"Trouble," said Mazzare.
"What is that noise?"
"Siren." He said the word in English. "No, not the mythical creature. A machine for making noise." Mazzare turned and lengthened his stride.
"Oh." Mazarini had to walk more quickly to keep up with Mazzare, who stood a full hand-span taller than him. "Where are we going?"
"Downtown. See what's going on."
"We can help?"
"Straight away, no. But we need to know where our action stations are."
* * *
Downtown turned out to be the name for the part of town with the tallest buildings in it, and there was the busy, determined chaos of a wasp's nest going on in it. Mazzare spoke to several people to get the story, and then translated for Mazarini. It was, indeed, a cavalry raiding party, sighted on the edge of town near the school.
Mazarini followed Mazzare to help direct people as they came into the center of town. A man sporting a bronze badge had given the orders. He had been swearing sulphurously about the lack of warning. Apparently someone assumed that cavalry a hundred miles away two days before would not be a threat so soon and simply left a note on the desk of the Chief of Police—who had been too busy to notice it.
"Wallenstein," said Mazarini.
"You think so?" answered Mazzare. "No shortage of other bandits."
"Not with Wallenstein around. Better opportunities for loot and a stipend when pickings are poor."
"Whatever." Mazzare shrugged, began directing the streams of people toward doorways.
Mazarini felt his eyebrows climbing when he saw the people coming to take shelter. "They're all armed!"
Mazzare grinned over his shoulder, breaking off briefly from his work. "Welcome to America!"
The weapons were different, the soldiers nothing like those Mazarini had led in the Valtelline. Nevertheless, the ambush taking shape around the plaza was as old as warfare.
Heinzerling showed up at the head of a column of elderly women, half of them with the peculiar pistols the Americans favored.
And then came a shout. "Father Mazzare! We need your help." It was another man with a badge.
Mazzare strode off, Mazarini on his heels. The man with the badge strode along with him, explaining something in English, talking too fast for Mazarini to follow.
They came to a building that was a whirl of activity, more men—and women, here, too, with badges. There was a thunder of shouting in English and German both. Many of those doing the shouting were shouting into little boxes with sticks on them. Like the telefon, he thought.
Mazzare, oblivious to Mazarini now, had picked up a telephone and was talking into it, urgently but gently. Heinzerling had come along too. "Scheisse," he said, "typisch."
"What?" Mazarini was still confused.
"Frau Flannery. She was at mass this morning. She must have gone home instead of following me here."
"Who?"
In the background, Mazzare. "Irene, it's not safe, yes, I know, but you must . . ."
Heinzerling went on. "Widow. Older than Satan and just as pleasant. Took it badly when Hannelore began cleaning the church. Thought Hanni was not good enough to set foot in a church. Called her a whore. Hanni called her some bad names, too. Father Mazzare couldn't get them to see reason. I told Hanni to forgive and forget, but Frau Flannery stopped talking to anyone but Father Mazzare."
" . . . I know, Irene, but you'll be—yes, but there's no sense . . ."
Mazarini, trying to follow two conversations at once, stopped staring at Mazzare and asked, over his shoulder, "Why?"
Heinzerling's shrug was all but audible. "Who knows? She is a crazy old woman."
" . . . yes, Irene, I know to the minute how long it's been, but I can hardly hear it over the phone, you should come . . ."
"Is he doing what I think—"
"Ja." Pause, for another shrug. "He feels bad that she feels unwanted, mein' ich. But Hannelore was fifty years younger and lives next to the church. She could still have helped, but—"
From Mazzare, resignedly, the Latin words of absolution. He put the phone down, his face gray. "Penance hardly seemed worth it." Louder, to one of the badged men. "She won't come, Dan. Won't be driven out of her home, she says."
"You did all you could, Father."
"I should go—"
The badged man, Dan, cut that off with a wave. "No, Father. Don't. She made her choice. Save those that want it." He strode away, barking orders—unmistakably in command.