Commander Cantrell in the West Indies(14)
“Okay—but then wouldn’t there also have been a better time to get you?”
“In my case, this timing might actually help to explain why they made their attempt here and now.”
“How so?”
“If an English agent got hold of my letter of resignation during its progress to Philip, then they will have learned that I no longer enjoy the relative protection of my official positions and my own regiment. They might very well send assassins—or maybe kidnappers—to intercept me before I can secure the protection of a new patron. After all, John O’Neill and I are still declarable as princes of Ireland. As offspring of royal blood, we remain worrisome to the English occupiers.”
“Yeah, but England seems to have toned down a little bit on the ‘Irish Question’ right now.”
“Officially, yes. And largely thanks to you Americans. But that might be why these assassins tried to use nonlethal methods, at first. King Charles—or factions in his court—might find it less complicated to simply imprison me in the Tower of London.”
Michael nodded. “Okay, so maybe you are the bullet-magnet. But there’s something else you should know, Hugh.”
“Yes?”
“It’s also possible there’s been some loose talk about the technology that I’m bringing to Turenne.”
“Others know about it?”
“A few. One is going to have to come with us.”
Hugh did not try to stop his eyebrows from rising.
Mike hurried on. “Yeah, I know: another fellow-traveler is probably not what you were bargaining for. But this guy is part of the package. Turenne is going to need him. At least for the first few months. And if this guy, or any of his friends, talked, and rival powers heard the whispers, then—”
“—then they would want to make sure that Turenne will not enjoy the advantage of this new technology,” Hugh finished for him. “So first they would try to take you hostage and secure the advantage for themselves, but failing that, they might resort to a more ‘permanent’ solution—”
“Right, which would make me the bullet magnet. Again.”
Hugh smiled. “Evidently, we cannot know with certainty who is endangering whom. So we will share the peril equally. Now, you mentioned that we must pick someone up on the way. Who is this person?”
Mike started walking toward his nag. “He’s a toymaker.”
“A toymaker? What kind of toys does he make?”
“Secret toys.”
“Truly? Tell me, Michael, what kind of toy would need to be kept a secret?”
“I’ll tell you as we ride.”
Grantville, State of Thuringia-Franconia
Ed Piazza, President of the State of Thuringia-Franconia rubbed his eyes. “Are those the latest production reports, Anton?”
Anton Roedel, former clerk for the city council of Rudolstadt and now Executive Secretary to the President, nodded. “Yes, Mr. President. The production numbers from the new coal mines should not be considered a basis for long-term projection, though. Their operating managers indicate that—”
“Yes, Anton,” Piazza smiled, “I was listening when you read their letters to us.”
Farther down the conference table—a battered brown institutional slab that had started life in the teacher’s lounge of Grantville’s elementary school—Vince Marcantonio, Piazza’s chief of staff, stretched and groaned. “Please tell me that’s the last of the reports, Anton.”
“Yes sir, I thought it prudent to conclude with—”
There was a knock on the door.
Warner Barnes of the State Department sighed. “Now what?”
Francisco Nasi, Mike Stearns’ spymaster, shrugged. “That would be the arrival of ‘unofficial’ official business.”
“Huh?”
Piazza grinned. “C’mon, Warner, you’ve worked in the State Department long enough to recognize euphemistic ‘code’ when you hear it.”
“Oh no,” Barnes sighed, “not covert crap. Not now. That shit takes forever, and I want to get home.”
“Before the evening gets cold?”
“Before my dinner gets cold and my wife blows her stack. This happens every time you and Francisco come back from Bamberg with a ‘special agenda’ for us to go through. This time, I don’t think I’ve even seen her in the past seventy-two hours. She’s out the door before I’m out of bed. I get back after she stops waiting up. You’re a damned home wrecker, Mr. President.”
Piazza nodded. “My apologies, but let’s not keep our ‘unexpected’ guest waiting.” Raising his voice, he called, “Come in!”