A haggard fellow would enter the room. He was not old, his gait was that of a middle-aged man, but life had not treated him well. His face was wrinkled, a few of his hairs had already been shocked grey, and he walked with a noticeable limp; a war wound, no doubt. His salt-and-pepper hair was tightly combed back, and he wore a custom tailored Hugo Boss suit; the kind of suit that only wealthy boche wore. Boss himself had, of course, passed away several years ago, but Germany's victory had cemented the brand as [i]the[/i] go to for menswear, be it for the Schutzstaffel or the Stockbroker. He looked around at the mess, sniffed once at the cigarette smoke in the air, and approached the seat.

"Herr Carter." The man spoke with a strong German accent, and now that he did, his face was not difficult to place. Ludwig Schultz; Wermacht officer turned politican after an honourable discharge from the British Front. Supposedly his limp came from a mills bomb he hadn't quite been quick enough to avoid. Now however, rather than dodging grenades, he instead dodged social faux pas. "I have heard... Despite appearances, you are a very competant man." His eyes were sunken into his skull, although they were keen and piercing. Dangerous eyes.

"I know not if you follow showbiz news, but I'm afraid it's very pertinent to me." He straightened himself up. "My wife; Jacqueline Schultz, is an up and coming actress, just secured herself her first leading role in one of the new pictures." He looked down to the cigarette smouldering in the ash tray, before working a hand into an inner breast pocket and working free a small plastic cylinder. Unscrewing the lid, he would shakily tip out a flat, round tab and knock it back into his mouth, swallowing it dry. An all-too common sight with ex soliders; the boche love for narcotics had a side effect of a very dope-dependent peoples. 

"Now, you must understand," the official would say as he screwed the lid shut again. "I do not actually suspect her of doing anything wrong. In fact, considering the circumstances, I commend her for her frankness in her dealings with me. You see, she is almost three decades younger than me, and so, when she is constantly between the sets and the fancy Hollywood parties, people begin to talk." He gestured vaguely with his hand.

"I don't care for what they say, but there others that do. I need you to follow her, take some photos of her about her daily business, show that she is merely doing what the other degenerates in the unfortunate industry she has found herself in do, and then send them to me. I shall do the rest." He pulled at a middle finger, the joint cracking softly. "For your work, you'll be handsomely rewarded. Whatever your usual pay is for this sort of thing, I'll double the number of [i]reichsdollars.[/i]"