banshee wrote: ↑2 years ago
I'm catching up with the story because I thought it was finished but I'm glad to see that it keeps going, especially seeing that this new chapters have been very interesting, you are a great writer caesar.
Thank you for the compliment [mention]banshee[/mention] !
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Hi friends this is Chapter V, there might be not happening much here, but judge for your self! You can follow the ways of Christine and friends via google maps. I chose the location partly for old memories sake - we spent many Summers in may childhood at the Ellenbogen
Chapter V:
The next day. Ellenbogen, List auf Sylt, around midnight:
Sylt, or the Queen of the North Sea, as many of her admirers like to call her, is the largest of the three great Northern Frisian Islands, Föhr, Amrum and Sylt – and the most famous.
A birds eye view of the Island, sweeps to the eyes of the observer, like the gigantic Anchor of a mythological Titanic thrown into the North Sea before the West Coast of Schleswig-Holstein. Famous for its wild Dunes in the North, the lovely heaths in the east,, and its long Beaches on the western side, which stretch from the North to the South about 40 Kilometres Distance.
Over the last decades Sylt had changed its face in many ways – and not entirely to its advantage. Too many Botox injections, one might say. And the Botox in question means in this case: Millions of Euros and hordes of greedy Investors.
The number of Islanders who were able to afford to life on the Island had decreased immensely. The number of those, who had to leave the island driving every day to work on Sylt increased accordingly. Anyone who was familiar with the Sylt of the 70's and 80's would barley recognize her now.
The most pristine Part of the Island, was –and still is - the wild Landscape of the North, it´s northernmost Edge, the Ellenbogen, because of its resemblance to an elbow. From there Denmark is only four miles distant.
The Ellenbogen is mostly a natural reserve, very few people life there, the part of Sylt where you can feel the serene Beauty of this austere Landscape still the most. Far away from Jet-set-hives like Kampen. Its remoteness and the short distance to Denmark make it ideal for a stealthy approach from the North.
The night was dark, the heaven clouded. No stars graced the sky. The sea was calm. The low surf rushed softly against the shore, in its slow eternal rhythm. The lights of the eastern lighthouse near blinked in their usual steady pulse. Except the usual sounds of sea and night, nothing could be heard.
Someone with astute sense of hearing might have heard a soft swish against the surf, which could be a mistaken for a seal coming up for air.
Out of the pitch black darkness a black Zodiac Futura Commando slowly emerged, propelled by paddles to the shore.
Three figures completely clad in black with enclosed helmets and large backpacks jumped over board and waded ashore. Two of the figures carried a large pack between them.
The boat turned – and disappeared in the darkness, as had it been a figment of the Observers mind - and the night was as silent as before, with the boats engine not turning on until it is a mile off shore.
The three new arrivals crossed the beach swiftly and walked up the dunes to the lighthouse. When they had made their way past it, they walked down on the other side of the shallow slope and crossed the street which connected the wide curve of the Ellenbogen with the rest of the Island.
They walked to a couple of typical Frisian houses, with thatched roofs, covered in darkness. Then stood there for a moment in silence and looked across the King´s Harbour.
Across the shallow bay one could see the lights of List´s harbour, List the most northern community of Germany, had been during the Third Reich an important naval base. The whole island had been fortified heavily by the Nazis.
The three figures proceeded quickly and quietly, ducking from cover to cover, as they approach one of the houses. The lead figure touched a key pad and entered a code. The door swung open, they walked inside. The light went on. They slipped of their backpacks and set them on the floor. At the side of one of the backpacks a large slightly curved blade, glints in the light.
The tight sitting suits betrayed the fact, that all three arrivals were clearly female. One of them slipped her helmet off, releasing a cascade of blond hair down her shoulders.
The other two followed their leader’s example. One of them had her shiny black hair braided into a ponytail. Her Companions long brown tresses fell down above her shoulders when she put off her helmet.
“That was fun!” The black haired woman said cheerily to her brown haired Partner.
“Welcome on Uthörn”, the blonde Woman said warmly. Chris walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, which was well stocked. On the oven a large pot stood.
Kate lifted its lid curiously, absorbing the aromatic flavour and a rapt smile crossed her features, as if she was in heaven. “This is just what I need, a Bouillabaisse! I'm starving and I'm freezing.”
“Kate, this is not just “Bouillabaisse”, this is the famous Syltian Fish-Soup!” Anna corrected her mockingly. “This is “Gosch´s Sylter Edelfischsuppe”! Call that soup a Bouillabaisse and a horde of natives will tarring and feathering you before burning you at the stake.”
Christine looked grinning at her two friends then interrupted the ensuing banter:
“How is this for a plan, I show you to your rooms. Then we change into something more comfortable and enjoy the soup and warm up. What do you think?”
“I'm all in.” Anna said.
“You always are, when dinner is on the table”, Christine teased her. “Where do you put it all, anyway?”
“Do I need to incriminate myself your Honour?” Anna pouted, in mock indignation.
The interior of the house was sparse, but stylish and yet comfortable. It radiated cosiness.
In the centre of the dining room a black Grand Piano stood. Kate took the scene in: “The perfect place, if you want to have your peace and quiet.”
“Indeed”, Christine said, “especially from September to early March. “And the best thing for us is, “Uthörn” cannot be traced back to me, or Art. Inc. It belongs to a Trust, which grants a Scholarship to aspiring young musicians or composers, which in turn entitles them, to live and work here.”
Half an hour later:
Kate, Christine and Anna sat in the kitchen around the table, enjoying the steaming hot, delicious smelling soup.
The dry white wine, a Cuvee from Pfaffmann, named “Der Fisch muss schwimmen” - “The Fish must swim”, accompanied it perfectly. They ate in comfortable silence and relaxed. It was well beyond midnight now. Kate barely stifled a yawn.
“Let us call it a day early”, Christine proposed. “We all need rest, and we will need all our strength tomorrow.”
Around the same time at the Sölring Hof:
The man in the High Castle listened to a call. “They have not left the building, you say?”...“Are you sure?"...“Strange”, he thought.
He pressed a button at his desk. A knock at the door: A tall blond man entered. “You called Sir?”
“Yes. Any news from our informants on the island?”
“No Sir. None of the three detectives has been spotted. Neither in Westerland, nor Kampen, nor Rantum. And they did not check in to any Hotel either.”
“Hmm …”, the man in the High Castle mused. “Tomorrow we must intensify the surveillance, Anton.”
“Of course Sir.” Anton says with a subtle but professional bow.
“You may leave now.” He says dismissing the man.
Alone in the room he leans forward on his desk and makes an arch of his fingers, thoughtfully pursing his lips, “You are worthy opponent Christine von der Marwitz. But I expected no less.” the edges of his lips curl into a smile and he announces, “Let the Games begin!”