<span style="font-weight: bold">January, 1940 Munich, Germany</span><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-size: 85%; line-height: 116%;">events in this post are occurring on the same night that Isolde woke up from her coma, in Hamish's home.</span></span><br/><br/><br/>As much as he needed answers, he did not expect the woman – Yvonne - to contact him. He had last seen her when he parted with her in the church back in December. He had delivered his brother's letter and the burden was lifted off his shoulder. His family was more important than wealth and privilege and they were his strength and weakness, but not only he had lost his father; he lost his brother too. He hoped that his mother would at least do well after she had departed back to Italy. It was better for her to return to the homeland and surround herself with people who cared and loved her, than to remain alone in Germany, in a home stripped of all hope and security.<br/><br/>Luciano picked up a glass filled with a strong mixture of Triple Sec, Peach Schnapps; Vodka, Rum and Gin. The corner pub was cozy on this winter night. Some were watching a comedy show in black and white on the squarish TV, others sitting to his right rustled and shuffled a stack of paper; probably dealing business. To his left, about five officers dressed in Nazi uniforms exploded in laughter as they told each other tales of their encounters with the Polish. The Nazi officers did not look Aryan or even close, but Luciano noted how perfect  and fluent their German was. They paused and changed their subject. The next words made the Italian feel tense and anxious. He managed to take a large swallow of the alcoholic drink as the officers discussed the assassination which took place at the clinic a few weeks ago into December. He gathered his senses and tried to pay a little more attention to their words but nothing they said was something he did not know already. During his researches, he could not come to a conclusion which would explain who killed Fabiano and for which reason. Luciano had to leave Germany a week later to spend Christmas with his community in Italy. He booked a plane ticket back to Munich on the day after New Year's.<br/><br/>He signed and leaned back in his seat, one arm on the table holding his drink, the other around the top of the back of the chair. His grey-blue gaze stared out the condensed windows and his brows arched. Something moved from the top of the building across the pub to the ground and landed on top of a car. He could not determine what the thing was exactly, but it was too shadowy to make a form out of it. The movement in the darkness of the night was swift, like a flash.<br/><br/>As it skipped closer and closer to the bar, the shape became clearer – a shape that of a man.<br/><br/>Luciano shook his head and rubbed his eyes, feeling tension strumming through his frame . He had seen his share of strange things, but false knowledge was far more dangerous than ignorance. When he turned his head to look around, the shape had disappeared. He expected it to walk through the front door, but so far, nothing has happened yet. Fatigue was present in the man. In his eyes, in his head, in every fiber of his body. With another sip of the liquor, Luciano forced the exhaustion to the side and focused his glazed eyes on the TV to watch the black and white screen. He shifted his weight into a comfortable seating position and lips moved into an amused smile. He chuckled in response to one of the movie scenes and took a quickly glance at the front entrance again.