Murder on the Express?

After three years as U.S. naval attache in Rumania, genial Captain Eugene-("Fish") Karpe, 45, was on his way home for reassignment. At Vienna, the burly former destroyer commander visited the wife and sister-in-law of his old friend and fellow Annapolisman, Robert Vogeler, the American businessman jailed as a spy by Communist Hungary (TIME, Feb. 27). Mrs. Vogeler gave him her husband's silver lighter--"to keep until you can give it back to Bob." Then Captain Karpe boarded the blue-and-gold Arlberg-Orient Express for Paris.

A touch of gout caused him to limp a bit as he climbed aboard the train, but otherwise, as far as anyone could remember later, Fish Karpe seemed his usual relaxed and cheerful self.

The Arlberg-Orient is one of the Continent's glamour trains, a storied track for international diplomats and international intrigue. Karpe had Compartment ll of the Bucharest sleeper. There were six other passengers in the car, including two friends, Secretary John Oliver Wright II, of the British legation in Bucharest, and Mrs. Wright. The Britons were accompanied by two countrymen--a king's messenger (or diplomatic courier) and his military guard.

At Salzburg, in the U.S. zone in Western Austria, Karpe chatted on the platform with friends who had come to say goodbye. He was happy to be going home, he said. A small, shifty-eyed stranger lolled in the background, staring at Karpe and listening to the talk, but no one paid much attention at the time. Shortly after 12:30 p.m. the Arlberg pulled out of Salzburg.

Fifteen minutes later the Wrights saw

Captain Karpe walking forward in the train to the diner. He passed through the crowded Bucharest day coach, sat down at a table with an American student. Karpe complained a bit about his aching leg, drank only a bottle of seltzer water for his meal. Then he left the table.

Neither the Wrights, the king's messenger nor the messenger's guard saw Karpe return to Compartment ll. "I would have seen him," said the guard later. "I kept the door of my compartment open purposely to watch the girls pass by--it's an old habit."

Coincidence. At ten minutes past 2 p.m., a railway repairman found Karpe's mangled, 'dismembered body scattered along the track in Lueg Pass tunnel, not far out of Salzburg. Had he fallen or had he been thrown from the train?

U.S. Army occupation police said that they found no specific evidence of "foul play." On the other hand, U.S. Intelligence officers thought that it was murder. By coincidence, the Arlberg-Orient had made an unscheduled half-hour stop, to permit traffic to clear, at the village of Goiling, just three minutes from Lueg tunnel. Passengers had opened doors and stepped down to stroll and smoke on both sides of the train.

When the Arlberg got under way again, trainmen had fastened the doors only on the station side; they forgot the loose doors on the other side. It was from this side that Karpe had fallen. Then, by coincidence, the train's lights had not gone on as usual in the tunnel. By coincidence, said train officials, it was possible that the Arlberg's lurch, as it rounded a curve toward the tunnel's end, had swung open an unfastened door and that Karpe had plunged through it in the dark.

On the dead man's body were his dip-Ipmatic passport, personal papers, $180, and Bob Vogeler's silver cigarette lighter. In his compartment, luggage and attache case were intact. No signs of robbery or struggle were evident.

Intuition. Austrians sensed something more than an accident in Karpe's death. "POLITICAL MURDER IN LUEG TUNNEL," cried a Salzburger Nachrichten headline. Golling's Dr. Wilhelm Gugl noticed almost no blood on the spot where Karpe was supposedly dashed to death. Had the American been killed before his body fell into the tunnel? His remains were so mangled that an autopsy was useless.

Vienna's diplomatic circles looked on Karpe as no ordinary attache. A frequent visitor to the Austrian capital, he had unusual intelligence contacts. He had left Bucharest at a time of crisis in the Balkans. Possibly he had information regarding Russia's spring plans for dealing with Tito. One American, with long experience in central Europe, speculated;

"Karpe's death could be an integral part of the cold war--the logical extension of Bob Vogeler's trial. An international train passing through the wild mountain country of U.S.-occupied Austria could be the perfect place to murder a diplomat who had probed too deeply behind the Iron Curtain. Karpe's rank was high enough to leave the impression they want: maybe they can't arrest and try foreign attaches, but they can take care of them just the same, the way they took care of Karpe."

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