough, and his suit was immaculate, but he was utterly insignificant beside his companion.
The girl looked tall in her fashionable high heels and held a perfect posture, almost matching her escort for height, and she moved with a regal grace. Her face was more than pretty … and her mouth, coated in bright red, was the most sensual thing Underwood had ever seen. At this distance he could not see her eyes, but imagined they were like the color of her hair, a bewitchingly lustrous caramel brown.
She wore a pale-blue off-the-shoulder sheath evening gown, which clung to her body like a second skin, accentuating her slender legs, delineating her slim hips, and with bullet like nipples poking through the fabric suggesting that the two thin straps over her shoulders were utterly unnecessary, at least for holding the dress up. A diamond-encrusted pendant was suspended on a gold chain, nestling into her décolletage, and she wore a pair of matching earrings. But the crowning glory was her hair, which in total contrast to the bobbed curls so prevalent in Britain, was worn long, and lay in straight, wonderous magnificence below her shoulder blades.
“So now is your opportunity to meet the famous, or is it infamous, Fräulein Barbara Mohr.
“Erm … she appears to have an escort, sir.”
“Ah, that is Aron Bernstein.”
“Oh really,” Underwood’s look said ‘please explain sir’.
“Bernstein is a licensed commercial pilot, registered in Hamburg, who is wanted by the Gestapo for his subterfuge in flying so called ‘miscreants of the Reich’ out of that city. He arrived on our shores along with Miss Mohr, and is another potential operative for us. What he is not Underwood, is her romantic partner. So, she is … um … potentially all yours …”
“So their only commonality is that they both oppose the German Government?” Underwood sought further clarification.
“Indeed, that is the case. He is both an outlawed pilot and Jewish, and she is a wanted member of the growing resistance movement … who just happens to also be Joachim Mohr’s daughter.”
“So I imagine being the daughter of the Hamburg based financier, industrialist and shipping magnate is one of the reasons why we have such an interest in Miss Mohr?”
“Indeed Henry, along of course, with her own dissident views …”
“Does she speak English?”
“An educated girl like Barbara, from a wealthy and influential family like die Familie Mohr, speaks not just English and German but French too. So do not worry about having to learn German in order to communicate with her,” Major Grand grinned. “Wait here Henry.”
Henry watched his boss move away and stand on the edge of the dance floor. He spoke with a uniformed officer, who nodded and smiled as they conversed briefly.
Grand re-joined Henry. “She’s on her way over, old chap.”
“Oh, well done, Sir. Just watching her dance … Look at the way that German lout is holding her, pressing her against him. It makes a gentleman’s blood boil.”
“It doesn’t seem to be bothering her Henry. However, I think there is something you should know.”
“Don’t tell me she’s married.”
“No, she’s not married. But …”
“But sir?”
Grand paused before adding, “She was, at least according to our intelligence, severely tortured and sexually assaulted by the Gestapo when she was arrested, and so …”
“The bloody bounders. So go gently with her Sir. Yes, I know that drill well enough.”
“Good man Henry.”
“But holding back with a beauty like her will be …” He checked what he was going to say as the music stopped and the young officer who had been accosted minutes earlier by Grand, approached, leading Miss Mohr by the elbow; her Germanic partner had disappeared into the throng leaving the floor.
Breathing slightly heavily from her exertions, cheeks a little pink, the girl, when standing only feet away, was more beautiful than ever … though the faint scars on her chest, peeking out from behind her jewelry, bore shocking testimony to her treatment at the hands of the Gestapo.
“Miss Mohr, may I present Captain Henry Underwood,” the young officer interjected, “He works for the British Government.”
The young man smiled.
“Captain Underwood, I would like you to meet Miss Barbara Mohr.”
“It’s the Foreign Office, actually,” Underwood said, and bent his head over her hand. “But this is a very great pleasure, Miss Mohr.”
“And for me, Mr Underwood.” Barbara replied, in perfect but lightly German accented English, whilst allowing his lips to touch her white-gloved knuckles. Miss Mohr’s voice was a sensual purr, and entirely in keeping with the rest of her delectable appearance.
“And this gentleman?” Barbara asked.
“Oh, this is …” The officer began, only to have the Head of SIS Section D cut in.
“Major Laurence Douglas Grand at your service Miss Mohr,” and he duly repeated the gentle kiss to her hand.
Room 212 The Savoy Hotel, The Strand, City of Westminster, London, Early hours of Saturday, 10 June1939.
“So, you work for the British Government Henry?” Barbara asked.
Henry Underwood’s breathing returned to normal and he rolled on his side to face Barbara and play with her exposed nipple.
“We work for the SIS.”
Barbara also moved onto her side so that she could face her new found lover, both to make it easier for him to reach her and also to look at him.
“What is the SIS?”
Underwood knew that Laurence Grand wanted to recruit this girl and so he was certain that sharing some fundamental details of the Service was in order. “The Secret Intelligence Service. It has several branches. We work for Military Intelligence Section D.”
Barbara rose on her elbows, and his fingers slipped away. “You mean you’re a spy?”
“Oh, good lord, no. I mean, well . . . I suppose I have been trained to be an agent, but right now we are focussed simply on collecting intelligence.”
“Oh, I see …” She responded walking her fingers up his chest, “… so I have just been fucked by a very important man,” she grinned at him, before kissing him on the nose allowing the thin sheet to fall away from her naked body
With a grin of his own he took hold of her again, this time pulling her against him.
“A very, very Important man, Barbara,” his smile turned into a smirk.
“Mmmmm, that is such a turn on Mister Underwood. Will you protect me with your life then?”
Henry Underwood felt his cock stiffening again. “That won’t be necessary,” he quipped.
“Oh, and why is that may I ask?”
“Because Miss Mohr, I am never letting you out of this bed, ever again!”
TBC
Kathy
Terra Nova Tramp
Great start , I can not wait to read what happens next.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
It Continued in London - Chapter 02
Room 212 The Savoy Hotel, The Strand, City of Westminster, London, Monday, 12 June 1939.
“Henry, what a pleasant surprise.”
Henry Underwood had not seen Miss Mohr since leaving her hotel room two days earlier, but he had reason, other than simply to feast his eyes upon her again, for being with her today.
She led him past the bed and towards the patio windows.
“Would you prefer coffee, or a proper drink, Henry?”
“It’s a little early for a drink, Barbara. Now please I must insist that you sit.”
Barbara looked at him, a confounded expression on her face. “Henry, is everything alright? You seem agitated? Are you mad at me?”
“Barbara, sit, please.”
She flopped down onto the brown leather couch then looked up as Henry shook his head and produced a newly purchased copy of that day’s Daily Express, neatly folded.
“A newspaper Henry?”
‘Barbara, recently new rights were given to Newspaper Editors that allowed them to suppress or expose both pictures and words in the interests of the people’s national unification, providing public decency is not offended.”
Barbara nodded, “Why are you telling me this, Henry?”
Captain Underwood dropped the paper onto Barbara’s lap so that it fell open, revealing the front page to her.
“They deemed it in the public interest to picture you being fucked in public by …”
“Rudy …” Barbara whispered wistfully, glancing down at the blurred but still revealing picture on the front page of the Daily Express.
“Whoever Barb, but the point is …”
“… and it wasn’t in public it was in a remote part of the very large Botanical Park in Hamburg. His name is Rudy, Rudolph, Weiss, he is, was, a leader of the Nazi resistance movement in Hamburg.”
“Was?” Underwood questioned.
“The SS hung him.”
“Oh.”
“So,” Barbara continued, “… this doesn’t really say anything new about my political leanings does it Henry?”
The Captain flopped into a seat opposite Barb and sighed. She stood, wandered to the kettle and made two cups of hot coffee before returning to her seat. Sipping at the hot liquid she leaned back against the couch cushions, her arm along the back, half turned towards her guest, one leg draped across the other. Her skirt had ridden up above her knees, and she straightened it, but did not pull it down.
Henry also leaned back, turned to face her, and said.
“It may be necessary for me to become more than a little indelicate Barbara.”
“You may be as indelicate as you wish Henry.” Her tongue flicked out for a moment as she smiled, then added provocatively, “A man and a woman, alone together, should always reserve the right to be indelicate, Captain underwood.”
Ignoring her innuendo, he continued. “This, this … exposé …” he offered up struggling for words, “… is not about it affecting your political leanings Barbara, it’s about the British Public accepting you, and moreover the King himself.”
“The King?” Barbara’s eyes widened. “Oh, how delightful Henry, Do I get to meet King George himself? I would be very honoured.”
“Yes, the King. Laurence, Major Grand, whom you met at the party, has spoken with Lord Beaufort. Beaufort in turn has been in touch with King George’s Aides and, even though it will have to wait until he returns from his visit to the US and Canada, it seems that our Monarch is very keen to meet and discuss with you how we might combat the rise of National Socialism in Europe. But …”
Underwood stopped and pulled the paper from Barbara’s lap, turning quickly to the appropriate page inside where the story continued. He began to read out loud.
“Having the look of a spy infiltrating the enemy with some sort of Honey Trap, the ravishing Miss Barbara Mohr, recently immigrated into Britain to seek refuge from the Nazi’s, is caught in flagrante delicto with a mysterious German lover. Moreover, this obscene act is being performed in a public place where absolutely anyone could have seen them. Is this really the type of female immigrant we want in our country, especially at this time of high alert? Furthermore, Miss Mohr might easily not be what she says, and this picture might well prove where her true loyalties lie.”
“He’s dead Henry,” Barbara said again.
“You are missing the point Barbara, this brings into serious question whether or not you will even be allowed to stay here in this country …”
“Oh Henry, surely you exaggerate.” Barbara raised her eyebrows.
“Well,” he said, "... you need to convince me that your loyalties now truly lie with Britain and its Allies Barb, and then I can try and convince Laurence to speak with King George’s Aides directly."
She kicked off her shoes and curled her legs beneath her. Now her skirt rode up to her thighs, revealing an expanse of provocative bare leg.
“And how do you suggest I begin to convince you of my loyalties Captain Underwood?” Barbara purred, licking slowly around her red lips as she spoke.
Office of Reichsführer-SS Heinrich Himmler, Hotel Prinz Albrecht, Prinz-Albrecht-Straße 9, Berlin, Thursday, 15th June, 1939.
“Have you seen the dispatch received overnight from Reinhardt, Herr Reichsführer-SS?”
“Yes, Heydrich, I read it earlier this morning.”
“And … ?”
“I thought there were several things worth noting as well as a few matters of concern to which we should respond.”
“I haven’t seen the dispatch yet. Fill me in if you don’t mind.”
“Of course. First, Reinhardt, who as you know has taken the cover of ‘Aron Bernstein’ while he is over there, reports that our lovely and delectable Fräulein Mohr has done remarkably well, as we suspected she would, at ingratiating herself with the movers and shakers of English high society. Her presence appears to be sought by exactly the sort of people we had hoped to target. She finds herself getting invited to all manner of society soirées. The Duke of Beaufort, as Reinhardt tells it, appears to be especially smitten, and has busied himself in arranging introductions for her. And, seemingly entirely on her own, she’s already landed an audience at Buckingham Palace with George VI.”
“And what is concerning about all that?”
“Nothing in itself, but her notoriety has also drawn the continued attention of the English daily tabloids, which means they will dig into her past if they’re able. And one outlet in particular, which is not especially friendly to us … The Daily Express … has already managed somehow to unearth some nude photos taken of her by her now deceased old boyfriend, Rudolph Weiss. They know nothing of him for now, as we’ve done a good job of expunging any official record of him, but given time they may well succeed.”
“Let’s hope not. What other thoughts have come to you regarding Reinhardt’s report?”
“He was rather specific about one of her current dalliances … a certain Henry Underwood. I can detect a strong hint of jealousy in Reinhardt’s comments on this. He obviously isn’t happy about her hopping into bed with this Underwood. Reinhardt suspects something untoward there. Fräulein Mohr has apparently been rather closed mouthed about Underwood, so Reinhardt had been following him about, and claims he had observed Underwood entering a building known as Century House, at 54 Broadway in Westminster.”
“SIS?”
“Exactly.”
“Then we’d best be keeping an eye on him.”
“Yes, Reinhardt is doing exactly that.”
“And what of her father? Is he in Britain at the moment? He has a considerable stake in this, as we well know. Perhaps he can lean on her, if necessary.”
“No, he’s in Hamburg. While he may be able to exert some powers of persuasion over his headstrong daughter from there, we need to keep him focused here on the development of new armaments. He is in fact booked on the SS Hamburg to New York in a few weeks on a mission to gather some revolutionary aeronautical technical information from Robert Goddard and Charles Lindbergh, two Americans who have been successful of late in experimenting with liquid fuelled rockets. That’s all I can tell you as the details of Mohr’s mission there is classified.”
“Ah, yes. Lindbergh is known for his pro-German sympathies, isn’t he? But, getting back to Fräulein Mohr’s mission, has she managed so far to give us anything of value?”
“Nothing of importance yet. She’s turned over various bits of information she’s overheard to Reinhardt. Our people here are analyzing them, but it all seems pretty run of the mill.”
“Perhaps we need to do more to focus her information gathering?”
“Yes, I was coming to that. If this Underwood fellow turns out to be, as we might suspect, an SIS agent, then our dear Fräulein Mohr needs to be informed, in no uncertain terms, that we expect her to play a double game with him. Gaining a window on the inner workings of British intelligence would be a smashing coup for us. Reinhardt must be told to put it to her.”
“I’ll see to it, Herr Reichsführer-SS.”
TBC
Room 212 The Savoy Hotel, The Strand, City of Westminster, London, Monday, 12 June 1939.
“Henry, what a pleasant surprise.”
Henry Underwood had not seen Miss Mohr since leaving her hotel room two days earlier, but he had reason, other than simply to feast his eyes upon her again, for being with her today.
She led him past the bed and towards the patio windows.
“Would you prefer coffee, or a proper drink, Henry?”
“It’s a little early for a drink, Barbara. Now please I must insist that you sit.”
Barbara looked at him, a confounded expression on her face. “Henry, is everything alright? You seem agitated? Are you mad at me?”
“Barbara, sit, please.”
She flopped down onto the brown leather couch then looked up as Henry shook his head and produced a newly purchased copy of that day’s Daily Express, neatly folded.
“A newspaper Henry?”
‘Barbara, recently new rights were given to Newspaper Editors that allowed them to suppress or expose both pictures and words in the interests of the people’s national unification, providing public decency is not offended.”
Barbara nodded, “Why are you telling me this, Henry?”
Captain Underwood dropped the paper onto Barbara’s lap so that it fell open, revealing the front page to her.
“They deemed it in the public interest to picture you being fucked in public by …”
“Rudy …” Barbara whispered wistfully, glancing down at the blurred but still revealing picture on the front page of the Daily Express.
“Whoever Barb, but the point is …”
“… and it wasn’t in public it was in a remote part of the very large Botanical Park in Hamburg. His name is Rudy, Rudolph, Weiss, he is, was, a leader of the Nazi resistance movement in Hamburg.”
“Was?” Underwood questioned.
“The SS hung him.”
“Oh.”
“So,” Barbara continued, “… this doesn’t really say anything new about my political leanings does it Henry?”
The Captain flopped into a seat opposite Barb and sighed. She stood, wandered to the kettle and made two cups of hot coffee before returning to her seat. Sipping at the hot liquid she leaned back against the couch cushions, her arm along the back, half turned towards her guest, one leg draped across the other. Her skirt had ridden up above her knees, and she straightened it, but did not pull it down.
Henry also leaned back, turned to face her, and said.
“It may be necessary for me to become more than a little indelicate Barbara.”
“You may be as indelicate as you wish Henry.” Her tongue flicked out for a moment as she smiled, then added provocatively, “A man and a woman, alone together, should always reserve the right to be indelicate, Captain underwood.”
Ignoring her innuendo, he continued. “This, this … exposé …” he offered up struggling for words, “… is not about it affecting your political leanings Barbara, it’s about the British Public accepting you, and moreover the King himself.”
“The King?” Barbara’s eyes widened. “Oh, how delightful Henry, Do I get to meet King George himself? I would be very honoured.”
“Yes, the King. Laurence, Major Grand, whom you met at the party, has spoken with Lord Beaufort. Beaufort in turn has been in touch with King George’s Aides and, even though it will have to wait until he returns from his visit to the US and Canada, it seems that our Monarch is very keen to meet and discuss with you how we might combat the rise of National Socialism in Europe. But …”
Underwood stopped and pulled the paper from Barbara’s lap, turning quickly to the appropriate page inside where the story continued. He began to read out loud.
“Having the look of a spy infiltrating the enemy with some sort of Honey Trap, the ravishing Miss Barbara Mohr, recently immigrated into Britain to seek refuge from the Nazi’s, is caught in flagrante delicto with a mysterious German lover. Moreover, this obscene act is being performed in a public place where absolutely anyone could have seen them. Is this really the type of female immigrant we want in our country, especially at this time of high alert? Furthermore, Miss Mohr might easily not be what she says, and this picture might well prove where her true loyalties lie.”
“He’s dead Henry,” Barbara said again.
“You are missing the point Barbara, this brings into serious question whether or not you will even be allowed to stay here in this country …”
“Oh Henry, surely you exaggerate.” Barbara raised her eyebrows.
“Well,” he said, "... you need to convince me that your loyalties now truly lie with Britain and its Allies Barb, and then I can try and convince Laurence to speak with King George’s Aides directly."
She kicked off her shoes and curled her legs beneath her. Now her skirt rode up to her thighs, revealing an expanse of provocative bare leg.
“And how do you suggest I begin to convince you of my loyalties Captain Underwood?” Barbara purred, licking slowly around her red lips as she spoke.
Office of Reichsführer-SS Heinrich Himmler, Hotel Prinz Albrecht, Prinz-Albrecht-Straße 9, Berlin, Thursday, 15th June, 1939.
“Have you seen the dispatch received overnight from Reinhardt, Herr Reichsführer-SS?”
“Yes, Heydrich, I read it earlier this morning.”
“And … ?”
“I thought there were several things worth noting as well as a few matters of concern to which we should respond.”
“I haven’t seen the dispatch yet. Fill me in if you don’t mind.”
“Of course. First, Reinhardt, who as you know has taken the cover of ‘Aron Bernstein’ while he is over there, reports that our lovely and delectable Fräulein Mohr has done remarkably well, as we suspected she would, at ingratiating herself with the movers and shakers of English high society. Her presence appears to be sought by exactly the sort of people we had hoped to target. She finds herself getting invited to all manner of society soirées. The Duke of Beaufort, as Reinhardt tells it, appears to be especially smitten, and has busied himself in arranging introductions for her. And, seemingly entirely on her own, she’s already landed an audience at Buckingham Palace with George VI.”
“And what is concerning about all that?”
“Nothing in itself, but her notoriety has also drawn the continued attention of the English daily tabloids, which means they will dig into her past if they’re able. And one outlet in particular, which is not especially friendly to us … The Daily Express … has already managed somehow to unearth some nude photos taken of her by her now deceased old boyfriend, Rudolph Weiss. They know nothing of him for now, as we’ve done a good job of expunging any official record of him, but given time they may well succeed.”
“Let’s hope not. What other thoughts have come to you regarding Reinhardt’s report?”
“He was rather specific about one of her current dalliances … a certain Henry Underwood. I can detect a strong hint of jealousy in Reinhardt’s comments on this. He obviously isn’t happy about her hopping into bed with this Underwood. Reinhardt suspects something untoward there. Fräulein Mohr has apparently been rather closed mouthed about Underwood, so Reinhardt had been following him about, and claims he had observed Underwood entering a building known as Century House, at 54 Broadway in Westminster.”
“SIS?”
“Exactly.”
“Then we’d best be keeping an eye on him.”
“Yes, Reinhardt is doing exactly that.”
“And what of her father? Is he in Britain at the moment? He has a considerable stake in this, as we well know. Perhaps he can lean on her, if necessary.”
“No, he’s in Hamburg. While he may be able to exert some powers of persuasion over his headstrong daughter from there, we need to keep him focused here on the development of new armaments. He is in fact booked on the SS Hamburg to New York in a few weeks on a mission to gather some revolutionary aeronautical technical information from Robert Goddard and Charles Lindbergh, two Americans who have been successful of late in experimenting with liquid fuelled rockets. That’s all I can tell you as the details of Mohr’s mission there is classified.”
“Ah, yes. Lindbergh is known for his pro-German sympathies, isn’t he? But, getting back to Fräulein Mohr’s mission, has she managed so far to give us anything of value?”
“Nothing of importance yet. She’s turned over various bits of information she’s overheard to Reinhardt. Our people here are analyzing them, but it all seems pretty run of the mill.”
“Perhaps we need to do more to focus her information gathering?”
“Yes, I was coming to that. If this Underwood fellow turns out to be, as we might suspect, an SIS agent, then our dear Fräulein Mohr needs to be informed, in no uncertain terms, that we expect her to play a double game with him. Gaining a window on the inner workings of British intelligence would be a smashing coup for us. Reinhardt must be told to put it to her.”
“I’ll see to it, Herr Reichsführer-SS.”
TBC
PeterVl
Magistrate
I expect to be enlightened on the specific methods she employed to successfully persuade Captain Underwood of her loyalty. National security is at stake here!