Avalanche Express [antikvár]

1 It was Wednesday - dangerous Wednesday - and as always the first Wednesday in the month. It was Wednesday, December 1, a bitter cold day with the snow deep in the streets of the ancient Swiss city that throughout history has been the centre of so much intrigue. VAGONE-LETTI. MOSKWA-MINSK-BREST-WARSZAWA-BERLIN FRANKFURT-HEIDELBERC3-BASEL. The destination plate on the side of the single sleeping car oa Gleis 1 - Track 1 - conjured up a romantic and dangerous journey. Standing by Itself in Basel Hauptbahnhof, its passengers recently disembarked, it had a lonely and alien look, almost a sinister touch when you read the destination plate. For the sleeping car this was the end of the line. Each week this single sleeping car, constantly unlinked and attached to different trains, made its way from the heart of the Communist empire to the centre of Western Europe. It had left Moscow at four in the afternoon of Monday, November 29 - the day the Soviet Politburo had met to assess the vast military manoeuvres conducted personally by Marshal Oregon Prachko. It had arrived at Basel Hauptbahnhof at 9.20 a.m. The time was now 9.45 a.m. The staff had left the sleeping car, which stood empty on its deserted track. Outside the nearby station restaurant were two men in dark hats and overcoats, taking no apparent interest in the sleeping car. The smaller, more heavily built man smoked a French cigarette while he tried not to show his distaste for the unfamiliar tobacco. 'No action yet,' he murmured in German. 'Patience, Gustav,' his taller, slimmer companion replied. 'Waiting Is our profession.' Inside the restaurant at a table close to the door an English girl checked her watch as she sipped a cup of coffee she didn't 13