Another man came up to Mike. It took Paul a moment to recognize Harry Lefferts. "There were two of them," he told Mike. "We lost the trail of the other one, down by the creek. I'm fairly certain that it was a pain-in-the-butt reporter named Kuryakin. My men have been watching him for the last couple of days."
"Bloody great," muttered Mike. "So, Paul, you never answered my question."
Paul struggled to his feet, wiped himself off and pulled his notebook and a pencil out. "I'm doing my job, reporting. I've come to interview your visitor."
"Visitor? Visitor? I'm not sure what you're talking about," said Mike.
"Mike, let's cut the crap. You and those playmates of yours wouldn't be prowling around the woods at three in the morning any more than I would, unless something important was going on. You can deny it, but I'd know you were lying." This wasn't the first time Paul had run a bluff to get a story, though in the pit of his stomach he felt it wasn't a bluff. "The Times is going to run a story, speculating on just who that visitor might be and why you're going to all this trouble to hide him. Now, you can help me make this story as accurate as possible, or live with the consequences of not bringing me in on it."
Mike went immobile for a moment. The only sound, beyond those drifting in from the woods, was their breathing. It was almost two full minutes before he spoke.
"All right, come inside. There's someone that you need to meet."
The "visitor" was awake. It was not who Paul had expected.
Wallenstein was sitting up in bed, with several pillows behind him. He looked pale, even in the light from the single candle next to his bed. The man's lower jaw was wrapped in bandages. There was a bulge under the blanket that Paul suspected might be a loaded pistol.
Harry Lefferts stood in one corner of the room, an unhappy expression on his face.
"You, sir, present me with a moral dilemma," Paul said after Mike had introduced him. "You know I came here to get a story for my newspaper. But if I write it, I cause major problems not only for my government, which I don't mind doing, but possibly for all of Grantville."
Wallenstein picked up a pad and wrote quickly:
MORALS ARE FOR CHURCHMEN;
STATESMEN CANNOT AFFORD THEM.
"Thank you, Señor Machiavelli."
Wallenstein looked at Paul oddly but wrote nothing.
"We got word that he had survived Alte Veste through General Pappenheim, who came to us with a most unusual offer of alliance."
"Ah yes, Pappenheim. Or should we also be calling him Santa Claus?"
Mike smiled. "Not bad, not bad at all. He offered an alliance to help stir up a revolt in Bohemia plus a few other little political actions that could work to our advantage. The deal was he wanted our dentists to reconstruct the damage that Julie's bullet did. Then there is also the matter of Chmielnicki."
Paul didn't recognize the name, but then he had never been good with European history. He waited for an explanation.
"It's a massacre of ten thousand Polish Jews in 1648. Wallenstein says that if we help him he may be able to stop it."
Wallenstein handed a hastily scribbled note to Mike, who in turn offered it to Paul.
NO MAY. I WILL STOP IT.
BUT ONLY IF YOU HELP ME.
"You want me to sit on the story," Paul said. "That much is obvious."
His first impulse was to say to hell with this, publish the story and expose the whole deal. He wasn't fond of secret government plots, but he could see the logic implicit in what Mike seemed to be doing. It still didn't feel right to him.
"If I was to agree with what you're doing, and I am not saying I will, there is one other problem. Yuri may or may not have seen Wallenstein, but he knows that you were involved with Pappenheim. That can cause a lot of problems in and of itself."
"Then he has to be dealt with," said Lefferts, his voice quiet and without emotion.
"I hope you're not going to try to arrange an accident for him," said Paul.
"Paul, please. There are certain levels I won't stoop to," said Mike. "You know he's going to want to get that story published and he can do it. It's just a matter of time." There were newspapers outside of Grantville, some good, some bad. "We both know there are more than a few places that would be willing to publish it."
"If I agree to go along with you on keeping this quiet, I want an exclusive on it when you do go public," said Paul.
"Provided we haven't been exposed and strung up over this whole thing, you've got a deal," Mike said. "Seriously, I wish I were handing you an easy story to deal with, like a secret squad of ninjas setting up operations in Grantville, but I can't."