Karlsruhe, Germany — Friday, 12 May 1916

David left Sonnenhang mid-morning on Friday, and after changing a flat tyre north of Offenburg, he made fast time to Ettingen, where he paused for lunch and to refresh. Not like Greg to be late. Hope it's only the hot woman. He shook his head, dismissing his thoughts as he unfolded his Baden map and studied it, then he pulled out the one of Karlsruhe.

While he ate, he plotted his route onward. The turn to Rüppurr, then follow the same road to the west side. Past the railway workshops to the Kaserne. Avoid needing to weave through the centre of the city. As he examined the map, he saw the gasworks. Non-strategic, though. Not for munitions. Likely servicing the rail yard and Kaserne.

After his break, he continued northward through Rüppurr, following signs to Karlsruhe. As he rounded a bend past the bleak buildings of the rail workshops, he hit a deep pothole in the road and heard a loud bang and a sharp hiss. "Bugger damn!"

David pulled to the side of the road and got out to see one tyre burst and another flat. Only one spare left. He looked at his watch and then at the grey shape of the Kaserne less than a quarter-mile ahead. I'm a bit early, but it'll take too long patching the flat. Could drive like this. He shook his head. No, ruin a repairable tyre. Do it after the meeting.

He took the sample case and the envelopes of papers from his satchel, put them in his pockets and locked the satchel in the boot. A short while later, as he walked along the south wall of the Kaserne toward the gate, he heard a sharp, "Halt!" Two guards stepped from behind the bushes and unslung their rifles. "What are you doing here?"

"I have two tyre punctures and only one good spare."

"And why does that put you here?"

"I have a meeting in the Kaserne, and to not be late, I decided to walk the rest of the way and do the repair later."

"This is not the way to the Kaserne."

David took the map from his pocket, unfolded it and pointed to a gap shown in the wall. "This is the entrance I was told to use."

"That one is not for public use. Not since the gasworks –"

"Blaumann! You've been warned not to mention this," the older guard reprimanded. "Keep him at gunpoint, and I'll go find the Wachtmeister."

After the other guard trotted away, Blaumann said, "Finally, we catch a saboteur."

Oh, God! How did he conclude that? "Saboteur? I'm not a saboteur. I'm a salesman."

"Then why that accent? And what's the strange clothes?"

"I'm Swiss."

"That doesn't sound like the Swiss I know."

"It's Schaffhausen. Similar to the accent in the southern Schwarzwald."

"Then why are you here, not there?"

Damn my luck. A stupid one. "I have a meeting in the Kaserne."

"This is not the way to the Kaserne."

"You have already told me this. I would be grateful if you directed me to the entrance now in use." David looked at the rifle pointed toward his chest as he thought. Surely, his superior will listen. How in the hell did this escalate so quickly?

"Wait for the Wachtmeister. He warned me not to give information."

Visions of Claude on the train and recollections of gruesome details from recently read torture reports filled David's mind until the arrival of four soldiers with their Mausers drawn. He listened to the distorted information as Blaumann briefed the Wachtmeister. Oh, God!

David was escorted at gunpoint through the gate to which he had been heading when he was accosted. Once he was inside, a thick cloth bag was placed over his head, and he was manhandled along cobblestone streets for a few minutes as he tried to figure a way out of this gross misunderstanding. "I have a meeting, and this will make me late for it."

His only responses were laughs. A minute or so's walk later, David was guided to the right, and then cobblestones changed to floorboards beneath his feet. Dull, hollow footsteps echoed off walls as he was herded onward. After clicks and a grating sound, he was shoved forward, bumping into what he perceived to be a door jamb, and a brief while later, he heard a door slam behind him and the clicks of latch and lock. He waited in silence.

A long silence. Then he said, "I'll be late for my appointment."

He waited for a reply, but none came. After listening intently for any sound, he reached up and removed the bag from his head, squinting at the bright lighting in the windowless room. As his eyes grew accustomed, he examined his surroundings. A crude bench along one wall, and across from it, a cushioned lounge chair and a small table. The walls were bare but for a large mirror and a framed photo of Kaiser Wilhelm.

David removed his overcoat and laid it on the bench then sat beside it to take stock of his situation, thinking about the contents of his coat and jacket pockets. Nothing but watch samples, the letter, technical data, my passport, the map and my book. Nothing to indicate I'm anything but a Swiss watch and fuse salesman. He squinted to ease the glare from the lights. Far too bright in here. That's a one-way mirror. I'm being watched.

He reached into the overcoat pocket, pulled out the novel he had been reading and opened it to the bookmark. Running his eyes over the page, he pretended to be reading as he thought. What in God's earth was that crap the guard told the Wachtmeister? How do I explain it was little but fabricated nonsense? Do I even need to explain? Likely on high alert after the explosions last week. Inexperienced guards. My cover is solid. Maintain being a salesman. It's the truth. They will soon realise.

He continued running possibilities through his mind as he pretended to read, remembering to turn pages for whoever was on the other side of the mirror. He was surprised by a voice, "Good book?"

"It is." David looked up to see a young Leutnant enter the room and close and lock the door. "Die Verwandlung by Franz Kafka. Have you read it?"

"I'm the one to ask questions here. Was your target the gasworks or the railway workshops? Or both?"

"Neither."

"So, why were you snooping around them?"

"I wasn't." David closed the book and set it down. "I was on my way to a meeting in the Kaserne."

"And what is the purpose of your meeting?"

"I'm a Swiss citizen and a salesman of watches and artillery fuses. I was asked to come and show samples and data." He pointed to his overcoat.

"A clever disguise for you to snoop around the rail shops and gasworks."

"I was not snooping around anywhere. I have my Swiss passport and one from –"

"Forgeries. Saboteurs all have forgeries."

"I'm not a saboteur; I'm a salesman, and I was walking from my auto to the gate for my appointed meeting."

The officer grinned. "And where is your auto?"

"Back along the road from Rüppurr. I hit a deep rut and burst one tyre and punctured another."

"A clever ruse to allow you to investigate targets to destroy."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"I'm the one to ask questions here." The young Leutnant grinned as he lounged back in his chair and tapped his pencil on the clipboard. "And explain to me why you did not exchange the flats with spares."

"I have only one good spare tyre. I had a puncture outside of Offenburg this morning on my drive from Switzerland." David shrugged. "I could have replaced the blow-out, but repairing the tube on the other would have made me late for my meeting, so I decided to walk." He glanced at his watch.

"We are not getting anywhere here. Tell me again why you were snooping around the yard and works."

"I was not snooping around. I was walking directly from my disabled auto to my meeting in the Kaserne."

The officer laughed. "Well, you are now in a meeting in the Kaserne. For whom are you working?"

"For Hans Wilsdorf, the owner of Rolex watches in Biel, Switzerland."

The questioning continued in this inane style for several minutes, then when David answered again that he was a Swiss sales agent selling watches and artillery fuses, the officer shouted, "Enough!"

He slapped his clipboard onto the table, then he stood and drew his Mauser from its holster. "We're getting nowhere here. I think we need to move you to a more serious form of interrogation."