Sentence The Sixhundredandfortyeighth

February 14th 1939: the pantechnicon had been transformed, outside, painted pink with it's interior resembling a Parisian Brothel, and three other girls recruited, the trap was set; there were several 'Dry Runs' into the Berlin suburbs, locations carefully chosen by Prufrock, discreet, close to SS Barracks, places where no-one not looking for brief companionship was likely to be out a-wandering on a Winter's night; and each of these 'rehearsals' had been successful, remunerative, and gave them

hundreds of compromising photographs of the SS men who had entered the 'Whorehouse on Wheels'! Gertie and Palestrina had tried to winkle out information about his past life from J Alfred, but his lips were as tight-shut as a clam shell, although in the privacy of their bedroom back at the hotel, they aired their suspicions: "for my money, he's come from the future like us," said Gertie, "the one-way mirrors, the cameras, the tape recorders, I'm sure they didn't do such hi-tech surveillance in the thirties, he's got it rigged like Big Brother!" and Pal agreed: "it's like a Russian Honey Trap from the 50's at the earliest, I was in the Foreign Office in the years just before the War, and I certainly never came across anything so sophisticated - he's working with the technology of the 30's but the knowledge of the 80's or 90's and even the sophistication of the 21st Century; and what's more, he knows more about the inner workings of the SS than most people alive here and now, it's like he has access to 21st century studies of the organisation and psychological profiling of it's members; is it possible that he was sent back specifically to carry out this mission?" but they could not reach a conclusion, because their schedule was so tight and, like the other girls - who now slept in the

adjacent bedroom - their work through the night left them exhausted and needing their day-time sleep; today, they had slept late and were sleepily perplexed when they found two envelopes addressed to them, "it must be from the management," said Pal as they tore them open , and both gasped when they found each had received a Valentine card, each sans John Hancock, each a spoony billet-doux, and deny it though they would, each felt her heart a tad tachycardic: "whoever he really is and wherever, whenever he comes from, J Alfred is Bonkers," said Gertie, and Pal added: "certifiably, incorrigibly, totally, absolutely Nuts!" and they both burst into fits of giggles, eventually declaring that their co-conspirator was also the sweetest and most loveable any girl would want to co-conspire with, and when he walked in to join them for breakfast, he got two smackers, leaving a trace of lipstick on either cheek!