Young Writers Society

Scene 1

The 21st of October was always a hectic day. It was the day that the Premier toured the building and Albrecht Hearst was determined to make a good impression.

The 37 year old Albrecht Hearst was the vice-chairman of the public affairs committee in Vienna. The committee was in charge of all news and propaganda in the Austrian area. There were twelve committee members, not including Albrecht and his boss, Amund Wundt.

Albrecht’s secretary, Anna Pheltzen, was explaining to him the day's schedule.

"At 11:45, the Premier arrives and then he will tour the building and will sit in on the mid-afternoon meeting. At 1:30, all of the committee members will go to one of the party member's villas for a party."

"What's this party for?" His boss was continually being invited to parties. Albrecht's boss, however, always made and excuse why he couldn't come and Albrecht was sent in his place.

“The 82nd anniversary of Communist Vienna,” She said in tired exasperation.

“Oh, yes,” he sighed sarcastically, “The communist ideal. Do you ever wonder what it’d be like if Austria hadn’t been taken by Stalin?”

“I live in the now, sir,” she said with a smile, straightening his tie.

He could ask here these kinds of questions as they’d had a relationship several years ago. They were still friends and never told anyone about conversations such as these. It would be... unwise in this day and age.

“It’s 9:45. The Premier will be arriving soon. You have a meeting before that. It’s in five minutes, so you’d better run. You have a meeting before that. It is in ten minutes. You'd better hurry."

Albrecht grunted in affirmation and patted her shoulder. With that, he walked out of his office.

The committee room was at the other side of the building. It took Albrecht eight minutes to get there; he'd stopped at the cafeteria to get a coffee

He entered the noisy room, walked up the length of the table and sat down in the seat reserved for him. It was beside his boss's empty char.

"Quiet down, every one," he said above the noise of competing conversations.

Everyone settled down at once.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Wundt is unable to attend, so I will be chairing. What is our first order of business?"

A short fat man, three down from Albrecht, stood and said, "The Premier's recent campaign into Bosnia has stalled and I feel that, as there are 2,000 Austrian soldiers there, the information must be kept secret from the public."

Several members nodded.

"Alright, get to work on that," Albrecht said.

Another man stood, "There was a riot in Furstenfeld, yesterday. The news people await our approval on this matter."

Albrecht nodded slowly, "OK. All in favor of holding the story, say aye. All opposed, say nay."

There were five nays and six ayes.

The meeting ground slowly along and Albrecht sighed with relief when it finally ended.

It was 11:30. Albrecht walked quickly to the front doors to await the Premier's arrival. He arrived twelve minutes later.

Khrushchev was a small, pudgy man in a suit and tie, a pink carnation sticking out of his left, breast pocket. He was chewing on a large cigar and had a bulldoggish appearance about him.

He got out of the limousine and stomped up the stairs, two bodyguards on either side.

He stopped in front of Albrecht and extended his hand.

Albrecht bowed low, and took the proffered hand.

"Comrade Premier, sir, it is a great honor you bestow upon us," Albrecht said in his best, most polished Russian.

"HAH! Posh. I am simply checking up on my government officials." Khrushchev’s voice was loud, booming over the light chatter in the lobby.

Khrushchev put his arm around Albrecht's shoulder and led him through the lobby. Some people saluted, others bowed, but most just stared at him.

The tour of the building was long and uneventful. When they reached the boiler room, Kruschev patted one of the large boilers, "Good Soviet construction, eh?"

"Uh... yes sir." the boiler had been manufactured in Italy. Albrecht wasn't going to correct him.

<><><><><>

They finished the tour and went to the committee room, where the mid-afternoon meeting was about to start.

Kruschev sat down in Amund's chair and leaned back, his cigar hanging out of his mouth.

"This meeting is now called to order. Before we begin, I'd like to warmly welcome our glorious Premier, Comrade Kruschev."

All of the committee members clapped and bowed politely. Khrushchev’s face lit up like a candle, and he made a big impressive show of embarrassed gratitude. Albrecht could tell that he was enjoying every minute of it.

"Alright," Albrecht said, once everyone had sat back down, "What is our first order of business?"

"Well, sir, I've got word back about the Bosnia story. All of the major news stations have agreed to hold the story."

"Very good."

A man fourth on Albrecht's right, stood, "The Americans have invaded Belgium. Our forces have had to pull back."

"Hold it. Tell them that we are moving towards Britain at a steady pace."

Another committee member stood as an aide shoved the doors open and ran to Khrushchev’s side, whispering in his ear.

Kruschev listened for a moment, and then bounded to his feet, "We've taken Bern!"

The entire room erupted in cheers and rigorous clapping.

The Red army had besieged the city of Bern, two years ago and had lost a great deal in men and equipment. The Bern campaign had been the most costly one so far in the war, but now that it was over, the Red Army could plough into Italy.

Some one had produced a bottle of liquor and everyone shared a toast.

Very little was accomplished thereafter. The meeting finally ended and everyone left, going back to their offices, or going back to their houses to get ready for the party.

Albrecht left the committee room and went back to his office, stopping beside Anna's desk.

"I'm going home to get ready for the party. I'll see you tomorrow."

Anna looked up at him, "OK. I'll call you if something comes up. Have a good time tonight."

"I will," Albrecht kissed her on the cheek and got his jacket from his office.

You know, I'm planning on doing a short story with alternate history involving the USSR and the Red Army taking over most of Europe ... do we have parallel thought patterns? Mine's a bit different, but still ...

Anyway, just strange!

I'm going to give this a critique at some point (just now now, the cricket highlights are almost on) but I will do tomorrow.

Hey Reas. ^_^ It seems more than years since I last got to critique something of yours--now the review week is an excuse to.

Firstly, alternate history is always fun. You've got a brilliant concept (and as Jack notes, similar to his ^_^); the brevity of the narrative works excellently for a casual tone. Alternate history is, doubtless, garish when the author thinks he's got to point out at every turn--'Look, it actually like this!' You more than managed not to do that. The offhand normality to the entire thing is convincing.

But what you've fallen into--on the negative side of that--is leaving us rather lacking in every-day details.

If Austria is behind the Iron Curtain, what does it look like? What do the preparations for Kruschev's visit look like? Portraits of Lenin on Vienna buildings? Red banners? Is there talk, on the street about? Any worry over dissidents? The USSR

in its satellites had a peculiar and common problem of unrest. ^_~

The 37 year old Albrecht Hearst was the vice-chairman of the public affairs committee in Vienna. The committee was in charge of all news and propaganda in the Austrian area. There were twelve committee members, not including Albrecht and his boss, Amund Wundt.

Above, as far as the question of detail goes, you've a perfect opportunity to show more than Hearst's merely superficial. He's thirty-seven. Vice-chairman - a good party member then? What does he look like--young for his age, worn?

"At 11:45, the Premier arrives and then he will tour the building and will sit in on the mid-afternoon meeting. At 1:30, all of the committee members will go to one of the party member's villas for a party."

Perhaps a different word than 'party' after 'party member'? A fete? A 'meeting' maybe, with implied sarcasm?

His boss was continually being invited to parties. Albrecht's boss, however, always made and excuse why he couldn't come and Albrecht was sent in his place.

A bit convuluted, above, for its purpose - and contrasted to the sunccinct exposition most of this tends towards. Maybe in one sentence, or streamlined...? Like so-- "His boss was continually being invited to parties--and always made excuses. Albrecht inevitably went in his place.'

“The 82nd anniversary of Communist Vienna,” She said in tired exasperation.

“Oh, yes,” he sighed sarcastically, “The communist ideal. Do you ever wonder what it’d be like if Austria hadn’t been taken by Stalin?”

“I live in the now, sir,” she said with a smile, straightening his tie.

'She' ought not to be capitalised. ^_^

The dialogue works well though, showing a side to both the characters without having to tell it. 'Fits nicely with the spare style. (It reminds me slightly of Gorky Park, and the sideways thing said - or not said.)

He could ask here these kinds of questions as they’d had a relationship several years ago. They were still friends and never told anyone about conversations such as these. It would be... unwise [s]in this day and age.[/s]

'...this day and age' is redundant, as 'unwise' implies it as much the everything preceding. ^_^

Then as to the first sentence: It comes across as starkly blase for a friendship, and entirely so for a 'relationship'. Perhaps if you filtered through Hearst's perspective, said something along the lines of 'he felt grateful he could ask these sorts of questions with Anna'? You'll connect your characters better to your reader, I think, with small things like that.

You have, at times, a tendency to put things like a list--he was, she had been, it was... Just keep your eye on it, so that it's not a constant. ^_^

Albrecht nodded slowly, "OK. All in favor of holding the story, say aye. All opposed, say nay."

'OK' sticks out, informal and neither German nor Russian. Then 'aye' and 'nay' have the same difficulty. Simply rephrase? "All in favour?" he could say, and the following could change from 'five nays...' to something else?

--

As to the pacing, the scenes (sans detail or reference to Hearst's character/background) seems breakneck. There isn't any down time, none to get to know Hearst, his surroundings or any side characters. It's an intriguing beginning, saying a lot for the start of a novella.

Try inserting something slower (perhaps in between meeting and Kruschev's coming). Does Hearst think? If not, what does he not think? Having Kruschev come would be rather nail-biting experience for most - if it's not for Hearst (or very little) why? Is he nervous without his boss there, nervous he'll be blamed for the absence...?

Merely thoughts. The spareness is good. But of course, what's done briefly must have what it does tell chosen carefully.^_^''

The tour of the building was long and uneventful. When they reached the boiler room, Kruschev patted one of the large boilers, "Good Soviet construction, eh?"

"Uh... yes sir." the boiler had been manufactured in Italy. Albrecht wasn't going to correct him.

Hilarious bit of Soviet humour. ^_^ (Punctuation is all--Ought to be "Uh...yes sir." The boiler had been..."

And one last remark on the text/typos.

"HAH! Posh. I am simply checking up on my government officials." Khrushchev’s voice was loud, booming over the light chatter in the lobby.

Kruschev is saying 'bosh'? As in nonsense?


Anyhow, I'm looking forward to where this might go. Soviet's in Central/Western Europe and besieging the UK is a bleak but very neat thread to follow.



IMP

Merci, both of you.

Imp, This is my novella, so there will be much more, so you might get a batter feel of the story once I post more. In fact, I'll do it within the next day or so.

Prosithion wrote:Merci, both of you.

Imp, This is my novella, so there will be much more, so you might get a batter feel of the story once I post more. In fact, I'll do it within the next day or so.

Sorry, Pros. ^_^'' I thought of that after I'd posted. I can only say I'd like to see the scene set; but, naturally, I withold judgement til I see more. ^_^ And I'd like to see more.

This kind of story is always fun to read. I love when small historical quirks find their way in, and when you write a real person such as Khrushchev, it's interesting to see how his personality turns out.

"At 11:45, the Premier arrives and then he will tour the building and will sit in on the mid-afternoon meeting. At 1:30, all of the committee members will go to one of the party member's villas for a party."

“It’s 9:45. The Premier will be arriving soon. You have a meeting before that. It’s in five minutes, so you’d better run. You have a meeting before that. It is in ten minutes. You'd better hurry."

It was 11:30. Albrecht walked quickly to the front doors to await the Premier's arrival. He arrived twelve minutes later.

The times kind of put me off. They want to make you create a schedule in your mind and this kind of 'behind the scenes' building in your mind detracts from getting other important details and throws off flow. I would suggest eliminating them altogether, and simply stick to quantitative amounts-- "He had to be at the meeting in five minutes."

I'm sure you'll address this later, but we should somehow learn why these historical events take place instead of actual historical events. What happened that created this alternate history? That's your story's foundations so if you leave them out of the telling, this may crumble.

Scene 2:

Upon arriving at his house, Albrecht stopped at his mailbox before turning into his driveway.

There were two letters in the box, along with a magazine. Albrecht pulled them out and closed the front.

When he’d stopped the car, Albrecht collected his mail, briefcase, and overcoat and climbed out of his car, walking up the front sidewalk.

Albrecht’s house was small, just big enough for him and any quest that may stop by. The house was situated in an older part of the city, in one of the original districts. Some of the houses were very run down, but others, like Albrecht’s, were in a shape reminiscent of the Renaissance style of the 1600’s. Most of the buildings were majestic and had the feel of old age, caught in mid-stream.

Albrecht opened the door and entered into the small foyer, with its large stained glass window. The window showed an image of a bear , its jaws open, catching a dove between its teeth.

Albrecht slid his shoes off and walked into the parlor, setting his briefcase down on the arm of one of the chairs and hanging his coat up.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, Albrecht opened the first letter. It was from “The Office of Judicial Inquiries”. It was a form letter, requiring him to attend jury duty in a week. Albrecht sighed, after reading the letter, and set it aside. He got up, got a glass of milk from the refrigerator and picked up the other letter. It was from “The Office of Employee Positions”. It was telling him that he had been nominated for his boss’s job. Amund was retiring and Albrecht was altogether overjoyed and irritated. The promotion would mean more money, but it would also mean that he would have to fire Anna. As the chairman of a committee, you couldn’t have a secretary. You had to have an aide, some one with a college degree.

The ringing of the phone startled him out of his reverie. I put the letter down, stood, and reached for the counter. It was Anna.

“Hi, Albrecht, it’s me.” She sounded busy, “I just called to let you know that Amund’s retirement party is tomorrow evening. I have to go now. Just called to let you know.”

“Hi, Anna. Thanks for telling me. Do you think I’d get yelled at if I didn’t go?”

“Yes, you probably would.”

“OK. Thanks for calling. Why don’t you go home and take a long bath. Buy a bottle of wine or something and relax for the evening.”

She laughed sarcastically, “There is to much work to do. I do not have time.”

“It can wait. Now, I’m ordering you. Go home and relax.”

“Yes, sir.”

Albrecht laughed, “I’ll ask some one tomorrow, just to make sure.”

Anna giggled, “OK, you do that.” She paused, probable puffing on a cigarette, “I’ve got to go and you’ll be late if you don’t get moving.”

“I’m going, I’m going. Keep your skirt on. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, bye.”

“Bye,” she was giggling uncontrollably as he hung up.

Albrecht glanced at his watch. He had an hour and a half until he had to be at the party. Albrecht jumped up and went up the stairs, first flicking on the shower water and then going into his bedroom to get his clothes ready.

After taking a shower, Albrecht dressed in his best suit. While he was combing his hair, he noticed that his mostly black hair had turned a shade of grey. It was still dark, but there was a hint of grey starting at the roots.

He sighed. It was probably from the stress of his job.

It was starting to get dark as Albrecht walked out of his house and waved down a passing taxi. It slowed, pulled to the curb, and stopped. Albrecht climbed in and gave the driver a few bills, murmuring the address of the party. The ride was a long one and Albrecht nodded off to sleep as the taxi moved through the rain slicked streets of Vienna.

SCENE 3
The high Party Member’s villa was an elaborate building on the western outskirts of the city. There were perhaps two dozen cars and limousines parked along the road. The taxi stopped at the curb and Albrecht got out.

There were a few people in the foyer, including the Premier. Khrushchev saw Albrecht and stomped over. Albrecht extending his hand, but Khrushchev grabbed him in a large bear hug.

“Took you long enough. Here.” Khrushchev handed him a glass of champagne and led him into the large and spacious parlor.

There were several hundred people at the party and the parlor was crowded. Along one wall, there was a long table filled with food. Albrecht made his way over and looked down the length of the table. It was covered in all sorts of foods that were confiscated to the normal public. There were chocolates, cakes, fruits, vegetable, ten different breads, a dozen kinds of cheese and several different meats.

There were a few people at the party that Albrecht knew, but most of them were stranger. Albrecht spent the better part of two hours being introduced to the guests and the host, whom he had never met.

The sun was well below the horizon and Albrecht was catching a breath of fresh air on the front porch. A young waiter came up to him at a brisk walk.

“Mr. Hearst, you have a phone call.”

Albrecht frowned, “Who is it?”

“A woman named Anna Pheltzen.”

Albrecht nodded and followed the waiter into the house. They went into a small office and the waiter excused himself.

Albrecht picked up the phone, “Hi, Anna. What is it?”

“I just got a call from a Harold Phursenreinmer. He told me that you have been ordered to go to Italy as a special news correspondent. What is he talking about?”

“I have no clue. Did you get his number?”

She scoffed, “Of course, what do you think you hired me for.”

A different waiter entered the room, “Mr. Hearst? The Premier would like to see you.”

Albrecht nodded, “Anna, I have to go. By the way, are you still at work?”

She paused, “Yes. I am about to go out the door.”

“Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow. Home. You. Now.”

She giggled, “OK. I can get home sooner if you’d hang up.”

“Alright. I’ll hang up. Home.”

The waiter was standing patiently by the door, looking just to the left of Albrecht. He hung up the phone and the waiter led him out of the room. They returned to the parlor where Khrushchev was sitting, a bottle of vodka in his hands.

Albrecht paused at the door and turned to the waiter, “I want you to find a nice French wine and send it to 415 West Hill Avenue. It’s in the southern quarter.”

The waiter nodded, turned, and walked away down the hall.

Khrushchev spotted Albrecht and got to his feet, swinging the vodka bottle wildly.

“Mr. Hearst. Come, have a drink with me.”

Albrecht bowed and went into the room, sitting down beside Khrushchev, who has having some difficulty pouring the vodka into a wine glass. He finally succeeded, spilling quite a bit on the floor.

Khrushchev held up the bottle in a toast. “To communist Vienna.” He put the bottle to his lips and took a long swig.

Albrecht held his wine glass and took a small sip, coughing a little as the harsh liquid burned down his throat.

“Now,” Khrushchev, his words bleary, “I want to congratulate you on your well organized committee. I want you to come to Moscow for the weekend? You could help organize the committee there. It would be much appreciated.”

“Thank you sir, but I…”

“God then it’s settled. How about next weekend?”

“Sir, that really isn’t a good time. I mean…”

“We’ll be waiting for you. I trust that you won’t be late?” Khrushchev gave him a dark look.

“No, sir. Next weekend will be fine.”

“Good. Bring your wife.”

“I’m not married, sir.”

“Oh, well than bring your girlfriend.”

Albrecht was about to say that he didn’t have a girlfriend, then thought that perhaps Anna would like to see Moscow.

“You are most kind, sir.”

Khrushchev waved the thanks away and refilled his glass with the swiftly emptying vodka bottle.

<><><><><>

It was two o’clock in the morning when Albrecht finally stumbled out of the villa. He hailed a taxi and got in.

The rain had stopped and Albrecht leaned his head against the cold glass of the window. The taxi stopped at Albrecht’s house and he got out, stumbling a little as he went up the front steps.

A headache was beginning to form and Albrecht went into his kitchen, first taking an aspirin with lots of water, then shrugging off his coat, tossing it over a chair. He looked bleakly out the kitchen window, his eyes drifting from one object in his yard to the next. The headache was coming at him at full force and Albrecht squeezed his eyes shut as the headlights of a passing car shone into the window.

The ringing of the phone startled Albrecht, making him drop the glass of water, which shattered in the sink. He reached out and grabbed the phone.

“What?” he asked, blurrily.

“Hello, Mr. Hearst. I know it is late, but I’d like to congratulate you on your promotion.”

Albrecht grimace, “Who are you?”

“I’m Fritz Yegear. I work as an aide to the venerable judge Karl Brinkerhoff.”

Albrecht grunted, “Ok, thanks.” He hung up the phone and stumbled up the stairs to his room, collapsing on his bed, already fast asleep.

Scene 4:

The morning sun shone brightly in his window as Albrecht rolled over, his headache attacking with vengeance. He opened his eyes to slits and peered at his bedside clock. It was 8:30. He should have been at work an hour ago.

Rolling out of bed, Albrecht shrugged out of his clothing and got into his shower, letting the steaming hot water run over him. God, his head hurt. His stomach was beginning its revolt too, adding to Albrecht’s discomfort.

Albrecht walked down the stairs slowly, his clothing fresh, but still disheveled.

Pouring himself a mug of coffee, slowly, Albrecht took two more aspirin and sat down at the kitchen table, rubbing his aching head.

The clock on the kitchen wall was ticking slowly and Albrecht relaxed a little, the peacefulness of his living room. He closed his eyes and felt his headache subside a little.

Looking at his watch, Albrecht groaned. It was 9:00. Grabbing his coat, Albrecht walked into his living room to find his briefcase. It had slid off the couch during the night and was lying on the floor, his papers lying around it.

Albrecht collect the lost papers, stuffed them back into his briefcase and walked out his front door, locking it behind him.

The Public Affairs Committee building was oddly empty and silent. Most of the committee members were still at their houses, sleeping off their hangovers.

Albrecht walked slowly through the echoing hallways. Anna was sitting at her desk, writing something in a tablet. She looked up.

“Hi, you’re late.”

He nodded slowly, being careful not to make any sudden movements, which might irritate his fading headache, “Yes, do you have any aspirin in your desk?”

“Uh, I have some in my purse.”

“Can I have two?”

“Sure. Are you alright?” she noticed that he was very pale.

“Yes, but I have the hangover from hell.”

She tsked in mocking sympathy, “You shouldn’t have drunken so much. Here,” she handed him the aspirin.

“It amazes me how much that man can drink.”

She looked at him questioningly.

“Khrushchev. He was drinking heavily all night.”

“You weren’t?”

“Well, not as much as he was. He was obviously drinking before I arrived, and he was still tossing back vodkas when I left.”

She laughed at the look of disgust on his face, “Speaking of vodka, thank you for the bottle of wine,”

“What bottle of wine?” he asked, feigning ignorance, “It must have been from somebody else.”

She smirked and hugged him, planting a kiss just to the left of his mouth. He returned the hug and trudged into his office. Anna followed him.

“Are you sure that you’re ok?”

He nodded, “Who showed up today?”

“Uh, as far as I know, just you and Amund.”

He grunted in pain as the headache returned to full strength.

“Well, regardless of how many people are here, you have a meeting in half an hour. Judging by the way you’re walking, I’d get going now.”

He turned and trudged back out of his office, heading over towards the committee room, his coat still on.

He arrived five minutes before the meeting was scheduled to beging.

Amund was sitting in his chair, working on a book of crossword puzzles, but no one else had shown up. Albrecht sat down and leaned his head back, loosening his tie a little as he did so.

“Didn’t sleep well?” Amund asked mockingly.

“If you send me to another one of those parties, you are a dead man,” Albrecht said, his eyes still closed.

Amund let out a laugh, harsh and echoing in the empty room. Albrecht winced.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be sitting here in a couple of weeks,” Amund responded.

Two other committee members had arrived, but other then that, the room remained empty. After ten minutes, Amund stood, displaying an agility that Albrecht didn’t feel.

“Alright, I guess that no one else is coming, so what is the first order of business?”

Albrecht slowly stood, holding onto the table as he did so, and said, “What do you want to do about the nomination news and your retirement news?”

Amund pondered for a moment, “I really don’t care, but I suppose that we ought to vote on it.”

Albrecht and both of the other committee members grunted their approval.

“Splendid, what else?”

The meeting ended a few minutes later and Albrecht dragged himself back to his office.

Anna was still sitting at her desk, several papers strewn around her. She looked up as he walked past, “Hi, are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“Good. There is some one waiting in you office. By the way, happy birthday.”

Albrecht nodded and opened his office door, and walked through.

The man looked up from one of Albrecht’s atlases, “Ah, Mr. Hearst, how nice to meet you.”

Albrecht squinted at him and shook his outstretched hand.

“I’m Fritz Yeager. I work for Judge Karl Brinkerhoff.”

“Nice to meet you.” In fact, Albrecht didn’t think that it was nice at all, “Please sit down.”

Fritz Yeager sat on the sofa adjacent to Albrecht’s desk, which Albrecht sat behind.

“I’d like to congratulate you on your nomination. Mr. Brinkerhoff is very confident in your successful victory. He understands that a man in your position will always have scurrilous accusations thrust upon him. I’m sure if you put in a good word for Mr. Brinkerhoff, he’d be delighted to… ignore some things that you might do during your term.”

“What do you mean by ignore some things?”

“Well, for instance, Mr. Wundt has… been accused of breaking the law several times. As it is in his district, Mr. Brinkerhoff overlooks these accusations, in return for certain… services from Mr. Wundt.”

“I am not to be bribed!” Albrecht spat harshly, “Now, I must get back to work. Thank you and goodbye!” Albrecht looked down at the papers on his desk, and picked up his pen.

Fritz Yeager sat still for a moment, then smiling, stood, and walked out of the room, slamming Albrecht’s atlas down on top of the others.

Albrecht glanced up to see if he’d left, then walked out to Anna, “If he comes back, tell him that I’m busy.”

“Sure. What did he do?”

“He was trying to buy me off.”

She smirked, “Oh.”

Albrecht never saw Mr. Yeager again.

Hi there. I don't really like army/war kind of stuff. But the way you've written it, I read it word by word. For a strange reason, I'm somewhat interested in how this will turn out. Might lead to something epic.

The only problem with it is that I think it doesn't have enough scenary descriptions. But that's just me.

Laters

Guess who finally got around to this?

Scene One

The 37-year-old Albrecht Hearst was the vice-chairman of the public affairs committee in Vienna.

At 1:30, all of the committee members will go to one of the party member's villas for a party.

I realize how unavoidable this is but it still drives me nuts. Perhaps you could change the second party to something else, since I doubt the first one could be changed...?

Albrecht's boss, however, always made [s]and[/s] an excuse for why he couldn't come and Albrecht was sent in his place.

You were missing words so.. I added one. You might want to go over it yourself though.

He could ask her[s]e[/s] these kinds of questions as they’d had a relationship several years ago. They were still friends and never told anyone about conversations such as these. It would be... unwise in this day and age.

*dies* Robert, only Dostoevsky can get away with uber info dumps and still look good. So, I'd cut all of this and find some other way to say it. Not to mention the first sentence sounds so odd. What kind of relationship? Work, friendship, more than that? So it's just odd. If you want to info dump successfully, at least write it so it gives me all of the information and makes sense ^_~

“It’s 9:45. The Premier will be arriving soon. You have a meeting before that. It’s in five minutes, so you’d better run. You have a meeting before that. It is in ten minutes. You'd better hurry."

Uhm. Wait, what? I think I understand what you are trying to say [there is a meeting before the arrival, and meeting before the meeting] but the way it is written makes me question if you didn't screw up in the writing, rather than think the former. You might want to clean that up.

A short, fat man

Kruschev sat down in Amund's chair and leaned back, his cigar hanging out of his mouth.

You're missing some Hs in the name, or perhaps you changed the transliteration and forgot to change it in all places?

The boiler had been manufactured in Italy; albrecht wasn't going to correct him.

I'm not sure about the semicolon, but I think it works better?

Hmmm. I wish I knew some of the history behind all of this, that might help me out some. Reminds me [in the very, very, very slightest] of reading The Maltese Falcon. I think it's the fact that the guy has a relationship with his secretary XD Of course, if it was Sam Spade, he's so suave, he just has relationships with everyone.

I'm not entirely sure what I think of this and I'm assuming I'd have to read more to really enjoy it. I don't really know the characters but you've thrown us into it despite that, and I get a feeling getting to know the characters will take some time. For that matter, I don't really know anything surrounding the plot or why things are happening. [Which is really unneeded since there isn't much of a plot yet, and so, you can't have whys.] I think that's my biggest issue with this: in scene one, it's still without conflict. Hopefully it'll spark up soon, otherwise I'll be left thinking it was "long and uneventful" like the tour was.

Hope I helped.