January 15, 1945 Gotenhafen 0800 hours

Nothing got a Howler down in the dumps quicker than boredom.

"Sarge, how long did Cap say we gotta stay incognito?"

Fury lowered his field glasses and rubbed his eyes. "As long as it takes to capture Parmanova for Cap after we figure out her plan. Dry up, Dum Dum, we've only been cooped up three stinking days. That's a walk in the park."

Dugan shrugged. "She's easy on the eyes, which is why you hog the binocs. Am I right, yez maroons?" He swung his arm around to include the squad nestled in various stages of repose in the small room above the tobacco shop. Everyone kept his kit in a particular way in a particular spot in the room, settling in like a flock of geese to nests they had built themselves. Gabe polished his horn, Izzy read the worn out Popular Mechanics he carried around with him, and Reb regarded the icicles spiking downwards outside the windowsill gloomily.

"This purely ain't like anyplace below the Mason-Dixon line, fellas. Cold 'n me don't get along."

Manelli lay on his belly atop three boxes he'd shoved together. "I'm sick of hearing about you and cold, Reb."

Pinky plucked at the yellow tassel on his Carlist beret before twirling his non-reg headgear on one finger. "Chaps, I have generally got patience but - "

"She's opened the ratty curtains in her room. She's awake and dressed, prolly heading downstairs to the café for chow." Fury laid the field glasses in his personal nest and stretched, spine popping.

Gabe removed the mouthpiece from his horn; he held it up to a sunbeam breaking through their camouflaged observation window. "You and Cap cooked up a story yet about how come I'm with you, Sarge? I want to hear it. It must be a beaut."

Manelli laughed. "You are our captive, of course. We six bring your valuable person with valuable information about Ethiopian defenses. I speak German and look swell in disguise as a Kraut, so I'll do all the talking if Cap radios us to go public for the grab."

"Come again? I seen Ethiopians in a TravelTalk movie right before a double feature and I do not look Ethiopian, or talk Ethiopian, or anything Ethiopian. You guys are talking through your - hats."

Manelli sat up so he could slap Gabe on the back. "We love you, too."

Fury answered the question put to him some time back as if he'd not heard the chatter among his squad. "She's fair in the looks department, yeah. I like 'em dark-haired, though."

"We know," chorused Fury's Howlers. "We know."

"Keep quiet! Tobacco in Gotenhafen may be scarce like the tobacco guy said, but that don't mean a Kraut soldier or civvie mightn't try to scare some up in the shop ten feet below. Cap said that the tobacco guy is top notch loyal to the Allies. He's done all right by us so far."

Izzy spoke up. "I wanted a hamburger last night and I got cabbage what he brung us. He ain't that wonderful."

IOIOIOIOIO

Despite Marya Parmanova's cramped room above a café and even more cramped funds, Gotenhafen held one magnet for a loyal Russian: the Amber Room. Crated, degraded and slated for transport to Germany, probably Kiel, though Marya considered it too soon to know for certain. No matter. She attached herself to it metaphorically since it left Konigsberg; it was her lodestone. Every so often she would wake, shiver and peer through the threadbare curtains of her room towards the blacked-out pier with its precious pile of crates. Soon her countrymen marched here on their way to Berlin, but what damage would faithful, vengeful soldiers of the Motherland inflict on ancient, fragile amber crated with German markings?

This is what spoiled her nights, not the murmur of bitter ersatz coffee drinkers downstairs, not the tinkle of dishwashing in the café sink and not fearful conversations in the hallway regarding which set of relatives to flee to before the Russians reached Gotenhafen. Neighbors up and down the hallway burdened their lives with families, elders, babies and newlyweds jammed into one room. She remained the lone single tenant until she met him.

"A simple-minded private with великолепный muscles and a well-shaped skull shining like beacon," thought Marya this bleak January morning. "I can use him."

He was a tall private with the closest Prussian haircut she had ever seen. He loaded his coffee with sugar and cream, how decadent of him. He looked old to be a private, but his scarred face roused her admiration: this was a fighter.

Marya made her move.

She swayed through the café tables, brushing against patrons as she murmured, "Excuse me, please" to gain attention while sashaying her hips in the fashion that always worked. He looked her way once and returned to his newspaper, idly stirring the brew that passed for coffee in these times.

"Good morning," she said without asking if the other seat at his bistro-sized table was taken. "I see you read English newspaper. May I practice English with you?"

He looked up when she sat down. For what seemed hours he did not speak. "Why?"

She shrugged as she bit deeply at her lower lip to make it flush. She knew it made her appear mischievous because both men and women had said so. "Good conversation is hard to find. I need to know truth."

"And you do not find it from a German source?"

This was the first test. Marya took a deep breath. "Not lately."

"Bring your coffee from your table. We shall talk."

Marya rose slowly, as if she had all the time in the world to fetch her black coffee from her table. Her lapis lazuli knit suit snugged in all the right places while she made her way there and back. "I am called Marya, a Russian name but do not hold it against me."

"Wolfgang von Strucker, at your service." He rose to click his heels and bow over her hand. This was no private. Intriguing.

The next hour passed quickly as they flipped through the newspaper. Marya discussed English cricket scores, English sales on gabardine outerwear, and the latest English battlefield triumphs touted on the front page. Wolfgang surprised her by dispassionately critiquing Germany's maneuvers, though never its armed forces.

At the end of the hour she knew he had been invalided into an extended leave, he was unmarried, and he was ambitious. She had let slip that she, too, was unattached, and that she awaited transport to "anywhere away from Gotenhafen" when the Wilhelm Gustloff sailed.

"Why that ship?"

She was ready with the answer. "Just look at it!" She waved her arm towards the pier that neither could see from the café. "Glassed in decks, guest capacity of fifteen hundred, gorgeous paint of white with green stripe - "

"I saw it when I arrived yesterday. It is battleship gray."

"Use imagination, meinen Herr! I am psychic and I see boat as it used to be - "

"You are frivolous."

"Guilty, I admit freely."

He looked ready to leave upon hearing the word psychic, so Marya thought hard. Hmmmm, a second test was in order. "How goes it with English poetry by you?"

"I memorized Goethe's Faust at Heidelberg University."

"You are marvelous! Such German intellect!" Marya slapped his forearm. "And someday I would love to hear Faust in entirety, but today I write for amusement a limerick to practice English."

"Then I insist you read it to me." He appeared bordering on a smile. Marya yearned to break the grave demeanor to see which way his scars would slant.

At least he chose to sit still to listen where moments ago his bottom was nearly out of the seat. Marya dredged a small piece of paper from her sleeve and cleared her throat.

"There was a young girl from Pskov

charming, yet no regal Romanov.

Born late in July

(she grew up a fine spy)

when Julian dates there was no more of."

He remained sober. "I thought it would be dirty."

"Please, darling, in public? I am proper lady."

"So I see." He rose to bow once more. "I take your limerick to be only whimsy since you are no spy. Goodbye, Fraulein."

Opportunity demanded boldness. "My name is Parmanova and I am spy." She replaced the paper into her sleeve before leaving coins to cover her coffee along with his. "And so are you, because you are no private."

Hooked oh yes, hooked good and solid. He offered his arm and she stood to take it. "My room or yours for tête-à-tête, Wolfgang?"

Now he did smile. "Yours. I fear my four roommates would crowd us."

"I lead way."

IOIOIOIOIO

"Aw, no, shut the curtains, toots. I don't want to see - Good. You heard me. Mebbe you are a psychic like Cap says you claim to be." Fury plopped into his nest, leaning back into his pack. He extracted a can of C rations from it. "Yum, I can hardly wait to taste mystery meat. The label fell off."

Dum Dum plotzed beside him. "Don't want to see what?" He rested his derby on his bent knees.

"Her and von Strucker sealing the deal." Fury leaned away from Dum Dum's flailing elbow. "Hey! Watch those meat hooks! You'll make me spill it!"

"Von Strucker? Our Baron Bad Breath? That one?"

Fury took his first bite. "Pork and beans, my favorite. Yeah, that Baron. Pinky, crank up the unit, I'll radio Cap when I'm done."

Dum Dum knelt before the window, ogling through the spy hole. "How come we didn't spot him, how come, huh?"

Fury burped. "'Cause he's now a private. I won't believe he got busted since we ran into him last so he's just slinkin' away ahead of the Russkies, in disguise, you know."

Manelli joined Dum Dum at the window. "Give me the binoculars, caporale."

"Nothin' to see, lover boy." Dugan passed the field glasses to Manelli, who looked once and grunted.

Reb sounded sleepy, like the cold lulled him into hibernation. "Y'all think we can capture 'em both, Sarge?"

Fury scraped the bottom of the can, smacking his lips at the final spoonful. "Depends on orders. Cap said, and I quote his mellifluous tones, Think, Fury, of after the war ends. America will need women of her caliber to liaise with Russia and it's gosh awful important to secure her loyalty."

"By kidnapping her away from whatever her mission is? That'll put the Ewe Ess of Ay in right with her, that will," Dum Dum snorted.

Fury crumpled the can in one meaty fist and cocked an arm as if to toss it until Dum Dum blocked the throw with an exaggerated shhhhhhh. "Yeah, men, I dunno what she wants with those crates, neither," Fury said. "She's went to the docks every day, hangs out for an hour, and then tippytoes back to her room. It's like she cases 'em to steal 'em, but she can't take them anyplace without a ship or C-47."

Izzy stayed put in his nest as he joined in. "And it's gotta be a ship since we're on the edge of East Prussia and the deep blue Baltic and no C-47s within eighty miles. I place her on the fancy Wilhelm Gustloff myself." He went back to reading.

"I say, did you spy the glassed in decks on the W.G.? I'd fancy that comfortable a ship in January, too." Pinky adjusted the radio frequency before passing the mic to his sergeant. "Steady on, Sergeant, ready to transmit."

crcklespitwhzzzzeeeee deeeditditdit deeeeeeeeeditditditdit "Formica to Arborite, Formica to Arborite, come in Arborite." Fury drummed his fingers because he did not wait well without a stogie, but an answer came swiftly.

zzzzpppttttttrrrreeee - "Arborite here."

Gabe whispered, "That's Bucky's voice."

"Yeah, what's goin' on?" Reb whispered back.

Fury plowed ahead, but delicately. "Arborite, where is ... Arborite Senior?"

"He's securing a B.S. from Fleet Admiral K."

"A B.S.? Arborite Junior, you're not allowed to use that language."

The young voice whispered until Fury had to lean in. "That's code for Big Ship so we can follow You-Know-Who."

"What's the rush?"

Now there was pride in the young voice. "Northern Horde will reach your position in approximately ten days. Intelligence predicts You-Know-Who will flee."

Northern Horde was the Russian army. "Yeah, we figure her to head for the hills before then with the crates on a fancy liner called Wilhelm Gustloff. Did Nimrod come up with a reason she's scared of her own people - "

"Arborite Senior here. Nimrod hunted down clues from Papa Bear to what she is after and it's a national treasure she wants back from the Nazis. Papa Bear doesn't know the details but he contributed a huge dossier on her character. The treasure is big enough to fill twenty-seven crates."

"Bingo! Sorry, sir. I mean, we've seen them on the pier. We've also seen Baron von Strucker in Gotenhafen disguised as a private and this very minute he's hooking up with You-Know-Who you know how."

"Blast."

"Yeah, we were surprised, too."

A moment passed as Fury assumed Cap's super-soldiered brain formed a plan. "Formica, the two of them together spell dynamite. You-Know-Who is clever enough to escape us in a panicked crowd. I'm not interested in capturing the Baron."

"We could do it, sir. There are seven of us and one of him."

"No. I want to concentrate forces on her. He flees his country in disguise with nothing but the shirt on his back. He knows Germany faces defeat and as a nobleman, his spirit will be crushed."

Speaking of spirits, Fury felt it his duty to point out inconsistencies to one spirit more pure than his own. "Er, sir, if he gets a woman on his side personally, they can be really, really inspiring - and a woman like her, well - "

"Those are my orders. I want her."

"Sir?"

"Formica, the Northern Horde must remain our allies and her talents are key. When this war ends, and God knows I want it to as much as you do, we'll have her. Saving the national treasure is secondary. She is Russia's treasure."

Fury knew the end of a discussion with the brass when he heard it. "Understood."

"Junior and I can reach a recently liberated port in days and we'll wait for you. Our ship will be synchronized with Nimrod's tracker. I expect you to deliver more intelligence on her methods and as for the Baron, I need you all to keep out of his sight. Permission granted to stretch your legs out of the room, two of you at a time. The tobacconist will supply civvies."

"Understood, Arborite. Formica out."

IOIOIOIOIO

"Dum Dum, you fit right into this crowd in those lederhosen."

"So did you until you just had to fix that overloaded family car."

"What could I do? They looked so sad and it was a easy adjustment to the carburetor - "

"And then kaboom! A backfire that made everybody jump nine yards straight up. I thought I was back in the circus watching the Flying Wallendas."

"Do you think Herr Baron saw us?"

"Depends. If he was alive and in this crowd waiting to get a ship ticket to safety, then he saw us."

"What'll you think he'll do? If Sarge is right, he's got nobody to call for backup minions. He'd for sure want to, though. He hates our guts."

"Likewise. Besides, his goons are long gone, but you know what?"

"What?"

"If he can get to a radio, he could call in some favors with - "

"Who?"

"Well, now, I dunno. Allies of Germany, mebbe."

"Italy is out of it since '43 and Japan don't hang out around here. Hungary and those other little countries don't count."

"I've got to tell Sarge about what you done, Izzy."

"Yeah. I know. Some leg stretching exercise this was. I wish I done isometrics instead."

"What songs you want at your funeral?"