Prague, Same Day

John adjusted the uniform and put the hat under his arm as he exited the restroom. Talbot leaned on the wall, in a matching uniform, and matched John's pace to the train. "I think we got a good deal on these."

"I tend to find the dead don't really offer you anything but a good deal on clothing they no longer need." John checked the tickets before pointing toward their carriage. "But you did wrangle a decent deal."

"It's why you keep me along." Talbot opened the door and preceded John inside. "That and how I handle my gun."

"Better than you handle German or Russian, apparently." John taunted, taking the seat across from him.

Talbot jabbed a finger at John, "You don't speak Russian either so I'd rather you not take the mickey out on me about that."

"You're supposed to speak all the languages that I don't."

"That wasn't in the job description when I took on as your caddy."

"Then I should revise the terms of the agreement." John smiled as the train lurched forward, pushing him back against his seat. "We've got a few hours if you want to discuss it."

"I'd like to discuss how that woman somehow got you between her legs in less than an hour before she raced herself to Berlin to betray a freedom organization." Talbot removed the photographs from his pocket, holding up the one with Anna's face visible behind the scope of a rifle. "Rather an odd coincidence wouldn't you say?"

"I'd say it would've been less problematic if you'd stayed and not abandoned me to the German police in that café in Prague. We wouldn't be in this mess then." John swiped the photographs, looking over the other two men.

"So it's my fault you couldn't ignore the all of death in some way other than a woman's arms?"

"We were both consenting adults."

"Who both happen to be killers." Talbot opened his hands, "Should I send out the invitations to your wedding because you're so obviously made for one another?"

"It's usually frowned upon to discuss marriage with a woman you're probably going to kill." John went to glance at the photographs until he noted Talbot's face, "What?"

"Probably?"

John shrugged, "What?"

"You just used the words probably going to killinstead of definitely going to kill." Talbot waved the stack of bills at him. "There are two more of these waiting for us when we finish this job and you're giving me probably?"

"She's a sniper and so she might see us coming."

"Not if you were as good as you claim to be." Talbot smiled at John but his brow furrowed in confusion.

"I'm not sure I know what you're getting at."

"She'll be helpless against you."

"I don't think so."

"If you were really the Casanova I'm sure you were then she'll just drop her knickers at the sight of you and you get her right between the eyes. Easy as that. Just aim and fire, like always." Talbot shrugged, "I admit that this time she's far more attractive than others we've done in similar circumstances but the women in Hawaii are gorgeous too and we'll finally have the money to go there."

"I'm just trying to get back to Ireland."

"Right," Talbot snapped his fingers, "Your elusive sheep farm."

"It was my mother's dream."

"And I'm sure she's very proud about how you're going about it."

"Now listen here, it's-" John cut off his statement when they heard the carriage next to theirs open and a man inquiring inside. John tucked the photographs away and drew out his papers as a man in uniform entered the carriage. He stared at them a moment before pointing to the seat next to John and speaking in German.

"I hope this one's not taken."

"It's all yours." John shifted, moving to sit by Talbot as the other man sat.

He smoothed his hair down and cracked his neck before smiling at them. "And what brings two soldiers like yourself to Prague?"

Talbot swallowed and John took over the conversation, his German flowing easily and without accent. "We were on leave. Just finished a stint in the North Sea and now we're going back to Berlin before continuing on Hamburg."

"Ah yes, Navy." The man crossed one leg over the other, "And your friend? Does he speak?"

"Usually except he recently discovered his allergy to fish. Swelled up his throat so much he's been silent for days. When he does start talking though…" John shuddered, "I consider it a miracle the man finally shut up."

"I see." The man smiled, "I apologize, I'm so rude for not introducing myself when I took space in your carriage. I'm Major Thomas Barrow"

"Then I should address you as sir." John pointed to himself, "I'm Captain Bernhard and this is Lieutenant Truman."

"The pleasure is all mine, to share the carriage with you both then." John noted the way Barrow's eyes traveled up and down Talbot's form. "I had feared I would have to sequester myself away in one of the other carriages."

"Perhaps they'd be quieter."

"Not for me." Barrow snorted, "All those Jews making noise while they try to steal your wallet. And the smell… it's enough to drive someone mad."

"Is it?" John managed a tight smile, "I hadn't noticed."

"I notice." Barrow tapped the side of his nose, "It's why I'm one of General Crowborough's trusted men on that front."

"Which front?"

Barrow blinked, "The Jewish front. They're trying to take our country from us and we're taking it back. They already took our money and our dignity. I'll be damned if they take anything more."

"Are you on any of those special squads then?" John pointed to the pins on Barrow's uniform. "If I know those insignias they're commendations for work well done."

"They're proof that I can do my part."

"And which part is that?"

Barrow smiled, "Killing Jews."

"And how many Jews would you say you've killed?"

Barrow counted in his head and then held up three fingers. "It's not much but the number'll grow."

"I'm sure it will." John swallowed, grinding his teeth. "I'm sure it will."


Berlin, That Night

Anna rubbed at her eyes and studied the map again. She traced the route with her finger, counting slowly, and finally pushed back from the table. Someone knocked on the wall and she turned to see Branson there.

"You'll strain your eyes studying that in the dark."

"Not sure that matters in the end." Anna rubbed at her eyes a moment before nodding toward him. "I thought you were going out."

"I went out." Branson jerked a thumb toward the stairs. "They're having a right party up there and I think we should join them."

"Why?"

"Because Moseley's cavorting up there like a fool and if we don't save him he'll just make an embarrassing mess of himself." Anna snorted as Branson extended her his hand, "Would you?"

"How is a girl to refuse?"

Anna followed Branson up the stairs and into the main room of the restaurant. Tables rested against walls as the radio played dancing tunes. Her eyes quickly found Moseley, flinging his arms over his head and yipping in time with the signals to jump, and Anna could barely contain her laughter. His antics gave him a wide berth on the floor and Branson bent to whisper in Anna's ear.

"I think someone spiked his punch."

"Good for him." Anna took a deep breath, "We're going to die and he's enjoying it to the last. It's what we should all do."

"Then, Captain," Branson gave a dramatic bow and held his hand out to her. "Would you do me the great honor of dancing with me?"

"I will." Anna took his hand and allowed Branson to take her to the floor. "Where did you learn to dance?"

"Where any boy learns. At his mother's side and with the few girls willing to take a chance on him." Branson spun Anna out before bringing her back in. "And it helped me get a few girls after that."

"Any of those girls get you into trouble?"

Branson grinned, "More than I should say and fewer than I'd like to admit."

"So you've made your way around many a dance floor like this one?"

"I have." Branson paused, dipping her in time with the music, "But I promise my intentions with you are entirely honorable."

"Not sure if you mean that." Anna rose, Not if the stories I heard about you are true."

"Oh?" Branson ducked under her arm, moving around her back before spinning in front of her again, "And what stories are those?"

"The ones Moseley told me when you were out getting your fun." Anna held Branson's gaze. "The one that says you lost the woman you love to the Nazis."

Branson bit down on his jaw, a muscle in his cheek flexing. "Moseley should learn to keep his mouth shut."

"He should also learn not to indulge in the punch but it's a bit late to warn him there." Anna pulled them to a stop as the music ended. "What happened?"

"She was a nice German girl. Beautiful." Branson shook his head, "She happened to also be a Jewish girl and so they sent her to a special neighborhood."

"What happened then?"

"A few of her German guards decided that a girl walking alone at night needed some protecting. When she refused they took what they wanted from her and left her in the street." Branson hung his head, "She died three days later, bleeding out slowly because of what they did to her."

Anna nodded, "Then you understand why we're doing this."

"I understand that I want nothing more than burn the lot of them to the ground and dance on the ashes while their still hot." Branson shook himself, "Not the mood I wanted to bring to our little party."

"It's the mood we need to remember when we're staring death in the face." Anna turned to see Moseley stagger to a chair, collapsing onto it and snoring almost immediately. "A mood I think we all could use to remember a bit more often."

"It's one they're not keeping in Vienna." Branson sighed, jerking his head toward the bar where Mr. Carson dispensed drinks. "Would it be so bad for us to imbibe a bit?"

"I think we owe it to ourselves to give a toast." Anna joined Branson at the bar and waited for the shots. They held up their glasses and Anna spoke, "We, who are about to die, salute you."

"I'll drink to that."


Green got off the train, hailing a cab. He gave the address to the man twice when the man's eyebrows rose on the first recitation. Sitting back he took deep breaths, the tremor in his metal finger clicking against his belt buckle. Green grabbed his hat to give his hands something to do.

The building where the cab stopped, taking the exact change Green handed over with a frown, only had a few lights inside. But Green took the stairs anyway, pulling out his papers to show the man at the door. The man pulled a phone off the cradle and dialed a quickly number. A few muttered words over the line later and Green had an escort up the stairs.

They stopped at an office where the escort knocked. The wait was a moment and an eternity in the same token and the guard snapped to attention when the door opened. He handed over Green's papers to the man there and saluted when dismissed.

Green faced the man in the doorway and swallowed as the piercing blue eyes studied him. "So you're Alex Green, our infamous informant in the camp of Isobel Crawley."

"I am."

"Don't lie." The man snapped and Green jumped, "You were sloppy and now you're on the run. A cur with nowhere else to go and nothing else to offer."

"That's not true Mr. Carlisle." Green stood straighter, "I've got information you'll want."

"You said on the phone but I'm tired of you jerking me about with secrets."

"The Belfast Pistol and his companion are in Berlin, tracking down the three assassins Mrs. Crawley sent after General Crowborough and Mr. Bricker."

Carlisle's eyebrow rose. "That's all?"

"You can get all five of them and save the General with my help." Green leaned forward, "That's got to mean something to you."

"I assume that's not all you know."

"It's the tip of a very big iceberg." Green pointed to the inside of Carlisle's office, "Might we continue this inside?"