"Come here. I can show you better on the map." Noelle was there in a heartbeat. Eddie's finger started tracing a route through the Fichtelgebirge. "He can cut back across here, near this little town called Kötzting. From there, he can just follow the Regen down to Regensburg, and from there it's an easy barge-ride into Austria."
"But . . . We have a garrison at Regensburg. A great damn big one, too, and real soldiers."
"Indeed so. Because they have been assigned, no matter the cost, to keep the enemy from crossing the Danube by seizing the bridge there. Regensburg anchors our left flank against Bavaria. Not likely, therefore—is it?—that they'll be much concerned with anything else. And there are no troops to the north until you reach Amberg. A lot of military traffic between Amberg and Regensburg, of course, but they'd be going along"—he pointed to a river just west of the Regen—"the Naab. Not the Regen."
Noelle stared at the map, while Eddie continued. "See what I mean? He doesn't have to worry about anything except the short time he'd be passing through Regensburg itself."
"But . . . Damnation, the garrison at Regensburg was warned to look for them."
"Noelle, be serious. Yes. The garrison at Regensburg—along with a dozen others—received an alert over the radio to keep an eye out for the possibility that a party of up-time defectors might be passing through. Maybe. At a time unknown. In wagons. Possibly with pack horses."
He tapped the spot indicating Regensburg. "First, they would have paid no attention to it. Even if they did, they'd be looking for 'up-timers' on wagons or horses. Given Janos Drugeth, what do you think the likelihood is that, by now, he hasn't obtained river transport and doesn't have the defectors outfitted as a party of down-time merchants?"
His eyes narrowed, as if he were gauging something. "If I'm right, he's already on the Regen. Should be passing through Regensburg today or tomorrow."
Given Janos Drugeth . . .
"That son-of-a-bitch!" Noelle yelped. Out the door she went.
After Eddie closed the door and sat back down at the table, he shook his head.
"Denise was right. She's got it bad."
Chapter 14. The Bridge
High Street Mansion, Seat of Government for the State of Thuringia-Franconia
President's Office
Grantville, State of Thuringia-Franconia
"I'm afraid Mr. Piazza left for Bamberg this morning, Ms. Stull. He won't be in radio contact again until this evening, at the earliest. Carol Unruh went with him." The secretary folded her hands, in that inimitable and unmistakable way that they must spend a whole semester teaching people how to do in Executive Assistant College.
"I Am Afraid There Is Nothing I Can Do."
In caps. Noelle went out the door.
Municipal Complex
Police Department
Grantville, State of Thuringia-Franconia
"Gimme a break, Noelle," said Preston Richards. Grantville's police chief scowled at an assignment chart on the wall of his office. "You got any idea how stretched thin I am? No, I don't have any cops I can detach from duty on what sounds like a wild goose chase. And how would they get there in time anyway?"
Before she could keep arguing, he raised his hand. "I'll send another radio message to the garrison at Regensburg. But that's it. And I doubt very much that'll do any good. Word came yesterday that the Bavarians are moving more troops into the area."
No caps, but it didn't matter. Press Richards had a baccalaureate from Stubborn Like a Mule College. Graduated magna cum laude.
Noelle went out the door.
Regensburg
The Upper Palatinate, under USE imperial administration
"Idiots," snarled Colonel Moritz Kreisler. "We've got at least three Bavarian regiments moving around just the other side of the Danube"—he pointed an accusing finger at the river, as if it were the guilty party—"and they want me to disrupt my disposition of forces in order to hunt down some fucking thieves?"
"I'm just passing on the message, sir," said the radio operator apologetically. "How should I respond?"
Kreisler took a deep breath, controlling his temper. He reminded himself that whatever the legal formalities might be, a message from any figure of authority in Grantville—even a miserable be-damned police chief—had to be handled diplomatically.
"Tell them we received the message." With an effort: "No, thank them for sending us the warning. Assure them we will do everything possible. Emphasize 'possible.' "
After the radio operator left, Kreisler went over to the window of his office and looked down on the Danube passing almost directly below.