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Subject: {ASSM} Cinderella 2 Ch.7 by Rachael Ross -See Note - (Fantasy, Romance,  Transgender, Oral, Anal)
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	A Cinderella Story
	Copyright 2007-2009 Severe Productions Ltd. All rights reserved.
	Intended for adults only. TS.Severe@yahoo.com


	=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

	A Cinderella Story
	By T.S.Severe

	Cinderella 2 - Chapter 7




    "I was beginning to worry," Eva said as the train gave a soft jerk
and then another before pulling away from Prague station. It was bound
for Paris via Munich, among other places.

    "I couldn't decide," Wolfgang shrugged, sliding the compartment
door closed behind him. He locked it and pulled the shade, smiling as
he handed a package wrapped in silver foil to his sister. The gift was
bound with satin ribbon and a large red bow which made her smile.

    "Heavy," she observed with a questioning look.

    "Suhl Makarov PM nine millimeter," Wolfgang told her. "With a
matched factory suppressor and two eight round magazines in a hand
crafted mahogany box."

    "Really?" Eva's look of astonishment was amusing. "How did you
arrange that?"

    "Herr Polgar is an avid collector," Wolfgang said, referring to a
Czech antique dealer they had become acquainted with previously.
Polgar was an older man that both he and Eva had become quite fond of
and a useful source of information and tools, like the Yarygin PY
pistol that Wolfgang had used on the bridge the night before.

    "Was it difficult to convince him to part with it?" Eva wondered.

    "At first," Wolfgang said with a small nod. "But he quickly
realized that I wouldn't take no for an answer. We reached an
agreeable price soon after that."

    "I bet." Eva laughed lightly, returning the package so Wolfgang
could stow it beside their luggage in a bin beneath the seat. "You
didn't hurt him."

    "Of course not!" Wolfgang looked at his sister with a hurt
expression. "But I did spend a little more than we planned."

    "So long as it works," she sighed, sucking at her bottom lip.
"We're taking a real chance."

    "It was your idea," he said. "It's not too late to find a nice
dress."

    "Shut-up!" Eva rolled her eyes and opened her large shoulder bag,
removing a recent issue of Paris Match. "Look. This is her."

    "What's that?" Wolfgang sat beside his sister.

    "It's an advertisement for lipstick," Eva replied absently. "It's
her, yeah?"

    "Yes," Wolfgang agreed, taking in the full page glossy image of a
woman's face. An amazingly beautiful face.

    "Do you think she really looks like this?" Eva wondered.

    "Nobody really looks like that," Wolfgang said with a chuckle.
"It's a photograph. Like a painting."

    "She's very attractive," Eva decided and flipped through the pages
quickly. "She's here again. Look."

    "Donna Karan," Wolfgang read aloud. "I thought her name was
Cindy."

    "That's the designer," Eva said with a smile, knowing he was
teasing her.

    Cindy looked like a pissed off prostitute, Wolfgang thought,
glaring at the camera from a bar stool. Other people framed her in the
photo, but they were blurred with motion and out of focus. The woman,
Cindy, was wearing a tight red dress with her legs spread for the
camera, enough so a hint of equally red panty could be seen through
the shadows between her thighs. She seemed to look into his eyes and
Wolfgang wondered what it would be like to throw her to the floor and
take the bitch against her will. The look in Cindy's eyes told him
that was the only way he'd ever have her.

    "You like that picture?"

    "What?" Wolfgang blinked, looking up from the magazine and he
smiled sheepishly, drawing a soft laugh from Eva's lips.

    "I understand," Eva sighed. "She has a power, doesn't she?"

    "I'll bet she doesn't look like that every day," Wolfgang said
with a chuckle.

    "What if she does?" Eva teased him as she moved closer, finding
the man's penis firm in his trousers.

    "God would not allow it, I think." Wolfgang reached up to touch
his sister's face.

    "No?" Eva tilted her cheek against his palm, massaging Wolfgang's
hidden cock with her hand.

    "He's not that cruel." Wolfgang leaned forward, kissing her
lightly on the lips. "A woman who looked like that all the time? She
would be very unhappy, I think."

    "Hmmm..." Eva licked her lips and smiled, tugging at Wolfgang's
zipper. "And you know such things about women?"

    "Only one," Wolfgang whispered and kissed her again, parting the
girl's lips with his tongue as the magazine fell forgotten to the
floor.

	=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    "Put this on," Eva said, ripping open a thin paper sack and
handing Wolfgang a pair of latex surgical gloves. "He's right handed."

    "I know," Wolfgang answered, leaning against his BMW and pulling
on the right glove.

    "Do you want ear plugs?" Eva asked with a grin and her brother
made a face, knowing they didn't have any with them.

    Eva watched as Wolfgang emptied the eight round magazine in her
Walther P5 pistol. He was firing into the side of a gravel covered
hill a dozen meters away. They were in the Black Forest, several
kilometers along an old road built for the lumber industry twenty
years before, when logging had been a big business. The place was
littered with shot up cans, broken bottles, and tatters of paper
targets. It was a favorite spot for weekend gun enthusiasts from
Stuttgart and the smaller, local towns to drink beer and shoot their
grandfathers' old Mausers.

    "Alright, let me do it..." Eva said, carefully removing the glove
from Wolfgang's hand, pulling it inside out from his fingers. She put
it into a plastic zip-lock bag and closed it while Wolfgang recovered
the shell casings with muttered curses. There was a lot of old brass
on the ground and he was tempted to let it go, but the habit was a
good one and not worth breaking.

    An hour later they were driving out of the largely barren hills
which were being reforested only slowly. Wolfgang turned onto a paved
road heading south and they could see the peak of Feldberg rising some
1500 meters into the low clouds. They weren't far away now. The estate
was just outside the picturesque village of Sankt Blasien and some
thirty kilometers equidistant from France to the west and Switzerland
to the south.

    "We could be making a mistake," Wolfgang said and Eva nodded.

    "I know," she replied. "But what choice do we have?"

    "We could just quit," Wolfgang suggested. "Tell him we want out
and see what he says."

    "Mozart betrayed us," Eva said. "He betrayed our Papa, Wolfgang.
This isn't about walking away."

    "Our father is dead," Wolfgang sighed. "Is this what he would
want?"

    "Yes." Eva nodded, staring straight ahead. "He loved his country
as much as he loved us. We are all betrayed."

    They were silent for several minutes before Eva looked at her
brother.

    "You're having second thoughts," she said. "Why?"

    "I don't want to lose you," Wolfgang said with a glance. "Nothing
else matters to me."

    "That's the difference between us then." Eva turned her head to
look out the window. "I can't forgive him."

    "I didn't say I forgave him."

    "It's the same," Eva said and then shrugged. "Anyway, it will be
over soon enough. One way or the other."

	=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    "What is this?" Mozart narrowed his old gray eyes, looking at the
gift wrapped package Eva had placed on the table near him.

    "It occurred to us," Eva smiled with a glance at Wolfgang, "that
we don't know your birthday, Herr Mozart. And so we decided that today
is as good as any other. Happy birthday."

    "Happy birthday," Wolfgang echoed, holding his wine glass up.

    Veronique and Kurt were at the dining table as well, all of them
enjoying dinner together as was the informal custom when a mission was
completed. The others were absent, working in the field and on
assignments, which suited Wolfgang and Eva perfectly. They were few in
any case, the field operatives Mozart used, numbering less than a
dozen men and women specialized in various activities. Not everyone
was an assassin, like Kurt, who was an expert at surveillance. He'd
never killed anyone in his life probably, unlike Veronique who was
quite skilled in the art and proud of it.

    "Open it!" Veronique laughed, joining the toast with her own glass
held high.

    "My birthday is today as well," Kurt said with a grin as he caught
Eva's eyes for a moment.

    "Don't be spoiled, Herr Glauss!" Eva said to Kurt, drawing a
chuckle from the old man as he opened the package slowly. Mozart
rather enjoyed the little games his underlings played with each other,
it seemed to Eva, and in that way she thought him very perverse.

    "If you're looking for a pay raise..." Mozart said glancing between
Eva and Wolfgang. "This is a good way to do it!"

    "What is it?" Veronique wondered.

    "Cigars?" Kurt ventured.

    "I have a new box, it seems...Oh...Very nice," Mozart said with a nod
as he opened the rectangular wooden case. "A Makarov pistol. East
German too. I used to carry one just like it."

    Mozart held up the box, showing everyone the black semi-automatic
pistol with a long suppressor attached to the barrel. It was nestled
snugly in a cut-foam enclosure covered with red velvet. Beneath the
barrel and suppressor, in their own form fitted places, were two fully
loaded magazines for the weapon. Inside the lid was the original
manufacturer's certificate, bearing the date and serial number, as
well as the official seal of Ernst Thaelmann/Simson, the company that
had produced the weapon in Suhl some thirty years before.

    "Well done." Kurt nodded, looking at Wolfgang. "Your idea?"

    "For the man who has everything." Wolfgang smiled.

    "I wanted to get him something a little less practical," Eva said
to Kurt and then turned her gaze on Veronique. "I was thinking
lingerie, but I don't know your size."

    "Why didn't you ask your husband?" Veronique retorted sweetly.

    "Practical is always the perfect gift..." Mozart said, interrupting
Eva before she could reply, "for a man my age. Thank you."

    "Where did you find it?" Kurt asked.

    "There are a lot of Makarov's around," Kurt shrugged.

    "But very few examples like this," Mozart said with a genuine
smile for Wolfgang and Eva. "You make me very proud. Both of you."

	=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    "You're not staying?" Eva asked Kurt, standing in the open doorway
of the bedroom he occasionally used.

    "I have to get back to Berlin," he said, looking up from his open
suitcase.

    "He's keeping you busy."

    "I'll be back in a week," Kurt replied. "Will you miss me?"

    "No," Eva said airily.

    "You should come with me," he said. "The man is disgusting. You'd
like him."

    "Hmph," Eva snorted. "It's boring."

    "Not this one," Kurt said with a chuckle. "He travels with a ten
year old girl. Tells everyone she is his niece, but when he gets her
alone...She's quite amazing."

    "You like such things?"

    "I like to watch." Kurt shrugged.

    "Is he a target?" Eva wondered, walking slowly around the bedroom.
She picked up a framed photograph of a horse from the dresser and
smiled at it.

    "No." Kurt went back to his packing. "I have a surveillance team
from the Federal Police on him. We're waiting for his buyers and then
we'll arrest everyone at once."

    "You're policeman now?" Eva smiled at him. They were often covered
as officials from other agencies in the German government, police or
even military depending on circumstances. It wasn't unusual and when
necessary, additional manpower was drawn from the most appropriate
agency.

    "Do you want me to show you my handcuffs?" Kurt chuckled. "I have
a badge too."

    "And a gun?" Eva smiled, but it was forced and he could tell.

    "What's wrong?"

    "Nothing," Eva sighed. "I'm just bored."

    "You should take some time off," Kurt said, snapping his small
suitcase closed. "It isn't easy what we do."

    "Yeah."

    "My car's downstairs," Kurt sighed as he stood up, offering Eva a
smile. "I have to go."

    "I'll walk with you," Eva agreed and a moment later asked him, "Do
you ever watch me?"

    "Sometimes," Kurt said with a laugh. "When I'm lonely."

    "Hmmm..." Eva smiled, taking his arm as they walked towards the
staircase.

    "Oh! Hey!" Wolfgang stepped out of Veronique's bedroom and stopped
suddenly as he met Eva and Kurt.

    "Uh!" Veronique giggled from behind him and then her smiling face
peered around the doorway as she looked over the man's shoulder.

    "We're going to the kitchen," Wolfgang explained, his face taking
on a slightly pained expression as Veronique's hands rubbed across his
chest and down to his stomach.

    "To get ice cream!" Veronique stuck out her tongue. "Do you want
some?"

    "No." Eva shook her head, pretending not to notice the woman's
long fingers reaching for her brother's swollen crotch.

    "Is everything alright?" Wolfgang asked her.

    "I'm running away with Kurt," Eva said. "He loves me and I'm going
to have his baby."

    "Oh." Wolfgang nodded seriously and Veronique giggled.
"Congratulations."

    "Thank you." Eva tightened her grip on Kurt's arm and smiled up at
his amused face. "I thought we would name the baby Heinrich."

    "What if it's a boy?" Kurt asked with a chuckle, the two of them
walking slowly down the curving stairs.

	=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    "Eva. You may come in," Mozart said, looking up from his desk with
a paternal smile.

    He was wearing his reading glasses and still dressed, but without
his jacket and tie. He wore a lavender robe, tied with a sash around
his waist, as was the old man's custom in the evening. Mozart was
nearing seventy now, three years after Eva had first met him, but he
looked the same to her eyes. She sometimes thought he'd always been
exactly so; never young, but born old and endless as if he were a
constant part of the world. Mozart frightened her that way and she
forced herself to smile.

    She was dressed as she'd been for dinner, wearing a simple white
blouse with a black skirt and unbuttoned blazer. She wore black
stockings and panties, but no bra. A pair of leather heels that
clicked briefly across the marble floor until it gave way to one of
the large Persian carpets that covered much of the old man's study.
Her face was carefully made up, in the rather severe style that Eva
preferred. Her lips were crimson and her eyes pitched deep with black.
Her platinum hair was long by Eva's standards, falling loose around
her shoulders. She was twenty-seven and striking with her height and
lean, athletic body, but the old man appeared not to notice.

    Mozart took off his reading glasses and smiled, plainly enjoying
Eva's presence, but that was as much as he ever did. She was not
trying to encourage him, at least not specifically, and the man had
never hinted at any sort of sexual desire for her. Eva wondered if
that would change now that her father was dead. Edwin had been dying
of tuberculosis, a condition that imprisonment had only served to
aggravate. Neither she nor Wolfgang had known until very close to the
end of his life, but Mozart had known, she was sure.

    "Has Kurt left already?" the old man asked.

    "Yes," Eva replied, walking to the liquor cabinet and opening it.
"I saw him off a few moments ago. Would you like a brandy?"

    "That would be nice," Mozart agreed. "We can sit by the fire."

    "That man in Prague," Eva said slowly, pouring two glasses while
Mozart rose from his desk. "Did you know he was Russian cipher clerk?
From the embassy?"

    "Yes," Mozart answered. "Of course. Why?"

    "I'm just curious." Eva looked over her shoulder. "What was it
that he did to deserve..."

    "He was working against Germany," Mozart replied slowly, narrowing
his eyes. "You've never been curious before."

    "Usually the reasons are obvious," Eva said with a shrug, turning
with two snifters of brandy in her hands. "I'm growing weary, I
think."

    "Ah." Mozart nodded, sitting in his customary chair, near the fire
as he watched Eva. "You've been working hard, Eva. Too hard perhaps?"

    "Perhaps," Eva said, setting the glasses together on the small
table near Mozart's chair. She sat down in another chair beside him,
waiting until the old man had chosen a glass before picking up the
other and sipping it.

    "I knew your mother," Mozart said after tasting his own drink.
"Did you know that?"

    "No."

    "She was very beautiful when she was young." Mozart smiled,
cupping his brandy with both hands in his lap. "She still is. Your
father made good use of her for many years."

    "What do you mean?" Eva asked him.

    "Geli has good contacts in the government," he explained. "She
always did. Edwin...this was before, you understand...Edwin would bug her
apartments and set up video. We had these terrible cameras back then,
Russian cameras, but it was good. Your mother was an important
source."

    "Papa was using her?" Eva stared at the man and Mozart shrugged.

    "It was his job," he said. "Of course, he wasn't supposed to fall
in love with the woman. That was...unexpected. Unwelcome even. Life is
like that though."

    "Why are you telling me this?"

    "Wolfgang had sex with her," Mozart said. "Did you know that? Not
really his fault, I suppose. He was looking for you at the time, but
all the same, he knew what he was doing."

    "He told me," Eva lied.

    "Did he?" Mozart lifted his thick eyebrows. "Has he told that he's
been back to see her?" He read the expression on Eva's face. "I didn't
think so. He has. Many times. I think your brother...your husband, Eva...
is very fond of your mother."

    "I don't believe you." Eva took a large swallow of brandy.

    "I can show you the pictures, if you like." Mozart drew a heavy
sigh. "I believe Kurt has video as well, but I would spare you that.
It gives me no pleasure to tell you these things."

    Eva stared into the fire.

    The quiet house was suddenly broken with a distant clatter
followed by loud, muffled laughter seeping through walls. The kitchen
wasn't so far away and soon began a female moaning, interrupted with
an occasional gasp to punctuate Veronique's vocal urgings.

    "Fuck me! Harder...Wolfgang...Fuck! Yes Yes Yes..."

    The words were plain enough and there was thumping and banging.
Veronique and Wolfgang enjoyed sex only infrequently, but when they
did it was most often of a violent, aggressive sort. On this
particular evening, Wolfgang seemed to be in a particularly urgent
mood as Veronique's high pitched screams announced her quick orgasm.

    Eva drained her brandy with three quick swallows.

    "And then there is that," Mozart said softly. "Does he respect you
so little, Eva? To be treated this way...It's disappointing to me."

    "I need another drink," Eva breathed, glancing at the old man's
glass and he shook his head.

    "I'm fine," he told her. "Help yourself. It may be a long night,
from the sound of things."

    "Oh God! No! Not in my...Ass...Ahhhh! Fuck! Me!" Veronique's French
accented voice sang out and Eva could well imagine the sentries
outside peering through the kitchen windows to watch the spectacle.
Their unprofessional voyeurism was a well known secret, as guarding
the grounds was doubtless a very boring assignment.

    Eva went to the cabinet and looked over her shoulder as she pulled
a surgical glove onto her left hand. Mozart's back was to her as he
faced the fire and she wondered what the old man thought of Wolfgang
fucking Veronique. It was something he'd never commented on before and
she'd heard nothing in his voice but sympathy for Eva's own feelings.
He was very good at what he did, she thought as she went to his desk.
The old man's gift was there and she opened the box, quickly removing
the pistol and one of the magazines, sliding it home with a soft
snick.

    The sound of the weapon's slide was distinctive. The Makarov used
a blowback design and the recoil spring was stiff in the near virgin
pistol. Mozart started to turn his head, when the Makarov coughed
suddenly against his right temple, blowing out most of the man's
cranium above his left ear. Blood and brains sizzled on the glowing
hearth and Eva was spattered with fine drops of crimson across her
arm, chest, and face.

    She moved quickly, setting the gun down on the floor. Eva reached
inside her blazer for the zip-lock bag and removed the mate for the
single glove she wore, working the latex onto Mozart's right hand
completely and massaging his palm and fingers for several seconds
before removing it again. Some of the microscopic particles of primer
residue that coated the latex would cling to the old man's skin,
enough to prove he'd fired a weapon recently.

    Eva picked up the Makarov and pressed the gun into Mozart's hand,
cautiously avoiding the trigger, and then let him go so that his hand
dropped once again and the pistol fell to the rug. She frowned,
listening to Wolfgang and especially Veronique as they continued their
sex. This was taking too long, Eva thought as she reached once more
inside her blazer and produced the paper she'd taken from the Russian
in Prague. It had been carefully cleaned and Eva pushed the note into
Mozart's left hand. She curled her fingers around his, placing the old
man's fist in his lap and pulling his bloodstained robe to cover much
of the pristine paper caught in his lifeless grip. Finally Eva put
both gloves and the baggie into the fire, using the poker to ensure
they were in the heart of the blaze.

    After taking a final look around, Eva left the room, taking her
refilled brandy snifter with her. It had taken her less than two
minutes and while there was some evidence left behind, proof that
she'd been in the room, that alone wasn't suspicious. Eva wasn't even
sure who would investigate the old man's death. That would be up to
the Chancellor and his ministers, and once the paper in Mozart's hand
was found, more than likely everything would be quickly and quietly
wrapped up. But if someone did want to be thorough...Eva didn't think
about it as she got into the shower; she'd done all she could. As soon
as her body was clean, she'd wash her clothes in the tub and then
throw them away at the first opportunity.

	=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    "Sign it," Herr Mueller, the Interior Minister, said three days
later.

    After numerous debriefings, interviews, and two separate
polygraphs, it finally came down to this one simple thing. A non-
disclosure agreement warning Eva that if she ever spoke aloud about
Mozart, his organization, or what she had done for the German
government, the woman would be arrested, held without trial, and
probably executed for treason.

    It was a standard form and she signed it quickly.

    "Thank you," the man said, looking at one of his aides and giving
her a small nod.

    She was older woman, gray haired and coldly efficient; that was
obvious in her eyes and stiff posture. A professional bureaucrat of
the type Germany excelled at producing, Eva thought, and she waited
until the Minister had left the office before speaking.

    "Your service to Germany is not unappreciated, Eva," the woman
told her. "But the situation is awkward, as I'm sure you can
understand. The government must be segregated at all cost. If you ever
require assistance..."

    "If I'm compromised, you mean?" Eva wondered with a knowing smile.

    "This man will be your contact," she continued, handing Eva a
business card.

    "Herr Oscar Feldman," Eva read aloud. "Vice-President Bayern-
Alpine Bank, A.G. Munich."

    "So far as anyone is concerned, you and Wolfgang have been working
for the bank," the woman explained, "in a private capacity for the
last three years. Your employment is well documented."

    "I see," Eva shrugged. "And now we should leave Germany, I
suppose."

    "You have money," the woman agreed with something like a smile. "A
nice holiday would do us all some good, I think. You my even wish to
settle down, start a family with your husband..."

    "In a warmer climate?" Eva offered the woman a cool smile in
return. "I'm sure that you're right."

    Wolfgang was waiting for her outside, having signed his own
agreement less than an hour before. He said nothing and Eva was silent
as they left the Ministry headquarters, escorted by two plainclothes
GSG-9 men. They turned in their visitor's badges and walked outside
into the bright Berlin afternoon with nothing behind them but lies.

	=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    "She doesn't have any security," Eva said around a Haagen-Dazs ice
cream bar.

    "Who would want to hurt a model?" Wolfgang shrugged. He was
drinking coffee.

    "I don't know," Eva replied. "A crazy person? Who would want to
hurt John Lennon?"

    "Hmph." Wolfgang nodded at that as he watched the woman eating
lunch in a restaurant across the street.

    Cindy was seated with another woman, a petite blonde girl who
seemed to spend most of her time on her celphone, and a man. He was
tall and older, in his fifties perhaps, with a short gray ponytail and
dark silk suit that must have cost a fortune. He looked very serious
and would frown everytime Cindy laughed, which was often. She was
incredibly attractive and a number of people had stopped on the
sidewalk to stare at her through the plate glass windows.

    "She's beautiful, yeah?" Eva sighed and Wolfgang nodded.

    "What did you find out about her?"

    "She's American, from New York. Twenty-one years old and her name
is Cindy. No last name." Eva smiled at Wolfgang. "She started modeling
about six months ago, after attending an academy for fashion models...
Did you know they had such a thing?"

    "It's a school?"

    "An academy in Paris," Eva said with soft laugh. "Whatever that
means. She's very popular, works very hard, and according to the
tabloids, Cindy is dating a Brazilian racecar driver named Enrique
Palomas."

    "I don't know him." Wolfgang chuckled.

    "He's a famous womanizer," Eva smiled, "there's no reason you
should."

    "Anything else?"

    "There wasn't very much," she sighed. "We should have done a
background on her before we..."

    "Yes," Wolfgang agreed, knowing she meant before killing Mozart.

    They would have had access to virtually any database in Germany,
as well as Interpol and even the American FBI, who had a significant
presence in their support of the international law enforcement
community. They were always eager to help, but not anymore. Eva had
been forced to spend an hour at an internet caf� running searches on
Cindy and wading through the results.

    "There is a rumor that she has an enlarged clitoris," Eva said
seriously and Wolfgang narrowed his eyes. "Of course the pictures of
her show nothing, and the ones that do are all faked, but...I wonder how
big it is?"

    "They're moving," Wolfgang said.

    "She'll be returning to her hotel," Eva suggested as she glanced
at her watch. "My appointment is at two. Should I cancel?"

    "No," Wolfgang answered. "We know where she'll be. We've seen
enough."

    "I want to meet her," Eva said, watching as the woman stood up,
moving like any other person. Cindy picked up her jacket and slipped
it on. She picked up her purse. Laughed. Combed her fingers through
her ridiculously thick, black hair. Cindy was perfect. Everything she
did was attractive and Eva swallowed hard and looked down.

    "What's wrong?" Wolfgang asked his sister.

    "I don't know what I would say to her," Eva laughed softly and
looked up with a sad smile. "She'll wave us away like insects,
Wolfgang."

    "That woman?" Wolfgang asked, nodding towards the restaurant.

    Cindy was apparently posing with several waiters for a photograph,
smiling brightly and looking completely at ease with all the
attention. She waved at someone and then laughed, pulling a waitress
into the picture as well. Cindy wrapped her arms around the woman's
neck as if they were children.

    "She doesn't shoo people away," he decided. "Look at her. She
doesn't even know how beautiful she is."

    "Kurt told me once that beauty is boring." Eva was chewing the
stick now that her ice cream was finished.

    "And you believed him?" Wolfgang laughed gently.

    "Maybe," Eva said with a self-conscious smile. "I liked it when he
said it."

    "And that's why he said it," Wolfgang said.

    "I wonder what he's going to do now."

    "Maybe he should drive racecars," Wolfgang suggested seriously,
but then spoiled it with a grin.

    "Shut-up!" Eva laughed. "Take me shopping now. I want to look nice
tonight."

    "Wait."

    Wolfgang was watching as Cindy and her two friends emerged from
the restaurant and started walking up Tauentzienstrasse. They would
probably window shop on their way back to the Westin Hotel where the
young model was staying.

    "Do you think she likes girls?" Eva wondered, staring at the woman
with pursed lips.

    "I don't know," Wolfgang shrugged. "Do you?"

    "I could," Eva sighed. "For her, yeah. I could like girls."

    "Hmmm..." Wolfgang gave his sister an appraising look and Eva
surprised him with a small blush.

	=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    "Are you bored?" Eva asked her brother while they waited for
another selection of evening gowns to be brought out.

    "Not so much," Wolfgang shrugged. "How many dresses do you want to
see?"

    "All of them," Eva said with a small laugh.

    They were in one of Berlin's better design boutiques, Dernier Cri,
and sitting on a silk divan while their hostess organized a parade of
expensive dresses for their private shopping pleasure. The showing was
by appointment and Eva had been lucky to get it, but convincing
Wolfgang of that wasn't so easy. He'd already finished two glasses of
Moet champagne and was looking at his watch.

    "Would you like to go someplace?" Eva asked him slowly. "I could
meet you at the hotel later."

    "Where would I go?" Wolfgang smiled and then caught the look in
Eva's eyes. "Tell me."

    "It's nothing," Eva sighed as three young women emerged from the
dressing area wearing three different gowns.

    Wolfgang sat quietly while the hostess directed her models,
explaining with refined enthusiasm the qualities of each dress in
turn. Eva was unimpressed with the selection, largely because she was
distracted by Wolfgang's apparent unease while he tried to understand
his sister's cryptic mood.

    "Now tell me," Wolfgang insisted gently after the small show was
finished, putting his hand behind Eva to touch the small of her back.

    "The old man," Eva said quietly, "just before...he killed himself...
told me that you had been to see my mother." She looked at Wolfgang.
"Many times. Is it true?"

    "Eva..." Wolfgang narrowed his eyes.

    "At first I thought he was merely playing a game," Eva explained.
"He wanted to separate us, that much was obvious, but...Is it true?"

    "He sent me there," Wolfgang replied. "I didn't ask for the
assignment."

    "What assignment?"

    "Geli's apartment is wired," Wolfgang shrugged. "Some of her
clients are...interesting people. He sent me there to get the tapes, the
video."

    "How many times?"

    "Six," Wolfgang cleared his throat. "She knew, of course, but Geli
pretended not to. It was like a game for her. I would arrange a date
and once I was there, she would arrange to leave me alone at some
point, long enough for me to recover the data."

    "A date," Eva nodded. "Six times."

    "I should have told you," Wolfgang sighed, stroking her back with
his fingertips. "It was wrong of me to keep it a secret from you."

    "Yes." Eva sat very still and forced herself to smile as the
hostess reappeared with three new designs.

    "She would ask about you," Wolfgang offered softly.

    "My mother? While you fucked her?" Eva whispered.

    "I'm sorry," Wolfgang told her and after a long moment of silence,
"Perhaps I'll step outside for a moment."

    "Yes." Eva took a deep breath. "That would be good. I'll be
finished soon, I think."

	=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    "Who has a party in an art gallery?" Eva wondered, holding
Wolfgang's arm as they climbed the marble staircase. Above them was
the famous statue of Frederick William IV on his horse.

    "Prada," Wolfgang answered the rhetorical question with a smile.

    It was nearly 11pm and the fashion show had been held on Museum
Island, in the wide plaza near the Bode Museum. After it had finished,
it was only a short walk for all concerned to enjoy the festive
celebration hosted by the fashion house at the Old National Gallery.
Security was very tight, as this was one of the largest celebrity
events Berlin would host all year, but there were many ways around
that for anyone possessing the proper skills.

    "Good evening," a congenial man greeted the couple at the large
entrance to the gallery. "May I see your invitations please?"

    "Of course," Wolfgang agreed and reached inside his tuxedo.

    This was the third checkpoint they'd had to pass and nearby were a
number of alert and professional looking security personnel. Some of
them would be private and contracted by Prada for the event, but
others would be provided by Berlin police and perhaps even GSG-9,
depending on the threat of terrorist attack, which was something
nobody took lightly in this day and age.

    Eva smiled at a pale and decidedly elegant David Bowie as he
walked past with Iman, equally elegant and much darker, of course. He
smiled back, meeting Eva's eyes for a split second, and nobody stopped
them. Apparently they didn't need invitations. The one Eva and
Wolfgang had stolen contained a thin electronic chip embedded beneath
the silk paper and goldleaf lettering. That might have posed a small
problem if the rightful owners reported the invitation missing, but it
was unlikely they'd wake up before noon the following day.

    "Thank you, Herr Steuben," the man said pleasantly. He returned
the invitation and offered Eva a small bow. "Frau Steuben. Please,
enjoy your evening."

    Inside the gallery, which was an august and venerable shrine to
history's great works of art, Green Day was launching themselves
headlong into American Idiot. Wearing t-shirts, ripped jeans, and
tearing through the song loud and fast, they were having a good time
and Eva grinned at her brother.

    "We're in the right place!" She laughed and Wolfgang rolled his
eyes.

    Eva enjoyed that sort of music and she loved to tease Wolfgang,
whose tastes ran more towards old, classic rock and roll. He was
especially fond of the Beatles, which his sister found completely
amusing.

    "Don't ask me to dance," he said. "Let's get a drink."

    The place was crowded and there were the expected number of
legitimate celebrities, but for the most part neither Eva nor Wolfgang
recognized anyone. Most of the guests seemed to be there because they
were either very attractive, very rich, or very fashion conscious,
although in Wolfgang's opinion a lot of the so-called fashions would
have turned a circus clown green with envy. He was very glad Eva had
talked him into going formal. The tuxedo wasn't exactly comfortable,
but at least he looked like a man.

    "A big drink," Wolfgang corrected himself as a little round man
walked by dressed in what had to be a pink bunny suit, without the
ears and tail, unfortunately. He was accompanied by two statuesque
blondes in identical sapphire gowns who had to be twins. Expensive
twins, no doubt and Wolfgang rolled his eyes.

    "Heh!" Eva stuck the tip of her tongue out at him. "Still think I
spent too much for my dress?"

    "I never said that," Wolfgang replied, putting his arm around
Eva's thin waist.

    "I saw the look in your eyes," she pouted, but not for long.
Thirty-five hundred euros was too much, probably.

    "And what do you see in them now?" Wolfgang asked her softly,
taking the excuse to look his sister up and down.

    "Hmmm...I don't know," Eva said with a soft smile. "But I think I
like it."

    She was wearing a red evening gown which reminded Wolfgang of a
Greek toga as much as anything else. The dress was draped over her
left shoulder and pinned at her right hip so that the right half of
her body was largely uncovered. If Eva's breasts hadn't been so
exiguous as they were, her right breast would have been thinly covered
at best. As it was she was still showing quite a lot of skin, but at
least her dark nipple was hidden...Unless she happened to bend over or
twist her body more than slightly. Likewise the dress covered her left
leg completely, but any movement fully exposed the right well above
the hip and threatened to announce her complete lack of modesty.
Panties, Eva had decided, would simply spoil such a dress completely.

    Eva's platinum hair was deliberately flat and parted down the
middle, falling long and straight like silver silk to frame her face.
Her makeup was somewhat reserved, by Eva's usual standards, with
lipstick to match her dress and just enough eye shadow to make her
already intensely blue eyes "pop" as she put it. It was a good look
and startling for Wolfgang as it was the first time he'd ever seen Eva
in the light of vogue sophistication. She was impressive, not in the
way so many other, more beautiful women were, but with her undeniable
strength and grace. Eva was a predator and dressed in red, the
dangerous color of blood and passion, and Wolfgang thought she was the
sexiest woman in the room.

    Enjoying a second glass of champagne, Eva made up her mind.

    "I'm going to ask her," she told Wolfgang. "You'll watch us?"

    "Of course," he nodded his head, watching as Eva moved towards the
impromptu dance floor that occupied the center of the gallery.

    He wasn't exactly certain how anyone could dance to Greenday, who
seemed to be making up the rhythm as they went along, but he was
admittedly no fan either. A lot of people were dancing, mostly the
younger guests, and in the midst of that throng was Cindy. Eva and
Wolfgang had been following her through the party for the better part
of an hour, working up their courage and trying to think of a good
approach. It was very new for them, this unexpected infatuation with a
woman they didn't know. Neither of them understood the source of their
interest. A glimpse of Cindy on the television at 3am, while they were
drunk on vodka and sex? It was madness and the episode should have
been forgotten the next day, but it wasn't.

    And now they were here, within reach of her. Eva could feel her
heart gaining speed, rising with the rush of adrenaline as she
approached the girl. It was very much like stalking a victim, she
thought. Finding her intended prey, waiting for the perfect
opportunity to strike. Eva had killed a dozen men and women, many of
them while was touching them, kissing and sharing whispered secrets in
the dark. She'd shared the moment of truth and felt this same
excitement, the small fear in the pit of her stomach. The anticipation
and finally the release, the almost sexual pleasure of letting the
tension go. It was that moment she loved, not the waiting, not the
actual killing, but the afterwards.

    Cindy was wearing a pleated skirt in black and white t-shirt that
said "Gomi" across her perfect and unrestrained breasts. Her nipples
were obvious and the bouncing of her tits had pulled the girl's t-
shirt up to expose her waspish waist and flat tummy. Her wild black
hair, which was something of a trademark for the relatively new model,
was well past her shoulders. She wore black fishnet stockings, ripped
on the left thigh, and short leather boots with stiletto heels. The
woman was laughing and having a good time, that was clear, and her
partner for the moment was a handsome young man with dark skin and doe
eyes. He was wearing a purple tuxedo with a lemon shirt, and a
ridiculous paisley cummerbund.

    "I can cut in, ja?" Eva asked in English, grinning at Cindy as she
stepped between the model and her fashionable partner.

    "Yeah!" Cindy grinned back and beyond that it really was pointless
to try and talk. Whatever they might have said would have to be
expressed through their eyes and shared smiles, and the graceful,
controlled violence of their dancing.

    Wolfgang watched them appear and disappear in the swirling crowd
with his own growing excitement. His sister was there, dancing with
the other woman and he was anxious for Eva's reaction. Nervous about
what her opinion of Cindy would be. All of this could very well be for
nothing, he knew, if the connection they intuitively felt with the
woman turned out to be nothing more than a dream. Eva would know,
Wolfgang was certain of that. She'd see it in that American woman's
eyes if there was something there worth believing in. That thought
might have struck him as odd, if it were ever expressed aloud, but
that was the truth of it.

    They needed something to serve, someone they could trust not to
betray them. That was what they'd seen in Cindy, or hoped for anyway.
It was the true nature of the question Eva had asked in that Prague
hotel room. Who was the fairest of them all? Not in terms of beauty or
charm, but who was worth their love and loyalty? Not Germany, not
anymore. Not Mozart. Not even their dead father, and for Wolfgang and
Eva, being without something greater than themselves was a frightening
prospect. When they'd ask themselves later how they'd come to choose a
fashion model to serve, the answer could only be found in their
hearts.

    Two hours later they were in love, Wolfgang and Eva with Cindy,
and the siblings shared knowing looks while they sat with her. The
party was slowly winding down and Cindy, with Eva's help, had managed
to get Wolfgang on the dance floor. It had been wickedly fun as they'd
grown less restrained. The three of them had danced wildly,
suggestively, and now they were catching their breath with chilled
champagne beneath a wonderful mural by Matisse.

    They'd been talking about themselves for the most part. Cindy
seemed to be genuinely interested in the two of them and Wolfgang and
Eva were flattered by her attention. She listened as they told her
about being ex-policemen, without going into very much detail of
course. They explained that they'd been working as security officers
for a bank in Munich, regretting the necessity of that lie, but
knowing it was far better than the truth. If Cindy wondered why two
out of work bodyguards would be attending an exclusive fashion party,
she didn't say anything. The woman just laughed and shared her own
little stories about being a model and the silliness that it sometimes
entailed.

    And after all of that, the only question remaining, for Wolfgang
and Eva at least, was how far and fast did they dare push the young
American? They longed to invite her back to their hotel, and were
looking for a way to suggest precisely that when they were suddenly
interrupted.

    "Excuse me," a man said in heavily accented English, obviously in
deference to Cindy. "May I see your invitations please?"

    Eva looked up and blinked rapidly as she saw Inspector List
smiling down at her. He had two men with him, giving Wolfgang and his
sister the hard looks a policeman shares with criminals caught red
handed. As soon as she saw the look in his eyes, Eva understood that
List had no intention of letting them get away with anything. He might
be content to have Eva and Wolfgang escorted outside and into a taxi,
it wouldn't be unreasonable of him to do her that favor. But not after
he found the stolen invitation in Wolfgang's pocket; there would be
too many questions in that event.

    She glanced at her brother and Wolfgang was tense, coiled like a
spring and Eva knew what he was thinking. It would be better to fight
and attempt escape than face the humiliation of being arrested. Coming
so soon after Mozart's death and the closure of his operation, the
Interior Minister wanted everything low profile; that had been made
abundantly clear and this was going to be anything but. Eva prepared
herself in the brief second it took her to understand all of that. She
would take List and then help Wolfgang with the other two. They would
make a run for it and if they got away, cross the border into France
or Switzerland perhaps, and from there...

    "They don't have any invitations," Cindy said with a smile.

    "Excuse me?" List looked at the American with his smile frozen in
place.

    "I said they don't have any?" Cindy made it sound like a question,
as if wondering about the man's intelligence.

    That confused Eva at first, but she already knew the girl well
enough to realize Cindy was putting on her so-called "Bimbo Act". A
phrase that had required some explanation as there was no easy German
equivalent. It was a very good disguise for the model, Eva thought
with a smile as she watched List's face redden noticably.

    "They're with me, see?" Cindy was digging into her t-shirt and she
pulled out a plastic badge hanging on a thin cord around her neck,
like a backstage pass with her photograph on it. She pulled it over
her head with a shake of her hair and a smile. "I'm one of the models
and they're my bodyguards. They go everywhere with me, so...they don't
need an invitation."

    "I...see..." List frowned, taking the plastic badge and looking at it.
"Do they have passes also?"

    "Yeah," Cindy lied. "Sophia has them, but ummm..." the girl looked
around, "...I think she took off with Federer and all those guys. Hey,
we're taking off too. I gotta breakfast thing with Boris Becker in the
morning, isn't that cool? You think you could tell the door guy to
have my limo brought up? Thanks a lot."

    Cindy gave the policemen a generous smile before reaching for her
champagne, obviously finished with the man. List stood there for a
moment, looking like he wanted to do...something. Perhaps he was going
to call the Prada security chief and find out if they'd issued passes
to Eva and Wolfgang. That would have been the most sensible thing to
do, but before he could...

    "What?" Cindy looked up at him. "Oh! You can keep that badge
thing. I don't need it anymore. Hey! You want me to sign it for you?
Got a pen?" She retrieved her pass from the man's fingers and List
looked confused as pulled out a pen from inside his coat. "Great!
What's your name?"

    "Inspector List," he replied slowly, watching as Cindy signed her
name across the front of her photograph.

    "Inspector? Wow!" Cindy gave him a little tongue. "I have no idea
how to spell that. I'll just have to sign this, 'Love, Cindy XOX'
How's that?"

    "Thank you," List said softly and then cleared his throat as the
American gave him the pass and his pen. The two men behind him shared
amused looks.

    "You guys ready to go?" Cindy asked Wolfgang and Eva.

    "Ah...Yes. We're ready," Wolfgang said and Eva nodded.

    "Cool!" Cindy smiled as they stood up. "See ya later, Inspector!"

    "Goodnight, Dieter," Eva whispered in German as she slipped past
him. "It was nice to see you again."

    Once outside Cindy linked her arms with her two new friends as
they made their way down the staircase. Prada had arranged limo
service for all the models and other VIP's, which wasn't unusual, and
a car was already waiting for passengers. A number of photographers
were waiting as well and flashbulbs were going off steadily at Cindy's
approach. She barely seemed to notice and Wolfgang glanced at Eva to
see her tugging at her dress, keeping it in place. The slightest
breeze or a small misstep would make for a very sexy photo and the
girl was taking no chances.

    "You guys don't really have to come back with me," Cindy said with
a smile. "I can drop you off somewhere."

    "We work for you, right?" Wolfgang said, only half-joking as he
saw an opportunity and was determined to reach for it.

    "Uh..." Cindy gave the man an amused look. "I don't know."

    "We would like to protect you," Eva said slowly, wondering how the
woman would react to that. She glanced at Wolfgang for reassurance and
he nodded his head in agreement.

    "I'm not sure I'm in a whole lot of danger, but..." Cindy gave them
a facial shrug and then a real smile. "We can talk about it. I mean,
anyone who can crash a serious fashion party...Well, you guys must know
what you're doing, right?"

    "We almost got caught," Wolfgang chuckled, looking almost
embarrassed by his admission of the obvious.

    "Almost doesn't count," Cindy decided as a valet opened the door
of the Mercedes limousine for them. "So...Okay. Let's go to my hotel,
but I have to warn you guys..."

    "What?" Eva wondered, smiling back at the girl and feeling very
warm all over.

    "I only have one bed and I like to sleep naked!" Cindy said with a
playful grin.







End of Cinderella 2 Ch.7
End of Cinderella Book 2
TS.Severe@yahoo.com

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