Thursday, 25 May 1916

On Thursday morning, the two couples left Paris on the first departure from Gare de Lyon. After many station stops, they arrived in Dijon, where they disembarked to await the train through Dole to Pontarlier.

Much later, as they waited on the Pontarlier platform for their next train, Michael said, "So awkward since the start of the war. Our habit had been to board the Oberland Express after a full day in Paris. Then we'd enjoy an elegant dinner in the dining car, sleep in comfortable, private beds and have a full breakfast before arriving in Interlaken."

David nodded as he looked up from his folded map. "Yes, I had been told about this last year while the clerk arranged my itinerary to Oxford. He said there used to be an overnight express all the way from Bern to the Calais ferry – part of the Orient Express."

"Same company but a different route. But like it, the ferry was met by the express train from London to Dover, providing the moneyed tourists with a luxurious passage to the heart of the Swiss Alps."

"And providing one in the opposite direction for the wealthy Swiss travellers to England."

"There were very few of those, the Swiss having far more of interest closer to hand. Besides, we are only one-tenth the population of Britain." Michael looked at the luggage at their feet. "I increasingly regret having dissuaded you from driving, David. I hadn't realised that the Kaiser's stubbornness had brought rail travel down to this."

"It's now beyond his stubbornness and pride. He and the government have lost control of the Army, and it's the generals who continue the war."

"And Prinz Wilhelm? He just goes along with this? Has he no influence?"

"If his father has little, how can he have any? At the start of the war, he was taken under the wings of the senior generals, placed in command of the Fifth Army and coached. Now he commands the Crown Prince Army Group – five armies, and he still seems little more than a puppet. London doubts he's allowed any unprompted decisions nor any initiative."

While the two continued this discussion, Maria stood from the wooden bench, took a few steps and looked eastward along the tracks. "I hear distant rumbling. Might that be our train?"

David stood and cupped his ears, then shook his head. "Damn the artillery and mortars. But if you hear one, it must be ours; nothing but the shuttle is allowed beyond here."

"So awkward to travel this way."

"Indeed, Michael, but this is better than I experienced at Basel, where all passengers have to disembark and walk across the border."

"Likely because of the short distance from Weil-am-Rhein – a few city blocks." Michael pointed along the tracks. "Here, we have a long, sparsely populated mountain pass to cross, and erecting Customs and security posts up there at the frontier makes no sense."

"Aha! That's why we were questioned and searched aboard on Sunday." Maria smiled. "The officials ride the shuttle back and forth."

"Yes, they have nearly an hour to carry out their inspections."

A little over an hour later, in the gloaming, they arrived in Neuchâtel. Across the street from the station, in Hotel Terminus, as they followed the bellhops into the lift, Mary said, "Too long a day, Michael. You should have reserved a hotel in Pontarlier."

Michael wiped his face with a hand and nodded. "The Cooke agent knew of none there with plumbing in the rooms."

Mary nodded. "Wise to have continued, then."

Friday, 26 May 1916

After two more trains, the four arrived in Zürich in the early afternoon on Friday. While David loaded their luggage into the boot of his Lancia, Michael said, "It would have been far easier in this. Sorry, I didn't listen. You've been to Paris four times in the past year, and it was arrogant of me not to defer to your experience."

David shrugged. "We now know for the next time. But hopefully, before then, this madness will be over. The Germans have nearly run out of copper roofs and bronze monuments to melt down for artillery-fuse metal. They're now feeding on themselves; they've begun melting some of their shell casings rather than refilling them."

"Why don't they use steel?" Maria asked as she handed a bag to David. "You had said they captured all the Belgian and French mines and smelters."

"Because of the danger of sparks igniting the fuse powder, non-ferrous metals are required – copper, brass, aluminium, pewter, and so on. But German production of these is small, and the blockade has cut off their former supply."

"As well as their supply of food." Maria grimaced. "They imported nearly one-third of it before the war."

"True, and the shortage is now exacerbated with many of the farmers conscripted to the Army. But worse, with the need for nitrate for munitions, the production of fertiliser has all but ceased. We anticipate much-reduced harvests for them this year. The war has become one of resources, and theirs continue declining."

"And so does the spirit of the people." Mary shrugged. "From what you've told us, David, it appears the generals don't see beyond the fighting. They pay little attention to the strife and confusion they bring upon their own people."

"Indeed. And this makes our subversion mission easier." He assisted her into the car's rear seat while Michael gave Maria a hand on the other side.

As they left the station, they were quiet except for Michael's directions away from the traffic and toward the lakeshore road. When David arrived in a familiar area, he said, "I need to visit the Embassy, and I had planned to do that tomorrow, but there remains more than sufficient time this afternoon."

"And forgo dinner and the evening with us?" Mary hummed a sigh. "I had looked forward to sharing more with you."

"No, I'll not miss that. 'It usually takes me little more than two hours to reach Bern, and perhaps another two to catch up and handle details."

"Two hours to catch up? Hah!" Maria chuckled. "You've been away for more than a week, David. It'll take you far more than that."

He blew a loud breath as he nodded. "Yes, with Rick no longer there handling the routine things, probably more than two hours."

"And with him gone, who's shepherding Windbag? What havoc might he have unleashed this time? And what about Hans and the watch transactions? Maybe there's another letter from Wilhelm."

"True. Might be wise to spend the night there."

"Great!" She grinned at him. "I need to catch up with Edith on the injured prisoners programme. Also, I have to talk with Dr Bettancourt about the research project, and the medical school isn't open on weekends."

David laughed. "Your attempts at manipulation are still foiled by your innocent honesty."

She shrugged. "Even if I knew how to be subtle, you'd see through them anyway."

"True."