Recently at “24 College Avenue”: State College sprinter Nicollette Mayle is competing in Europe but not nearly as well as she hoped. She was wondering whether her dreams of competing in the Olympics were nothing more than a fantasy when the Prince of Mubai bought her drinks at a Paris nightclub and made her an interesting offer.  . . .

Mark the bike guide brought the group of cyclists to a halt underneath a billboard consisting of a large photo of an American G.I. on one side and an East German soldier on the other. He pointed to a small hut that could have passed for a tollbooth were it not surrounded by sand bags.

“This is Checkpoint Charlie, the famous point between the American sector and East Berlin during the time of the Berlin Wall,’’ Mark said. “You may have seen spy movies that depicted this spot with scenes of late-night exchanges and drops. More than 5,000 people – including East German soldiers – are known to have successfully escaped over the wall. Sadly, nearly 200 died in the attempt. Sentries were stationed along the wall and they shot anyone trying to cross on sight

“It probably was a little like security for the World Cup, only the guards were probably more forgiving back then.’’

Everyone laughed. Nearly 17 years after the fall of the Berlin Wall, armed sentries were conspicuous in Berlin again due to the World Cup finale. You couldn’t go anywhere without seeing them while getting near the stadium without a credential would probably be about as easy as crossing from East to West during the old days.

In fact, as Nicollette laughed along with her fellow tourists, she didn’t realize her every move was being closely watched.

Nicollette had arrived in Berlin the night before in preparation for a big track meet that coincided with the World Cup. The meet was in three days but her mind wasn’t on the race so much as the offer the Prince of Mubai had made at a Paris nightclub. In an attempt to bring publicity to his oil-rich Middle East country and help him achieve his dream of landing the 2014 Winter Olympics, he had offered Nicollette dual citizenship and a spot on the country’s summer Olympic team for 2008 in Beijing. He plans to use sports to bring world recognition, respect and – most importantly – tourists to his country.

The offer was tempting. Nicollette’s races had been disappointing against world class competition and she worried she wouldn’t be able to make the U.S. team. The Mubai offer might be her only chance to achieve the goal toward which she had devoted the past eight years. On the other hand, she didn’t feel comfortable competing for another country, especially one that so infamously restricted women’s rights.

Unsure what to do, she decided to clear her head by joining the Yellow Jersey Bike Tour. The tour group was owned by an entrepreneur in Colorado Springs and all the guides were American students looking to see Europe and make a little money. It was a little like Josh was doing as a guide for Europe In a Backpack.

Nicollette wondered where Josh was at this moment. He was supposed to be leading a tour somewhere in Germany but knowing him, he had probably gotten lost and was somewhere in Bulgaria. Nicollette hoped that he had at least not misplaced his tour group. She chuckled at the thought and shook her head. Not even Josh was incompetent enough to lose a bus full of 30 tourists.

“There’s a great museum across the street on the Wall’s history,’’ Mark continued. “We won’t be going inside but I highly recommend it if you want to come back later. OK. Now we’ll get back on our bikes and head down Friederickstrasse, which has radidly emerged as the Rodeo Drive of unified Berlin. All the biggest retailers are fighting for space on this street. If you didn’t know better, you would say you were in the former West Berlin not the old Communist side.’’

This was true. Friederickstrasse was indeed opulent as Nicollette could easily see while cycling down the street. What would Stalin say now if he could see the Gucci, Vuitton and luxury auto stores in the heart of former East Berlin?

“And now,’’ Mark said, “we’re turning onto Unter den Linden, the wide boulevard that was as famous in pre-war Berlin as the Champs Elysee in Paris. This was THE street before the war, with the famous Hotel Brandenburg overlooking it all. Or given the sordid sex parties that went on in its secret underground cabaret, perhaps I should I say, the infamous Hotel Brandenburg?’’

“What sort of parties?’’ someone asked.

Mark smiled. You could tell the group about the history of the Wall or the Reichstag or Brandenburg Gate. You could point out the old Gestapo headquarters or the site of Hitler’s bunker but the only questions he ever got were about the sex parties.

“Well,’’ he began, “not to be too graphic but just about anything you can imagine. Gay sex, Nazi orgies. Legend has it, the most popular attraction was a woman who dressed up in an SS uniform and savagely beat her customers until they passed out in either pain or ecstasy or both. There was even a sex show with animals. It’s true. The hotel owner had a special relationship with the Berlin Zoo for the regular loan of the animals, the most popular, we’re told, was an orangutan affectionately name Eva. Or at least that’s what they called her until Hitler started daring Eva Braun. Then they quickly changed her name to Winnie.’’

Again, everyone in the group laughed. Well, almost everyone. Nicollette noticed two college age girls frowning.

“All right,’’ Mark said. “We’re going to take a short break before we continue on to Brandenburg Gate and the Reichstag. There’s a coffee shop across the street where you can get something to drink or use the restroom.’’

A dozen members of the group got off their bikes to get something to drink but Nicollette stayed behind to examine the hotel’s exterior. She tried to imagine what it had been like during the ruthless days of the Nazis.

“Can you believe he brought up those stories?’’ someone said. “I thought this was a history tour, not a porno tour.’’

“I’m sorry, are you talking to me?’’ Nicollette said, turning to see the two girls who had frowned during the Hotel Brandenburg anecdotes.

“Not really, I was just complaining out loud,’’ the girl said. “It was offensive. Didn’t you find it offensive?’’

Nicollette had not. In fact, it was the most interesting part of the tour as far as she was concerned. But she didn’t want to argue. “I can see your point of view,’’ she said diplomatically.

“Hi,’’ the other girl said. “I’m Amy and this is Jessica. Who are you and what brings you to Berlin?’’

“I’m Nicollette. And I’m here for a track meet. I’m a sprinter. I’ve got a race Monday.’’

“Isn’t that wonderful!’’ Jessica said. “We’re here to perform, too!’’

“We’re with ‘It’s A Small World!’” Amy said. “Have you heard of our group?’’

It’s A Small World? The old sickeningly-sweet youth ensemble that traveled the world singing folk songs and performing at halftime during bowl games? “Yeah, but I thought you guys went Chapter 11 a couple years ago.’’

“We did but we’ve restructured as a non-profit religious group. Now we’re a fundamentalist Christian group that entertains while we give witness. Or is it, we give witness while we entertain? Well, either way, we sing and dance and praise Jesus! There are more than 200 of us here in Berlin!’’

“Praise Jesus!’’ echoed Amy.

“Would you like to be our guest tonight at our performance? I can get you a ticket! We do a 30-minute version of ‘Godspell’ and I’d say it’s pure magic but that would be a sin of pride. But it really is wonderful! And afterward we can tell you how to make Jesus Christ your personal savior.’’

Nicollette figured she would rather be a personal guest of the Gestapo. “Gee, I would love to, Jessica, but I already have a commitment.’’

“That’s a shame. But be sure to watch the World Cup finale! We’re performing at halftime!’’

“But we can’t get you tickets for that! Ha-ha!’’

Amy and Jessica laughed and Nicollette smiled politely. “No, I guess not,’’ she said. “Well, I’m pretty thirsty. I think I’ll get a water before the tour starts again. Would you like anything?’’

“No,’’ Amy said. “We have our own. I don’t trust the German water.’’

“We brought it from America.’’

Wondering how big their suitcases had to be to bring water from the U.S., Nicollette turned and began walking across Friederickstrasse. Good Lord, she muttered, how jingoistic do you have to be to import your own water?

She suddenly stopped and gasped. Directly across the street was the last person she expected to see.

Next: Checkpoint Charlie