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Chapter 6: The Reussian Front


State of Thuringia-Franconia/Saxony Border

Wednesday, August 1, 1635


“Why are we here?” Stefan repeated.

Otto looked up from where he was slouched against a tree. “Metaphysically?”

He drew a round of laughter, and Neustatter reflected on how far they had come. Just three years ago, none of his men would have joked about metaphysics.

Nein. Why are we on the Reussian front? For that matter, why is this even called the Reussian front? We are still in West Virginia County.”

“It is a pun on the Russian front in the up-time World War II,” Neustatter answered. “But to answer your question: umlauts.”

“Umlauts?”

Ja, umlauts. Now we are out here, I can tell you what is in our sealed orders. Somebody’s been feeding false orders into the patrol system.”

Everyone but Neustatter reached for a weapon without waiting to hear more.

“The National Guard knew someone was moving patrols and brought in Georg Meisner. It’s why we changed directions once we were a couple miles away from Camp Saale.

“So that’s why we are here.” Neustatter smiled. “Operationally.”


State of Thuringia-Franconia/Saxony Border

Friday, August 3, 1635


“This is annoying,” Stefan complained. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Birkig is right over there.”

“It is?” Jakob asked.

“Birkig would offer us some soft beds,” Stefan continued.

“They might,” Neustatter agreed. “But we cannot have four of us here and four asleep in Birkig. So we will use our bedrolls and stand watch.”

“If Lukas were healed, we could have three teams,” Stefan went on. “Two here, one in Birkig.”

Neustatter just laughed. “We could, of course, bring the other half of NESS out here—except the eight of us being on Reserve duty is normal enough. All of NESS disappearing would be noteworthy.”

“Astrid has her hands full leading the train guard,” Hjalmar pointed out. “Plus training the new agents and handling all the new business we got during messe week. Somebody has to handle the missions for the paying clients.”

That produced a round of soft laughs.

“All right,” Neustatter said. “Four shifts, but I want a patrol out while Ditmar and Hjalmar are cooking dinner.”

“I will go,” Otto said.

“And me.” Jakob was very light on his feet in the woods.

Dinner was dried and salted meat, a small loaf of bread, and packets of peas and beans. Karl had already dug a firepit, piling a berm of dirt on the west side to cut down the chances of anyone seeing the flames. Each man dropped his rations off with the cooks. Ditmar fried the meat while Hjalmar cut each loaf in half and hollowed out the halves. The beans and peas went into the pan once the meat was already cooking. Then Ditmar dumped strips of meat and the vegetables into the bread bowls, and Hjalmar pressed the bread he’d hollowed out back into place.

“Just about ready,” Ditmar said, “although I’d wait for Stefan and Wolfram to return with full canteens. It is bound to be salty.”

“We should have Ursula figure out what to make with these rations,” Karl suggested. “Or Astrid.”

“Astrid’s solution would involve pasta and tomato sauce,” Hjalmar predicted.

“We have not had much tomato sauce,” Karl protested.

“No, we haven’t. Astrid and Georg Meisner have been going out for pizza or spaghetti just about every Sunday,” Hjalmar said.

“What have you two been taking your young ladies out for?” Neustatter asked.

“Good German food,” Ditmar answered.

Neustatter smiled. “Speaking of which . . . let’s eat this food and then let the campfire die down.”

* * *

Late in the second guard shift, Stefan had just flipped the quarter-hourglass when Ditmar’s hand slowly drifted up.

I höre etwas.” He softly announced he heard something, not whispering but making sure to drop the CH and blending his S into a Z so the sound wouldn’t carry quite so well.

“Seven turns.” Stefan reported the time in the same manner.

The SoTF National Guard had given Neustatter a list of sunrise and sunset times for the local area for more days than their mission was scheduled to last. Ditmar figured they must have an astronomer from the University of Jena on the National Guard payroll. He also figured there was a certain amount of error, but the times ought to be accurate to within a few minutes. Those times had allowed Neustatter to set the night sentry duty shifts at two and a quarter hours, a greater level of precision than they’d had before. Sunset had been about 7:30 p.m., so seven turns on the second shift made it . . . 

“Twenty-three thirty. Whatever it is, is getting closer.”

“Could be an animal,” Stefan pointed out.

“Or someone with orders to cross the border about midnight.”

Ditmar listened again, then reached out and shook Neustatter’s shoulder. Neustatter opened his eyes at once.

“Movement to the east. Maybe man, maybe animal,” Ditmar reported.

Neustatter nodded. He listened for a moment, then reached for his gun belt, shook Karl.

“We may have someone out there,” he murmured.

Karl nodded and reached out to tap Otto. Within a couple minutes, all eight of them were awake and armed.

“Rifles here. Pistols, come with me.”

Ditmar acknowledged with a slow nod. He had a .22 rifle, and Hjalmar, Karl, and Stefan had U.S. Waffenfabrik rifles. It made sense for them to get into defensive positions while Neustatter, Wolfram, Otto, and Jakob came in on the flank with their pistols.

Soon the noise he’d heard resolved itself into people moving through woods at night. Either this was a few people with no idea what they were doing, or it was a larger group with some skill. Since they had eight NESS agents present, Ditmar was hoping for the first alternative.

“Hold your fire.” Ditmar spoke quietly. “Wait to see what Neustatter does.”

“You know he is going to do something,” Stefan agreed.

* * *

Neustatter lay behind a couple trees, waiting for the swishing sounds to come closer. It reminded him of Flieden. He’d found a couple sticks about a foot long and almost an inch thick, as well as a rock about as big as his fist.

Definitely more than one person. Probably not just two or three, either. Neustatter glanced to his right, gauging whether they would need to pull back to avoid being walked into.

Then he saw the first man. He was just a dim shape, pushing low branches out of his way. The man did not appear to have a weapon in his hands. He moved slowly and seemed to have something slung on his back.

Neustatter thought he saw another figure, but he was screened by trees. The first figure continued to approach, not blundering so much as just doggedly pushing forward. Whoever this was, he wasn’t examining his surroundings much at all. Neustatter turned to his left and signaled Wolfram to stay in place. Wolfram nodded, turned, and passed it on.

Now Neustatter could distinguish the second figure, and he could tell there were more behind this one. He supposed single file might make sense in the dark—if the men were staying close together.

The first man was sort of looking around, but Neustatter saw no indication the man had seen him. He continued to swish through leaves and step on branches. He was not a woodsman, but far enough out ahead he might be attempting to scout for the others.

The next two were even less competent in the woods, Neustatter decided. They were slow and clumsy. Then he saw the third person was wearing a dress . . . skirt . . . whatever. Neustatter studied the two of them as they trudged past.

After a moment, two more shapes shuffled into view. Neustatter watched them through the trees. They weren’t on the same course as the others. This pair was veering north—away from Neustatter and NESS’ other pistoleers rather than behind them.

He waited. He would have had one more, a competent rear guard, someone who could move through the forest. Sure enough, a sixth shape flitted between the trees. Neustatter heard an occasional scuff, but this man seemed to be at least a competent woodsman. It was hard to tell in the dark, but he appeared to be carrying a weapon.

Neustatter had to act before the point man literally walked into Ditmar’s riflemen. He did not want the sixth man loose in the woods. As soon as the sixth man passed, Neustatter looked to his right—east—and decided this was the last one. Then he looked left and signaled Wolfram, who passed it on.

Neustatter was already up and moving. He closed in on the rear guard. When the man started to turn, Neustatter whipped one of the sticks off to the right. The man turned in that direction. Neustatter charged.

The rear guard whirled around. His arm came up. Neustatter dove. He heard the crack of the rifle as he rolled. Then he was back up and running.

The man reversed the rifle, preparing to club him with it.

Neustatter threw the rock at his head.

The man was good. He got mostly out of the way. He was, however, off-balance when Neustatter charged the last few yards and tackled him.

The man went down flat on his back. Neustatter fell on top of him. The man kept his grip on the clubbed rifle and drew his arm back to strike. Wolfram bellyflopped on him and pinned the rifle in place.

“Roll him.” Neustatter was going to—

Lauf! Lauf!” The man started shouting as soon as Wolfram rolled off him.

Neustatter punched him in the mouth. “Wolfram, hang on to him! I’ll be back!”

He could already hear the rest of the party running. In all directions, no doubt. Neustatter picked the sounds moving away from his pistoleers. He heard a man’s voice tell someone to keep running.

Sure enough, he soon found one of the men standing his ground, fists balled up. Neustatter squared off. One of the few features of up-time movies he disagreed with was the hero’s need to engage in an unarmed fight with the bad guy when he had a perfectly good weapon. No, in his mind one of the greatest scenes was Indiana Jones shooting the swordsman. But there was something about this group . . . 

Neustatter snapped a quick sidekick, right shin catching the man’s left leg below the hip. The man shifted away. Neustatter sidekicked him again. He didn’t quite succeed in deadlegging him. But the man shifted all his weight to his right leg.

Neustatter took three quick steps, grabbing his right shoulder as he stepped past him. He brought his right leg back sharply and took the other man’s leg out from under him. The man fell hard.

Neustatter continued on in search of the other person he heard thrashing through the trees further north. He ran with his left arm up, shielding his face from low-hanging branches, right arm pointing his pistol down and away. It took a few minutes before he spotted a caped figure.

Stopp!” he shouted. “Stopp!

The figure kept going. Neustatter paced him. If he ran any faster, he risked running into a tree before he could spot it in the dark.

Somewhere up ahead, a sudden yelp told them it had just happened to his quarry. Neustatter ran up and saw it wasn’t a cape. It was a dress. The woman scrambled to her feet. He caught her by the arm. She whirled around, flailing with her other hand.

Neustatter brought the .45 down sharply across her wrist. “Stop it! Come with me. I am taking you back to the other five.”

The woman refused to move.

“I am not going to hurt you. But if you do not cooperate, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you back.”

The woman looked terrified but complied.

It took longer than Neustatter expected to find their way back. He heard the others before he saw them.

“Martin!”

Neustatter called “Katie!” and quickened his pace. When he reached the others, he asked, “Ditmar, why are you shouting?”

“We have a problem.”

Neustatter counted. “I brought one. Wolfram has the rear guard. The rest of you have the other four.”

“That is not the problem.”

Neustatter handed the woman off to Hjalmar, then he and Ditmar stepped aside.

Ditmar spoke quickly. “They are terrified.”

“I noticed.”

“Four men, two women. No field craft I saw.”

“Last man has experience,” Neustatter said. “A soldier, I think. Took his shot and then clubbed his rifle.”

“Who are they? Why are they in the forest at night?”

“On the route supposed to be open to anyone coming from Saxony,” Neustatter pointed out. “If this were a movie, they would be a team of spies.”

“They could . . . ” Ditmar trailed off. “Ja, maybe. Why now?”

“Don’t know yet.” Neustatter shucked off his pack, opened it, and pulled something out. Standing with his back to the prisoners, he spoke into the walkie-talkie.

“Mary, Hans.”

“Hans, Mary.”

“Mary, we found your mittens but you need a heavier coat. Over.”

“I will bring you a coat. Just a minute. Over.”

“Hans out.”

“What was that all about?” Ditmar asked.

“Colonel Stieff set up some plans, depending on what we ran into. More National Guard will be here in an hour.”

“What are we going to do until then?”

“Post two guards closer to the border. Otto and Jakob. Separate the prisoners into pairs. You and Stefan take the point man and rear guard. Hjalmar and Karl take the two men who were in the middle.”

“You and Wolfram guard the women? You usually take the hard assignment, Neustatter.”

“I think I might be. Did you notice both women are blonde?”

Ditmar muttered something vicious under his breath.


Camp Saale

Saturday, August 4, 1635


Within an hour, an actual truck showed up and dropped off an entire platoon of SoTF National Guardsmen. Neustatter, his men and the six prisoners took their places in the truck. In another hour, they were at Camp Saale, in a nondescript building built as a barracks, back when Camp Saale had trained the influx of volunteers in the winter of 1633–1634. The prisoners were in pairs, in three separate rooms, each guarded by a pair of Military Police. Neustatter and his men were in a fourth room.

The door opened. Three men and a woman filed in.

“Attention!

The eight of them came to their feet. Neustatter saluted, since he was in command of the group.

An older, white-haired man with captain’s bars on his uniform returned the salute. Neustatter’s eyes flitted from him to a younger, blond-haired man who looked like he’d stepped straight off a recruiting poster, then to an average-looking man who seemed to share Otto’s gift of being unmemorable, and finally to a young woman who propelled herself along on crutches. The first three wore SoTF blue, while she wore USE gray.

“Leutnant Schmidt, Leutnant Schmidt, Leutnant Schmidt, and Leutnant Schmidt.”

“Seats, men,” the captain directed.

He began speaking as soon as everyone was seated. “This is indeed at the Leutnant Schmidt level. But if more people come across the Saxon border, this could go to Brigadier General Schmidt level.”

Neustatter nodded. So this was as important as he thought.

“What have the prisoners said?”

“Nothing,” Neustatter answered. “No names, ranks, or serial numbers. Nothing but an occasional reminder from the point man or the rear guard to keep their mouths shut. The other two men I have not figured out, but it’s plain the two women are terrified.”

He watched the four lieutenants. The older man had a grim expression. The younger men were stone-faced. The woman was angry. Neustatter suspected her anger ran to a cold, effective fury.

No one said anything for a long minute. Neustatter broke the silence.

“Why don’t I lay out what we know?” At the oldest lieutenant’s nod, he continued.

“The vandalism on the east side of the Ring of Fire in the autumn of 1634 can be traced to a short, cloaked down-timer. The attack on the Hauns’ Troll Bridge in November 1634 was instigated by a short, cloaked down-timer. There are descriptions of such a man in the bar where members of Schlinck’s Company met servants of a certain niederadel family before the Schlinck’s Company attacked NESS, Bretagne’s Company, and the Grantville Police Department in January 1635. A short man with a hat pulled down inside Schlinck’s headquarters made an effort to hide his identity when Bretagne surrounded the building. A short, cloaked down-timer stalked the lifeguard Sunshine Moritz in June 1635. This man was Tobias Sprunck. A warrant has been issued for him for the abduction of Casimir Wesner. We believe him to be the man who attempted to undermine a stock Wesner had placed on the market in 1634. It funded a corporation to grow up-time crops in Kleinjena, Saxon County—which used to belong to Saxony.”

Neustatter paused to control his anger. “Sprunck is a rapist. He preys on young, blonde women, and if there is a way to stay just inside the law—like visiting prostitutes—he will use it.

“He altered National Guard orders. I do not know all the details, but Georg Meisner handled the forensics, and it involved umlauts. Then my men and I were sent to the border instead of to the Adler Pfeffer exercise. We were watching an area where Sprunck had falsified orders to create a gap. So when the two women among the infiltrators are blonde, I have to wonder.”

“What do you recommend, Neustatter?” the female Lieutenant Schmidt asked.

“You need to talk to them.” Neustatter considered. “Or if you will not be talking to them yourself, get Barbara Kellarmännin.”

Ja!” Otto’s agreement was enthusiastic.

“Depending on what they say, you might want to ask Trudi Groenewold to talk to them. Or Maria.”

“I do not know who those people are,” the female lieutenant told him. “But . . . ” She looked to the others.

The blond one spoke first. “Sprunck tried to cripple the Norwegian Resistance. I want him dead. Or at least in prison and talking. I say send for Meisner and Kellarmännin. I do not know the others, either.”

The nondescript one just nodded.

“I agree,” the older man said. “Shall I have Leutnant Moser sent to wake your very efficient Miss Schäubin and have her collect the others?”

“Maybe not,” Hjalmar offered. “My sister is dating Meisner.”

The gray-haired man’s eyes twinkled. “I see. Well, I will have someone else sent.”


Kimberly Heights Apartments


Astrid Schäubin awoke to someone banging on the apartment door. She’d been sound asleep, having just finished an overnight Saxon Run from Magdeburg to Grantville early Friday morning, less than twenty-four hours ago. It took her a moment to remember her brother Hjalmar and her cousin Ditmar were away on a National Guard assignment. Astrid reached for her pistol.

Whoever it was just kept knocking. Since no one was trying to break down the door, and the von Kardorffs were still asleep, Astrid quickly dressed. Taking the pistol in one hand, she left her room and crossed the short distance to the front door. She threw the bolt with her left hand, then turned the knob and pulled the door open as she stepped back.

An SoTF National Guardsman stood there.

“Astrid Schäubin?”

Ja. Komm bitte rein.”

The National Guardsman stepped inside, and Astrid saw his sergeant’s stripes. “What is it, Sergeant . . . ?”

“Stenger, ma’am. Neustatter’s patrol captured some people crossing the border from Saxony. Four men and two women. He says you need to bring Georg Meisner and Barbara Kellarmännin to Camp Saale because both the women are blonde. I do not know why that matters, ma’am, but Leutnant Neustatter said you would understand.”

Astrid felt a rush of adrenaline. “I do understand. Does Neustatter want me to bring anyone else?”

“He did not say.”

Astrid decided that was a no. “Please have a seat, Sergeant Stenger. I will be right back.”

Astrid took five minutes to go prepare for the day and to write a note for the von Kardorffs. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to get any more sleep. In fact, she expected she’d still be at Camp Saale at dawn, so their first stop was at the Kirchenbauers and Kuntzes’ townhouse, where she left another note wedged next to the doorknob.

N had a job for me. A

Whoever showed up at the NESS office first would find the door locked, and within a few minutes, someone would walk over to the townhouse to ask Anna and Ursula for the spare key and find her note.

Next, she directed Sergeant Stenger to turn off Route 250 onto Deborah Road, proceed through Lower and Upper Deborah, and out onto Mods Run Road. They were in the sort of car up-timers referred to as a four-door. Astrid had also heard this kind called a sedan, which sounded French to her. Perhaps the up-time French built cars like this? She decided it wasn’t important enough to write down for later research. Besides, the way Sergeant Stenger was driving, she didn’t want to open an ink bottle.

“Georg and Barbara live up on one of the mountains,” she said.

“Do not worry, Miss Schäubin. I have driven the hills in the dark before.”

Interesting. “What unit are you in, Sergeant?”

“Headquarters, ma’am. Operations staff, under Colonel Stieff.”

“Ah.” That did explain it. Neustatter had told Astrid Colonel Stieff assigned National Guard missions—especially the more sensitive National Guard missions. It made sense he’d have people like Sergeant Stenger on staff.

Stenger handled the car with skill. He slowed down as Astrid directed him up the hill to the Brethren settlement.

“Left here,” she directed. “The third house on the left.”

When Stenger pulled to a stop, Astrid hopped out. She knocked on the door for a while before it opened.

“Herr Meisner, there is a development in the case Georg was working on. Sergeant Stenger and I are to take him and Barbara Kellarmännin to investigate further.”

Herr Meisner looked very suspicious.

“I do not know what this is all about, young lady—”

“Which case, Astrid?” came Georg’s voice from behind him.

“Sprunck.”

“Do you need Katharina?”

Nein. Barbara.”

“Where is this case?” Herr Meisner asked.

“Right now, at Camp Saale. Neustatter sent for us.”

“That makes sense, Father,” Georg said.

“Is it safe?”

Astrid hoped she wasn’t stretching the truth. “I think the dangerous part has already happened.”

Herr Meisner knew Astrid. She’d been over for dinner. And Georg was a young man. At the Kellarmanns’, she had none of those advantages. Herr and Frau Kellarmann might be the most easygoing of the Brethren parents, but it didn’t mean they were going to let their eighteen-year-old daughter leave in the middle of the night without some very pointed questions.

“Georg Meisner, do you know what this is all about?”

“It is a case we have both worked on,” Georg answered.

“How dangerous is this?”

“Sergeant Stenger is driving us to Camp Saale,” Astrid replied. “It is a case Barbara has worked on before.”

“It is close to the Saxon border,” Herr Kellarmann pointed out. “Many people say there will be war soon.”

Sergeant Stenger had gotten out of the car and approached the door. “Camp Saale is close to the border, sir, but every recruit who comes through Camp Saale trains on how to defend the border. Neustatter and his people have made it a specialty. Your daughter will be quite safe there.”

“What about Herr Chief Richards?”

“I suspect your daughter will be briefing him tomorrow, sir.”

“Father . . . ” came Barbara’s voice.

“Be careful, Barbara.”

“I will.”

“That is what I am here for,” Astrid told Herr Kellarmann.

The four of them drove off. Sergeant Stenger wound his way down the hill and kept his speed down until they were back on Route 250. Then he sped into Grantville at thirty miles per hour. They made a fast stop at the police station to pick up Georg’s forensics kit.

Then they were speeding east on 250 at forty-five miles per hour. Astrid noticed Barbara was clutching the handhold on the car door. The high school, Kimberly Heights, and the NESS office flashed past, and then they passed the Ring Wall. Sergeant Stenger had to slow down as he navigated Schwarza. It took just a few minutes to reach Saalfeld and then Camp Saale immediately south of the town.

The gates were shut. Camp Saale didn’t have traditional city gates. These were heavy wooden gates, but little taller than the car itself. A soldier left one of the guard booths outside the walls.

“The gate is closed for the night.”

“Sergeant Stenger, bringing NESS, forensics, and profiling on Colonel Stieff’s orders.” Stenger handed over his orders.

The soldier called the sergeant of the guard over. He read the orders, and the gates were opened about thirty seconds later.

Sergeant Stenger parked the car in a small lot with half a dozen other vehicles, then led them to the same conference room Astrid had been in once before.

“I’ll get Neustatter and . . . some others.” Stenger disappeared down the hallway.

The conference room door opened a couple minutes later, and a young woman wearing a gray USE uniform entered. She was using crutches. Neustatter followed her.

“Seats, please.”

Neustatter pulled out a chair for her, and she sat down. Neustatter scooted the chair in a bit, then took a seat on the other side of the table. Astrid, Barbara, and Georg sat to his right.

“Welcome to Camp Saale. I am Leutnant Schmidt.”

Astrid smiled in greeting. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Georg nod knowingly.

Guten Abend,” Barbara said.

Guten Abend, Fräulein Kellarmännin, Herr Meisner. I apologize for getting you out of bed in the middle of the night. Something has come up, and we need your help.” Lieutenant Schmidt paused long enough for both Georg and Barbara to nod.

“What I am about to say next is classified.” The word stuck out in Lieutenant Schmidt’s Amideutsch. “It means you cannot tell anyone about it. Can you handle that?”

Georg nodded. Barbara took a few seconds before nodding.

“Some people believe in oaths to keep secrets. Up-timers believed in their classified system. I do not consider either very useful.”

“Why not?” Astrid asked.

“It just increases the tension. Keep your mouths shut. Do not talk to each other about it unless you have to—and not in public! People can always hear more than you think they can.”

Schmidt cleared her throat. “Three times troop deployment orders were altered to keep certain parts of the Saxon border unwatched. Forensics—Georg—figured out how we could tell who was doing it. Then he found fingerprints, and they match Tobias Sprunck.”

Barbara inhaled sharply. “Is he under arrest?”

Nein. His man got away. Sprunck himself . . . ” She shrugged. “We do not know if he was ever at Camp Saale himself.”

“I need to see any reports of rapes, including statutory rape, in the Saalfeld area, bitte,” Barbara requested. “Are there any brothels in the area? I need to interview them.”

Lieutenant Schmidt blinked. “Why?”

“Because if Tobias Sprunck was here, he will have pursued young, blonde women. He will have given them small gifts and taken shiny or flashy objects from them.”

Lieutenant Schmidt leaned forward. “A group of six people crossed the border from Saxony earlier tonight. Two of them are blonde women. None of them are talking.”

“What are the charges?” Barbara asked.

“We have not charged them yet. We could charge them with espionage in wartime. They could be hanged.”

“What if being spies is not their idea?”

“They did not have to agree to it.”

“They may not have had a choice.”

Lieutenant Schmidt shrugged. “It is not our problem.”

Barbara slid her chair back and stood. “Do you want my help or not?”

Schmidt bristled. “We can order—”

Nein. You can’t.”

Schmidt’s eyes widened as Neustatter interrupted an officer with more time-in-grade. “Lieutenant Neustatter—”

“You do not know what you are dealing with. She does. How do you want to handle the interrogation, Miss Kellarmännin?”

Barbara stood there for a moment, then sat back down. She was looking in Lieutenant Schmidt’s direction, but Neustatter suspected she wasn’t seeing the USE officer at all. A long moment passed.

“A rock.”

“What?”

Barbara pulled a paperback from her pack. “It is something Herr Douglas says in his book. Tell me about the four men, bitte.”

“Not the women?” Schmidt asked.

“Not yet. The group has a . . . what is the English? A manner? A character of its own?”

“A group dynamic?” Schmidt asked.

Barbara lapsed into the Grantville High School dialect of Amideutsch. “Yap! Dank. A group dynamic.”

“The first man moved through the woods without much skill,” Neustatter recalled. “But he was leading and kept moving. Next were a man and a woman. Then another man and woman. She is the one who ran. The man tried to slow me down so she could get away. The last man handled his weapon well. He had the most experience. Maybe a soldier. He is okay at sneaking through the woods, but it is not his specialty.”

Dank. Interesting.”

“Do you think he is a man of honor?”

“Could be.”

Barbara turned to her right. “Georg, fingerprint him, bitte.”

“Okay,” Georg Meisner agreed. “Do you think his fingerprints will match some we already have?”

Nein, but I suppose you should check. I just want him to think we think he is a common criminal.”

“Oh.”

“Neustatter, you should question him,” Barbara continued. “Then do the same with the man in front. Do not confront him. Find out if they have eaten. Send for food and small beer. Get them talking. Do their families know what they are doing? Ask about their families. Wives and sisters in particular. What do they look like?”

Barbara seemed to gain confidence as she talked. “Then talk to the second couple. Astrid, you need to be the other officer in the room, bitte. Wear your blue NESS coat. Talk to the woman. Leutnant Schmidt, I apologize, but you should not be in the room. Because you are a brunette. The first thing we want to find out is whether they are husband and wife. Or perhaps lovers.”

“I can see how it would be useful to know,” Schmidt acknowledged. “But first?”

“We need to know why these six people are here. Ja, we want to find out if they are fleeing Saxony or if they have come here as spies or as . . . people who break things . . . ”

Saboteurs,” Schmidt supplied.

Yap. Dank. But first, why these people?”

* * *

Ditmar and Karl brought the man who had been on rear guard into a darkened conference room. One person was seated in the shadows on the far side of the table.

“Take a seat,” Neustatter’s voice directed.

The man studied the shape in the darkness for a moment, then pulled out the only chair on his side of the table and sat down. Ditmar exchanged nods with Neustatter and left the room, while Karl circled around the table to an object on Neustatter’s right. He slid the shutter of a lantern halfway open, and the prisoner squinted and turned his head away from the beam of light aimed at his face.

Karl stationed himself against the wall at one end of the room. He wasn’t close enough to loom over the man, but he would intercept him before the man could get to Neustatter . . . 

 . . . which wouldn’t be necessary. Neustatter was in full SoTF dress uniform now: a dark blue coat of a slightly different cut than NESS’ with shoulder straps straight from the up-time Union Army and trousers of fustian dyed the lighter blue of woad. A pair of leather riding gloves was tucked under his right shoulder strap, and one of the new helmets sat off to his left on the table. Outlandish as the uniform might be, it still screamed “professional soldier.”

Guten Abend,” Neustatter began. “May I have your name, bitte?”

The man remained silent.

“The up-time tradition is soldiers may give their name, rank, and serial number,” Neustatter continued, “while remaining silent on other matters. You are a soldier, ja?” After the man did not reply, Neustatter went on. “It is easy to see. You had some skill in the forest, and you handled your weapon well. My men said you told the others not to talk to us. All this suggests you are in command.”

Neustatter paused to see if the man would say anything. But he stared straight back at him without saying anything. Neustatter asked a few more questions without receiving a response. He nodded to Karl, who stepped forward.

“Stand up.”

The man’s face finally held an expression. Curiosity, Neustatter thought. Karl ushered him to the door and knocked. Ditmar opened the door, and the two of them took the man back to the room he’d been held in. They were back in a few minutes with the man who had been first in line.

After he had been seated and the lantern half-opened, Neustatter opened the same way.

Guten Abend. May I have your name, bitte?”

This man also remained silent.

“The up-time tradition is soldiers may give their name, rank, and serial number while remaining silent on other matters. You have a sense of competence. Sneaking through the forest is not something you do often.” Neustatter waggled a hand. “Maybe a soldier, but if so, one used to the old-style units. Perhaps something else altogether. It makes me wonder—why are you here?”

The man said nothing.

“This seems late. Desperate. Anyone can see what is coming. Why send spies to Grantville now? Last year or the year before? Sure.”

Still nothing.

Neustatter nodded to Karl, who ushered the man from the room. He and Ditmar and Astrid returned with the first couple. Meanwhile Neustatter had added a second chair to each side of the table. After seating the couple on one side of the table, Astrid circled it and sat down to Neustatter’s left. Then Neustatter half-opened the lantern.

Both looked away from the lantern, and the woman raised her left hand to shield her eyes. Neustatter waited a few moments.

“May we have your names, bitte?”

The man and woman exchanged glances.

Astrid cocked her head to one side. “Are you . . . together?”

Neither answered.

“Should we send you off to separate prisoner of war camps, or would you like to be kept together?”

She glanced at the man, who made a calming gesture with one hand.

“Do you have a preference?” Astrid pressed.

The woman seemed to have regained her composure, though, and no answers were forthcoming. Neustatter nodded to Karl.

A few minutes later, they had the other couple in the room.

“May we have your names, bitte?”

This man and woman remained silent, too, although this woman was already fidgeting.

Astrid followed with the same question as before. “Are you . . . together?”

Neustatter saw the other man’s face tighten just a bit. He hoped Miss Schäubin had seen the woman’s reaction, if there had been one.

Further questions got them nowhere. Neustatter signaled Karl.

Once all the prisoners had been returned to their respective rooms, Neustatter, Astrid, Georg, Barbara, and the USE Lieutenant Schmidt gathered in the room they’d used for the interrogations.

Neustatter summarized. “They refused to answer questions. I think they are scared.”

“Terrified,” Miss Schäubin stated.

“Did any of them protest? Proclaim their innocence?” Lieutenant Schmidt asked.

Nein.

“Strange,” Schmidt mused. “We would not believe them, but why not try?”

“We need at least one of them to talk with us,” Barbara Kellarmännin said.

“We can tell one of them another has confessed—” Schmidt began.

Nein.”

“The authorities are not required to tell the truth at this stage of an investigation,” Schmidt explained. “At hearings, at trial, ja. In interrogation, nein.”

Neustatter jumped in before Miss Kellarmännin could. “Of course, once any of them realize they were lied to, we would get no more information at all.”

Nein,” Lieutenant Schmidt argued. “At least one of them will turn state’s evidence to avoid being hanged as a spy.”

“What if that approach just gets you six dead spies and no answers?” Barbara asked.

Schmidt shrugged.

Astrid’s eyes narrowed. “You want their targets, ja?”

“Without knowing their goals, it would be difficult to stop a second group that came a different way,” Neustatter pointed out.

“The war will be over by then,” Schmidt countered.

“Unless the mastermind is—or becomes—a mercenary.” Neustatter said. “We need to know where they were going.”

“We need someone to break.” Schmidt’s words were blunt, but none of the rest of them could disagree.

“We need someone to trust us.” Barbara Kellarmännin spoke quietly. “We need to find their rock, and we need to deal with it. Neustatter, may Otto join us?”

“Why?”

“Because I think I know what is coming, and I want to pray about it first.”

Lieutenant Schmidt rolled her eyes, then stopped as she saw Neustatter didn’t look surprised.

“Can’t see as how it’d hurt.” He got up and returned with Otto. Lieutenant Schmidt’s expression conveyed she didn’t understand why Otto Brenner was necessary for this part. Neustatter was pretty sure he knew.

“Otto!”

“Miss Kellarmännin.”

Barbara smiled at his formality, the first time she’d done so since arriving. “Will you pray with us before Astrid and I question the women?”

Ja.”

Georg began. “Lord God, You know all things. Please reveal why these people have come . . . .”

Next, Barbara prayed briefly. Then Astrid. After Neustatter, Otto, and Schmidt declined to say anything aloud, Georg Meisner concluded.

After the amen, Barbara looked up. “Leutnant, do you have a file for this case? It need not be complete—just something we can have in front of us.”

Und paper, ink, and a quill, bitte,” Astrid added.

“And food and drink, bitte.” Barbara repeated her earlier advice. “Nothing fancy. Cheese toast and small beer will work.”

Once everything was in place, Lieutenant Schmidt addressed Barbara. “You should be in uniform.”

“Herr Chief Richards has not told me to wear a uniform,” Barbara answered.

“The other Leutnants Schmidt and I will not be in the room because we do not want to draw the Saxons’ attention to us. If you are not in uniform, they will assume you are with Intelligence.”

“I can introduce myself as a profiler from the Grantville Police Department.”

Nein! That is the very last thing you ought to say!” Schmidt threw Neustatter a rather desperate look.

“It is important not to draw attention to Leutnant Schmidt’s people or even to what your do, Miss Kellarmännin,” Neustatter said. “The simplest thing to do would be for you to wear a uniform.”

“But I am not in the National Guard. It would be a lie.” Then Barbara took a deep breath and continued in a calmer voice. “This is like AF, is it not? Herr Miller told me about Midway Island radioing it was short of fresh water when it was not. Before the Battle of Midway.”

Ja, it is like AF,” Lieutenant Schmidt answered. “I do not need you to say you are in the National Guard. I need you to look like you are in the National Guard.”

“Where are we going to find her a uniform?” Neustatter asked.

“You can wear one of mine,” Schmidt offered. “We are about the same size. So, a correction: I need you to look like you are in the USE Army.”

Barbara looked stubborn.

“Fine. I can swear you in for the day.”

Barbara, Georg, Astrid, and Neustatter all said it together. “Brethren don’t swear oaths.”

Lieutenant Schmidt leaned over and bonked her head on the tabletop. Twice. Then she looked up at them. “Is there going to be a problem with guns, too?” She saw the nods. Thrice.

Then her head came up again, and she focused on Neustatter. “You know up-timer movies. Explain Sergeant York to her, bitte.”

At the end of Neustatter’s explanation, Barbara appeared unconvinced.

Astrid spoke up. “I’m wearing. Neustatter, you and Ditmar and Karl will be ready to burst in, right? So we are prepared.”

“How do we know someone will take orders without an oath?” Schmidt asked.

“Have you seen Spartacus’ pamphlet on why oaths are part of the old order and out of place in the new timeline?” Georg asked. “He argues they are an artifact of a system that valued order above justice.”

“Without order, all is chaos,” Schmidt shot back. “Neustatter?”

“I do not philosophize about chaos,” Neustatter answered. “I just use it.”

Schmidt let that pass without comment and touched the crutches leaning against her chair with one hand. “I will . . . affirm Miss Kellarmännin into my service, the USE Army, for the day. Unlike the SoTF National Guard, which is very committed to the idea that everyone goes to basic training, the USE Army makes exceptions for certain technical experts.”

* * *

A little while later, Astrid took Neustatter’s usual place at the center of one side of the table. Barbara, duly affirmed into the USE Army and wearing one of Lieutenant Schmidt’s gray uniforms, sat to her right, behind the lantern.

Neustatter and Ditmar escorted the woman Neustatter had captured into the room.

“Sit down, bitte,” Astrid began.

The woman’s eyes flitted back and forth but she sat readily enough.

Astrid stifled a grin as she looked over at Neustatter. “That will be all, Leutnant.”

As soon as he closed the door, Barbara threw the shutter on the lantern open and moved it further down the table to where to would provide illumination rather than a blinding glare. Then she went to the opposite end of the table and uncovered the cheese toast and small beer. After sliding the tray to the center of the table, she resumed her seat.

The woman eyed the food and drink.

“Go ahead,” Astrid told her.

The woman made no movement.

Barbara sighed. She stood and turned her back on the table, then reached behind her and found a piece of the cheese toast.

“Do you agree this is a random sample?” she asked.

Ja,” the woman admitted.

Barbara sat back down and took a bite. “Then I think we can agree it is not poisoned, and you can go ahead and eat.”

The woman gave her a hint of a smile. Then she took a piece of cheese toast and all but inhaled it.

“Allow me to point out we are on a military base, and if the USE or the SoTF wanted to make you disappear, it would not be hard.” Astrid gave the woman a thin smile.

Nein,” the woman blurted out.

Nein, it would not be hard? Nein, it would? Nein, please do not make you disappear?”

The woman did not answer.

“Come. Help us, bitte. Why will you not talk?” Astrid waited. “It is possible the State of Thuringia-Franconia will execute you as spies. If you can give a reason not to do so . . . ”

At least a full minute passed. Then Barbara spoke up.

“Who are you protecting?” The woman’s mouth dropped open, and Barbara pressed on. “Family? Children? Nein. The man who stayed behind to delay Neustatter while you ran?” Barbara nodded knowingly. “He is important to you. Und you are blushing, so I think the two of you are not married. Another reason I think you do not have children. A sister? Younger than you. Just as blonde. Between fifteen and twenty years of age—and in danger.”

Astrid felt her own eyes go wide. From the woman’s shocked expression, at least a good portion of Barbara’s conclusions were correct.

“Is your sister shorter than you? Slender? Someone has threatened her, ja? But not just threatened. He would have given her small presents. Jewelry perhaps? Some shiny up-time item?”

“How do you know this?” The woman sounded like she was somewhere between awestruck and terrified—which seemed reasonable to Astrid. She felt the same. Well, nein, she wasn’t terrified. She was angry.

“Are you willing to talk with us now? Not to the SoTF National Guard or the USE Army. But with us women.”

“I cannot.” The woman’s voice broke as she choked back a sob.

“Dying to protect your sister will not work,” Barbara declared. “Let me tell you what else I know. The man who contacted you is a down-timer. He is short, and he speaks good Saxon German. You may not have seen his face because his hat was pulled low, and he wore a cloak. There may have been other women in similar circumstances but he left them alone because they are brunettes.”

The woman gasped. “How do you know these things?” Her eyes narrowed. “You must have already caught him!”

Nein. We almost caught him in June.”

“Then how do you know all this?”

Despite her obvious distress, the woman had a lovely voice. Astrid could imagine her singing somewhere. She made a snap decision to ignore Lieutenant Schmidt’s instructions. “Barbara is a profiler. She studies the behavior of criminals.”

“Did you grow up in a village or a town?” Barbara’s voice was gentle.

“A town,” the woman answered.

Barbara smiled. “Think back to your town. Do you remember anyone who had very definite opinions about how children ought to be raised?

The woman actually giggled. “Ja.”

“Was this person older, crotchety, sure the younger generations are doing it wrong?”

Ja.

“This is a simplified version of what I look for,” Barbara explained. “People who have similar experiences and similar motivations do things in similar ways. The up-timers studied their most dangerous criminals and found it was true of them. It is the key to stopping them.”

Astrid saw the woman’s interest fade as if a light had gone out.

“You do not believe he can be stopped.” Astrid shrugged. “It is not hard to read you, Frau. May I know what to call you other than just Frau?”

“I am no Frau.”

“You will be if you stay here in the SoTF.” Barbara sounded a bit absent-minded, as if she were concentrating on something else. “What we need is information—anything else you know about him, where he is now . . . where your sister is.”

“If I betray him, he will . . . hurt my sister!”

“I think you mean ‘rape.’” Barbara’s hard tone surprised Astrid. “He has taken your sister to compel you to spy for him, ja? You think if you are executed after being caught, he might let her go free. This is why you will not talk with us.”

Ja! It is! You must let us go or execute us quickly!” The woman surged to her feet.

“Siddown.” Astrid was on her feet, too, with her hand already on the butt of her pistol.

Barbara remained seated. She spoke calmly as the other two women faced off. “It is not in the SoTF’s interest—or the USE’s—to execute you. Sprunck will prey on more women and coerce others to come and spy for him.”

“It is true,” Astrid added. “This is his fourth or fifth operation against Grantville, depending on how you count them.” She waited a beat. “That we know of.”

“You cannot get caught,” Barbara began.

“But I am already caught!” the woman wailed.

“Sprunck does not know.”

Astrid let Barbara’s statement hang in the air for a few moments, then she said, “I assume Sprunck told you if you are a successful spy for him, your sister will be safe.”

The woman gave her a short, quick nod.

“Then it is what you must do—except the SoTF will tell you what you must spy. What are your instructions?”

* * *

An hour later, Lieutenant Schmidt, Neustatter, Astrid, Barbara, and Georg conferred.

“You flipped her,” the female Lieutenant Schmidt acknowledged.

“Maybe.” The white-haired Lieutenant Schmidt who had promoted Neustatter entered the room. “She may have said what she needed to get the two of you to leave her alone.” He smiled. “I might have done the same. No offense.”

Astrid smiled back.

“So what are we going to do?” the female Schmidt asked.

“Let them go to the places Sprunck sent them to but report what we”—Astrid’s hand circled, indicating the whole group—“want them to.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Neustatter drawled, “but they could give Saxony accurate information, and it wouldn’t make any difference. So Saxony steals some manufacturing processes. Torstensson is going to go through them long before they can build any factories.”

“You are not wrong,” the older Schmidt told him. “While it goes against the grain, the right thing to do is follow the Stearns Plan.”

“The right thing to do is to help these people,” Barbara stated. “All of our ‘right things’ align.”

“Now you just need to convince the other five,” Schmidt pointed out. “None of this will work if even one of them holds out.”

“Or pulls a triple cross.” The older Schmidt’s words were grim. “All it would take is a code word they are under duress.”

Neustatter’s tone was equally grave. “We need to know where Sprunck is. If we take him out . . . ”

The older lieutenant—the one wearing captain’s bars on his shoulders—shook his head. “Miss Schäubin, you said Anna said they set out from Zwickau.”

Ja.

“We cannot attack Zwickau. Not until Torstensson moves. And before you ask, we cannot infiltrate Zwickau, either. Would Sprunck have left someone there to watch?”

Ja, he would have,” Barbara answered. “He is a careful planner until things begin to go wrong. If you were seen, even thought to be from the SoTF, whoever he left could signal him. Sprunck could harm his hostages.”

“It frustrates me, too, Miss Kellarmännin. But I sense it is not the only reason you are frowning so mightily.”

“Hostages.” Barbara sounded almost absent-minded again. “This is a new piece. He is escalating . . . I have questions for the other woman. Then I would like to speak with the man who tried to protect Anna.”

“And now you are the one frowning mightily, Miss Schäubin,” the older Schmidt observed.

Ja. Many women are named Anna, including Wolfram’s wife. The thought of someone doing this to our Anna . . . But this one is someone’s Anna, isn’t she?”

“It is why I want to talk to the man who was with her,” Barbara said.

* * *

An hour later, Astrid felt sick. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to race to the restroom to throw up or punch the wall. The other woman—Elisabetha—had stopped crying for the moment. Barbara was comforting her. She led the woman back to the room where they were holding her, after sending Ditmar on ahead to remove the man who’d been with her.

Barbara reentered the conference room. Schmidt, Schmidt, and Neustatter had already gathered.

“I left her with a couple female MPs.” She spoke softly and looked not far from tears herself. Then her demeanor changed. Her eyes flashed. “I want Sprunck. Alive, if possible.”

“Why?” the older Lieutenant Schmidt asked. “We would certainly execute him.”

“You may kill him when I am done with him.” Barbara didn’t quite snap at the officer. “He is a very dangerous sexual predator. It is very important Herr Chief Richards or I interrogate him and find out why he is this way, so we can prevent it from happening in other people.”

Can you prevent it?”

“I need to know more about Sprunck’s background before I can give an answer, but according to the up-time sources . . . maybe. Sometimes.” She remembered something. “Chemnitz! He told people in Grantville he was from Chemnitz.”

Barbara threw up her hands. “Of course they started from Zwickau. Chemnitz to Zwickau to the border. If his story is true—and the fact his German matches the Lutherbibel argues for it—then the reason he feels inadequate may be right there in Chemnitz.”

“Inadequate?” the female Schmidt prompted.

Astrid saw Barbara was looking at her rather than at Schmidt.

“This part bothered you the most, I think.” Barbara’s voice was quiet again. “Sprunck seemed genuinely concerned she enjoyed it.”

“It is why I wonder if it was rape at all,” Schmidt said. “Elisabetha reported no violence.”

“Tobias Sprunck is a power reassurance rapist,” Barbara stated. “Not as physically violent as an anger retaliatory rapist, but consider the psychological torture. He will have planned it carefully ahead of time, too. Und consider what the profiler Herr Douglas wrote up-time. He was talking about serial killers, but I think it applies to serial rapists, too. It is not something completely outside their control, because he never once saw one commit the offense in front of a police officer.”

Astrid almost smiled when she saw Lieutenant Schmidt cock her head to one side.

“Are you saying deep down he knows it is wrong, but he is lying to himself by asking if she enjoyed it?”

Ja. Maybe,” Barbara answered.

“It is dangerous for a spy to lie to himself about anything,” Schmidt mused. “So, Miss Kellarmännin . . . How can we use this against him?”

Barbara thought for a couple minutes before answering. “He feels inadequate. He wants reassurance. He wants to succeed. His operation in Grantville was shut down. It took a while to put it all together, but he was stalking Sunshine Moritz instead of supervising his operation, which is when his henchmen decided kidnapping Casimir Wesner was a good idea. Casimir’s friends brought in NESS. Sprunck fled before NESS became involved, but he will have obtained the newspapers and read about their attack on D’Ambrosi’s house . . . .

“This will look like revenge to him, because he was behind at least some of the vandalism on the east side of the Ring of Fire and the attack on the Hauns’ bridge. Und that attack was him taking revenge against Arne Helgerson for rescuing a girl he had set his sights on.”

Und he was in Schlinck’s headquarters when Hauptmann Bretagne surrounded it,” Astrid put in.

“He does seem to be something of a nemesis for NESS,” the older Schmidt agreed.

“But he does not know Georg figured out his scheme with the fake orders,” Neustatter pointed out. “Nor does he know—yet—NESS intercepted his team.”

“Here is how we do it,” Barbara declared. “We make sure he thinks he has won. We have his team send information.”

The elder Schmidt continued the train of thought. “Track his lines of communication. Follow them right back to him.”

“He is deep in enemy territory,” the female lieutenant Schmidt reminded them all.

“For now. Give General Torstensson some time.”

“I would like to talk to the man who was with Anna next,” Barbara spoke up.

“Do you want Neustatter and Recker to handle it?” Schmidt asked.

Nein. No offense, Neustatter, but he would try to keep up his image with you. Astrid and I are not after vital military information. We are just so concerned about Anna.”

Astrid rolled her eyes. “Are we going to play dumb blondes?”

Nein. We are going to explain how we can save his girlfriend’s life.”

As the others filed out, the elder Schmidt muttered to Neustatter, “Und I thought we Schmidts were the twistiest people around.”

* * *

Ditmar and Karl brought the man in and sat him down. Astrid gave them an absentminded nod. She forced herself to not examine the security arrangements, whether they might be within his reach, how long it might take him to circle the table . . . except she kept her right hand in her lap.

Astrid pushed a mug of small beer across the table with her left hand and gestured toward the platter, refilled with cheese toast.

“Please have something to eat and drink. We are not here for any military secrets,” she began. “We are just worried about Anna. We do not want anything to happen to her.”

Astrid hadn’t missed how his mug had stalled halfway to his mouth when she spoke Anna’s name—and she was absolutely sure Barbara hadn’t missed it, either.

“We, ah, we need your help. Anna does not look like a spy. Why is she here?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Und the two of you do not look like soldiers.”

“We are not. Not really,” Astrid replied.

“Those look like uniforms to me. You had those other two bring me in here, so you have some influence. What are you?”

Barbara leaned forward. “We are the people who might—might—be able to save Anna’s sister from the man who made you come here.”

The man froze. “I have said nothing about how we got here.”

“But we know,” Barbara told him. “You told Anna to run and tried to stop . . . the man who captured both of you. You wanted to protect Anna. She blushed when I mentioned you. Tell me about yourself, bitte, and why you are on this mission. Und I will try to help you. Und Anna.”

She let him think for a moment. “I need to know everything you know about the man who sent you in order to have a chance at stopping him. Tell me, bitte. Start with how you and Anna met.”

The man stared at her. Then he glanced over to Astrid before settling his gaze on Barbara again. “We met in Werdau.”

Barbara waited.

“After church.” He shrugged. “She has a nice voice. Und it was obvious at once she truly cared for her younger sister. It is just the two of them, and they were in service to a good family in Werdau.”

Barbara smiled. “You find that attractive.”

Ja.” His tone conveyed, who wouldn’t? “Our employers allowed us to court. I was perhaps a couple years away from making my own household and being able to marry.” He sighed. “It is all gone now.”

Barbara kept silent for a few moments out of respect.. Then she asked, “What is her name? Anna’s sister?”

“I do not suppose it matters now,” he muttered. “Magdalena.”

“Surname?” Barbara’s voice was sharper now.

“Kaufmännin.”

Barbara turned to Astrid. “Can your people get her out?” she demanded.

Astrid returned a thin smile. “I will consult my field commander. But in the meantime, we need you to keep telling us about Anna. How did this man . . . choose . . . her? Und you?”

He put his head in his hands. Barbara couldn’t hear what he muttered.

“Again, bitte?”

The man threw up his arms in frustration. “I do not know! Neither does Anna! We could not figure it out.”

“We will figure it out together,” Barbara told him. “Close your eyes. Let us go to where you worked. Tell me about the building.”

The man stared at her. “What? What sort of deviltry is this?”

Barbara spoke quietly. “It is not deviltry. Nor is it witchcraft. I want your eyewitness testimony, and this will help you remember better. I am not going to tell you what to say. I want to hear what you saw and heard and felt and smelled. Close your eyes, bitte.

“Think of a typical day. What happens?”

“I get up, dress, eat a roll, maybe a bit of cheese.”

“Where are you?”

“In my master’s house. We go to work.”

“What do you hear?”

“The snip of scissors. Master giving directions. The rattle of pins.”

“No pincushions?” Barbara asked.

Nein. Master’s grandfather did not approve of them.” The man smiled in spite of the situation. “His wife nagged him about it every time one of the apprentices spilled the box of pins.”

“Do you see any sign of the man who sent you as a spy?”

Nein. Never there. Not until the note came.”

“Tell me about the note, bitte.”

“A serving girl from one of the taverns brought it. Master called me to the door. He gave me a disapproving look. I broke the seal and read. It said Anna needed my assistance and I should come to the tavern after the day’s work was done. Master did not approve but said since I had accompanied the girl to church and walked out with her afterwards, I ought to go. He demanded to know if there was anything between us. I told him nothing had happened between us. We talked in terms of when we might afford to marry. Years. It is true Anna thought perhaps as little as two years, but . . . ” He shrugged. “It does not matter now.”

“On your way to the tavern, what is the weather like?”

“Sunny. Still cool, but getting warmer.”

“What month is it?”

“May.”

“When you walk into the tavern, what do you notice first?”

“It is empty. It is the dinner hour but almost no one is there. Anna is seated at a table against the wall. There is a man across the table from her but I cannot see his face.”

“Why not?”

“He is wearing a hat pulled down low.”

“Who else is there?”

“Hans, I think, but he is in the kitchen. Neither of the serving girls is there. There is another man on the opposite side of the room.”

“What is he doing?”

“He is looking at me. Then he nods to the man at the table with Anna.”

Barbara nodded. She had a good idea where this was going but did not want to lead the witness.

“He tells me to sit down next to Anna. I do. I greet Anna and pull my chair around so I can see the man across the room. But when the man across the table speaks, I do not know where the man across the room goes.

“The man says he summoned us because something has happened to Anna’s sister Magdalena. I remember exactly what he said. ‘Girl, your sister is very beautiful. She is quite safe. I require something of you before you may see her.’

“I jump up—or at least I try to, but the second man is behind me and pushes me back down onto the bench. The first man ignores me. He says to Anna, ‘I am sure your sister wants the same thing I do. But if both of you—you and the boy—do as I command, I will forbear. If you do not follow my orders . . . Needless to say, if you tell anyone . . . We have people everywhere.’ Then he says, ‘I would make sure she enjoyed it, of course.’ The way he says it, I think he believes it himself.

“Anna is crying. She squeezes my hand and begs me to do what he says to protect Magdalena. I will not forget his face. He has no expression at all, but all the same, I can tell he is laughing at us on the inside.”

Barbara interrupted in a soft voice. “What does he look like?”

“It is hard to see. Most of the candles are not lit, only a couple on the table behind him. He has dark eyes, and there is something not right in them. A narrow face, strong nose. Dark beard, dark hair—about the same length as mine. He is small. He wears his hat and cloak even in the tavern. I cannot see more.”

“How does his voice sound?”

“Unsettling. There is no emotion in it.”

Barbara nodded. “Smells?”

“Hans is cooking food. Lamb, I think. And turnips.” He frowned. “There is something. The candle on our table is not lit. He pulls it out of the candlestick. The candlesticks are just a short cup with a spiral strip of copper to hold the candle upright. Master Friedrich’s apprentices and junior journeymen make them out of scrap. This man pulls the candle out. Then he pockets the candlestick and walks out.

“The second man speaks from behind us. ‘You will eat dinner here. You will not go outside until you have finished eating. I will be watching. If you disobey . . . ’

“He yells for Hans, and then I think he leaves. Hans brings us dinner. I do not taste it at all. Anna . . . Magdalena . . . ”

Danke,” Barbara told him. “You have told me a great deal—including confirming this man was indeed Tobias Sprunck.”

The man looked confused. “Who? What? How did I do that?”

“You described characteristics we already know about him. The candlestick, for instance. Was it shiny?”

“How did you know?” he demanded. “Ja, Hans makes the serving girls polish the copper. He does not want it to tarnish. In the long run, it always does, of course.”

Barbara smiled. “People have habits, ja?”

His eyes narrowed. “You said you know this man.”

“Not personally. But I know people who met him.”

The man stared at her for some time before he spoke again. “Can you save Magdalena?”

“I mean to try,” Barbara told him. “But I cannot tell the future. I can observe people and assume they will act consistently with who they have become. Like a man who rises early every day—he may not have to wake as early on Sunday, but I expect he does.”

“My parents,” the man groaned.

“Tobias Sprunck will remain consistent with who he has become over the course of his life.” Barbara sat up straighter. “We need him to think you and Anna and the others are still working for him. Shall we talk about those details?”

He nodded.

“First, what shall I call you?”

“Klaus.”

“Pleased to meet you, Klaus. My name is Barbara. This is Astrid, and she is going to tell you about what you and Anna can do.”

Barbara hoped Astrid didn’t mind. She had an impression Astrid was more comfortable with the cloak-and-dagger aspects. She couldn’t possibly be less comfortable with those details than Barbara was.

“To protect Magdalena, Klaus, you and Anna must spy for Sprunck. The SoTF is okay with this.” Astrid Schäubin leaned forward. “He sent you to steal technological processes, ja?”

Klaus started.

“Sprunck could not reasonably expect you to send military intelligence,” Astrid pointed out. “I presume Saxony has noticed the very large army massing outside Halle? As opposed to here at Camp Saale?”

Ja, und the capture of every town along the Saale River,” Klaus agreed.

“Nor has he sent you here to steal superweapons,” Astrid continued. “He is smart. Ruthless and twisted, but smart. He was in Grantville for nearly two years. He knows there are no superweapons. There was a time when Saxony could have bought SRGs on the open market instead of raiding a fort for them.” She smiled thinly. “Ja, we know all of it. What kind of spying remains?”

“High-value, low-volume goods,” Barbara answered for him. “Plans, processes, valuable objects.”

Ja,” Klaus acknowledged.

“What is your priority? Where are you supposed to seek work?”

“At a machine shop.”

Astrid smiled. “I recommend Marcantonio’s.”

Klaus looked suspicious. “Why?”

“It is easier for people who want to remain unnoticed in Grantville to find work there. If you sought a job at Davis’, the manager—Herr Worley—would notice Anna the first time she met you there.”

Klaus froze. “You know this already? H—” He broke off. Barbara could practically see the wheels turning, as the up-timers said. “This has happened before, ja? This man—Sprunck?”

Ja und nein,” Astrid replied. “Let us say if you wish to remain unwatched, Marcantonio’s is a better job opportunity. Sprunck is not behind every event in Grantville.”

Astrid watched Klaus’ expression. She thought she and Barbara had just gone further up in his estimation.

It concerned her. They knew a lot. Doing something about it was going to be a lot harder.

Aloud, she said, “I think you and Anna should talk. We will talk to the rest of your team.” She forced a smile. “Is there anything you would like to tell us about them?”

Klaus’ response was immediate. “I will not tell you anything that might harm Anna or Magdalena.”

“How about how to persuade them to help you? And why each of them might be on this team?”

Klaus started to nod. “Ja. Here is what I know . . . ”

* * *

Sometime close to dawn, Hjalmar and Otto took Klaus to another room. As soon as the door clicked shut, Barbara slumped forward and put her head on the table.

“Tired?” Astrid asked.

Ja, but tired is the least of it.” Barbara was silent for a couple minutes. “I tried not to make promises I may not be able to keep. So much could go wrong. I so hope I do not get anyone killed.”

Astrid got up and put a hand on Barbara’s shoulder. “You are doing fine. The three we’ve talked to believe you.”

“But what if I make a mistake?” Barbara whispered.

“Neustatter told me once you can do everything right and still lose.”

Barbara looked up. “It makes sense. We can do what we can do. If God wills Magdalena is rescued and Sprunck is stopped . . . I am beginning to sound like too many theological debates in the high school cafeteria.”

Astrid laughed. “I do not understand how that works. But we will do what we can.”

Barbara pushed her chair back and stood up. “We need to update the others.”

* * *

Once two Lieutenants Schmidt, Neustatter, Georg, and Otto had gathered around the table, Astrid brought them up to date.

The female lieutenant turned to the older Lieutenant Schmidt, the one with captain’s bars on his shoulder straps. “Can we keep Miss Kellarmännin?”

Barbara looked horror-stricken.

The older officer’s words were dry as dust. “I suspect we will have to settle for employing her as an occasional consultant.”

“We still have to talk with three of them,” Barbara cautioned.

Georg spoke up. “I fingerprinted the two men Neustatter described as first and last in the column. Und I swabbed their hands for GSR.”

“That sounded Amideutsch, but I have no idea what you said at the end,” the older lieutenant remarked.

“Gunshot residue.”

“Well, ja. The rear guard shot at me,” Neustatter said.

“All I can do is show he fired a black-powder weapon,” Georg said. “I know this. You know this. He does not know this. I did not question him at all. In fact, I told him we did not need him to talk at all. We would let the forensic evidence talk for him.”

“AF is short of fresh water,” Barbara said.

“If you were going to send a team into a country . . . It does not matter for this purpose whether Saxony is a foreign country or a rebellious province. Would you not take certain precautions like telling the commander of your team what the Grantville Polizei could do?”

“A very good question, Georg,” Neustatter told him. “So he trusts the team leader, at least enough to put him in charge, but he does not value him. Not enough to tell him what he is walking into.”

“Correct,” Barbara agreed. “Remember, Sprunck’s type does not confront strong men.”

“He maneuvers them.”

Ja.”

“Something has been bothering me,” Lieutenant Schmidt said. “Why all this effort for a team he is all but throwing away? There is such a small chance they will succeed in time to affect the war. But Sprunck laid the groundwork months ago.”

Everyone exchanged glances and frowns. Then Barbara said, “He is careful and meticulous until his plan is interrupted. When he has to improvise, he is not as skilled.”

“The forged order was found only some days ago,” Georg pointed out.

“But the plan was already in motion,” the female lieutenant pointed out. “He has planned to infiltrate someone all along. Frankly, I am surprised it was not a raiding party. The SoTF National Guard would hunt them down, of course, but they could cause panic out of proportion to their effectiveness.”

“If we can see it, cannot Sprunck as well? Astrid asked.

Ja,” Barbara answered. “So why are there not raiders?”

“The easiest answer is someone higher up the chain of command did not approve the idea,” the elder Schmidt said. “But this explanation is dangerously convenient.”

Neustatter turned to Barbara. “How smart is Sprunck? Could this be a diversion?”

“What do you mean?”

“A kind of triple cross. He suborns a radio operator and uses false orders to create a weak point. Our attention is drawn to it while the blow falls elsewhere. Is he smart enough to infiltrate real raiders somewhere else?”

“This all seems . . . ” Barbara trailed off. “How long ago were the orders altered?”

“The first, in May,” Schmidt answered.

“Before he fled Grantville,” Barbara mused. “The same month he took Magdalena and began blackmailing Anna and Klaus. The false orders opened the way for him.”

“Are you sure?” the elder Schmidt demanded.

“He feels inadequate. This is his best revenge against men he dares not confront directly,” Barbara explained.

“So is this a diversion or not?” the female Lieutenant Schmidt demanded.

Barbara shrugged. “I think creating one or more diversions would give Sprunck a further sense of power. These false orders—I do not know the details, but could there be more of them?”

“I think I had better talk to Colonel Blackwell,” Georg spoke up.

“The border out past Birkig is where Saxony is closest to Grantville and where we captured this team,” Neustatter said. “If it is a diversion, then any actual attack would cross the border further away. I say Reuss County—either the northern section around Gera to reach the railroad or the southern section because they could cross near Zwickau and work their way across the long projection of Reuss.”

The elder lieutenant’s eyes seemed to unfocus as he thought. “Or Saxe-Altenburg. Maybe cut the railroad line between Rudolstadt and Jena.”

“Saxon adel did send their men to attack our train in May,” Neustatter pointed out. “I suspected the attempted hijacking had semi-official blessing. At least it seems unlikely to me they would have disobeyed an order not to do it.”

“It led to the capture of all the Saale River towns,” Schmidt added. “I will make sure our commanders know about the possibility. They may want to reinforce the train guards at least as far as Halle. I suppose if I were in the Saxons’ shoes and feeling desperate, I might consider how two raiding groups coming from the projections of Saxony north and south of Gera and Altenburg might converge on Jena.”

“That is . . . suicidal,” the other Schmidt argued. “Sir.”

“If they knocked out the railroad junction, even for a few days, it might be worth it,” the older officer stated. “Hitting the railroad between Rudolstadt and Jena would be an inconvenience. Stopping supplies from Erfurt from reaching the USE Army outside Halle would have military significance. It would not stop Torstensson, mind you. But . . . ”

“Is it logical to assume Saxony would do the . . . I am not sure of the word,” Barbara said. “Tactical? Strategic? Or would they think in terms of our morale?”

“You are the profiler.”

“But I know very little about how John George thinks,” Barbara protested.

The lieutenant’s eyes widened. “We are misusing you, Miss Kellarmännin! To answer one of your questions, where to cross the border might be a tactical or an operational decision. The choice between a military target and a morale target is a strategic decision. But perhaps we should not have you focused just on Sprunck. Not if there are things you could tell us about John George if only we supplied you with the information.”

“I am sure the USE has people—” Barbara broke off when she saw Lieutenant Schmidt shaking his head.

“The captain general, for instance, is quite good at reading people,” he stated. “But it is not the same thing you do. I think perhaps you should teach others.”

“Chief Richards is the real expert,” Barbara insisted.

“Of course.”

Barbara suspected she hadn’t won the argument. But she did not have time for that now. “We still have three men to interview before anyone notices they have not arrived in Grantville.”

“Do you think Sprunck still has people in Grantville?” the older Schmidt asked.

Barbara thought it through. “I do not think so. But we did not know he still had Müffling. We cannot afford to be wrong, so we must assume he does.”

Schmidt beamed. “We will make a spook of you yet, Miss Kellarmännin. Und your point about running out of time is well-taken. Neustatter, take another run at the team leader. Find out what he is doing to protect the women under his command.”

Barbara nodded in approval.

“Take someone with you,” Schmidt added.

“Otto,” Barbara says. “He notices things.”

Astrid smothered a smile. He did, and one of the things Otto noticed was Barbara.

The next thing Barbara said wiped the smile off her face. “We need to talk to the man who was with Elisabetha.”

Neustatter spoke up. “You need a bigger gun, Miss Schäubin.”

“I have my .22.”

“I got a feeling about this guy. I have a very specific weapon in mind.”

“And I have some information in mind,” Schmidt added.

* * *

A few minutes later, Astrid was even less happy.

“If this is about the woman, just release her to me. I will make sure she stays out of trouble.”

“I think the part where you were caught behind enemy lines in time of war may have slipped your mind.” Barbara’s words could not have been dryer.

“I am unaware of such things.”

Astrid leaned forward. “That is not even remotely believable. You crossed the border between Saxony and the SoTF at midnight.”

“I have relatives in the Ernestine Saxonies.”

Und yet you entered West Virginia County.” Astrid gave him a sardonic smile she’d learned from watching Neustatter.

“Saxony will prevail. I would not expect—”

“What?” Astrid demanded. “You would not expect”—she indicated Barbara and herself with a wave of her hand—“us to know von Arnim’s army is facing Torstensson’s USE Army? To know von Arnim cannot even retake the Saale River towns without uncovering Leipzig? To know Saxony has no hope of projecting force through the Ranis salient and almost as little chance of defending it? To know Reuss County and Saxe-Altenburg County could carry out a pincer attack on it with their own forces? Und to know if the State of Thuringia-Franconia sent a single regiment to help, it could march the length of the salient without breaking formation?”

She leaned back in her chair. “What else do you not expect us to know?”

Then Barbara leaned forward. “To know some members of your team were compelled to come on this desperate mission? There is simply no way you walked through the forest at night with five other people you happened to meet along the way. You were paired with Elisabetha. Why?”

“We met earlier in the day.”

That is your answer?” Barbara dipped her head down to her left and watched him with her right eye. “This woman whom you profess not to know accepted you as her chaperone instead of walking with Justina?”

“Anna.”

The man froze the instant the correct name slipped out.

Barbara smiled. “Ja, Anna. Tell me about Anna, bitte.”

He shrugged, raised palms coming up. “What is to know? She is Klaus’.”

Barbara pounced. “Whose is Elisabetha?”

She watched a dark expression—anger?—cross his face and twisted the knife. “She is an attractive woman. Any of a number of National Guardsmen would be happy to court her—”

“She is mine!” The man shot up out of his chair. “But if I cannot have her—!”

He lunged across the table. Astrid was already on her feet, right hand cross-drawing a cap-and-ball revolver from a holster on her left side. In one fluid motion, she smashed the barrel against his temple.

The man howled and fell across the table. But then he got first one hand and then the other on the weapon.

Astrid immediately let go. The man reared up, fumbled the revolver around, and aimed it at her. Her sardonic grin was back as her right hand came back up, this time with her .22 from the holster on her right hip.

He pulled the trigger.

Absolutely nothing happened.

“Do you think I would bring a loaded weapon within arm’s reach of you?” she demanded. “This one is loaded, and it’s the one I killed a Saxon agent with not long ago.”

He spun the cylinder, pulled the trigger again.

“You can try all five. It is still going to be empty.” She waited a beat. “Siddown.”

He bolted for the door. He threw it open, took two steps, and then flew back into the room, sprawling on the floor.

Dumbass,” came Neustatter’s voice.

Neustatter stepped into the room and grabbed an arm. He bent the man’s wrist behind his back and pointed his own hand up. Although the man couldn’t even see the gesture, the pressure it caused on his own wrist brought him involuntarily to his feet. Neustatter walked him across the room and deposited him back in the chair.

Dank, Leutnant,” Astrid said.

Neustatter took a step back. But just one. He stood there looming behind the man.

Barbara leaned forward again. “Stay right there, bitte, Leutnant. This reminds me of how Sprunck’s man positioned himself behind Anna and Klaus. You say Elisabetha is yours. She is not, of course, but I wonder about the sort of man who would say so.”

Astrid saw the man squirm.

“But I do not wonder very much.” Barbara continued in a cold voice. “I know what you are like. You regard women as property, and the two of us”—her wave again took in herself and Astrid—“conducting the interrogation offends you. You profess not to know Elisabetha. Then you imply the two of us do not understand the situation on the interprovincial border. Finally, you claim Elisabetha is yours. Oh, ja, then you lunged at us, and when my associate pistol-whipped you, you fled when you realized you had seized an empty weapon.”

“You have a real problem with women. Is that how you came to Tobias Sprunck’s attention?”

The man swore a blue streak. Neustatter applied a forearm to the back of his head.

“Ow!”

“Answer the lady’s question,” Neustatter rumbled.

He spun around. “She is no Frau! She is—”

“Think real careful about your next word,” Neustatter suggested.

“Whore.”

Neustatter’s right cross knocked him clean out of the chair.

“Or it could have been your complete lack of self-control,” Barbara offered.

Neustatter poked him with a boot. “He’s out cold.”

Astrid glanced at Barbara. She was worried what the violence and the accumulated stress of interrogations might be doing to the young Brethren woman.

“I suspect I may be a mess later today,” Barbara murmured.

“Am I that obvious?” Astrid asked.

A brief smile came to Barbara’s face. “Honestly? Ja. But that one . . . another profile.”

* * *

Otto entered the room last and pulled the door shut behind him. He took a seat to the left of Neustatter.

“The men are sleeping in shifts. It’s been full day out there for a while.”

Dank, Otto,” Neustatter said. “I think most of the rest will be up to the Leutnants Schmidt.”

“Oh, I think we might want to keep you in the loop, Leutnant Neustatter,” the oldest Schmidt said.

There were three of them at the table now: the oldest one who wore captain’s bars, the woman, and the nondescript one. As Barbara continued to study him, she thought perhaps he might be Slavic. Maybe. He was as non-descript as Otto. Otto, of course, had many layers, if you paid attention. But the average Hans and Maria were not going to notice either one of them in a crowd.

“After all, you did get Hauptmann Rummler talking,” Schmidt continued.

Neustatter gave him a lopsided smile. “It was not hard once I told him what Miss Kellarmännin had found out. I believe he suspected Sprunck—although he does not appear to know him by that name—had blackmailed the rest of the team into this mission. I think he did not want to know. But now he does.” Neustatter nodded approvingly in Barbara’s direction. She was seated two chairs away on the other side of Astrid.

“I do not think Hauptmann Rummler will help us against Saxony,” Schmidt stated. “The others may need to report he and Sprunck’s henchman found an opening with one of the gunmakers they are going to exploit. In the meantime, it’s become necessary for the others to pool what they’ve learned and send it to Sprunck. I do think Rummler will give us the conduit.”

Neustatter nodded.

“I would like to simply debrief the team,” Schmidt continued. He smiled as he saw Barbara was already shaking her head. “Miss Kellarmännin, why not?”

“We do not know we have all of Sprunck’s agents. If we miss even one who can send a report, we put Magdalena in even more danger. They will need to actually work at spying.”

Schmidt nodded. “It will be arranged. Neustatter, I think Miss Kellarmännin is correct. Sprunck—or other Saxons—have plans to send in more spies. Or saboteurs. I think we are going to need you on the Reussian Front for a while longer.”


Sunday, August 5, 1635


“So why are we back on the Reussian Front?” Stefan asked the question as their horses plodded along the road north. “Is it umlauts again?”

Nein,” Neustatter answered. “It is profiling this time, not forensics. Miss Kellarmännin and Colonel Stieff’s people have a good idea of where Sprunck may send saboteurs. Not the Birkig sector because Sprunck’s man will have learned of Adler Pfeffer. Not the Schleiz sector, because it was his route home. Sprunck wants a flashy disruption of the USE’s war effort, so he will send someone to hit a train. Miss Kellarmännin says he wants to humiliate men in authority, so it will not be subtle sabotage, like missing spikes. Nor will it be hijackers on the train, because Sprunck will not copy someone else. He will send someone to destroy the tracks.”

“How?”

“An explosion. We think.”

“Flashy,” Ditmar agreed.

“But where?”

“Not where he has to go up against the best,” Otto stated. “Not right next to Grantville, not right by Jena where there are lots of MPs. Not in Saxon County, either. That leaves north of Jena or south of Jena. North would cut railroad shipment of supplies from Erfurt, while south would sever Grantville from the rest of the railroad. Barbara says he will go south.”

“Because Sprunck is a show-off?” Stefan asked. “Seems kind of thin.”

Und Casimir Wesner works, in part, for Duke Phillip of Saxe-Altenburg,” Neustatter added.

“Oh. This is Saxe-Altenburg,” Stefan acknowledged. “Not Reuss at all. But it is a long front for the eight of us.”

Und we are almost to Kahla. It is big enough to have taverns and blonde barmaids who are Sprunck’s preferred target.” Neustatter shrugged. “We are playing the odds, and they are not good. But we have a profiler, a forensics investigator, and the eight of us, who are not listed as being on active duty this week.”

“We are getting paid, are we not?”

“Oh, we are getting paid. It is just the books say we are on duty next week. Someone has been altering orders, and that is a game two can play.”

“Neustatter!” Hjalmar exclaimed. “Sprunck is going to hit the Monday train to Magdeburg!”

“How do you know?”

“Because Astrid is in command of the train guard—und he knows she sent Bretagne to surround Schlinck’s headquarters.”

Neustatter touched his heels to his horse. So did the others.

* * *

Neustatter reined in at the city gate. A member of the watch approached.

“National Guard?” He looked them over. “You are not MPs. What are you doing?”

“We are supposed to find a horse thief,” Neustatter replied. “I know, I know. General Torstensson is about to enter Saxony, which is right over there”—he pointed southeast—“and we are chasing down a mere thief. He’s short, always wears a hat and a cloak, dark beard, thin face, has an eye for the ladies, especially young blonde ones.”

“Well, this might be your lucky day,” the watchman said. “I saw someone like that . . . oh, must be some months back. He had another man with him who returned yesterday. Come to think of it, he said he would stay at The Red Duck. One of the barmaids is blonde. Johanna. Maybe Hans and I should come with you.”

Neustatter cocked his head in consideration. “Ja, sure. We could use the help.”

Minutes later, the NESS agents rode up to The Red Duck.

“Hjalmar, Otto, watch the horses. And maybe the windows,” Neustatter directed. “Stefan, Jakob, back door.”

Ditmar and Karl entered first, both crossing the common room toward the door at the back. Each held his rifle in one hand, not quite at the low ready, but still able to snap up into a firing position in an instant. Neustatter came in with the two watchmen once they were about halfway there.

Nobody bolted from the common room, although they did draw plenty of attention.

“Wilhelm!” one of the watch called. “We are looking for someone.”

The tavern keeper appeared. He kept wiping his hands on his apron. “I had nothing to do with it!”

Neustatter laughed. “Nothing to do with what?”

“None of it!”

All trace of laughter left Neustatter’s voice. “None of what?”

Wilhelm looked frightened. Very frightened.

Neustatter scanned the room and spotted the serving girl trying to look unobtrusive in one corner. She was blonde.

“Are you Johanna?”

She cringed.

“I am looking for someone, and I think you may have seen him.” Neustatter rattled off the description of Tobias Sprunck.

Johanna paled.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

Johanna’s mouth moved, but no words came out.

“Breathe,” Neustatter told her. “Take a breath and tell me when you last saw him.”

“Months ago, mein Herr!”

“He had another man with him, did he not?”

Johanna nodded.

“Have you seen the other man since then?”

Her eyes cut toward a door. The one to the guest rooms, Neustatter suspected.

“Is he up there now?”

Another nod.

“Which room?”

“The second one.”

“Wolfram, stay here.” Neustatter motioned to Ditmar and Karl.

The three of them and the watchman hurried up the stairs. In minutes, they were back. Neustatter and the watchman crossed the room to where Wilhelm and Johanna stood.

“He is not in. Do you know where he went?”

They both shook their heads.

“Has he ever mentioned the railroad?”

Nein,” Wilhelm answered.

Nein—but the other man did,” Johanna said.

“He paid far too much attention to Johanna,” Wilhelm growled.

“Did he give you anything?”

Her mouth flew open. “Ja, he did. Just a small thing.”

“But it draws the eye. Shiny, ja?”

“How could you possibly know that?” Wilhelm demanded. “It is a copper candlestick. But, him? He was always so meek around the watch.”

Ja,” Neustatter agreed. “I know he is, I know why, and I know where he acquired the candlestick. Johanna, this is very important. What did he say about the railroad?”

“Th-there is a place north of Kahla where a log wall holds up the railroad. He said it is a very pretty place, and he wanted to walk out with me there, but he said railroads are always a little dangerous.”

“I put a stop to it as soon as I heard about it,” Wilhelm rumbled.

“Where is this spot?” Neustatter asked.

“It has to be the Forellenbach,” the innkeeper replied. “There’s a log retaining wall and a bridge. I am in more danger of tripping down the stairs than anything happening there.”

Neustatter’s words were grim. “Not if he has explosives. How far is the Forellenbach?”

“An hour’s walk, maybe a bit more.”

“Three miles. Danke.” Neustatter turned to the watchman. “Station men to detain him if he returns, bitte. I need you to go with two of my men to the railroad station.”

“It is not a railroad station, just a hut where Old Heinrich lives. If someone wants to ride, he puts a metal flag out.”

“Does he have a telegraph?”

Ja, but he does not use it much.”

“I will send two of my men with you. They will have a message for him to send.”

Neustatter continued giving orders. “Ditmar, round up everyone and borrow a couple lanterns. We need to get to the bridge.” He turned back to Johanna. “Danke, Fräulein. You may have saved a lot of lives tonight. But if you ever see this man Tobias Sprunck again, tell the watch. Have them call Camp Saale. Do not go anywhere with him.”

Neustatter turned and left The Red Duck. “Hjalmar! Otto! Ride for the railroad station. The watch is going to wake Old Heinrich. See that he telegraphs. I want the overnight from Magdeburg held at Jena until the track is inspected from Jena to Schwarza Junction, and I do not want the Monday morning semi-express to leave Schwarza Junction. Make sure Miss Schäubin is informed.”

Minutes later, Neustatter, Ditmar, Karl, Wolfram, Stefan, and Jakob were riding north.


Railroad line north of Kahla

Monday, August 6, 1635


Sometime after midnight, four NESS agents cautiously worked their way toward the bridge. Neustatter had left Ditmar and Wolfram with the horses. Someone had to stay, and he figured it ought to be their medic and their best rifleman. He, Stefan, Karl, and Jakob could handle anything close-in.

“I have not seen anyone,” Jakob reported.

“Neither have I,” Neustatter agreed. “I am going to check under the bridge. If someone is watching, this will start the fight.”

He moved off the railbed toward the Saale River. In places, it sloped away almost immediately. He passed two spots where the slope had been stiffened with logs to prevent erosion.

Neustatter spotted the bridge up ahead. It was only a few yards long; the Forellenbach was tiny. But someone must have been anticipating bigger and heavier trains, for it was made of stone and concrete. Neustatter climbed back up to the tracks.

“Karl, Jakob, off to the left. Stefan, on the right with me. If anything starts, use the railbed for cover.”

Neustatter descended the short slope and eased up to the bridge. It wasn’t high enough to stand upright underneath. Summer had dried up the Forellenbach to not much more than a trickle, but the ground below the bridge was not truly dry. Neustatter crouched down and picked his way around the worst of the mud.

He checked the base of the bridge. He crawled up under each end where it met the banks. Nothing. He checked for loose earth. There wasn’t any.

A whistle caught his attention. Neustatter scrambled out from underneath the bridge.

“Horses,” Stefan told him.

Neustatter listened.

“Two, do you think?”

Ja, two or three.”

“There.” Stefan pointed. Right about where Ditmar and Wolfram should be, a lantern was waving up and down.

Ja or gut,” Neustatter surmised.

A couple minutes later, they heard a faint “Martin!”

“Katie!” Neustatter called back.

Ditmar appeared moments later. “Neustatter, Hjalmar and Otto and the watch are here. Pull everyone back.”

“Oh?” Neustatter gestured for Stefan to follow Ditmar and then located Karl and Jakob.

Once everyone had assembled, Hjalmar spoke.

“Old Heinrich sent the telegraph messages, and both Grantville and Jena acknowledged. Sergeant Hudson wants to know what is going on.”

“Don’t we all,” Neustatter muttered. “The bridge has not been mined or wired.”

“I know. It is the wrong place. There is a second log wall a mile north of here.”

“How far was this man going to walk out with Johanna?” wondered the watchman.

“As far as it took to get her alone.” Neustatter shook his head. “What do we know about the place where this other wall is?”

“Old Heinrich said you can see it from Olknitz. That’s a village on the other side of the river.”

“Oh.” Neustatter shook his head. “Makes sense. Miss Kellarmännin said Sprunck wants to show he is smarter than the men he feels inadequate to. Given a choice, he would not direct his man to mine a bridge where no one could see the train derail.” Neustatter stopped, lost in thought for a few moments. “The cleverest way to blow up a bridge is not with the biggest explosion. It is to derail the train with the smallest explosion. It is how Sprunck thinks—we think.”

Jakob shook his head. “If you say so.”

Neustatter turned to the watchman. “Do you know where this other log wall is?”

“Not exactly, but I know where Olknitz is. The river makes a gentle curve to the right. A bit further on, there is a sharp curve to the left, almost a corner.”

“The railroad cuts the corner there, ja?” Neustatter asked. “It will be before the railroad turns away from the river.”

An hour and a half later, seven of them were crouched on the west side of the railbed. Otto and Stefan had the horses, a good quarter mile back.

“That is surely a person,” the watchman stated. “Und I think he is shoveling.”

Ja,” Neustatter agreed. “We need to close in. He would see us coming.”

“He is not watching the river,” Ditmar said. “I can get behind him.”

“How?” Stefan asked.

“Swim.”

“We can all splash around in a pond, but the Saale is a lot bigger. It has a current. Did you suddenly learn how to swim?” Stefan asked.

Neustatter pursed his lips. Laughing would alert the men digging by the tracks. “Your young lady.”

Ditmar frowned. “Has Friedrich been talking?”

Nein,” Neustatter said. “But I did notice Miss Boekhorst was wearing a swimsuit at the Fourth of July concert.”

“You and everyone else,” Ditmar grumbled.

“No worse than many a Grantville dress,” Jakob said.

“Fashion later,” Neustatter directed. “Since we did not bring any lifeguards—Ditmar, can you take him down?”

Ja.”

“Stefan, Hjalmar, long-range cover. Karl, Jakob, and I will rush in after Ditmar tackles him. Otto, Wolfram, you come in next, and keep your eyes open for anyone else out here.”

* * *

Ditmar removed his boots and shirt and cautiously waded into the Saale River. The August night was warm. He’d heard the up-time lifeguards say the hottest days of the year were barely warm enough to swim in anything other than a heated pool, but the water felt fine to him. He was more worried about splashes alerting the Sprunck’s man. The crawl stroke was out. He pushed off the bottom in what was more or less breaststroke. His technique was sloppy, but Ditmar was not concerned with disqualification in one of the up-timers’ races. He glided through the water, and the saboteur at the railroad tracks showed no awareness of his presence.

Ditmar got far enough from shore to pick up a bit of a current. It was minor, but the pool hadn’t had one, and he found it took more effort to maneuver back toward shore than he’d expected. He suspected any of the lifeguards could have done so quite easily, but swimming—as opposed to splash-around-and-don’t-drown—was new to him. Which was a sorry state of affairs for someone who was part Danish and might have Viking ancestors.

But he was approaching shore now. Ditmar tried to stand and hit bottom. He waded the rest of the way, slowly coming up out of the water. The saboteur was intent on his work at the far end of the log wall. Ditmar stepped onto the river bank and cautiously made his way up the grassy part of the slope.

Five yards. Still no sign the saboteur knew he was there. The rest was gravel. Ditmar decided he’d go left if the man spun around. Four yards. A pebble skittered. Ditmar charged.

The man jumped up, spinning to his right. Ditmar took his third step and dove.

His right shoulder slammed into the man’s chest just below his right arm. He fell backward. Ditmar landed atop him. The man swung something in his left hand. Ditmar blocked, forearm to forearm. He got a knee on the man’s right bicep, swung a left hook at his head.

The saboteur swung the metal tool in his left hand again. Ditmar made the same clumsy block. The man tried to throw him off. Ditmar grabbed the man’s collar with his left hand. He punched him in the face with his right.

The man kept trying to scoot to his left and almost broke free. He hit Ditmar in the upper arm a couple times with the metal tool. Ditmar punched him in the face again.

Ditmar heard steps. Neustatter dove onto the man, both hands going for the weapon in his left hand.

Ditmar went for the only target left and dropped a punch into the man’s gut. He heard a whoof of breath. Then Karl and Jakob piled in. Seconds later, they had the saboteur’s arms and legs pinned to the ground.

Stopp!” Neustatter ordered. “You are captured.”

Ditmar looked at his boss. Neustatter normally didn’t state the obvious.

“Green leaves.” Neustatter pointed at the branch woven into the man’s cloak. “Saxon Army, ja?”

The man said nothing.

“Here is how this works. By wearing that branch, you are claiming to be part of an army, so this act of sabotage we will get to in a few minutes is a legitimate act of war. Stupid, and likely to anger many in the USE, but legal. In return, you give us your name, rank, and serial number if John George has gotten around to those.”

The man looked back at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

“The next thing we do is figure out what you have done here and save the train,” Neustatter continued. “Will you tell us?”

The man said nothing.

“I need a lantern over here,” Neustatter said. “Not too close. We do not know what sort of sabotage this is. Yet.”

Stefan held up a lantern several feet away. Light fell across the tracks. Neustatter squatted down to look at what the Saxon had been doing.

“Digging . . . wires . . . and something on the tracks themselves.” Neustatter looked up. “Karl?”

Karl dropped down on his knees beside Neustatter.

“Get back, Neustatter.” Karl pointed toward south toward Kahla. “The rest of you, a hundred yards over there, inland of the railroad. Do not touch the rails.”

Neustatter scooted backward, down over the edge of the slope. Karl did the same.

“What do you see, Karl?”

“The crudest electrical bomb ever. This U-shaped piece of sheet metal is mounted on tight hinges. The hinges are on those two boards on either side of the track. The train will knock the sheet metal flat—break it over the track, I expect. Do you see the wire on the ground?”

Ja.”

“He was going to tie the end of the wire to the metal flange on one side of the sheet metal. Und see where the other wire goes? Right to the track itself. As soon as the flange comes down, the circuit is closed. Electricity flows through the wire. I am confident we will find a blasting cap and probably dynamite.”

“I read something like this in a Western,” Neustatter said. “He will have buried enough explosives under the tracks to blow out one end of the log wall holding up the slope and separate the tracks. The engine might make it across, but the first passenger car would be caught in the blast and derail.”

“Was he going to bomb the southbound?” Karl asked. “The Sunday overnight would get here before Astrid’s northbound.”

“Let’s ask.” Neustatter stood and called out. “Bring him over here!”

Everyone closed in.

“Kneel and cross your ankles,” Neustatter instructed. “The rest of you, back off again.”

Neustatter let about ten minutes pass.

“Did you intend to bomb the southbound or the northbound?”

The man said nothing.

“You may try to get up now.”

The Saxon attempted to get to his feet.

“But your legs are numb,” Neustatter went on. “Is this bomb armed? What if I attach this wire here? Then if the metal drop—”

Legs asleep or not, the man managed to throw himself bodily aside.

“There’s our answer.” Neustatter undid the wire. “I believe you are correct, Karl. We need to disassemble the bomb.”

“Should we wait for the Mounted Constabulary or the MPs?” Karl asked.

Nein. Oh, I know Georg Meisner will give us grief for disturbing a crime scene, but we want to make sure no one can set off the bomb.”

“Eight of us, armed,” Karl pointed out.

“Who is to say Sprunck will not come with fifty?” Neustatter shrugged. “I do not believe it, but why take the chance? Besides, we will not destroy the forensic evidence. Someone may be able to trace which lot of dynamite.”

“Could be Saxon.”

Neustatter looked at their prisoner. “Nein, it is not. Sprunck will have had it stolen because he wants to humiliate the SoTF and the USE. Maybe from Grantville, maybe from Erfurt. But this metal switch—you brought it from Saxony, did you not? If I asked smiths in Chemnitz, would one of them admit he made it? After Torstensson conquers the province, I mean. I would not arrest him. Not unless he knew he was building something to attack civilians.”

“The train carries military supplies,” the man spat out.

“Ah, the Lusitania defense.”

“What are you talking about, Neustatter?” Karl asked.

“World War I, up-time. A German submarine sank an American passenger ship before the United States was in the war. The Germans claimed it was carrying weapons.”

“Why do you know this?”

Neustatter shrugged. “After Miss Kellarmännin was talking about Midway, I figured I ought to see if there is any up-time history we can use.”

“I do not remember you taking a class.”

“I did not. I did not want unending discussion of what lead to each war. Just how they fought it.” Neustatter looked straight at the captured Saxon. “Technology, production, and logistics matter. A lot. But it comes down to leadership and initiative. That is why Saxony is going to lose.”

The man glared at him.

“Are there any traps on the bomb?”

Nein.”

Gut. Let’s sit down and talk about why you are here. Operationally.”

Karl brushed dirt away and followed the wires. Soon he reached the dynamite under the track and behind the logs. He began passing a stick at a time to Jakob, who passed it to Stefan, and on down the line. Ditmar made small stacks on the other side of the tracks.

Once the bomb was disassembled, the watchman, Hjalmar, and Otto rode back to Old Heinrich’s station. They returned near dawn.

“The railroad is sending one of the pickup truck engines. It will be pulling one flatbed car with dirt to fill in the hole and a work crew. Once the hole is filled, it will go to Jena and lead the overnight back to Schwarza Junction. Then Astrid’s train will leave for Magdeburg.”

Neustatter nodded. “We will stick around until they pass, then take this man to Camp Saale.” He addressed the prisoner. “The SoTF National Guard is not trying to be in this war, but Sprunck insists. The histories are going to note while the USE conquered the rebellious provinces of Saxony and Brandenburg, the SoTF National Guard captured a single prisoner on the Reussian Front.”

His men all knew there were six more, of course, but there was no reason to tell this Saxon.

When the pickup engine arrived, a railroad crew jumped off the flatbed.

“Leutnant Edgar Neustatter, SoTF National Guard.”

“Johann Huschke, foreman for the GRS Railroad Company. Show me what you found, bitte.”

Neustatter led him to the log retaining wall and showed him the metal switch, the dynamite, and the hole under the tracks. The man’s eyes widened.

Then he jerked his head up in anger and started for the Saxon prisoner.

Stopp,” Neustatter told him. “He is in uniform. A train with military supplies is a legitimate target. But the man who sent him . . . he is the one we want.”

The railroad man blew out an angry breath.

“I have two teams on this morning’s northbound to Magdeburg,” Neustatter told him. “I have every reason to want the railroad safe.”

Another breath. “Then let us get to work.”

* * *

It was after 7 a.m. before the railroad foreman pronounced the tracks safe.

“We will continue to Jena,” he told Neustatter, “and check the track carefully as we go. We should be there at 7:45. Sergeant Hudson authorized the overnight to do twenty miles per hour from Jena to Schwarza Junction. Then he will release the morning semi-express from Grantville to Magdeburg.”

Dank. I appreciate knowing the details. The morning train should be here, what, about 10:30?”

“About then, ja.”

“We’ll wait. Once they are safely past here, we will ride down to Camp Saale with the prisoner.”

“Up to you. Dank. You saved this train, too.”

“Safe trip.”

* * *

The southbound overnight passed them shortly after 8:00, train guards waving as it rumbled by.

“I think . . . ” Karl trailed off and began moving his hands.

“What is it, Karl?” Hjalmar asked.

“I am thinking about the bomb circuit. Did you see the ironwork on the front of the engine?”

Ja,” Hjalmar answered.

“A cowcatcher,” Neustatter put in. When everyone looked at him, he explained. “If cattle get on the tracks, it is supposed to deflect them so the train does not wreck.”

Ja,” Karl agreed. “Too short to trigger a bomb, though. It would go off under the engine, I think. It needs a longer pole with a small sheet of metal across the end, to trigger the explosion in front of the train. I suspect the engine would still go off the tracks.”

“But less damage to the passenger cars,” Neustatter mused. “Math.”

Ja.”

“Will the pole not droop and catch in the ties?” Stefan asked.

Und then there would be a wreck,” Karl finished. “It needs to be thin, so it can break away without harming the train. . . . A lance! That is how they are built, ja? With a weak point?”

“Easier to get a wooden lance than a metal pole,” Stefan pointed out.

“Good idea.”

“All right. When we get back, Karl and Stefan, you go see the railroad people about this. The rest of us will be at Camp Saale with the prisoner. If we get a chance to get into Grantville, we ride to Mestermann’s Livery Stable and change horses.” One side of his mouth quirked. “Before Miss Drehmann has words with us.”

* * *

Neustatter had been flipping the fifteen-minute glass since dawn, and it was just about 10:30 a.m. when they heard the northbound approaching. The train coasted to a stop short of the bridge, and four guards in blue NESS coats jumped down.

Astrid came forward on the left side of the train, stopped to speak with the engineer, and then continued on. She halted in front of Neustatter and saluted.

Neustatter returned the salute. “One saboteur, one bomb with electrical trigger, consistent with what Miss Kellarmännin told us.”

“None of the other National Guard patrols have reported any incidents,” Astrid told him. “Sergeant Hudson has been on the radio, and he is a little upset with Saxony for disrupting his schedule. He said he owes you one.”

Neustatter nodded. “I very much want to find Tobias Sprunck.”

“So do I.”

“I do not think it will take the USE Army long to defeat Saxony,” Neustatter said. “Depending on how it happens, we may be able to slip into Chemnitz.”

“We will be back Wednesday evening, and then we are northbound again on Sunday morning. I would like to come with you, if it works out. But the war may start by then.”

Neustatter nodded. “If you stop in Halle, tell the troops good hunting. If we are not here when you return, check with the Schmidts. Und do not attack Saxony by yourself, Miss Schäubin. We will go rescue Magdalena together.”


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Framed