Ring of Fire III(25)

Tom didn’t know the man very well, but any interruption was welcome. “Sure, what is it?”

Böcler gave Rita an apologetic glance. “I agree with your wife that Herr Siers should remain on the Pelican. Truthfully, it would be much safer for him. But I also think, for the same reason, that it would be foolish for her to leave that safety. She should also remain aboard the airship.”

Well. It turned out he was a splendid fellow. Who knew?

Rita was glowering at him. “Why should I be any safer than anyone else?”

Böcler made a face. “Mrs. Simpson—please. You must be realistic about these things.” Now he gave Tom an apologetic glance. “Meaning no disrespect, Major, but the key political factor here is that your wife is also the sister of General Stearns. Short of recapturing the two young heirs to Bavaria now in Amberg, Duke Maximilian could have no better hostage than she.”

He was right, Tom realized immediately. He hadn’t even considered that. Rita was so unpretentious that no one who knew her thought of her as a “big cheese.” And like most up-timers, even years after the Ring of Fire, Tom didn’t really think of holding people hostage as a political tactic. Kidnapping was just a crime, dammit.

But in the seventeenth century, as had been true for at least a millennium in Europe, holding high-ranked captives for ransom or blackmail was considered business-as-usual.

But then, why...

Rita had seen the same flaw in the logic. “That’s bullshit, Heinrich!” she snapped at Böcler. “You came in right after it happened, so you should know. Those guys who broke into our home weren’t trying to take me hostage. The first thing the bastards did when they came through the door was try to shoot me.”

“That happened in the heat of the moment, when they’d just smashed through the door,” countered Böcler. “I think they expected to find you in bed, not standing right in front of them. That first shot was probably fired in reflex. Thereafter, of course, since you were shooting back with the shotgun, they had no choice but to try to kill you.”

The secretary spread his hands. “A great deal depends on the instructions the assassins were given, which we don’t know. In particular, were they offered a share of the ransom? If they were, then they’d have had a keen incentive in keeping you alive. But Duke Maximilian is just as well-known for his penny-pinching as his ruthlessness. They probably weren’t offered any such incentive, so they had no great reason not to simply murder you.”

It made sense. Tom had been there himself, and remembered the chaos and fury of that brief gunfight. Unless the assassins had been tightly focused on the goal of capturing Rita, their natural fighting instincts would have overridden everything else.

And, regardless, Böcler’s general point remained valid. Rita had no business getting down on the ground where she could be captured.

From the fact that she was now just silently glaring at the secretary, Tom knew that Rita understood it herself. She could be stubborn beyond belief, but she also had a very strong sense of duty.

Still, he hesitated to say anything. In the foul mood she was in, she’d lash out at him if he did.

Thankfully, Böcler stepped into the breach again. “Of course, we do need to lighten up the airship. But I can take care of that problem. I don’t weigh as much as Herr Siers, but I certainly weigh more than you do.”

At a guess, the secretary probably weighed at least one hundred and eighty pounds. He might even be pushing two hundred. He was on the short side, but thickly-proportioned.

“One—or all of us—could get off also,” said Maydene Utt. “There’s no use for auditors on board the Pelican.”

She sounded a bit uncertain. Tom was more than a bit alarmed. He had no use for three auditors either, down here on the ground. He and his troops would be undertaking a forced march over the next two days. Granted that middle-aged Appalachian women were almost invariably tougher than they looked, they still weren’t accustomed to that sort of exertion.

Bonnie Weaver stepped into the breach, this time. “That’s silly, Maydene. You and Willa and Estelle are almost fifty years old.” Fodor started to protest something but Bonnie drove right over her. “And the three of you have been on horseback for the last two years—no, it must be three, now. When was the last time you walked as much as half a mile?”

She made a wry face. “Me, on the other hand, I’m scared of horses. So I walk everywhere. And I weigh more than any of you except Maydene. So we can lighten the airship further by putting me on the ground too. Between me and Heinrich, that more than makes up for adding the corporal and his radio equipment.”